#update: mature warning why??

[zappedbyzabka]

<3

[incognit0slut]

All I Need

Spencer realizes how much he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. What better time is there to propose if not in the middle of making love? Based on:

Warnings: 18+ mature content but nothing too explicit, this is just sweet love making

words: 2077

A/n: I’m supposed to finish my last kinktober and update my series, but both are very heavy and I needed something sweet to defrost my writer's block. I hope you don’t mind me squeezing something else until I finish my other WIPs🥲

“…every time I look into your eyes I see it, you’re all I need…”

SPENCER KNEW EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU. There wasn't a single thing he wasn't familiar with—from every mole, every scar, to every stretch mark. Any imperfection you considered of yourself he found to be perfect.

He was well aware of the small scar on your hip bone. Or the mole resting at the back of your thigh. Or the way you disliked caffeine, because every time you drank it, it increased your heart rate drastically. Which was why you always judged him every time he had a cup of coffee in his hand, especially with the amount of sugar he never seemed to stop adding.

"That is definitely not healthy," you would always say, to which he simply responded with a small peck on your lips. It was his way to shut you up without saying anything.

He also knew how soft you actually were underneath that hard exterior you always carried. You were an enigma the first time you joined the team, but Spencer always had a soft spot for mystery, and solving you became his mission even when he wasn't the best at maintaining conversations. He remembered making a fool of himself when he talked to you, stuttering about one of the random facts engraved in his brain.

But you still listened to him, and for once in his life, he finally found someone who didn't mind hearing him talk. It was nice to have somebody who found his knowledge interesting, and with that thought in mind, it didn't take long for him to take an interest in you.

Not that he wasn't interested at first, because honestly, you were a splendid sight when you first walked through the door. It was more so an interest that was considered surpassing a simple friendship. An interest that had him push his confidence into asking you out.

Spencer never pegged himself as someone who would be content having a significant other in his daily routine—his past relationships never seemed to work out, after all—but the more time he spent with you, the more he realized he was actually in pure bliss. It seemed as if you had cast a spell, drawing him deeper into your presence, a magnetic force of affection that went beyond the superficial. Every smile, every touch, seemed to emanate a radiant heat, and he couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer magnitude of your warmth.

Especially at this moment, staring into your eyes as they slowly fluttered open from a long night of slumber, he found himself leaning forward. You were so warm, so inviting. The soft light coming from the curtains cast a shadow over your curves and he couldn't help himself from trailing down your body.

You were fully awake now as he pressed his lips on every part of your skin. The slight movement of your arms wrapping around his neck had him grunting, and somehow he was suddenly positioned between your legs, pressing his hot length onto your wet folds, wanting nothing else but to push himself deep into your warmth.

As he watched you beneath him, eyes half closed, mouth open in anticipation, he couldn't help but mutter his next words because you looked breathtakingly beautiful. Heavenly gorgeous covered in a sheen of sweat, so damn pretty with eyes full of desire. You looked like a siren, an angel, and a lustful woman all rolled into one.

Everything about you was so divine, and the desire to consume every part of your existence became an insatiable hunger. It was a need, a yearning that made the idea of spending a lifetime without you seem unfathomable as if oxygen slowly drained from his world, leaving him breathless. 

The words bubbled up from the depths of his heart, and before he could second-guess himself, he blurted out, "Marry me." 

Your eyes snapped open as he finally sank his hips into you, and before you could even respond, before you could even register his words, his rough thrust stole the breath from your lungs. Rational thoughts shattered as he filled you completely, stretching you in a way that was slightly painful yet completely pleasurable.

He slowly pulled out, then pushed back in, your back arching, legs wrapping around his waist. "Spence," you moaned as he started a steady pace, trying to gain your focus but failing miserably. You couldn't think of anything else except the sensation between your legs. "Oh, God."

Languid and smooth, his hips continued to roll into you. "This feels good, doesn't it?"

The feel of his cock sinking in and out of you had your head falling back against the mattress. Your fingernails tightened upon his back, and he drove you gently into the bed with low grunts. His voice was rough, broken by focused breaths. "We could do this every morning."

A whine broke out of you.

"I'd wake up first," he told you. "I'd make you breakfast in bed..." He slipped out again before thrusting into you slowly, dragging his cock along your inner walls that had you mewling. "...right after I wake you with my tongue between your thighs."

You let out another moan. He drank in the sound with a smile before lowering his mouth to the base of your neck. Heated kisses trailed along your skin as his fingers trailed down the outline of your body before they stopped at the warmth between your legs.

Your mouth was wide open against his shoulder, eyes watering with the force of pleasure from having his cock smacking through your wetness, his body forcefully shoving your knees apart. You felt his fingers trailing your clit in slow circles and you arched your back, each tender brush tightened that coil of heat simmering in the pit of your stomach. The simulation drove you further into a haze of pleasure that a soft yes finally escaped your lips without you realizing it.

The barely whispered word didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Yes to this," he wondered as prompted his weight on his other hand. "Or to my proposal?"

You glanced up at him, your face a mixture of pleasure and alarm as you gave him a look. "You're crazy."

He watched you closely, mesmerized by the way your hips were bucking every time his cock hit that soft spot inside you while his fingers continued their tease. "Maybe." He leaned down and softly bit your shoulder. "But I am crazy in love with you."

When you didn't respond, he slowly pulled away and fixed his gaze on you. Your reaction, or lack thereof, spoke volumes, and as his eyes met yours, he found himself captivated by the reflective pools of emotion within. There was a hint of fear and concern, shadows that danced with the flicker of uncertainty. Yet, beneath those layers, he could see the distinct longing in your eyes. It was hard not to distinguish it as it matched the same look in his. Your stare was warm and domineering.

They were so full of love.

And that moment, Spencer realized, that was what you were to him—love. You were the greatest passion he had ever known.

You felt completely in the moment with him as you let your gaze scan over his features. His eyes appeared darker in this light of the room, but you could still see the soft lightness of them. Then, you leaned up, noses brushing gently against each other before you pressed your lips onto his. His body moved again in response, hips bucking into you and you felt him pulsing inside your core as his mouth worked harmoniously along yours.

"Marry." Thrust. "Me." Thrust.

You whimpered. Everything was too much. The intensity of the pleasure was almost intoxicating, a heady concoction that wrapped around you, rendering you momentarily breathless.

"Having you for the rest of my life is a privilege." He continued, grunting as you clenched around him. He lost himself with one final, jagged plea. "Marry me and make me the happiest man alive."

His words, touch, and the stroke of him inside you—it all blurred together. It pushed you so wildly that the coil in your stomach twisted sharply through along your body. He lunged down to kiss you again, tongue pushing deep as he stole your moan before it could break into the air. He tugged you into him at the same time that you submitted to his pull.

There were times when you would appreciate this. The contact, the intimacy, the warmth of your boyfriend connected with you. Right now though, you needed release. So you buried your hand in his curls, all messy and askew.

"Spencer," you breathed out against his lips. Each of his thrusts fed the growing flame in your body as your body turned pliant for him. “Oh god, yes,” you cried, head thrashing side to side as your eyes rolled back, overwhelmed by pleasure.

He peppered kisses over your neck, your jaw, your temple, desperate to be even closer to you, to melt into you. "Yes to what?"

Your senses were heightened, every touch and every breath seemed magnified in the intensity of the moment. Your body shuddered with every vicious thrust.

"Yes, yes, yes." A desperate, needy little whine slipped past your lips and you opened your eyes wide to give him a pleading look. "Spencer, please, please."

You were panting, your breath hot and your skin even hotter, and you could barely hear him when he spoke, "Yes to what, Angel?"

Angel. The syllables carried a warmth that resonated deep within your heart. Sometimes you were his Angel. Sometimes you were his Sweetheart. While you cherished the way he expressed his affection, a yearning for more had taken root.

Marry me.

You could be more than his angel. You could be his wife. But it wasn't just about the affectionate words anymore; it was about a promise, a shared future, and you realized as he hovered above you, all sweaty and desperate, that you wanted to feel this bliss every day. How could you not when he fits so perfectly inside you that you could swear he was made for you?

And then you felt it, his hand trailing down your arm before it stopped right along your fingers, intertwining them with his. Your hand clutched onto his as his thrust sped up a fraction—but it was still deep and lazy, enough to make you squirm. His cock was achingly hard inside you and when you clenched down on him, you adored the twitch and resounding moan it drew out of him.

You wanted this for your life. You wanted him every day. You wanted to wake up each morning in his arms, him whispering sweet nothings as he buried himself inside you.

You wanted him so much you would be a fool not to accept his proposal.

"Yes," you breathed out. "I'll marry you."

He grunted against your lips. "Say that again."

His thrusts were now fast and ruthless, his groans filling the room while the sound of skin slapping together echoed with it. Every time you could feel him deep inside you, it brought you closer to that familiar coil in your stomach. It was a heady sensation, an intoxicating blend of desire that quickened your pulse and set your senses ablaze.

"I—shit," you cried out, legs shaking at the pleasure traveling along your body you were starting to wail desperately for your release. "Fuck, baby, I'll marry you."

A sound of satisfaction erupted from him as he kissed you with every ounce of power he had. He kissed you as he had never kissed anyone before. He kissed you deeply, possessively even, and it was messy and rough and probably looked horrific from different angles, but it felt perfect.

You felt perfect. Your lips. Your curves. Your scent. It was as if you were made especially for him. He was fully consumed with you, consumed by you, and yet he couldn't get enough. Though you were beneath him, he was at your mercy, and the fact that you could still have such control over him made his stomach twist even more.

He was so in love with you. He was so sure of it, so sure of this abundance of passion, for Spencer Reid could sometimes be dense when it came to sudden bursts of emotions, but he was not stupid. He wasn't oblivious, nor was he lacking in perception. It wasn't about intelligence or lack thereof, it was simply about the purity of his emotion. 

And he was deeply, unequivocally in love.

.

Oneshot taglist: @simpingforharryandcevans @strawbeerossi @lightvixxen @dim-i-try @annabellexox @baby-banana @natarataca @wolfbeanpotion @nagemasstuff @alexander-arcturus-black @rosieee491 @s00dastereo @no-honey-no @donttrustlove @tylevx @kailey-rae @sailorholly @ducksong @infinitegalaxiesworld @dreamsarebig @brilliantreid @boimlers-gonna-boim

PLEASE READ: The crossed out ones are blogs I can’t tag. And if any of you asked me to be added and you're not on the list OR you want to be added in the future, please comment on this post so I can see it. But make sure your blog can be searched by anyone or I can't tag you. Thank you :)

Don’t forget to interact with the story!

[stxrvel]

i can fix them (no really, i can't) (m.list)

summary. the holy grail of the seven men who ruled the country's entertainment used to be your friends at school. now, ten years later and between successes and failures, what reason would they have to want to come back into your life?

pairing. eventually ot7 x f!reader.

content. cursing words, angst, suffering, slow burn, eventual-really eventual fluff, mature themes such as drugs and violence. every chapter will have their own warnings at the very top.

a/n. this is the first bts related fic i've ever posted and i hope for the best!! ofc this is inspired by i can fix him by taylor swift in case you were wondering. and this story wasn't really planned (no news for me), but it's all i've been thinking and writing about all this week, so i decided to post it! the chapters list will be posted as soon as i can! love you all and thank u for the support!

bts masterlist

chapter list.

i. the one where everything changes

ii. the one where you came close!

iii. the one where i said fuck you and you cried

iv. the one where you stood there and watched

v. the one where... is it true? (50%)

vi. the one where you might be in trouble

vii. the one where you thought you had me

viii. the one with the memories

ix. the one where you set everything on fire

x. the one with the truth

xi. the one where you broke my heart... twice

xii. the one where... do you really think you can keep doing this?

xiii. remorse

xiv. why should i?

xv. you didn't have to do it

updates will be weekly or biweekly, depending on the progress of each chapter.

[starillusion13]

Hi! can I request an ateez 9th member poly au but the scenario is they make her feel left out, being mean and entertains another girl from another grp and she was painted as the villain by that girl! so they gang up on her, she suddenly left the group and now they’re chasing her back!!

Missing Piece

Pairing: Ateez!ot8 x f!reader

Genre: Idol au, Angst, Mature

Warnings: ignorance, tired, mention of drugs( just a rumor), leaving the group, feeling left out, light arguments, anxiety, evil intentions(a pick me not y/n), a mess of emotions nothing more.

W.C: 6.9k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. After writing this fic, I realized that I don't know how to write 9th member fics😔. I hope this what you wanted anon<3.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

Now let’s take a moment to appreciate my dear friend @dreamsoffanfics Thanks for helping me out and being my proofreader. A dear friend indeed <3.

"Congratulations Ateez!"

Whenever this phrase echoed, you always felt proud and satisfied with yourself for coming a long way. It's obvious that your hard work and determination made it possible for you to stand strong and shine on this ground.

But, a wave of emotions was running inside you today because of the feelings that are itching your mind.

The scandals you are in lately.

The staff and other idols who are passing by while making your way towards the private room are constantly congratulating you and the members of your group. They all are having a wide smile across their faces but you just hesitantly smiled towards others. You know very well that everyone is aware of the scandal you are currently dealing with.

You excuse yourself from the washroom and Hongjoong notices you stepping away in another direction. He called out your name and asked where you were off to but you didn't reply or turned back.

All the members were gathered in front of their room to enter but when they saw their leader---the captain was standing in front of the door and looking in a particular direction. They all looked towards your fading figure into the hallway.

"Where is she going now?" San asked the captain but quickly noticed the anger on his face.

Hongjoong slammed open the door and others followed him inside the room, "I don't know. She didn't reply to me when I asked her. She is really becoming stubborn."

"What's her problem? Isn't she acting so childish all the time?" Mingi slumped down on a cushioned chair and closed his eyes when placing himself comfortably.

Jongho shook his head while removing the mic and earpiece from around his neck and placing it on the wide desk in front of the mirror. "What about the updates on her scandal? The way she is sneaking around here and there, I feel like believing those are not just scandals."

"No. I don't think that's possible. I don't see a sign from her taking any drugs." Seonghwa stated and looked at the leader who was leaning against the wall after removing all the unnecessary items from him. When he caught his eyes, the one standing sighed.

"But she didn't even deny it." Hongjoong said and raised a brow.

Yeosang nodded and spoke up, earning others attention to his words,"When the manager asked her to explain the matter she remained silent and was staring down as if she was high on drugs. Even when the company tried to answer the question about her on the internet, she refused to make a statement."

Some of them nodded and others had confusion visible on their faces.

Wooyoung pointed at your bag beside his and asked, "why did she bring this bag again?" He lifted the bag and found it to be the same bag which you're carrying everywhere, "it seems like she has a lot of stuff inside it."

"Open it." Hongjoong orders the younger one but he hesitated to the command. "I said open it. I am asking you for it and she has no say in this."

"But it's a girl's bag."

"Don't act like we don't stay together. Even if I ask her about bringing this bag, she won't reply. And if something inappropriate is there then we would apologize to her later."

The younger nodded but before he could open the bag. The manager entered. Hongjoong signaled to put the bag down.

It was always a bit challenging for you to be in a group where you are the only female member. All the fans accepted you very willingly and gave you lots of love on the day when it was announced you would be the last member of the debut line. Yeah, the competition had always included the five girls with the boys but you didn't expect back then to be in the lineup of the final showdown. As you were very sure of Minnie to be debuting with them. Her talents and looks are always remarkable and you admired her dance moves and vocals so much. And, you're sure others loved her more than you. They have a strong friendship with her even after her debuting in a different group 'Stray Kids'.

But your members never made you feel left out or different for being a girl. At first they were a bit hesitant to have you as the member but gradually you all became close and had so much fun together during the first MV shooting. Your debut was memorable with you all traveling to a different country and experiencing several new things.

Moreover, your members treated you like the baby of the group. They pampered you so much and of course, they won't leave a chance to annoy the shit out of you. You felt closer with Jongho because he was around your age so you were always paired up with him. And that's how the deep friendship started between you both.

Ateez are very close with Stray Kids and for that you all often meet them to dine out and hang out on off schedule days and after encore and promotion stages. You loved Minho's company a lot because you both clicked together perfectly. But there was something you noticed: San doesn't like you spending time with Stray Kids and sometimes, he and the others often drag you away with your members telling them that they need to hurry back to the dorm because something urgent came up. Only for you to get scolded later by Hongjoong that being so friendly with others would lead you to get into a lot of scandals.

What about them?

They often can be seen talking with Minnie after the performances or concerts and even two or three of them hanging out with her. Did you ever say anything? No. Then how come the dating rules only apply to you? You had enough one day and screamed at her and them, telling them that because of her Ateez would soon be under controversy but she quickly apologized to you and cried to them.

That was not the end. Because of her Hongjoong treated you really badly. He and other members used harsh words on you and others supported him on the fact that you had overreacted for no reason. They really started to go out alone without you - you were already used to it. But after the incident, they purposely made you feel left out. That didn't even stop them being friendly with her. They even did the new dance challenge with her and the way she was leaning on Seonghwa's arm made you glare at the video longer until the manager announced the practice time.

All these struggles really made you exhausted day by day and it's even showing in your performances and interaction with others. One afternoon, you were in the middle of the preparation for the comeback when you suddenly got to know about something trending under your name on all social media platforms.

'Is y/n really taking drugs?'

And the comments under the post - some supporting your side saying it's fake but you were shocked to see the amount of people believing the post and making strong comments that your recent appearances do look like you are under its effects. You ignored the news, you ignored everyone. You thought about the trainee days and then after debuting. You had lots of fun with Ateez. There are a lot of good memories and there are a lot more than just memories which couldn't be revealed everywhere. You tried to talk with others but never had the courage so you kept everything to yourself. Whenever you were asked to clarify on this matter, you remained silent.

One day, finally you had a talk session with your manager to discuss the ongoing situation. Many of your fans went against you and you accepted their opinions because you didn't make any strong denial statement on it so it's obvious for people to suspect you. You are being a bad influence on the industry.

"Are you sure about this?" the manager had concern and worry etched across her face but you just nodded and sighed when she kept staring at you.

"I don't want to change my mind. I have come up with this decision after thinking a lot."

She opened a file on her tablet before passing it to you to read, "read this. And, what about them? This is a big decision so please think carefully."

"I know."

"Will you be fine after this? People might blame you more."

"I don't have any other option. Even if I have, this is the only thing that seems right to me right now."

She just nodded in acceptance.

.

.

.

As the manager entered the room, she noticed Wooyoung placing your bag down to the side of the chair. Hongjoong stepped forward to greet her and she sent a quick smile to everyone present in the room, also noticing your absence there.

"You all don't have any more upcoming schedules this week so hurry up, we have to leave for the dorm. You guys look so tired. You all didn't got enough rest the last few days." She announced and stared at Hongjoong who seemed to want to ask her something.

"Do you want to say something?"

He nodded, "Y/n is not here since we came back from the stage. She went towards the stairs and I asked her but she seemed a bit lost. Where is she? Do you know about it?"

She sighed, "she is probably in the restroom, don't worry."

"Before the day of the comeback, she had a talk with you. What did she tell?" Seonghwa asked, who was now wearing a black t-shirt with just a washed face. He wasn't wearing his stage outfit anymore.

"You all will get to know about it tomorrow morning."

"What is it that you can't tell us now?" San asked her curiously.

She shook her head, "it's not like that. I can tell you but she doesn't want me to tell you. Don't get your hopes up. Just know it's nothing good." She handed over the food bag to them so that they could feed themselves inside the van while going back home. She asked the last two members to quickly change into a comfortable outfit and took your outfit to the restroom.

.

.

As soon as she handed you the outfit, you thanked her and asked her to wait outside. Changing into the comfortable soft fabrics made you sigh in relief. But you felt tears welling up in your eyes while staring down at the mic, earpiece and the stage outfit in your hand. A lot of emotions coursing through you but your mind was only focusing on the fact - this was your last stage performance.

You wiped your tears and put on a fake smile before exiting the door. the manager took the things from your hands but before you could step forward, she grabbed your wrist and looked at your face, scanning the smudged eyeshadow and liner. You were crying and she caressed your hand.

"Y/n, you are not okay with this. Please, I would suggest that you change your mind."

You shook your head before removing her hand. "Trust me. I will be okay without all of these problems." She watched your retreating figure until you took a sharp turn.

When you reached the door of the private room, it was expected to hear their loud laugh or them having weird singing competitions that could be heard from outside. But now, it's so quiet. Are they that tired? Or did they already leave for the dorm without you? That's not possible, the car was for you nine so it won't leave until nine of you have entered it.

You tightly held the handle before pushing the door open only to find them gathered around the couch but staring at you. You noticed Wooyoung holding a bag at the end of the couch.

A bag, wait, your bag. No!

You hurriedly went over to the couch to find it was your bag and the things were already scattered on it. You tried to pull the bag from his hold until Yeosang grabbed your wrist and turned you around.

"What is this?" he asked you in a demanding tone.

You licked your lips before prying his hand off from your wrist, "nothing. you don't have to know." You snatched the bag, "and why did you even touch my bag without my permission?"

"Since when are we asking each other to touch our things?" Yunho asked and got up from the chair to make his way towards you. You tried to pick up the things and place them inside the bag but Hongjoong blocked your hand and signaled Mingi to take the things away from you. The tall man finally stood in front of you, "and you better explain what all these boxes are for?"

"Nothing..."

Yunho exhaled sharply and grabbed your biceps tightly, "Y/n, what are you hiding from us? what is it that you can't tell us?"

Mingi was glancing between you and the things which he was putting inside the bag. Seonghwa stood beside the man holding you and stared at you sharply, "are these the drugs?"

"Please just shut up!" you screamed at them.

They slightly flinched at your sudden outburst but it was not noticeable by you as your teary eyes blurred your view. You put your palm over your ears and closed your eyes tightly.

"Please shut up. I can't hear any more of this. I know you don't trust me like before but please don't blame me every time. Because of me, this group is already under so much controversy and I'm really sorry for that."

You were going through a lot and having them all cornering you in the room, confined to a little space was too much.

San pushed Yunho so that he could hug your crying form, "It's okay, y/n. No one is blaming you. But why are there so many boxes containing various pills in your bag? You can tell me if those are distractions." he continuously rubbed your back.

You were crying in his hold, clutching his white t-shirt tightly. He didn't care that his fresh t-shirt was getting wet because of your tears when you were crying helplessly. It was breaking their heart to see you like this but what could they do. If you are doing something wrong then they must solve it and for that they need to talk to you but here you are not telling anything and always ignoring them since the incident happened between you and Minnie.

Realizing you were holding San tightly, you quickly removed his arms from around you and glared at him. Everyone observed your sudden change in mood and Hongjoong held your biceps to turn you towards him. At the tight hold you said harshly "let go of me."

"Y/n, enough. What's wrong with you suddenly?" His demanding tone was obvious and your glaring eyes didn't faze his expression. "Don't show me that look."

"Then leave me."

"Joong, leave her hand. We are all tired and we need to go to the dorm. We can ask her about this there." Seonghwa said calmly and placed his palm on the younger's shoulder. the latter sighed and you snatched your hand from him.

Everyone's eyes followed how disheveled you were looking while picking up your things and no one tried to stop you as you were all going to the same place after all. When you pulled the zip of your bag, Wooyoung stepped forward to offer you the food but you rejected it and went outside the room, slamming the door. They flinched at the loud noise but no one noticed your tears and emotions while exiting the private room backstage for the last time.

"I will be good without all of them." You have repeated this line to yourself a lot of times but still you felt the emotions to return back all over again.

Wiping your eyes, you raised your head only to find Minnie standing in front of you with folded hands and innocent eyes, the way she always looks at others. She was still wearing a faerie stage outfit and smiling at you. Ignoring her presence, you tried to turn around but her voice made you halt.

"Are you carrying those drugs in the bag again? So should I post it clearly that you are being spotted taking drugs?" she was smirking when you turned around.

"What are you saying?" You gripped the bag tightly when she glanced at it and chuckled. Stepping forward to you, her smirk grew wider, "it was me who posted that about you. and even if you say this to anyone, no one is going to believe you."

"It was...you." you watched her in disbelief when she lightly laughed and twirled a strand of hair between her delicate thin fingers. She pouted and blinked at you, "you shouted at me in front of them so I had to take my revenge."

"And it's just-"

"It hurts my pride." She made a disgusted face at you and bumped against your shoulder, "well, thank me for not doing something else but....I just ruined your career. Goodbye!"

You saw her walking like on a cat walk towards the corridor and smiling innocently to everyone in her way. She turned a little and smirked at you before taking a turn leaving you there in shock.

"Y/n...you're still here." You heard Jongho's voice and then saw others exiting the room but before they could ask you something, you ran towards the elevator and fortunately it just opened for the staff members queuing in front of it and you got inside with them. They were all glancing at you because of your weird behavior and you being alone with a sad look.

As soon as the ding sound indicated the arrival to the ground floor, you wasted no time and speedily walked towards the car. You got inside and sat in the far back, waiting for others to come.

.

.

After they got into the car, they found you sleeping peacefully at the back. "She is sleeping." Yunho told others and placed your head on his shoulder while adjusting in the seat beside you.

"Let her sleep. She is extremely tired." Hongjoong said and scolded Wooyoung who was about to say something loudly.

Seonghwa shook his head, "but she has to eat."

"I will feed her after we reach home. Leave her for a while. Let's not ask her anything more today." Yeosang started and closed his eyes while leaning back.

Yunho kept stroking your head so that you don't wake up and he felt you nuzzling into him and he smiled while looking down at you.

>>>><<<<

You stretched your arms, you heard their voices coming from a distance. You groaned and rubbed your eyes. Your body was aching so bad that you felt like going back to sleep again. But then you remembered your plans for this night.

You got up and stepped outside the room, their voices were coming from the living room and when some of them caught your sleepy figure entering the room they sent a smile towards you.

"Y/n come eat with me. Others have already had their dinner and I will accompany you while the rest keep doing whatever they do at the moment." Yeosang called you from the table and patted the chair beside him. You were hungry but you didn't feel like eating anything because of all the emotions you had inside.

Is my decision okay?

You shook off the feeling and walked towards the table. Some returned back to discuss the topic they were busy with and the youngest of the two joined you both at the table.

"So, as we don't have a schedule this week. How about we go on a trip somewhere?" Wooyoung suggested and Yeosang nodded before urging to start eating.

Your heart ached when you heard the joy in his voice and how they were planning for the week.

"But can we not spend time inside the dorm? I don't feel like going out." Jongho whined.

"What do you say, y/n?" Yeosang asked and you glanced at him to your side but remained silent.

He shared a glance with Wooyoung before the younger one spoke up: "Hey! Do you want to stay inside or go out? We will decide after what you say."

"I......whatever you all will agree on." You mumbled softly.

"But-"

"I said whatever you guys will agree on! It doesn't matter what I say. You all will be off on your own." You stood up from the table and took deep breaths, "have fun without me. Whatever you guys do, enjoy yourself and live a happy life."

"Y/n...if-"

"Yeo I don't want to hear anything. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."

The moment you had to pass the couch where others were sitting but their attention was on you after you shouted at the table, Mingi grabbed your hand, "Are you okay?"

You glanced at the grip and to the others.

"You all are always meant for each other. The eight of you are soulmates and I'm just an extra character who acted as a villain in the group and destroyed your success with my scandal."

Hongjoong stood up, "Don't think like that. We can sort this out together."

"No. People already hate me for this and even if I try to claim myself innocent then all the fame I have already lost is never coming back. I'll still receive more hate. It wouldn't have happened if you guys really cared for me." You whispered the last line.

San scratched his neck and spoke up, "But you have us. Even if they hate you, we will show them that you are the best."

"But you don't have me. I can't do anything in return so it's better for me to move away from the scene so that you don't have a problem on your way to success. There's still a long way to go and I can't stop you all from that."

Seonghwa shook his head, "You are not stopping us. You keep us motivated, Y/n. You'll always be with us like the final missing piece of the puzzle."

"Sometimes there's an extra piece to distract you and confuse you and I'm that extra piece. You are already complete without me."

"Why are you thinking like this?" Mingi asked you softly.

"Because you all made me feel like this." You sighed and turned back but before stepping forward, you said loudly, "Just remember that even if I'm not with you all in this journey you all will move forward and achieve everything. You deserve a lot and on top of that, be happy. Don't let yourself fall apart because of a missing piece."

Your quick steps led you to your room and you fell on your bed. Cries getting muffled by the sheet and you pushed your face into it more. When you were saying those words earlier, you stood strong but deep down, your heart was heavy.

Time passed and you didn't realize when you fell asleep. A figure stepped inside your room, he smiled at your sleeping figure, his dimples peeking out even in the dark and his sharp eyes staring at you softly. He adjusted your body to a comfortable position and pulled you closer to him, lulling you to sleep. You mumbled something in your sleep and he smiled and patted your head. Soon, he fell asleep with you in his arms.

Now, this is the secret that nobody knows yet. You're dating all of them. Since the day of the debut you all found comfort in each other's arms. This can't be mentioned in the public media and nothing can be obvious if you are really dating one of them - let alone all of them. They're always so protective and showered you with love, making your heart warm and a wide smile visible on your face.

In many shows and interviews, you've referred to them as your strongest pillars of life and that you would be always thankful to them for being with you.

But lately it turned into a disaster after you all met her again after a year at the show when Minnie introduced herself to them and they became friends quickly. You didn't mind the friendship at first but when they started to blame you on whatever she tells them, they started pointing out her right proving you wrong in every aspect.

She really had to destroy your career---even your relationship with them.

<<<<<<>>>>>>

"You are here?" Yunho yawned while nodding his head and rubbed his eyes while making his way towards the table after greeting the leader. "I thought you're the one sleeping with her."

Yunho shook his head before gulping down the water, "No. San told me that he wanted to sleep with her." Hongjoong nodded and turned his attention back to the food on the table.

The rest of them soon started to gather around in the living room. Wooyoung saw San coming last into the wide space but all alone. He creased his brows and asked him, "Isn't she coming for breakfast?" He put down the plate on the table.

"It'll soon be lunch time." Jongho said and laughed. Yeah, it's true that they woke up so late that they have passed the morning and it's already noon but they're still preparing breakfast.

San, who was still rubbing his eyes, looked at him and then around the room, "She isn't here?"

"No..."

"When I woke up, she was not in the bed."

Hongjoong stood up and took the phone in his hand before watching everyone in confusion,

"Did she tell any of you where she is going today? Does she have something to do?"

He dialed your number but the line was dead.

Mingi skipped to your room to see if you had left any sticky note but nothing was there. Wait. Not even your things were there. Only a few items were there but the photo frames with a few boxes were missing too. He went back into the living room to inform the others about it. They were so lost and confused about the situation when suddenly the doorbell rang.

Jongho quickly opened it to be greeted by their manager whose appearance was more serious than usual. She walked inside and looked at everyone before sighing and sitting on the chair near her, "Have you checked your phones?"

When they shook their heads and told her that they had just woken up. She turned her phone screen around to take a look at it.

'Y/n, the member of Ateez is leaving the group...'

San snatched the phone from her hand and scrolled down the whole post only to find out the news was announced by their own company and there was also an apology letter from your side posted. So many things happened just in the morning.

"What is this? Where is she?" Hongjoong demanded a clarification of this situation from her but she only shook her head before brushing some strands of hair back.

"She has already left the place. These past few days, you were busy and didn't notice her preparing for this day so I was there to help her collect everything. I tried to change her decision, make her understand but she had already lost hope in this. She was so disturbed with the whole scandal and all."

"Can't we contact her?" Wooyoung asked her while tears were threatening to fall from his eyes.

"No. Your company has banned you from having any contact with a former member. I don't think it's good for your image."

"I don't care about my image. I want her back. How can she leave the group? And she didn't tell us anything about this the whole time..."

Seonghwa looked at the leader and sighed, "That's why she was saying things like that last night."

And now, they realized how they have ignored you all these past months just to believe that girl whom they had befriended and trusted so much that they doubted you on taking drugs and being jealous of others too much.

But their career can't be stopped here. They need to move forward on this journey - even if that means with a missing piece in their group.

>>>><<<<

[2 years later]

"8 makes 1 team...Hello we are Ateez."

The whole audience in the arena cheered. Ateez with wide smiles and sparkling eyes were watching their fans from overseas greeting them by shouting out their names. They felt so loved at that moment that they forgot the pain inside their heart, not getting to be loved by you anymore.

They love their fans a lot but your love was the precious one and when Yeosang realized that you were not there beside him in the choreography, tears fell from his eyes. It's already been 2 years but still everytime he cries during this step where you are no longer smiling while spinning with him in the center.

The concert went for two hours and they quickly changed into some casual wear afterwards and decided on takeout for the day.

The next day, at night they planned to stroll around the city and take in the view of the new place overseas and enjoy the place. They were not given any schedules for the vlog so they were free to roam around.

"I have seen this place just across the street that has a good variety of foods. Let's try it out." Yunho stated his search for this place and others agreed quickly.

All of them entered the big glass door of the restaurant and eyes roaming around in appreciation of the new place. The things decorating the tables, shelves and each corner with the soft melody of the overflowing music with the right amount of warmth and light were a perfect setting. Many customers turned towards them, a table with four girls recognized them but the rest just watched them curiously as they were standing awkwardly until a waiter offered them a helping hand.

They opted for a table at the very end as it was a bit away from the other tables and a bit hidden by a wooden rack.

They all settled down and the waiter waited for them to order. After a lot of complaints, whines, bickers and scolding, they had decided on the menu to be ordered finally.

For the time being, they were waiting for the food to arrive. They gossiped on a lot of stuff, few scrolling through Instagram and taking aesthetic pictures of the place but they don't forget to see any update from your private account. nothing. Jongho sighed and switched off his phone.

"Here is the food!" A cheerful voice made them look up at the person with two others trailing behind her. The girl didn't look at their faces but the eight boys from around the table were staring at her. she was joking with the girl beside her while placing all the bowls down the table. the other two left her when she turned around, "is there some-"

her voice got lost in her throat when she finally locked eyes with the ones watching her intently.

"y/n. you are here."

oh. they're having tours in this country. you're so busy these past few days that you didn't notice that they have announced the tour dates. yeah, even if you have left the group and moved away to a different country, you keep yourself updated with them.

you just can't get over them and this kills you inside.

"uh...um...congratulations on the comeback."

"Why did you leave the group? You don't even contact any of us." Hongjoong asked you from just the opposite direction from where you were standing.

"Isn't it obvious that I left the group not to keep in touch with you all?"

"But why?"

"Now your group is free from scandals and under no controversy. You all are having comebacks and your fans even forgot about me and giving you all the love you guys deserve. So what's the point of me being there." You chuckled in an unamused way.

Wooyoung stood up and suddenly hugged you catching you off guard, "you don't know how much we missed you. Everyday we thought that you'll call one of us or will show up to the front door. But you totally disappeared."

"It hurt us, baby. It hurts to not wake up to your side. It hurts not to see your smiling face and you walking around the dorm. Heck! I watched all the videos of you to hear your voice." San bit his lip to prevent himself from crying.

It hurts me too...

You just curled your fingers, wanting them to stop or you might break down in front of them. You thought after joining at your friend's restaurant that you won't ever come across your past life but who knew after two years here, you would be facing them again.

Licking your lips, you pushed Wooyoung off from you and eyed him before turning to them, "but you all became used to ignoring me then why suddenly you all are acting like this."

"No it's not like that."

"Really Mingi? Are you sure you're not the person who blamed me that for me all your hard work will be gone."

The chatters around the place increased with the entry of some more customers. Little did you know, your friend noticed the current situation you were in and she told other workers to take your place and not mind anything at the end table.

Jongho glared at Mingi but still he also knew that the news got them all shattered because it was their first accusation after the debut and they knew very well the cause of any controversy regarding a group. They all feared for their dreams to be crashing down.

But they were also worried for you. They all asked you about it but you're not the outspoken type and you remained silent and refused to talk to anyone. You distanced yourself from them when they hinted their anger towards you and it really scared you.

and that girl Minnie really played her wicked games with them at their weakest moment. "I'm sorry. Please forgive us for not being there for you. We-"

"Jongho, there's nothing to forgive or forget. I had some great memories with you all and I loved every moment but for me I don't want someone's dreams to end."

You weakly smiled at them.

"But what about you? How are you?" Seonghwa asked you while he approached you and held your hands in his, he caressed the soft skin and stared down.

"Honestly, I don't even know about myself. I'm totally living a different life. People don't recognize me after dying my hair and not wearing makeup and I don't come out often to serve the customers but unfortunately today I did and...."

"And what about the......drugs?"

"Joong-"

"It's okay Hwa. He is just obeying his rules being a leader." You bit your lip when retreating the hand from the hold, "those boxes in my bag were not drugs. Those were my anxiety pills. I used label-less boxes so that people won't know about my problems but that only led to some bigger problems."

Yunho stepped forward, "you had anxiety?" You nodded.

"What caused you this? I swear y/n tell me what happened to have this happen?" He was furious and you watched his impatient hand brushed his hair back.

"Yunho.....it's you guys. You all did this to me." After voicing out the words, you stared at them blankly.

"Us?" Yeosang asked you but also to himself.

"The ignorance. The blames and accusations adding up to the online comments on my posts were stressing me out and I had a consultation with my family psychiatrist." You sighed at the end of the sentence.

San suddenly asked you, "what about your dreams, y/n? You shared so many things with me with us. You planned a whole future with us. What about that?"

"I really wanted to spend my whole life with you all. To create so many memories together but I think those will just remain as dreams because of the rumors. Even if I want to get back. I won't because it would hamper your future and dream."

"But who spread the rumors on drugs?" Hongjoong sat down and held his head.

"It's-... it's..." you bit your lips and proceeded, "it's nothing. You don't have to worry about it now. I'm out of this whole thing and you are all free from all controversial posts."

You tried to smile but the tears falling from your eyes betrayed you.

"You are not coming back to us?" Yunho held your hand, he held it so dearly as if you were a delicate person. He didn't want to let it go but still somewhere in your eyes he saw the distance between you both.

There was no sign of love from you.

"No."

Jongho came in front of your view, "but please we need you. It's no more the same feelings without you. There's really a missing piece in our life." He gulped the lump of sadness and continued, "and, It's you, y/n."

"No you are a perfect team even without me. Eight makes a perfect team like you." You looked over all of them.

"And nine makes the perfect family." Seonghwa said in a hushed voice.

You shook your head, "then work on your teamwork and make it a family. I hope you will find a better girl for yourselves."

Wooyoung pushed aside Seonghwa and cupped your cheek and Hongjoong just stood behind him, watching you keenly.

"Please, y/n don't do this to me. I got to see you after two years and...and just for you to say leave me again?"

"Woo, people might be watching."

"I don't care."

"But I care. I have to work unlike you who will go back to your country after the tour ends. I have to stay back here and face these customers again and if somehow this scene got to the media then it'll be a new situation to handle. Please, I beg you. I don't want to be in a similar situation again."

You inhaled and continued, "and this time it won't be because of me but because of you. So stop before anything happens again."

" but you can stay with us. We can move out from the dorm and stay somewhere else. Also, you don't have to be with us for the sake of being a group member but as our girlfriend." Hongjoong said the words very precisely but you just laughed at him.

"You have lost the right to call me that way before. Don't say that word again. I hate it. I don't want to stay with any of you."

"But-"

"The food is getting cold. They worked hard in preparing this."

San held your hand when you stepped back, "At Least eat with us. Last time, you didn't even eat properly with us."

"Y/n, I miss you a lot." Yeosang looked at you with a longing feeling but you just ignored it.

I miss you all too...

And I know I shouldn't...

You took deep breaths, "I'm telling this to all of you. And it's my final wish to you so please kindly keep it. Just forget about me. You all have a long way to go to achieve success. Don't get stuck in the past. Pretend I never met you all. I was never a part of your life."

San gripped your wrist tighter.

Hongjoong said in a low voice, "this is impossible for us to do. How can we forget you? How can we forget all the memories of us?"

You stared at the grip and glanced at his face. He had changed a lot in these two years and the maturity in his voice and demeanor was visible.

He stared at you helplessly and waited for your response. You removed the grip and turned around.

"Enjoy the meal!"

How can they just eat now? They all have lost their appetite after this and the way you didn't even turn back to them for the last time left them staring at your direction until you disappeared behind the door beside the desk.

You entered the door and tears slid down your cheek and whispered to yourself, "pretend I was just a missing piece of your dream."

[I just realized that I don't know how to write 9th member aus like what did I write here. It could have been better but still I tried so appreciate me🥹]

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

[open!]

[mywitchyblog]

Reality Shifting and Age Changing Explained: A Deep Dive into the "Controversial" Practice

Introduction: Reality Shifting, the mind-bending practice of moving your consciousness/awareness to another reality (known as a Desired Reality or DR), has sparked intense debates within the community. One of the hottest topics? Age changing – the act of shifting to a different age in your DR. This shit has caused so many arguments, especially about ethics and what's "allowed". Let's break down why age changing isn't as fucked up as some people make it out to be, and why those who say otherwise might need to reconsider their stance. I will Mostly talk about agin yourself down since that is what is making the biggest noise

Taglist of various people who i think would be interested in this post (i will update it progresively) :

@shiftersroom You wanted my opinion ? Here is it /pos

@norumis I saw that post of yours

@evangelineshifts and @reiashiftsrealities Talked my project on your discord lol.

@jolynesmom Loved your post about it btw

Warning : READ IT FULLY BEFORE JUMPING TO CONCLUSIONS THANK YEW

My Race Chaging Post

Masterlist

Part I: Why Age Changing Isn't Bad

a. The Maturity Conundrum: When you look at the source of this controversy, you'll realize it revolves around the maturity gap between the shifter and their DR . Critics argue that age changing either doesn't alter your maturity (meaning if you're a teen in your DR, you still have the maturity of your Original Reality (OR), essentially making you an adult in a minor's body) or that it's inherently problematic. But here's the thing: when you shift, you fully take on the age and mindset of your DR self. You're not just playing pretend; you actually become that age. If you can get your DR self's memories, abilities, skills, and personality, why the fuck is it so far-fetched to think you can have their maturity as well?

Let's break this down scientifically. Maturity is dependent on brain development, more precisely, the coordinated functioning of four distinct zones:

Prefrontal Cortex (PFC): The "CEO" responsible for planning, decision-making, impulse control, and emotional regulation.

Limbic System: The "Marketing & Sales" team that influences emotions, motivation, and memory, shaping how we perceive situations and respond.

Basal Ganglia: The "Operations" department that controls habits and translates plans into action.

Temporal Lobes: "Customer Service & Public Relations" that processes social cues and guides our interactions with others.

This neurological ensemble shows that maturity is something physical, related to the brain development of an individual. It's been established in the shifting community that you cannot bring physical things across realities, so what makes you think you can bring your CR brain with you?

If that were the case, scripting a different personality, skills, and knowledge would be impossible. This means your DR self has its own cognitive and emotional frameworks developed in that reality. Your experiences and maturity are context-specific (in that case reality specific), so when you shift back to your OR, you regain your OR maturity. Shifting isn't like a permanent personality change; it's more like fully immersing yourself in a different role or life. Which is exactly what happens.

b. Debunking Anti-Aging Arguments:

"If you age yourself down, that means you're attracted to minors/you're a pedophile": This argument is complete bullshit. If there are gay people shifting to be heterosexual, lesbian shifters shifting for men, aro/ace people shifting to experience romantic/sexual attraction they never do in this reality, then aging yourself down and potentially having romantic and/or sexual relationships as a minor with another minor doesn't mean you're attracted to minors as an adult in another reality. This take is a "Hasty Generalization" fallacy – making a broad generalization based on a small or unrepresentative sample.

"Why in this reality are you thinking about dating minors??": This type of take is not what you think it is, baby girl. It's called a fallacy, more specifically the Straw Man fallacy. It occurs when someone misrepresents or oversimplifies an opponent's argument to make it easier to attack or refute. In our case, they're trying to oversimplify something as complex and nuanced as reality shifting, not taking into account valid instances where one would age themselves down.

"Even if you are the same age, you still have the awareness of being an adult, which means you're a predator": And again, another fallacious argument. Seriously, aren't y'all sick and tired of bouncing on my wood all day long? That's not how shifting works, and you know it. We aren't even sure awareness works like this. It's just a theory, plus I can tell that a lot of people with this stupid-ass take haven't shifted at all.When you shift – and let me tell you because I did shift, so I know how awareness works – when you shift to a reality, you don't even realize you've shifted at first because for you, existing, waking up, just living in this reality is something normal, not extraordinary at all. Then something will trigger the fact that you know you've shifted, and from the perspective of you in your DR, you don't feel as if you "originate" from a specific reality. For you, your DR becomes your CR, and subsequently,so does your awareness. You just know there's another reality, another version of you that exists and that you're an adult there. Your existence/consciousness/awareness is like a circle: no beginning, no end, no origin.Plus, according to the concept of infinite realities and possibilities, you can change via scripting how your awareness works. I haven't done that; that's how I and thousand of shifters WHO DID ACTUALLY SHIFT personally experienced/perceived our awareness while in our DR.

"Using shifting to age yourself down to date a minor while being an adult hereand saying 'oh well according to multiverse I AM this age, it doesn't matter ifI'm an adult in a different reality' is similar to trying to pursue someone thesecond they are of legal age when that shit varies in other countries/states": Nah, seriously, do some of y'all have actual arguments to defend your point of view except fallacious ones that have as much value as my nonexistent heterosexuality? The statement equates aging down in a Desired Reality to the practice of pursuing someone as soon as they reach the legal age in this reality, which is a "false equivalence" fallacy. These scenarios are fundamentally different in nature and intent. In reality shifting, the individual adopts the full cognitive and emotional framework of their DR self, becoming that version of them entirely. This is not comparable to someone in this reality deliberately targeting individuals based on legal age thresholds. The intent and context are distinct. Do some of you people realise that an actual predator/creep/pedophile would not age themselves down once they realized they could strike a chord as an adult in their DR without any consequences?

c. Valid Reasons for Age Changing:

Exploration and Nostalgia: Some people age down to relive experiences or explore stages of life they missed in their OR. It's like getting a second chance at living life. Maybe you want to experience high school without the anxiety, or have a childhood free from trauma. This shit can be healing as fuck and the best therapy there is in the multiverse.

Healing and Fulfillment: Shifting to a younger age can help heal from missed opportunities or trauma, like experiencing a fulfilling teenage romance or a carefree childhood. It's a way to rewrite parts of your life that were painful or unfulfilled.Imagine being able to have loving parents if you didn't in your OR,or getting to pursue that dream you gave up on as a kid.

Non-Sexual Intentions: Many shifters change their age without any sexual motives, focusing more on friendships, adventures, or just being in a different stage of life. It's about experiencing life from a different perspective, not about fetishizing youth. You might want to join a high school club, go to prom, or just enjoy the simpler responsibilities of being younger.

Tried to shift since being a minor: A lot of shifters discovered shifting when they were still minors and made DRs whose age corresponded to the one they had in their OR at the time and tried to shift again and again despite the years. Are you telling me that you're going to tell those people to discard those realities the moment they turn 18? Bitch, make it make sense and you cant.

Part II: Examining the Discourse Within the Reality Shifting Community

a. Teenage Shifters : Double standards and hypocrisy. Teenage Shifters need to acknowledge the hypocrisy of them shifting to a DR where they are a married adult with kids one day and then deciding to shift to a reality where they are 15 and dating another 15-year-old the next. This inconsistency becomes even more problematic when they complain about their "maturity" being affected upon returning to their original reality. Furthermore, these same shifters often label adult shifters as "predatory" for shifting to realities where they interact with high schoolers, failing to recognize the double standard in their own behavior.

This hypocrisy extends to their attitudes towards sexual content and relationships. Teenage shifters often defend scripting mature content in their desired realities, arguing that teens naturally have such desires. However, they become outraged when adult shifters express a desire to experience young love again through shifting. This inconsistency is further highlighted by their willingness to engage in adult behaviors with older partners in one reality while simultaneously pursuing teenage relationships in another.

This hypocrisy extends to their attitudes towards sexual content and relationships. Teenage shifters often defend scripting mature content in their desired realities, arguing that teens naturally have such desires. However, they become outraged when adult shifters express a desire to experience young love again (or expereince young love they never did) through shifting. This inconsistency is further highlighted by their willingness to engage in adult behaviors with older partners in one reality while simultaneously pursuing teenage relationships in another.

Moreover, the logic applied to adult shifters - that having a teenage love interest in a desired reality implies attraction to minors in the original reality - is not consistently applied to teenage shifters who frequently shift between adult and teenage experiences. This disparity in reasoning further underscores the bias within the community.

Lastly, the pressure to shift before reaching adulthood in the original reality is a concerning trend. The community's belief that minor-aged shifters can shift to any age creates an implicit urgency to experience various realities before becoming an adult, after which such experiences might be viewed as pedophilic fantasies by the wider community.

Many Shifters who are minors (I do not say that all shifters that are minors are like this, just a huge amount) have a very odd understanding of what shifting is. They often treat it like cosplay, which is not what true shifting is about. They accuse adults who age down of being predatory, yet they:

Age themselves up to be with adults.

Age down adults to be with them.

Have pornstar or stripper DRs, which is ironic considering their criticisms.

This double standard reveals a lack of understanding about the true nature of shifting and the subjective experience of each shifter. It's like they're playing by different rules depending on what suits them at the moment.

Consider this mind-fuck: A 17-year-old shifts to another reality, lives there for 40 years, then comes back and dates someone who's 17 in their CR. By their logic, this makes them predatory because they've lived for 57 years. Conversely, if they return to their CR as a 17-year-old and date a 57-year-old because they're "57 in shifting age," it's still seen as wrong. This highlights the inconsistency in their arguments and the subjective nature of age and experience across realities.

It's like trying to apply the rules of chess to a game of poker – it just doesn't work. Each reality has its own context, and trying to apply blanket rules across all of them is an exercise in futility.

b. The Hypocrisy of shiftok : Oppresive and unfounded dogma, lack of empathy and Cultish Tendencies

The TikTok reality shifting community, colloquially known as "Shiftok," often displays a concerning lack of empathy and nuanced understanding when discussing complex issues surrounding shifting experiences. This is exemplified by the interaction shown in the image below :

In the first comment, an individual expresses feeling emotionally and mentally stunted due to missing formative experiences while growing up(which is true a lack of expereince can stunt someone s well being and developement). They view shifting as a potential way to have those experiences and achieve personal growth. This perspective highlights the therapeutic potential some see in reality shifting. However, the response to this vulnerable admission is harsh and dismissive: "Just bc your childhood got fcked up does not give you the right to fck up another child's." This reply demonstrates the judgmental attitude prevalent in the Shiftok community, where complex motivations are often reduced to simplistic, moralistic condemnations.

This interaction illustrates several problematic aspects of the Shiftok discourse:

Lack of empathy: The responder shows no compassion for the original commenter's expressed trauma and stunted development.

Misinterpretation of intentions: The reply assumes malicious intent, ignoring the therapeutic or self-exploratory motivations expressed.

Imposing rigid moral standards: The response applies a single moral framework without considering the subjective nature of ethics across different realities.

Oversimplification of complex issues: The nuanced topic of personal growth through shifting is reduced to a binary "right" or "wrong" judgment.

Hypocrisy: While condemning certain shifting practices, the community often overlooks similar ethical concerns in other contexts, such as minors scripting adult relationships.

This example shows perfectly the need for more thoughtful, empathetic discourse within the shifting community. Rather than rush to judgment, shiftokers should strive to understand diverse perspectives and the complex reasons one would shift to a specific DR of theirs.Otherwise people will keep thinking that we are nothing more than a cult that seeks to exploit the mental health of broken teenagers and prey on their desperationf for fame and money.

c.The "holier than thou" attitude: The "holier than thou" attitude, also known as moral superiority or self-righteousness, is a mindset where individuals or groups believe their moral standards, beliefs, or practices are superior to those of others. This attitude often manifests as judgmental behavior, condescension, and a lack of empathy towards differing viewpoints or experiences.

In the context of Shiftok, the TikTok reality shifting community, this "holier than thou" attitude is particularly evident and problematic. It applies to Shiftok in several ways:

Moral Absolutism: Shiftokers often apply rigid moral standards derived from their original reality (OR) to all desired realities (DRs), ignoring the concept of subjective morality across infinite realities.

Selective Condemnation: The community tends to harshly judge certain practices (like adults shifting to younger ages) while overlooking potentially problematic behaviors by minors (such as scripting adult relationships in their DRs) or people scripting in trauma abuse or that people get SA ed or are in relationship with problematoc people such as murderers and villains.

Lack of Empathy: As demonstrated in the image, there's often a dismissive attitude towards individuals expressing personal struggles or complex motivations for their shifting practices.

Oversimplification of Complex Issues: Nuanced topics are frequently reduced to simplistic "right" or "wrong" judgments, disregarding the multifaceted nature of personal experiences and ethical considerations in shifting. Shiting at its core is complex, nuanced and multifaceted, no black and white its gray.

Assumption of Expertise: Despite many members potentially lacking deep understanding or personal experience with shifting, there's a tendency to speak authoritatively on what is or isn't acceptable in shifting practices. It's always those who either have never shifted or minishifted who yap the most about shifting like they know it all . Honey you don't , you know nothing you have nothing to talk about shut up and try to shift before opening your mouth on a subject you do not have an expertise about.

Gatekeeping: Some members of the community may attempt to dictate who can or cannot engage in certain shifting practices based on arbitrary criteria or personal biases.

Dismissal of Therapeutic Potential: The community often overlooks or dismisses the potential therapeutic or personal growth aspects of shifting, focusing instead on enforcing their perceived moral standards.

This "holier than thou" attitude in Shiftok creates an environment that suppresses open dialogue, discourages the sharing of diverse experiences, and potentially alienates individuals seeking support or understanding within the community. It contradicts the very essence of reality shifting, which is about exploring different perspectives and experiences across infinite realities.

And also the most concerning consequence of this effect, this hypocrisy, this lack of empathy makes shiftok look like a cult in the eyes of other spiritual communities. I do know and disagree when antishifters make the statement that shifting is a cult but I understand and come to agree with them when they say that shiftok is a cult.

This community that is supposed to help one another is just oppressing bullying and suppressing people when they have an opinion that differs from the dogma big shiftokers imposed on the rest of the community thinking that their word is law and they get to write the rules of a practice that is the antithesis of that .Shifting is the epitome of breaking the chains the constraints of this world and its rules. Plus do some of you lot realise that those people that you worship do not give a flying fuck about you ? These people pray on your desperation to keep you on their page.

Shiftok is nothing more than a living sack of horse shit. All the knowledge and tips are just poorly regurgitated from amino and other shifting spaces that existed far before 2020. They immediately closed themselves to outsiders when they saw the damage shiftok did to the community as a whole. When a cultist, shiftoker claims to have this groundbreaking solution /information about shifting keep in mind that 100% of the time it was already known elsewhere.Just not on shiftok and now they are the new shifting Messiah lmao.

Shiftokers sometimes (more like always tbh) ignore the fact that shifting involves complete immersion in the new reality. If it's possible to gain your DR self's memories and personality, then obviously, you'll also become their age mentally as well. You're not just dropped into that life with no context; you fully integrate into that age and lifestyle. When you shift to your DR, that's your new CR. This reality becomes a DR. This reality is not the baseline for anything.

Some people say their memories of their OR feel far away while their DR memories are front and center, making their DR life feel like their primary existence. This means you won't feel like an imposter, no matter how different your DR is from your OR.

In ancient times, gaining spiritual knowledge like shifting required understanding that you are a soul or consciousness having a human experience. Modern cultists shiftokers often skip this step, leading to judgment and misunderstanding. Shifting should be a tool for self-discovery and growth, not just entertainment. This lack of spiritual foundation often leads to a superficial understanding of shifting. It's not just about living out fantasies; it's about expanding consciousness and understanding the nature of reality itself. By focusing solely on the surface-level aspects of shifting, many miss out on the profound insights and personal growth that can come from this practice. Because of the damage shiftok did on the reputation of the practise it is nearly or impossible to break free of the stereotype of shifter being a bunch of mentally ill schoolgirls shifting to be with the wizard version of Nazis (looking at you girlies that shift for Draco Malfoy or Tom Riddle).

Honestly that is the thing that makes me cackle. The most about shiftok i keep hearing and seeing videos from these cultists shiftokers asking and wondering themselves why is the platform dying and why theres no active discussions like sharing tips story times etc...

Bombastic Side Eye-Do you fuckers realised it is all your fault ? You try and silence people when their opinion differs than the one you have.They experienced something you did not you shame and burn them at the stake for it no wonder why people leave that ghetto ass platform and im scared just like a lot of us here of the massive exodus of shiftokers that will happen once tiktok is banned in the US.

Conclusion:

Age changing in shifting isn't inherently bad. It lets people explore different life stages, fulfill desires, and grow personally. The real issue comes when age changing is done for fetishizing purposes, turning ages into objects for sexual gratification. As long as shifters are respectful, consensual, and not exploitative, age changing can be a valid and enriching part of the shifting experience.

Remember, shifting is about expanding your consciousness and experiencing the infinite possibilities of existence. Don't let narrow-minded judgments hold you back from exploring the full potential of this practice. Stay open, stay curious, and most importantly, stay true to your own journey of self-discovery through shifting.

[yoonia]

Ever A Never After — story masterpost

⟶ Title | Ever a Never After (adaptation from Enchanted movie) ⟶ Summary | Growing up in the fairy tale land, your whole life seems to have been written perfectly in the books, with the picturesque life and the Prince Charming that you can see yourself having your happily ever after with. But your entire world turns upside down when you are suddenly sent into a whole new world, a different kind of universe where happily ever after doesn’t exist. Thrust into a new challenge and shown a new side of life, you find yourself standing in a crossroad. When the moment arises, would you find your way back home to your true love, or is the universe trying to show you that sometimes happy endings don’t have to be written so perfectly?

⟶ Pairings | Jungkook x female reader; Seokjin x female reader ⟶ Genre | Strangers to lovers!au, Fairy tale retelling!au, Angst, Smut ⟶ Ratings & Warnings | +18 / M for Mature; specific warnings will be added accordingly on each published chapters ⟶ Status / Current word count / Total word count | ONGOING; latest update: Ever A Never After: Act 2 - Part 1 (Sept 16th, 2024) - 35,098 words of n/a words  ⟶ Main Masterlist | Mailbox | Feedback | Ko-fi | Music companion ⟶ Cross-posted in AO3 and Wattpad

⟶ Special Taglist: Ever A Never After

⟶ Story Note | Written in 2nd person POV (in case you’re new to my writing, I don’t use ‘y/n’ coding as all of my lead characters are considered as OCs). In place of the coding, you’ll find a blank space as her name. Please also note that our main character/reader insert for this story has her own nickname that will be used in the scenes. While the story is adapted from the movie, Enchanted, with some characters and places that were mentioned in the movie added into this story, I will be adding changes in the story settings, characters’ names and background stories to fit the plot. That being said, as someone who has never set foot in the land of America, forgive me if there are some inaccuracies in the details that are being added here. I hope that doesn’t change your reading experience with the story.

⟶ Chapters

⇢ Act One. Andalasia, The Maiden, and The Dream Prince [“It’s you. The boy I saw in my dreams.” “It’s me. Your Prince Charming.” | Word count: 19,688 words | posted: May 21st, 2024 | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Two. The Alter World and The Saviour [“I need to find my way back to the castle.” “What castle?” “Why, of course, I’m talking about Andalasia.” “Huh, right. Why don’t I just call you an Uber?” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

— Part 1. Welcome to the Alter World [Word count: 15,410 words of n/a words - posted on: Sept 16th, 2024] — Part 2. The World Without Magic [Word count: — of n/a words - posted on: — ]

⇢ Act Three. Fairy Tales and Bittersweet Endings [“You forgot to say the part where you lived happily ever after.” “Happily ever after? That thing doesn’t exist, not in the real world.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Four. The Ball for The Kings and Queens and Dragons [“There is a ball for the Queen and Kings at the start of spring. Shall we go together?” “As your Prince Charming, I’ll be happy to escort you.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⇢ Act Five. Prince Charming and a Happily Never After [“Look at how the tables have turned, as now I have in my hand the Prince who is supposed to protect the princess.” “Come along now, dear. You wouldn’t want to miss the ending.” | Word count: — | Chapter Teaser]

⟶ Fic talk & references

⇢ image reference

⇢ readers feedback & discussions

⟶ Patreon specials

⇢ visual inspiration board

⇢ fic commentary (coming soon)

⟶ Author’s Note | Originally commissioned by @pinkbtsarmy | It’s finally here! I’m so sorry for taking so long with this one. Thank you so much for commissioning me and for your endless support. As mentioned in our last talk, there will be some changes from the original prompt/details that I’ve made to make the story work better, but I hope you’ll be able to enjoy it still. I have decided to release this one as a mini-series to present the timeline more appropriately and make the storyline work. Have fun reading!

— © Yoonia, all rights reserved. reposting/modifying of any kind is not allowed. unsolicited translations are not allowed.

[strrykais]

ඞ control + alt love (📱, 📖)(M)

being a girl in the world of gaming is hard, that's why you've kept your identity a secret. after years of intense grinding, you have earned the title of the strongest mage player in the non-professional server. gaining the attention of an esports team they extend an invitation for you to join as their mid-solo.

having to overcome the fear of being a girl in the male dominated field, you come to learn maybe defeating boys - or specifically a certain boy - is something you could get used to.

gamer!seungmin x fem-gamer!reader

rating : (M) - mature

genre : humor, strangers to slight enemies to friends to lovers, esports au, slow burn

warnings : profanity, sex jokes, death jokes, gaming, mature content, fictional game, slight you x jeongin if you squint

notes : gonna be honest with you chat... i know nothing about esports but after further research i know just about the same as i did before research so :) also in this world the guys are very silly with their fans on twitter!

status : ongoing

updates : lwk whenever i feel like it :p

taglist : comment or message if you would like to be added so you don’t miss out!

profiles (1) | profiles (2)

1 - that blonde lesbian 2 - playing dumb is hyunjin’s job (half written) 3 - mind your manners 4 - so far up their ass 5 - bullying kids on roblox 6 - put your boner away 7 - sad and wet rn 8 - im not bella swan 9 - lwk kinda sexual 10 - kitty whisper 11 - not a team player 12 - balls to the face (half written) 13 - sleep with jeongin 14 - trying to be marilyn monroe rn

[hwaslayer]

vivrant thing (jwy) | three.

—SPOTIFY PLAYLIST / SERIES MASTERLIST

—SUMMARY: after getting into a little accident, wooyoung decides to do his sister a favor by pretending to be your date at the company summer party. as soon as the night ends, wooyoung would go back to his usual routine of hanging out with his boys, keeping his distance from committed relationships and being a typical brother to jiwoo. except, the favor comes with more than what wooyoung expects and he finds you occupying his mind more than usual. 

—PAIRING: jung wooyoung x f. reader

—GENRE: (18+ - minors dni) bestfriend’s brother au | fluff, angst, smut

—WORD COUNT: 6.6k

—CHAPTER CONTENT / WARNINGS: cussing, implied sexual content/mature language, dinner w/ yeosang!, feelings are laid out oof, alcohol consumption & slight intoxication, a bit more of jiwoo vs. wooyoung, use of pet names (princess, love, baby girl, baby), lots and lots of kissing, making out, mentions of marking, some dry humping, unprotected sex, slow sweet sex??, wooyoung pulls out 🫢

So, you agree to the dinner with Yeosang but you don't expect how terrible it ends up playing out.

At first, it starts off well.

It felt like dinner wouldn't be so bad, and you enjoyed seeing Yeosang being his usual self from the car ride up to the restaurant. When he pulls into a spot in the parking lot and helps you out of the car, there is a bit of a difference in Yeosang's attitude. He slides his hand into yours as he leads the way into the restaurant and as much as you adore your bestfriend, it feels incredibly unnatural. 

It surely doesn't feel like Wooyoung's, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

He continues to loosely hold your hand until the host brings you to a table near the back end of the restaurant. You didn't think tonight's dinner would be so fancy, but you were in your business casual attire straight out of work; it ended up working out well in the end. You scoot into the booth, with Yeosang on the other side. He immediately orders a bottle of white wine, which isn't really to your liking as you've learned, but you'll make do with what you have— especially to get through this dinner.

You order appetizers along with your main courses, indulging in good conversation with Yeosang as he tells you work updates and how he's being dragged to this really important meeting over the weekend with the board of directors by his team lead. 

It's all good. It's all fun and casual, until it isn't.

Meanwhile, Jiwoo stops by her brother's apartment to drop off some sushi from his favorite Japanese restaurant. It's her way of saying 'thank you' without actually having to say it out loud.

"What now?" Wooyoung swings his door open to see his sister standing there with a bag of food.

"Hi to you, too." She drops it on his kitchen counter. "Bought you food from Sushi Kashiwa." 

"Aw, just say it." He pretends to pout while she gives him a disgusted look and unties the bag.

"No. Besides, I bought myself some food and am gonna enjoy it right here." She lays out the containers and grabs her own. "My friends decided to leave me out of a very important dinner tonight."

"What are you talking about?" He pops open the lid to his sushi container and wastes no time digging in.

"Y/N went to dinner with Yeosang. I guess to talk about stuff going on between them, I don't know." Wooyoung pauses mid-chew, the statement hitting him right in his gut. He's not sure why he's sad— maybe he's right after all. Maybe this just ended up being a temporary one night thing that would eventually wash away.

Sucks it doesn't necessarily feel that way for Wooyoung.

He can't assume, though. Hopefully, you're talking to Yeosang and giving him the honest 'i think we should just stay friends' talk instead of the 'let's just see where this goes' talk. He'd appreciate the universe if it could give him this one thing; he'll stop running his parents' last nerve and will never look at a booty ever again.

Maybe.

"Oh." Is all Wooyoung says before stuffing another piece into his mouth. "Why would you even be there, Jiwoo? That doesn't concern you."

"Anything with my friends concerns me."

"Let them talk it out without your loud, nosey ass interrupting." She rolls her eyes, scrolling through her phone as she also continues to eat.

"I haven't gotten any new texts from her. I wonder if it's going well. Maybe they're gonna explore this after all."

"Who says?" Wooyoung responds a little too quickly, a little too sharply, for his liking. His sister doesn't seem to catch on, though. That's great.

"I dunno, beats me. I'm just taking all angles into consideration."

"Stop projecting. She seemed to be pretty set on her decision at the party."

"You never know." She says in a sing-song tone that irks Wooyoung a little more than usual this evening. "You're right, though. She is set on her decision. I just hope he takes it well." She sets her phone aside. "Anyway. How'd you like the party?"

"Gotta admit, it was fun."

"You really looked like Y/N's date. I had a few people ask me if you two were dating."

"Uh, I mean I was her date? And why would they ask when I already told them yes?" He jokes, just to push his sister's buttons.

"No way." Jiwoo continues to eat away at her food, texting Hongjoong in the midst of it. "Y/N is too good for you."

"No one is too good for anyone. Don't speak on shit you don't know."

"I know her!"

"And I know her, too!"

"I know her the best." Wooyoung rolls his eyes.

"Still doesn't mean you know everything about her."

"Ew, why are you getting so defensive tonight?" He shakes his head, feeling the irritation within him grow the more Jiwoo presses it. He knows he isn't the best man to walk this Earth, but he also knows he'd be good to you. Good for you. He's been thinking about it a lot and he hates that he is— none of this makes sense to him, but he knows he'd be good.

"Don't you have to go see Hongjoong?"

"Once he's off, yeah." Jiwoo sips on her water. "What're you doing tonight? Getting into more shit with Choi San?"

"No, he's actually visiting his parents."

"Hm." She hums. "No booty call coming over?"

"No. Even if there was, you would not be getting that information." She scoffs.

"Grow up, Wooyoung."

"Grow up, Wooyoung." He mocks her. "Says the one who made the wild claim based off of nothing."

"You're so annoying." She tosses her sushi container into his trash before washing her cup of water. Despite their usual bickering, Jiwoo stays for a bit longer until Hongjoong texts her and lets her know he's finally off of work after putting in some overtime. Jiwoo helps tidy up Wooyoung's space before she's waving goodbye [aka flipping him off] and slamming his door shut. Wooyoung plops back onto his couch with the remainder of his food resting on the coffee table, scrolling through his phone. He goes through your texts, wondering if he should say anything or keep silent. He smiles to himself when he sees the pictures you've passed along from the photographer. He sees you've posted the picture with him on your Instagram and it tugs at his heart because not only do you rarely use Instagram, but you took that opportunity to post your pictures from the party— including the one where you've got your hand resting on his chest while he has an arm around you. He was happy to see you happy and comfortable. Having fun. 

You glowed. 

He'll never forget it.

—OLD TEXTS

you: hi! they uploaded the pics from the party!

you: *sends a group of pics at once*

wooyoung: yo goddamn!? we look good!

wooyoung: you look so pretty. 😍

you: 😀 stop !!

wooyoung: i'm so serious, good LORD. 😮‍💨

you: i'm blocking you.....

wooyoung: woah now, hey i'm kiddddding....

wooyoung: not really! but don't block me! i just can't help it!

you: you're too much 😂

wooyoung: can i post these?

you: go for it!

wooyoung: thank you ☺️

He sighs as he reaches the end of the thread.

He won't say anything. He'll let this unfold as it should, but it doesn't mean he can't be sad about it. Cause he sure as hell is and he's a bit anxious. Hopefully, you'll tell Yeosang the truth. Hopefully, you won't force yourself into anything you don't want or feel uncomfortable with.

As for you, the dinner really takes its turn for the worse after you and Yeosang eat away at your main meals, a pregnant silence falling between you two after a good hour of just talking and yapping away about life. You already knew it was coming at this point, you were just hoping you'd buy a little more time [as if you could put it off even more]. 

"So." He says awkwardly to cut the silence.

"Mhm?"

"Did you really enjoy the party?"

"I did. Did you?"

"Yeah. I just—" He looks at you with his head cocked to the side. "I was just surprised seeing you with Wooyoung." You pause before poking at your pasta and taking a small bite. 

"Oh yeah, it was relatively last minute."

"Jiwoo's plan?"

"Why do you say that? Do you genuinely think Wooyoung wouldn't go with me?" You ask, a little offended at the way he sounds cause even though it was clearly planned and arranged, the insinuation from Yeosang doesn't hurt any less. 

"No, not like that— I'm sorry, it came out of nowhere and caught me off guard. That's all." You cock a brow up. 

"It just happened that way. Wooyoung wanted to go and I wanted to go in the end." Is all you respond with, chugging your second glass of wine before pouring yourself more. You really don't like the taste of this white wine either, but you'll take it cause it's better than sitting here without an ounce of alcohol to push you through. Give you more courage to finish the evening on a decent note, to be honest. "I had a really fun time, regardless."

"I saw." He pauses. "I wish you would've at least told me instead of showing up like that." 

"I'm sorry."

"I think it's time for me to be honest and stop watching from the sidelines because I.. really like you, Y/N." His shoulders droop just as he sets his fork and knife down neatly onto the plate. You take the last bite of your meal before sipping on more wine to wash it down.

"I should have told you, but I didn't want to hurt you. Even if I did tell you, it wouldn't have changed anything."

"It wouldn't? Why wouldn't it have changed anything? I thought we might've had a chance." He's confused. He looks like he was expecting a completely different outcome, and that might've been your fault for not telling him right away. But, the moment is here now and you know you can't push it off any longer.

"No. I just.. I just can't, Yeo. I'm sorry." You barely get yourself to respond out of fear. You knew Yeosang wasn't the type to react— if anything, he'd be the most understanding. Though, it doesn't change the fact that you were still scared. You felt bad. You didn't want to hurt him, and you wanted to avoid this confrontation as much as possible even though you knew you needed to face it sooner than later. "I truthfully think we're good with where we're at, and I don't think we should mess that up. I love the way we are as good friends, bestfriends, and that's how I've always seen us." You can see the disappointment growing on his face every second, but he's trying hard to keep it under wraps while he briefly waves the waitress down for the check.

"C-can I ask? You can be honest." You silently nod. "Is it Wooyoung?" You shake your head.

"It was never about Wooyoung. Just us. Well, me. You're amazing, and you deserve the best. You deserve someone who is sure about you and who will reciprocate those feelings to no end. I'm sorry that I can't be that person, but at the same time, I know I can be your friend just like I always have been. That's what I can give you, and I hope you understand." You tell him softly. "I'm sorry." You repeat, feeling the tears brimming your bottom lids. "I should've opened up earlier. I really hope this doesn't change things between us."

"It won't, but I hope you understand it'll take me some time to move past it. I'm sorry for assuming or for— yeah." He shakes his thoughts away.

"Take all the time you need." He gives you a tiny, toothless smile.

"Anyway." Yeosang signs off on the receipt before tucking his card back into his wallet and standing. "Let's get you home."

"Okay." You shimmy out of the booth to head out of the restaurant. This time, Yeosang doesn't hold your hand. In fact, he trails behind you, keeping at a safe distance. You can immediately see the change— how stiff and awkward he's become. You don't blame him for it; he's hurting and you know he needs his space more than anything. 

You can't wait to get home.

The ride is fucking awful. It's the most quiet you've seen Yeosang. The most closed-off and serious he's ever been towards you. His hand is clutching the wheel tightly, but the music is comforting enough to fill the void. You continue to look out of the passenger's window, keeping to yourself until Yeosang asks about your plans for the rest of the weekend. There isn't much going on for you, so that conversation dies quickly. Luckily for you, Yeosang is about to pull up to your street. He stops the car by your building, shifting the gear to park before helping you out of the car. You give him a small, sympathetic smile before pulling him into a hug— giving his back a gentle rub.

"Sleep well, alright? I'll see you next week."

"You too." With that, he walks off, waiting until you at least unlock and crack your door open. When you get a whiff of your candle that you lit up earlier in the morning, you realize you don't really wanna stay home right now; to sulk, to drown in your thoughts alone, to have to listen to the loudness in a quiet space. So, you shut the door again, head back down the steps and walk to the convenience store nearby. You grab a bottle of yogurt soju, along with your favorite chips and strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar— plopping yourself down onto one of the tables right outside the store. You're quick to crack open the bottle and drink away, also eating away at the chips since you didn't feel incredibly satisfied with the dinner earlier. It might've just been all the emotions and tension in the air, but anywho, the chips and the soju taste better than ever. Sooner or later, you find yourself tipsier, cheeks lit on fire, hands clammy; barely hitting the halfway point with the soju bottle. You lazily scroll through your phone as you begin to eat away at the ice cream bar, revisiting those party pictures.

You wonder what Wooyoung is doing, but you shouldn't be thinking about that right now.

"Ugh." You whine and pout to yourself, pulling up your texts to see if Jiwoo can come to your rescue. You opted for listing Jiwoo and Wooyoung as Jung 1 and Jung 2 to keep it easy and simple; except, it obviously doesn't work well in this case when you accidentally pull up the text with Jung 2 instead of Jung 1 while you wipe away at the tears that suddenly begin to stream down your cheeks.

you: oof .... that dinner was kinda awful i feel terrible

you: kinda?! not even kinda it WAS awfullll

you: i'm sitting outside of our fav convenience store by my olace

you: eating strawberry cheesecake ice cfream!!

you: jiwooooooo

you: jung 1!!!!

Wooyoung furrows his brows at the constant dinging of his phone, unsure of who the hell could be blowing up his phone right now. He even sits for a minute, wondering if there's anybody he's pissed off in the last few days [besides his sister].

"Hm." He hums when he comes up with nothing, nobody. He picks up the phone and scrolls through the previews, chuckling to himself when he sees your name pop up on the screen. Clearly by accident.

you: jiwoo jung 1 pls help come to my rescue it was not good! idk if yeo n i will be friens still ☹️☹️☹️

wooyoung: sorry to break it to you sweetheart, but this is jung 2. 😙

wooyoung: also i won't hold it against you that i've been slotted as number 2 when i should be number 1 esp after the party. 🫤 but it's cool or whatever......

You squint at the brightness of your phone, slowly eating away at your strawberry cheesecake ice cream bar. You almost drop the damn thing when you realize you've actually been blowing up the wrong phone, horrified it had to be Wooyoung, too.

He must think you're a gem, truly.

He does, though. In a very good, non-sarcastic way.

you: omggg i'm so sorry wooyoung jung 2 ☹️

you: i mean jung 1 technically

wooyoung: lol no worries, don't be sorry. you okay?

you: yes but no?

wooyoung: stay put.

You cock a brow up in confusion, wondering if Wooyoung was telling you to stay put because he was on his way or because he just needed you to get yourself together. You listen anyway, sitting on the little chair outside of the convenience store, silently eating away at your ice cream with your phone lit on your lap. You completely forget about texting Jiwoo amidst all of this, assuming she's busy anyway. The wind is slowly picking up, cooling the tip of your nose and surface of your cheeks— settling the heat from the soju.  You shiver and run a hand down your arm, hoping the wind slows in between its waves. You continue to mindlessly scroll through your phone, even picking up your game of Wordle for the day. Just as you get lost in thought, a car parks in a spot in between your building and the convenience store. You look up as you bite into the last of your ice cream bar, hearing the muffled bass from the music in the car. Wooyoung steps out in a grey hoodie and matching sweats, a black beanie on his head. He approaches you with a small smile with his hands dug deep into his pockets, crouching to your level as he continues to look at you.

"W-Wooyoung." You hiccup as you sit on the bench, setting your trash down next to you. Wooyoung gives you a small smile, thumb wiping away at your tears.

"Wanna tell me why you've been out here eating ice cream alone?" He eyes your snacks of choice. "And.. a half bottle of soju and chips? I thought you had dinner with Yeosang."

"I did, and it was terrible and sad." You sniff. "Well, not the food. I just couldn't enjoy it as much. I even tried to drink that bitter white wine he ordered just to get me through."

"And you're drinking soju now? Really must have been that bad."

"Bad bad." You pout and he laughs.

"I'm sorry." He gives your thigh a gentle squeeze before patting it. "Come on, let's get you home." He stands, holding out his hand. You gladly take it in yours, his thumb swiping over your knuckles in an attempt to try and warm it up. He grabs the soju and the chips in his other, leading the way to your building. He quietly heads up the steps, stepping aside and letting go of your hand to let you open your door. When you step back into the warmth of your studio, you instantly kick off your shoes and slip into your slippers—lighting up your candle to bring more heat into the room.

"I'm gonna set your chips and soju aside." Wooyoung says, tightly tying your chips close so it doesn't get stale before setting your bottle of soju aside in the fridge.

"Thank you." You set your bag down and let out a sigh.

"Glad I was able to get you home safely." He chuckles a bit, jingling his keys in his hand. You don't want Wooyoung to leave, especially after he made the effort to get dressed and come to your rescue.

"Wooyoung?" He cocks a brow up when you turn to face him. "Can you stay?" He takes a moment before he nods, unsure how he could turn you down with you looking up at him that way. 

So innocently. So delicately. Eyes yearning for company you can be comforted with, need to be comforted with.

"Yeah, of course. As long as you're okay with me poking around and making some food." You giggle and nod.

"Go for it." You grab your pajamas. "I'm gonna take a quick shower. Feel free to get comfortable and flip through the channels." You turn on the TV for him before shutting yourself within the bathroom walls to shower and get comfy for the evening. 

As you shower and get ready for bed that evening, you hear Wooyoung humming and singing a Blackstreet song to himself in your kitchen. After brushing your teeth, you finish up the last of your skincare routine before heading back outside.

"Finally." Wooyoung turns over his shoulder and quickly scans you from head to toe. "I was getting lonely."

"I didn't even take that long."

"It was long. You and Jiwoo take the longest showers known to man." He frowns a bit, making you giggle to yourself. You plop on your couch, now in your oversized crewneck and pajama pants. You're no longer tipsy, probably a little too sober for your liking especially knowing Wooyoung is in your studio. You do find his company comforting, though. You feel bad he had to come and rescue you, but you'd rather be here than anywhere else after that dinner with Yeosang. You tuck your legs to your chest, flipping through the tv channels only to land on Kiki's Delivery Service. It's already 20 minutes in, but it doesn't bother you knowing the movie so well. Wooyoung is still going through your stash of food, pulling out a bowl of jajangmyeon. While he waits for the hot water to properly cook the noodles, he dices up some pickled radish and some cucumbers, and quickly boils two eggs to perfection. When the noodles are done, he sets everything into the bowl neatly before grabbing a cold water bottle and plopping onto the couch next to you.

"What'd you do today?" You look at him just as he starts digging into the bowl.

"Work. Then Jiwoo came earlier in the night with some food from my favorite Japanese spot."

"Sushi Kashiwa?"

"Aw, you know?" Wooyoung smirks.

"Because Jiwoo has mentioned it one too many times." You chuckle. "That's cute, though."

"She only did it cause she was waiting for Hongjoong to get out of work. And to kiss my ass about the party."

"And because she loves you." He fake shivers.

"Ew. Please don't say that again." He looks at you and you snort. "Want a bite? I made it for us to share in case you were still hungry." He edges his chopsticks your way, watching as you shake your head in response.

"I'm good. Thank you though, Woo."

"Suit yourself, princess. I whipped up a good one." You laugh, settling into the couch as you continue to watch the movie. Wooyoung catches you slipping your sleeves over your palms in his peripherals and although he's pretty warm and cozy in your studio, you must still feel cold. He hurriedly slurps up the remaining of the noodles before gulping the entirety of his water bottle down. He lets out a noise that makes you laugh, kicking his head back in satisfaction. "Damn, that was good."

"Glad you enjoyed." You poke his arm and he smiles. "Is this movie okay with you?"

"Yeah, of course. Can never go wrong with Studio Ghibli movies. Unless, you're down to watch something scary?"

"Never." 

"Why not? I'm here."

"But, whatever scary movie we'll watch, it'll live in my head for the next few days and you won't be here."

"I could be, you just have to call me and I'll come. Like tonight."

"Wooyoung." You pout. "Today's was an accident."

"So, you didn't want me to come? That's funny, cause I didn't see another text from you after I told you to stay put, baby girl." He smirks and you shake your head shyly.

"I'm sorry." You continue to fiddle with your sleeves.

"Don't be. I'm just teasing, I wanted to come."

"Thank you. I needed it." You finally manage to let out as you look at him and scooch a little closer. He gives you a tiny smile before shifting his attention back to the TV, the both of you engaging in small talk about the characters here and there.

At some point, Wooyoung subtly inches in and closes off any gaps, quietly slipping his arm behind you. You silently chuckle to yourself when you see him playing it off, acting as if he hadn't done anything to get closer to you. But, the whole thing feels.. nice. It feels safe. It feels warm. Wooyoung really isn't expecting anything out of this— he is testing the waters to see how comfortable you'd be with him, but that's truly it. That's the intention. Just to make you feel comfortable and better after tonight's dinner. He definitely wasn't expecting you to lean your head against him, snuggling up to him as closely as possible. 

"You okay? Comfortable?" He asks softly. You look up at him and nod, settling back into your position on him.

"Mhm. You're warm." He laughs a bit when he hears that, keeping you close. As the movie continues with the both of you watching silently, you find yourself shifting in your position; arm fully coming around Wooyoung's torso. He doesn't mind one bit. As a matter of fact, he loves that you've gotten comfortable enough to do so.

He drops his arm down from the edge of the couch, holding you from behind as the movie continues to play. He gently rubs at your side before his hand falls to your hips. You feel Wooyoung's hand gently squeeze at it before sneaking right underneath your sweater. You freeze, but more so because you're surprised by his touch— not because you don't want him to be right where he is.

"Are you feeling better?"

"I don't know. I just feel bad." You say, eyes still on the TV ahead while you slowly began to relax in his hold.

"You were honest with him, right?" Wooyoung asks as a simple way to poke for more information and get you to open up about dinner. "Wanna tell me how the dinner went?" He traces faint, soft circles on your bare side.

"I was, and I guess that's why I feel bad. It started off fine. We went to the restaurant and we were talking as we always do. Random topics, jokes, going on about life updates. It went downhill when we got our food. It was quiet for a little bit and I knew he was thinking about what to say or how to say it." You pause. "He asked if I enjoyed the party. I said yes, then he asked if it was Jiwoo's plan." Wooyoung cocks a brow.

"What'd you say?"

"I got kinda defensive." You sigh, leaving out the whole moment of you asking Yeo if he thought Wooyoung wouldn't genuinely go to a party with you. "But anyway, I said you wanted to go.. and so did I. And I had a fun time with you."

"Atta girl." He laughs a bit. "And then?"

"He apologized and said he just wished I told him instead of surprisingly showing up. Then.. he laid it out. Said he had feelings for me and couldn't watch on the sidelines anymore. He felt like there could've been a chance, which was probably my fault for keeping that door open for too long." You sit up and face him, Wooyoung's arm still lazily holding you from behind. "I told him that even if I told him about the party beforehand, it wouldn't have changed anything because I couldn't. I liked us the way we were and that we were good as bestfriends. He deserved someone who was sure of him and who could reciprocate his feelings wholeheartedly."

"Then, you didn't do anything wrong, Y/N." You shrug before subconsciously grabbing a piece of lint on Wooyoung's hoodie and flicking it off. 

"He asked something else."

"Which was?"

"He asked if this was about you, a-and I said no." You avoid eye contact and lick your lips out of nervousness. 

"I see." Wooyoung smiles a bit before shifting up in his seat to get closer to you. He leans his cheek onto the palm of his hand, his arm that was behind you is now on the back of the couch— elbow resting on the edge. "Why can't you look at me?" He smirks teasingly.

"I am." You look at him for a minute before shifting your eyes elsewhere in the living room. 

"Was it really not about me, hm?" He hums, brushing the hair away from your face and tucking it behind your ear. "You can tell me, love." He tries to pull you closer by the hand, and you let him.

"Can I?" His eyes quickly shift to the way you play around with his fingers.

"Course."

"Maybe it was."

"Just maybe?" He looks at your lips. "You think that's why you feel bad?" Brief pause. "That you might actually have feelings for me and you couldn't tell him that part?"

"Maybe." You repeat, his lips only inches away from yours. "Isn't that kinda silly?"

"No? I still don't think you did anything wrong, Y/N."

"Really, Woo?" There you go asking him so sweetly again. It's at this point when Wooyoung feels like he can no longer contain himself because you're giving him the answer he had been looking for; straight on a silver platter. 

"Mhm. As far as I know, you were honest when it came to him. What's between us is our business and not his." He says, his tone just barely above a whisper. You don't really know what comes over you, maybe you did have a little bit of liquid courage still running through your veins especially cause what happens next catches you slightly off-guard. You're so sure about your feelings for him, but unsure about Wooyoung's and how he even feels. This could all be a game that he plays, something he does with other women even if he says it isn't.

Guess it doesn't matter much right now. Can't, anyways.

Within the next second, you find yourself initiating the first kiss with Wooyoung; a kiss that feels long overdue. You lean forward and press your lips against his own soft, plump lips, quickly pulling back to get ready and apologize—

But, he doesn't let you. 

He chases after you.

He cups your cheeks and brings you back, thumb gently caressing the surface of your cheek. You haven't kissed someone like this in awhile, but with Wooyoung, it feels.. right. 

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

He tries to take it slow with you, even when you crawl onto his lap and wrap your arms around him. The kiss becomes more heated, lips bruising from the rising intensity, hunger. Wooyoung slowly slips his tongue in, and hearing a small whimper from you in response only has him gripping your hips harder.

He quickly learns he likes kissing you.

"Been waiting to do this." He says against your lips.

"Have you?" You ask, your tone filled with lust as you continue to peck him with small, repeated kisses.

"Just didn't wanna scare you away."

"You wouldn't have."

"Have to be extra careful with you, baby. You aren't just anybody." The pet name rolls off his tongue so easily that it makes your head tilt back as the desire builds. He continues to hold you close as you slowly roll your hips against him, Wooyoung now kissing your jaw before gently sucking and licking on the surface of your neck;

The column, your throat.

You feel him come to the base and suck a little harder, and you're hoping it doesn't leave much of a mark. If it does, it doesn't fucking matter to you right now— nothing does. Because all you want is for Wooyoung to devour you. To give you everything, to ruin you so good.

"Is this okay? I don't wanna do anything you're not comfortable with—"

"Keep going, Wooyoung. Please." You cut him off. It takes a second for Wooyoung to register your pleading, that 'please' being the one thing that flips his switch. It's not only a want, but a heavy craving. He's got some sort of eagerness to show you just what you've been missing.

"Hold onto me." He says, lifting you with ease as he carries you over to your bed and plops you onto the mattress. He slowly crawls over you, his warm, large hands now cascading up your sweatshirt. Your breathing hitches when he reaches just above your rib cage, and Wooyoung stops when he feels your body tense in his grip. "You sure you're okay?" He presses a kiss to your forehead, down to your nose, your lips. He looks you in the eye with slight concern, afraid of scaring you. The last thing he wants you to think is that he's purely using you for other reasons— when it's definitely more than that.

Wooyoung wants to show you, in case he's bad at voicing his feelings. Cause he can be, clearly. But, he could at least show you and take care of you properly.

"I am."

"You trust me, yeah?" You swallow the lump in your throat as you nod, continuing to keep contact with Wooyoung. "I'll take care of you as long as you let me."

"I want you to." This time, Wooyoung dips forward to lock you into another deep, fervent kiss. His hands are finally roaming further up; Wooyoung letting out a low groan when he finds out you're braless. His thumb swipes over your hardened nipple, tongues fighting for dominance while your hands are tangled in the ends of his hair. You toss his beanie off just as he starts to tug your crewneck over your head and you follow suit with his hoodie. He nibbles on your jaw just before sucking harshly on the skin of your neck. His hand travels down and slips into your pajama pants, fingers delicately rubbing at your clothed pussy that sends a million jolts down your spine. You twitch in response, and Wooyoung can't help but chuckle against your neck.

"So reactive." He teases.

"It's been awhile, Woo."

"And? That's fine, baby. Told you I'd take good care of you." He raises himself slightly to watch your reaction in real-time. "Does that feel good?" He asks, close to a whisper. 

"Yes." You bite your bottom lip and shut your eyes, sighing in satisfaction.

"God. Can feel how wet you are already." Wooyoung feels himself getting painfully hard against your thigh, imagining how tight you are. He doesn't wanna waste another moment, and he thinks he'll lose it if he isn't inside of you within the next few seconds. "Let's take this off, hm?" He hums, hands already tugging your panties and pajama pants down. "Do you have a condom?"

"Don't need it. I'm on the pill." 

"You're sure? I'm clean, but I'll do whatever you're okay with. Just say the word." He asks again to be extra sure.

"I am, I'm sure." You nod eagerly. The pill was mainly to help regulate your heavy, irregular periods, but you'd say you do appreciate it a little more now for this particular reason.

"You're so hot, jesus fucking christ." Wooyoung doesn't say anything else before he's keenly kissing you again, hastily getting out of his sweats. 

Sooner or later, the rest of Wooyoung's clothes are joining yours on the floor; Wooyoung not wasting any seconds reattaching his lips to yours after slipping them off. 

Wooyoung pauses when he sees you fixed on his length— eyes hazy and full of desire. It's giving Wooyoung the biggest fucking ego boost, but that's not important. He strokes himself a few times before lining up with your entrance. He slowly eases himself in, the both of you letting out lewd moans as you both adjust to the feeling. You're tightly wrapped around him and Wooyoung has to keep his composure as he buries himself deep to the hilt. Wooyoung keeps his pace slow and steady; forehead pressed against yours as he thrusts into you. It's nothing rushed, everything about it is slow— so tender, so careful. 

So safe.

"Wooyoung." You moan his name and his brain short-circuits every time you say it the way you do. On top of that, your little whimpers are doing a number on him, but he's trying to keep it together for awhile longer. 

"Doing so well for me, love." He gently bites your chin just as he slightly picks up his pace. He hovers a bit, lips coming back up to meet you in a sweet kiss. He holds it for a minute longer, tongue swiping over your lips as he rolls his hips into you. 

It's intimate. 

It's deep. 

It's raw. 

It's nothing he'd do to his booty calls, no. Everything about those moments are forced and rushed, the end goal having to nut as quickly as possible and get them the hell out of his space.

With you, he's loving every second. He wants to relish in the way your walls feel around him, wants to relish in the way your fingers thread through his hair, wants to relish in the way you kiss him so slowly, so passionately. Like every kiss holds the answers to the universe and you're afraid you'll miss a single detail.

He rests his nose, lips, against your cheek just as he releases a shaky breath, still taking his time as he works his way with you. He comes down to your neck and leaves feathery pecks against the surface while his body is pressed flushed against yours. He turns his head and you've fully wrapped your arms around him. The pace is perfect, with Wooyoung working his hips in circular motions just to hit you in all the right places. He praises you as you continue to moan for him, pretty little mewls slipping from your lips while he tells you how captivating, how angelic, you are for him.

How perfect you are for him.

You find your hips have a mind of their own, working to match Wooyoung's movements. You feel the pleasure building quick at your core, and you know it won't take long from there.

"Wooyoung— just like that, please—oh my god." You sob. While he continues to expertly thrust into you and keep you close, the friction against him causes the coil within you to snap harshly, nails digging deep into Wooyoung's shoulders while he thrusts harder, a bit rougher, to meet his high. 

"F-fuck, baby. I'm about to—" He moans a little louder when he feels you clench a few times around him from the aftershock, quickly pulling out and releasing onto your pussy and abdomen. "Shit—fuck." He pants, finally coming back down from euphoria to see how mesmerizing you look splayed out beneath him; white ribbons of cum painted on your skin. He's completely enamored by you. "Mm'sorry babygirl, let's get you cleaned up." You giggle and shake your head.

"Please, it's fine. Stop looking, you're making me shy again."

"Don't be. You look beautiful." He laughs, slipping on his boxers. "Let me clean you up." He runs to your bathroom to grab some wipes, doing a light jog to clean you up well. You grab your panties and your crewneck after he's done— throwing them on and snuggling under your covers. You fully expect Wooyoung to get dressed and leave [which would suck], but he doesn't. You quietly watch as he shuts off your TV and the lights, going to the bathroom for a quick wash up. Afterwards, he immediately slips underneath your covers right next to you, pulling you onto his chest.

"You're staying?"

"Why wouldn't I?" He chuckles. "C'mere." He pulls you closer. "Sleepy?"

"Incredibly." He smiles.

"I put in some work, huh?"

"Wooyoung." You pout, lightly smacking his chest.

"I'm just joking." He subtly bites his lip. "Can I have one more kiss before we sleep?" You lean up and peck him on the lips a few times, with Wooyoung holding the last kiss before pulling away. "Goodnight, pretty girl."

"Goodnight." You mumble, falling asleep within seconds as you cuddle snuggly against him. Because with Wooyoung, it feels.. right.

Everything about Wooyoung feels right and natural.

—TAGLIST: @asjkdk @interweab @woojirang @svintsandghosts @cheolliehugs @persphonesorchid @mxnsxngie @jycas @cowboydk @heyitsmetonid @ldysmfrst @intaksfav @wooyoungsbrat @hyukssunflower @yunhoswrldddd

[kiwriteswords]

I Promise You This

Chapter One: All That Emptiness Knows Just Where I Live

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader

Trigger Warnings: Chronic illness, reader with past abusive relationship, canon-typical violence, canon-typical themes, language, future sexual themes

Rating: Mature for mature themes and future chapters.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Y/N, the newest and youngest profiler in the BAU, is haunted by her past—an abusive relationship and an illness she keeps hidden from her team. Though skilled in her work, she distances herself emotionally, fearing vulnerability. Aaron Hotchner, her reserved and perceptive boss, begins to notice the cracks in her carefully constructed walls as they navigate high-stakes cases together. Drawn to her resilience, Hotch finds himself increasingly protective of Y/N. As their bond deepens, both must confront their own emotional barriers, leading to an unexpected connection amidst the darkness of their work.

AN: I originally posted this story back in 2021, but for a multitude of reasons, I stepped away from the fandom and removed it. Now, in 2024, I’ve decided to return and revisit this fic with a fresh perspective. I’m currently in the process of rewriting the entire 45-chapter story, adding new depth, and refining the plot. As I re-upload the chapters, I will be including trigger warnings (TWs) for sensitive content. However, if I miss something, please don’t hesitate to let me know. Your comments, shares, and likes/kudos are incredibly encouraging and motivate me to keep working on this rewrite, as well as inspire new content. Thank you for being here, and I hope you enjoy the updated version of this story!— Ki

Masterlist | I Promise You This | Ao3

You stare out the jet’s window, your eyes tracing the clouds below. Sleep eludes you, and the quiet conversation among your team members fades into the background. Music hums softly in your ears, a barely audible escape. You know the odds—three missing children—and yet your mind feels curiously empty.

Laughter breaks through your thoughts. You glance over and see Morgan teasing Reid, as usual. The whole team joins in, and even Hotch chuckles. If he’s laughing, whatever Reid said must have been good.

You smile faintly, though it doesn’t reach your eyes. Isolation is familiar to you—whether you're buried in a book or lost in your music, you’ve always found comfort in keeping a certain distance. It’s not about not fitting in, at least not entirely. The team welcomed you when you joined. They accepted you. But you’ve never quite let yourself feel like you belong.

Only in your twenties, you’ve already lived more life than most people twice your age. A childhood overshadowed by responsibilities that shouldn’t have been yours, and a turbulent adolescence marked by health problems that kept you in and out of hospitals. You were the kid who missed weeks of school but somehow still pulled straight A’s. The one who didn’t go to prom, didn’t have a high school sweetheart, and definitely didn’t have a tight-knit group of friends.

Then there was him. The boy who promised you the world but only gave you heartache. The one who made you feel small, unworthy, broken—both with his words and his hands. The one who convinced you to stay, even when every fiber of your being screamed to leave. You did leave, eventually, but not without scars, some of which never quite healed.

No one on the team knows any of this. To them, you’re just Y/N, the youngest, least experienced profiler in the BAU. A fast learner, sure. Someone who pulls her weight in the field. But you’ve made sure your past is buried deep, nowhere near your file. Only Spencer ever asked why your academic timeline was a little... unconventional. You gave him the same story you’ve told everyone else: You took time to travel.

The truth? You finished undergrad earlier than most, and jumped into grad school while working at a local field office. It was around that time the BAU reached out, and suddenly, your life was moving at a pace you could barely keep up with. Your health remained an ongoing battle, but that was nobody’s business. You’ve never let it slow you down, and you’re not about to start now.

Therapy helped. It gave you the tools to face your past and, more importantly, to reclaim your future. Joining the BAU felt like a step in the right direction—a chance to put your trauma to use, to give your pain purpose. And if you keep your distance from the team, it’s not because you don’t trust them. It’s because trusting people still feels like a risk.

The jet dips, signaling the approach to Phoenix. Your body tenses involuntarily. You haven’t been back here in years, not since... him. You’re not sure how you’ll react once your feet touch the ground again.

"What are you listening to?" Hotch’s voice pulls you from your thoughts.

You jump, startled by his sudden appearance across from you. He watches you with that quiet intensity, and for a moment, you wonder how long he’s been sitting there.

"Nothing important," you murmur, pausing the music and slipping your headphones out.

Hotch’s gaze lingers, and you shift uncomfortably. It’s not that he’s unkind—far from it. But there’s something about his presence, his authority, that makes you second-guess yourself.

"You seemed deep in thought," he notes, a rare hint of amusement in his voice.

"Just zoning out," you reply with a shrug. "Long flight."

He nods but doesn’t push. Hotch is observant, more so than the others. He’s noticed the way you isolate yourself on these flights, how you always seem a little more on edge than you let on. But he hasn’t asked, not yet. You’re grateful for that.

"What were you all laughing about earlier?" you ask, more to fill the silence than out of genuine curiosity.

"Reid’s latest hairstyle," Hotch replies with a smirk. "Morgan’s convinced he’s trying out for a boy band."

You laugh softly, surprising yourself. "He does have that early 2000s look going for him."

"Maybe next week he’ll try the ‘classic detective’ look," Hotch says, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement.

For a moment, the tension eases. You almost forget where you’re headed.

"Have you gone over the case file?" Hotch asks, his tone shifting back to business.

"Yeah," you nod, glancing back out the window. The familiar skyline of Phoenix looms closer. You take a deep breath. "I haven’t been here in a long time."

"Family here?" he asks casually, clearly not realizing the weight of the question.

You shake your head quickly. "No, I just... used to live nearby for a while."

It’s technically the truth. But the memories attached to this city are ones you’d rather not revisit.

Before Hotch can respond, Morgan sticks his neck out from across the aisle. "You lived in Phoenix? How did I not know that?"

"It was a long time ago," you say, deflecting with a practiced ease.

Morgan grins and steers the conversation back to the case, but Hotch lingers for a moment longer, watching you. There’s something about you that doesn’t quite add up, something just out of reach. He’s known you for a year, yet you’re still a puzzle he hasn’t managed to solve. And maybe that’s why he keeps trying.

As the jet touches down, you pull your bag over your shoulder and follow the team out, doing your best to leave the past behind. But Hotch’s eyes stay on you, and for the first time in a long time, you wonder if someone might be able to see through your walls after all.

[femdomlieeh]

Crown (m)

Sub!Heeseung (ENHYPEN) x Dom!F!Reader

WC—5.8 ✧ k

WARNING—bathtub sex ✧ role-play (lovers/ gf & bf) ✧ blindfolding (m) ✧ stripping (m) ✧ unprotected sex (be safe yall!) ✧ piv ✧ light S&M ✧ dacryphilia (m) ✧ body worship (m) ✧ nipple play (m!r) ✧ light spanking (m!r) ✧ breath play (m!r) ✧ lingerie (f) ✧ teasing (m!r) ✧ thigh kink ✧ tattoo kink (?) ✧ brief begging ✧ biting (m!r) ✧ praise (f!g) ✧ marking (f!g) ✧ pet names (mami, prince, baby)

THEMES—smut ✧ best friend au ✧ fwb for one night agreement ✧ a little angsty

NOW PLAYING—imagine ✧ Ariana Grande

A/N. This is actually my favourite smut I’ve posted so far so I hope you enjoy!

Old Seungwoo version

M.LISTS—enhypen ✧ latest updates ✧ read on wp

All rights reserved © femdomlieeh

✦ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

Valentine���s Day.

The happiest day of the year for couples.

Couples could finally do PDA and have people cooing at them in either cuteness or jealousy, but never disgust because PDA was allowed on Valentine's Day.

People could finally have an excuse to do something special for someone, like making a grand romantic gesture or even proposing.

It was supposed to be that way, right?

I was going to have a corny day together with my boyfriend of three years, Yeonjun. Every single detail all the way from the restaurant to the hotel room had been thought out by me, because – not only am I romantic – I always like to be prepared.

Not to sound cocky or to flatter myself, but the plan was so good even I was impressed with it.

Except not everything went to plan.

My lover decided to break up with me one month before the awaited day. One month before Valentine's Day! Only two weeks into the new year! He had "grown out of love" as he'd said. Guess one of his New Year's resolutions was to break up with me.

My parents had met him and accepted him — which said a lot, since they've always had high standards and never liked any of my previous lovers — so it was safe to say that I felt lost.

For two weeks I'd avoided contact with my family, so I wouldn't have to tell them the news yet because I was embarrassed, I was single right in time for the day of love. The only person who knew, other than me and Yeonjun, was my best friend Heeseung.

Since the moment I told him, he made it his daily routine to come to my place with open arms and a warm embrace. I never cried in front of anyone but him. It isn't weak to shed tears, in fact shedding tears takes a lot of strength, I simply don't feel comfortable showing myself vulnerable to others, and especially not after being hurt by someone I trusted.

With Heeseung, it was different, however. We've known each other for so many years and we know most of each other's secrets already. I know that when I cry in front of him it's without being judged and he knows the same goes for him.

One day when he, like normally, went to my place, his smile was abnormal. It was fake. I knew it was fake. After all these years of knowing him, I could distinguish his fake smiles from his true ones faster than Eminem can rap.

Being the caring best friend I am, I asked him what had happened. At that, he broke down and let go of the fooling smile; he can never lie to me for more than a few seconds. His girlfriend, Karina, had broken up with him. Honestly speaking, it was understandable why she wanted to break up with him: 1. He spent too much time with me, 2. He never told her about his thoughts or what bothered him, 3. He didn't treat her like the queen everyone knows she is

Heeseung was mature and didn't beg her for a second chance because he knew she deserved someone better; someone who not only knew she deserved to be treated like a queen but treated her like it. But no matter how mature he was, it didn't make the pain smaller on his part. He was disappointed in himself for ever being in a relationship where he didn't treat his lover right.

And so it was my turn to comfort him. For a couple of days, I had opened arms and a warm embrace for him to find comfort in until he had calmed down.

Impulsively, we went to a tattoo shop and got him a tattoo. It wasn't the I'm-heartbroken-and-need-a-tattoo-to-look-good tattoo, it was the I-need-some-inspiration-in-this-dark-place tattoo. After brainstorming for a long ten minutes, he got the best idea. Don't lock me up, in italics right under his collarbone, above his heart to remind himself to not lock up his feelings.

He had been in great pain for the quarter of time it took to do the tattoo, but he didn't seem to mind... Judging by the way he was biting his lower lip, he was holding in a pained whine, seemingly trying to impress me by handling the pain. When the torture finally had come to an end, the final product made him smile truly – although that part of his body had to be covered with plastic and some tape whenever he so much as wanted to shower.

A week away from Valentine's Day, Heeseung and I made a pact; the kind of pact we never would have planned to have with each other. During the holiday we'd do all the cheesy things we had planned to do to our now-ex-lovers – but the most crucial parts was that A) the other person wouldn't judge and B) next day all of it would be forgotten. Wow. We had grown so dependent on each other's care that we made the kind of pact we never would have planned to have with each other...

It was probably stupid to do such a thing with a best friend of so many years, but it was also the 'healthiest' thing to do for us two. Although I, at this point, had convinced Heeseung that I was over Yeonjun, I still hadn't convinced myself. And the same went for Heeseung; he had convinced me that he was over Karina, but not himself.

My plan for Valentine's Day was sublime and if I didn't go through with it, I would regret it — and, damn, I couldn't wait a whole year for the next opportunity (if I even would get the opportunity)!

And that explains this. Us standing. A week later. On a romantic rooftop. Dressed nicely. Smiling awkwardly at each other. On Valentine's Day.

"Since you're my boyfriend tonight, let's go down to the room I rented, shall we?"

"This feels weird," he giggled lightly.

"Play along!" I held out my hand for him to hold and flashed him a smile. He reciprocated my smile and took my hand, following my lead down the stairs to our hotel room; the room I had booked for me and Yeonjun.

Our hands were sweating. It wasn't the first time Heeseung and I held hands, but it was the first time we ever did something like this together; something normal best friends don't do. The affection we've displayed to each other throughout the years had been mostly words and hugs and sometimes cuddles. But now...we were going to show affection in ways we've only done to lovers.

I held out the black card key in front of the sensor above the golden knob but retracted it before the door unlocked.

"If you want to turn back, now is the time to do so. I don't want to go through with this if you don't want to," I said and looked at him.

His eyes told me that it was OK, but I needed his consent to be sure he was OK.

"I want to do this, don't worry," he smiled a little as his heart pounded.

Without breaking eye contact, I put the card in front of the sensor again and waited a few microseconds for it to unlock. I turned the knob and opened the door to the pact.

"After you," I gestured him to enter the room.

"Why thank you," he blushed and hurried inside so I wouldn't catch a glimpse of his flustered state.

But I did.

And I smiled when I saw it.

The room was big and open. Simple, but just perfect. Knowing me and my cheesy nature, Heeseung had expected perhaps some rose petals on the bed or a few scented candles by the bed but, to his surprise, he saw none of that.

I pushed him down onto the soft bed with silk sheets, distracting him for the real surprise, and sat beside him.

"Before we do anything, we need safe words."

"Safe words?" he inquired and raised a brow unknowingly.

"A word to say in case anyone goes overboard or passes the limits," I explained shortly.

"Alright, mine is apple."

"Why apple though?" I giggled at his randomness.

"I ate an apple today." (It was true, he'd had a green apple because he once read that green apples make your breath smell better.)

"If you're going for a fruit I am too. My safe word is peach."

"Why peach?" he raised his brow at me stealing his fruit idea.

"Your peach looks really good in those pants, so it was the first thing I thought of," I replied and laughed at his flustered self.

He knew he had a plump peach.

It was just embarrassing hearing it from me since I, as his best friend, am supposed to not acknowledge how incredibly handsome he is – and especially when it comes to body parts such as peaches!

I put my hand on his thigh to get his attention away from the embarrassment.

"Tonight, I'm not your best friend anymore, Prince," I said with a newfound tone that sent shivers down Heeseung's spine.

I neared him and whispered in his ear, "Tonight, I'm your Mami."

He gulped. I had always been a very dominant person in everything I did, so he expected nothing less than that in bed — but the foreign titles took him by surprise. But it made sense for me to use titles in bed, because I was classy like that.

"What's your safe word?" I asked to make sure he knows he can use it whenever he wants to. After all I didn't know what was out of his comfort-zone.

"Apple."

"If you feel uncomfortable you know you need to say that word, understood?"

"Yes, Mami," he answered, a blush creeping up his neck to his cheeks.

With his green light I continued, "Good boy."

At the praise, his cheeks matched the floating rose petals. I loved how responsive he was already. Before tonight I wasn't sure what kind of partner he would be but finding out what he likes step by step excites me – more than I thought finding out my best friend's kinks would excite me. I want to know everything. What turns him on, what makes him scream, what makes him cry; everything.

"My best friend's into praise, hm. Who would have thought?" I teased and squeezed his thigh lightly.

"I'm not your best friend anymore, Mami. I'm Prince, right?"

I looked into his eyes and saw something I'd never seen in them before. Was it lust? Was it something else? How could I be sure of what it was if I hadn't seen him like this before?

"Indeed, you are, Prince," I smiled, slowly feeling my hand up his thick, muscular thigh.

He followed my hand's path with his gaze and bit his lip like back in the tattoo shop. Was he holding in a moan, perhaps? When my hand was at the top, soon on his V-line, I heard how his breathing grew louder and more unsteady.

He seemed to enjoy his thighs being touched.

I noticed how his pants were forming a tent in the prince area, and smirked. To tease him, I let go of his thigh and walked up to the door to the bathroom. He tensed. Maybe he wanted me to touch him some more?

"After you, Prince," I said and opened the door for him.

Once again that stereotype-breaking gesture had him blushing ferociously.

He went into the new room, not expecting much other than grabbing a condom. But when the sight he was met by was nowhere near what he expected, yet it didn't shock him one bit. A large bathtub filled with atypical pink water and typical red rose petals floating on the surface.

He chuckled, "As expected, my best friend is a cheesy person."

"I'm not your best friend anymore, Prince. I'm your Mami, right?" I asked with a confident smirk.

"Y-Yes," he stuttered and turned away from me so he could avoid my powerful gaze.

"Yes what?" I pushed a little to see how comfortable he was with the title.

"Yes, I'm Mami's Prince," he said under his breath.

I went up behind him and wrapped my arms around his torso, feeling the expensive fabric under my fingertips. "Want to take this off for me?"

"Y-Yes, Mami."

I smiled, "Then give me a little show." He gulped as I sat down on the edge of the tub to get a full view of him. With adrenaline coursing through his body, he let the blazer fall off his shoulders and land on the floor, followed by the ivory dress shirt. As soon as his skin was touched by the air, goosebumps formed, and he flexed his abs. He sure had worked hard to get flex his muscles like this.

Biting my lip, I pointed at his ivy pants, "Take those off too." The way I bit my lip made him feel confident. I didn't bite my lip to prevent honest sounds from falling out like Heeseung did, I bit my lip to prevent myself from ripping the rest of his clothes off. He undid the belt and let the pants pool down around his ankles. Now, in front of me, was he standing in nothing but a pair of black boxers that were fitting all too tight due to those thick thighs and the clearly big erection. He was gulping under my gaze, waiting for me to instruct him on what to do.

"Show me your prince part, Prince." Blushing at the euphemism, he put his fingers under the waistband and pulled his boxers down. He was fit and attractive. Each muscle on his body was visibly hard, including his dick that was high and proud in the air. "You're so handsome, Prince," I praised and watched a small smile break out on his face.

He walked to me with his head down and stood with his tall figure in front of my sitting posture. "Do you want me to touch you, Prince?"

"Yes, please." At that, I put a finger in the middle of his chest and traced it down his abs and to the tip of his dick. He bit his lip again to stop any embarrassing noises from escaping; he wanted to impress me by being good. But I didn't want to give him too much pleasure yet.

"Let's get wet now, shall we? I didn't fill this tub for aesthetics..." He laughed lightly, feeling more at ease at the small joke I made. Listening, he slowly set foot into the tub and tried not to spill so much as a drop of the water. It took him a good half minute to fully settle down since he's so tall and big due to his muscles — but that was good, because it gave me plenty of time to prepare additional surprises for him.

When he averted his attention from the pink water and back to me, he was met by an astonishing, breathtaking, life-changing sight. Me. In lingerie. With a red silk blindfold in hand. This specific lace lingerie was Yeonjun's favorite, so I naturally chose to wear it now – in red to match the theme of the holiday. I felt the most comfortable in it. In this color. In this fabric. Everything made me feel sexy. But the memories of what me and him had done while I was in it brought back a gloominess.

Heeseung didn't know how to react. Did I pick the color red because it was the traditional color of Valentine's Day or because I knew it was his favorite color? For some odd and unknown reason, he hoped for the latter one.

"You look so handsome like this, Prince, but I think you'd look even better in this," I winked and held up the red blindfold. He shuddered. The little piece of fabric was something different. Never had he ever used one in the bedroom — only in fun games with friends, where you had to trust your teammates. Now, however, he was going to put his trust in me.

"What's your safe word?"

"Apple," he answered, "I trust you. You don't need to ask me about it all the time, I'll tell if you need to stop."

"But we've never done this before so I'm scared of it going wrong," I admitted.

"I trust you. Trust me too, Mami."

"As you wish, Prince," I replied.

Once again, I sat down on the edge of the bathtub. I lowered the love blindfold to his face, holding it right above. He was looking at me with those big, curious eyes, filled with anticipation for what was going to happen. How long I was staying still was quickening his heartbeat; he knew I wanted him to be verbal.

"Please," he said, feeling slightly impatient; his heart would jump out his chest any second now. Smiling, I finally put the blindfold on him and tightened it behind his head, making sure it wasn't too tight since I didn't want to ruin his beautiful hair or innocence too much. Oh wait, scratch the last one. I petted his hair, which was equally smooth as the silk around his head. "Does it hurt, Prince?" I asked, referring to the blindfold.

"No, Mami." The silk was smooth against his skin and, although all he could see was darkness, it was magical; all the other senses were heightened. He could hear me breathing and even imagine what I was thinking whilst I was touching him this gently. Maybe I was thinking of how much I loved him as a best friend. Maybe I was thinking of how I'd ruin him. Maybe I was thinking of what to do next.

Slowly I proceeded to his neck. He could feel my presence, through my breaths on his skin, and thus elongated his neck for me — he couldn't see me, but he could sense what I wanted. I began placing small kisses up his neck to his well-defined jaw, while he tried to keep his breathing in control. The kisses were small, yet they made such a big impact on him since his sense of touch was thousands of times greater than normal.

"M-Mami?"

"Yes, Prince," I said between kisses.

"Can I...touch you?"

"Not yet," I smirked and moved further down to his collarbone. I left open-mouthed kisses all over it and stopped to admire his tattoo. Technically I had been the one who had encouraged him to get it. It was so small, but it held so much meaning behind it. My fingers were tracing along the tattoo, soothing Heeseung. He felt calm. He felt at peace. He felt connected to me. When my fingers traced lower and experimentally touched his nipple, he let out a whimper. Bingo.

"Sensitive much?"

He didn't answer, embarrassed.

"I asked you something, Prince," I said with a less kind voice.

"Yes, Mami. I-I'm sensitive, but you already knew that."

It was true. Since the start of our friendship he had showed his vulnerability and sensitivity. He never liked it when I jokingly roasted him, only being into compliments and praises. Praising. I bet he'd be into that.

He whimpered out a 'Mami' when I attached my lips to his nipple. Trying to not shock his body too much, I only gave a quick kitten lick, yet it seemed to affect him a lot when he couldn't hold back a sole whimper. I couldn't tell if it were because of the sensitivity provided by the blindfold or because he had sensitive nipples. Either way, I wanted to test how much I could make him feel.

To give him a little sensation without touching him, I breathed on the wet nipple so he shivered a little at the coldness. He put both of his hands on each edge of the tub to stabilize himself, feeling like he could lose the bare control he had now that I found a weak spot of his. I flattened my tongue and licked against him, making him quiver.

"M-M-Mami," he stuttered breathily. He wasn't trying to call me, nor was he trying to tell me anything — my actions simply lit a part of him that seemed to love my title. He knew exactly how to turn me on and this was the first time we had ever been intimate. It was actually cute how my best friend was so accustomed to both mine and his title. Yeonjun's title, I meant.

I reached my hand under the surface of the water and felt up his thigh. He moaned. Yes. Moaned. At a simple touch. Ashamed of the moan, he let go of one of the edges and brought his hand over his mouth, making him lose a part of his balance. "Don't keep your sounds to yourself, Prince. Give them to me," I ordered.

Smirking against his skin, I started sucking which caused a gasp to erupt at the sudden stimulation. "M-Mami, Mami—" he whimpered loudly. He had tried to keep his noises to himself until now, but although it hurt his pride a little, he liked pleasing me.

How could whimpers sound so beautiful? They were so angelic and graceful, contrary to the scene of sinning. I retracted from him to admire the view. One nipple was red and swollen and the other one was left untouched. Each muscular arm was resting on each edge, trying not to move a millimeter. The blindfold was covering part of his face yet matched with his feverish blush. His mouth was agape, letting the whimpers I loved oh so much out every now and then. I was happy I hadn't gone for the cliché bubble bath, because now that the water was clear I could see his naked body — every part from his beauteously tattooed upper body to his thick stone-hard thighs and dick.

But there was one part of his body that I couldn't see. One part that was magnificent and that I needed to see. "Turn around," I whispered in his ear.

"W-What?"

"Turn around and show me your butt, Prince," I clarified and waited for him to move.

Unsurely, he supported himself on the edges and sat up. Although he couldn't see he could feel, so he had no difficulty turning around and putting his hands on the edge he had been resting his back on until now. He arched his back, adding to the sex appeal that the tub already delivered. Damn, how could an ass be that good-looking? How could—

"C-Can you spank me?" he interrupted me from my thoughts.

Did I even know my best friend? Or did he know me so well that he knew that was exactly what I wanted to do in that moment?

"What do you say, Prince?"

Good boy knew the answer, "Please."

"You'll need to beg a little more than that," I said teasingly, making him swallow yet another piece of his pride.

"Can you, please, please, spank me, Mami? I've been so good until now; don't I deserve it?"

He made a fair point. And he also confirmed my theory of him having a praise kink.

"Yes, you do, Prince. You've been so obedient until now, of course you deserve a little pain."

His cheeks tinted pink. Yes, he did indeed have a praise kink.

Suddenly I spanked him, creating a loud echo of skin-to-skin sound. He jolted forward with a whine, not expecting the hit since he couldn't see me or my hand in the air. His cheeks jiggled and I swore that my ex had never made me this wet before as I felt my wetness drip down my thighs.

"H-Harder, please, Mami."

"Since you're such a good prince for me, of course!" Those words. He loved hearing them. He knew I probably had those thoughts already, since he's aware he's a good boy, but hearing me say them made his heart race. Once again, I hit his skin and made him jolt forward from the harsh touch. Except this time, he moaned out my title louder. He held his head down, adding to the submission.

"M-Mami—"

"You want more, Prince?"

"Yes, plea—"

Spank! Before he even could finish his answer, my hand was back on his cheek again — I had already predicted his answer. Now one of his cheeks had my red handprint on it, matching his blindfold and blush, whilst the other cheek had no mark. And I was going to keep it that way. Asymmetry is beautiful.

His blindfold, nipple and cheek weren't the only things red. The part of his body that needed me the most hadn't gotten any attention yet. His dick's color stood out from most of his body and the way he reacted to small touches could only hint at him needing me to touch it.

"Turn around," I ordered him again.

"W-What— But you haven't—"

"Do you want me to touch your prince part?" I disrupted him.

"Y-Yes."

"Then turn around and show it to me, Prince."

He let go of the tub and turned around in the water, making sure to be comfortable when resting his back against it because he knew he'd stay in that position for a while. He heard how I got into the tub too. The water was rippling, and my feet were touching the tub; he could both feel and hear that I got in. Slowly, as to not drive any water out, I sank down onto his lap and put my hands on the tub on either side of his head. The feeling of my smooth skin on his indicated I had taken off the lingerie. That only meant one thing. I drew closer to him and whispered in his ear a million-dollar question: "Do you want your dick inside me?"

Gulping, he nodded promptly.

"Use your words, Prince," I sang.

He took another gulp before speaking, "Y-Yes, please, Mami."

"Good boy," I praised and watched as his true smile made an appearance like it'd done many times tonight.

Only to form an 'o' and let a long moan out as I sat down and got filled up by his dick deliciously. "Ah~ M-Mami~" The sensitivity of waiting and being blindfolded added with my tightness was what brought out his embarrassingly loud moan.

I needed to get used to the size since he was bigger than my last lover. In the meantime, I decided to get back to his stunning neck and kiss it. He had two prominent birthmarks under his Adam's apple; the left one was higher up and the right one was closer to his collarbone. Since I can remember I had liked them. They were a distinctive feature of his, just like his tattoos. I kissed both birthmarks and started moving up and down slowly on his dick. This wasn't going to be a hard fuck session; this was going to be a slow and soft lovemaking session because he was my prince. For tonight at least.

He sporadically let out moans that ranged from high to low pitched, long to short lasting — all of them were music to my ears — a love song I'd think of every now and then when I didn't have my prince by my side. The sound of the water moving each time I did was the background music. I started marking his neck with beautiful love bites, not hickeys, because these marks were out of love. Love and pride, as I wanted everyone to see that he was mine.

As I sucked harder on his neck, his moans turned into constant whimpers. He didn't know what this feeling was. Never had he ever made love with someone before. Sure, he'd been caring in bed but never had he felt this cared for before. On the other hand, it wasn't my first time. I had done this to Yeonjun every time I wanted him to know how much he meant to me (all the time). But, although this was an illusion me and Heeseung had created, it felt real.

"Ma-Mami, can you go rougher on me? Please?" At that I sunk my teeth into his collarbone, not the one with the tattoo, but the bare one. I didn't want to cover the meaning behind the tattoo, instead I wanted to cover the other part of skin, so I'd be the one who in a way adorned both sides. The friend in me was in his tattoo and the lover in me was in his mark. He bit his lower lip to try to conceal the pathetic whimper, failing while doing so. Sure, he loved being taken care of, but he also loved pain.

My thrusts were slow, yet long lasting, like the memory of this night would be soon. This felt surreal. Our connection. Our love. Our everything. The love bites on his neck and the literal bite mark on his collarbone would be enough proof the next morning when Heeseung would wake up that this night in fact had happened.

He let go of his lower lip and let the whimpers out freely, not caring that it hurt his pride because when you're in love your pride doesn't matter as much as it did before. He was reaching his breaking point and so was I but we both purposely held our orgasms back. We didn't want this to end. We wanted this love to last as long as it possibly could. We knew that the next day we would go back to being best friends; there'd be no more Prince and Mami. We knew that we would be gone like the pink water in this tub would be in the morning. The marks would remain on his neck and shoulder the next morning...but the illusion of love wouldn't.

"A-Are you cumming?" I asked, drunk on love.

"Y-Yes, b-but I can wait." We had already been at it for longer than an hour — even the water was cold — but that wasn't enough. We were both exhausted, both mentally because it was late and physically because of the lovemaking.

"I know you want to cum, Prince," I said, not wanting him to wear himself out.

"C-Can you choke me first, Mami? Please, I've a-always wanted y-you to do that to me," he mumbled.

I didn't answer him, instead I let go of the edge and circled my fingers around his neck. For most people, choking was some kinky shit. But for us, it was romance. I was quite literally holding his life in my hand and he trusted me with it. He trusted me with his whole life, and I didn't let him down. That's a part of love; letting yourself into a vulnerable position, knowing the other person can hurt you, but staying because you have faith in that they would love you instead.

In this moment, he had everything he didn't know he wanted. He felt like he'd arrived in utopia by accident. There was nothing he wanted to change. Nothing. And neither did I. His marks were asymmetrical, but that was in my eyes perfect. I tightened my grip on his neck a little, making him choke out a small whiney moan. At the same time, I felt my core aching and his dick pulsating. We needed to cum. Physically we needed to. But emotionally we didn't want to.

"Let's cum together," I said and let go of his neck

"Please, just a little more," he begged.

"We can't hold back, and you know it," I stated.

"Please, Mami," he cracked his voice. I looked at his face. His face was red, and the blindfold had wet patches. The patches weren't there because of the water splashing on him (I had made sure to not splash any on his face), they were there because they'd gotten out of his eyes. He was crying, not wanting us to come to an end. But we needed to. He wasn't my boyfriend; he was only playing the role of my boyfriend. I treated him as if he were Yeonjun, not Heeseung.

For the first time ever, I kissed him. Not on his body, but on his lips. He returned the kiss with just as much thirst as me. Surrounded by water, yet we thirsted for each other. We needed to savor this before it ran out. I tangled my hands into his soft hair, not caring if I ruined his hair anymore. I didn't care. All I cared about was this moment. For the first time this night, he let go of the tub fully and put his hands on my skin, letting them relish and remember every curve and edge before he'd never get to touch me like this ever again.

I paused the kiss and said for the last time, "Let's cum together."

"Can you take th-the blindfold off first?"

Truth was that he wanted to see me so he could have a visual memory of that one time he made love with his best friend. During all of this, he'd had a blindfold and although he felt that everything was real, he wanted to know for sure he wasn't dreaming. I untied it and threw it away to who-cares-where. He opened his eyes and took in the view of me. I was naked. I was raw. I was vulnerable. I had no layers shrouding any part of me. "I love you," he said, looking into my eyes.

Holding his face in my hands, I said, "I love you too."

And there we reached our climax.

The end.

{One year later}

Valentine's Day.

The happiest day of the year for couples.

I walked into our bedroom and was met by a wonderful view. My real boyfriend was standing in front of our bed. "I missed you so much, Baby," I smiled and kissed his cheek as per usual.

He was clad in only a pair of boxers and nothing else. "I have a little surprise for you."

"Oh really?" I asked, amused, and sat down on the bed as he stood in front of me.

He coughed to clear his throat and looked serious, "I've been keeping a little secret from you for a little while now..."

What did he mean? Had he been reconsidering our relationship? Was I going to relive the same heartbreak as last year?

I must've looked worried, because suddenly he broke out of the serious trance he tried to be in and smiled at me. Slowly he pulled down his underwear to reveal the little surprise.

Right on his V-line.

A tattoo.

Of a little crown.

Because he is my prince.

✦ ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ੈ ✧ ‧₊˚ * ੈ ✧‧₊˚＊* ✧ ੈ ✧

“Me with no makeup, you in the bathtub

Bubbles and bubbly, ooh

This is a pleasure, feel like we never

Act this regular

(…)

Kiss me and take off your clothes

Imagine a world like that”

—ari

[ghettogirly]

Hey, hope you're doing fine. Can I request something when Armando has to watch over the reader because she knows something about the cartel , she sees things you should have not seen , wrong place , wrong time for her. Even though they always argue, she knows that he always protects her. She does the same for him.

Kinda relates to a 'pieces of her ' on Netflix 😭 when they were in that hotel room

Him and I - g easy

𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐇𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐌𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐇 (𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐅𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐂)

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: Miyah has a past that not even she knows about. Thinking her life was all normal, she is suddenly thrown into a whirlwind when an intruder breaks into her house. Are we prepared for her journey of not only finding herself but the answers to her past?

-> format: story.

-> theme: angst.

-> warning: mentions of violence, use of the n-word, mature language, themes of break-ins.

-> authors note: so i have turned this into a series!! i really want to write the pieces of her plot because i loved that show, but in a different type of way! thank you for requesting this! my update schedule is going to slightly change guys due to me getting more of an intense workload from my sixth form so i hope you all understand! 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝💕.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐄𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐃𝐄 𝟏: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐈𝐍.

Trash clinked across the floor as a gust of wind swept it by. Desolate and quiet, only a couple cars were parked in the large space. A dark no

Heels were heard clacking off the floor as a brown skinned girl walked over to her car, clutching her purse with one hand while the other was angled in the direction of her mercedes benz. Opening the car door, she climbed into her seat.

Plopping the chanel bag that wrapped around her arm onto the passenger seat, the woman clicked her tongue while turning on the ignition. Settling into the seat, sighing as she recollected the hectic day that occurred.

“I really need to get home.”

Pressing onto the gas pedal while putting the gear stick into reverse, Miyah pulled out of the car park from her work place onto the highway. Flicking the headlights on, she started to drive down the road. The hum of the tyres mixed with the slow jam of the radio, lowly playing throughout the vehicle. Pink LED lights illuminated the interior of the car contrasting with the midnight black sky, coating the exterior as it hung over the trees and the wildlife surrounding the road.

The small screen of the navigation shone brightly in the woman’s face as she glanced down at it.

“15 minutes.”

Driving down the road, Miyah nodded her head to the slow beat of the rnb song playing through her sound system. Tapping her index finger onto the wheel she drove down the highway, content with her life currently. Life was hectic but she was satisfied.

Pulling into her gated residence, Miyah rolled down her window to enter the code into the pad. Once confirmed, she parked up her car at the front of her door before slipping out, grabbing her purse.

Opening her door, the hallway and living room was automatically irradiated by the modern lights that hung off her ceilings. Cylindrical pillars stood at every sharp corner, contrasting a classic element with the modern theme of her white and black marble interior.

Slipping off her heels, Miyah sighed in relief. “I really need to go to sleep.”

Shaking her head, she ascended up her stairs into her bedroom. A queen sized bed layered with fluffy comforts and duvets were placed in the middle of the woman’s bedroom. The colour scheme being white and grey , matching with the fluffy, white, circular carpet that was under it. Walking over to the bed, she placed her bag by her cabinet before flopping down on the bed.

“Why did i even become a lawyer again?”

That was a good question.

Why did she become a lawyer?

When thinking about society and the world today, you would think that the law reached everyone. Helped victims by putting away those who made their life hell but, we are wrong. Everyday, domestic abuse cases go silent, the justice system not caring enough for those who get abused in the relationships. Mainly women but also men becoming apart of the statistic of abuse victims, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Child abuse cases go unheard until the severity of the abuse ends up in a death, which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened. Even random spree attacks which could’ve been prevented if someone would’ve just listened and understood that persons mental health.

I wanted to be the one to change this. To be able to keep law on track with the fast pace of the ever changing world. To be able to stand up for people who looked like me and those who were me.

And also for you mom.

Changing into her silk pyjamas, Miyah sat on her bed cross legged with her ipad on a stand. Parting her honey brown hair into 6 boxes with a rat tail comb, she braided two plaits in each section, ready to go to bed. Slipping her black bonnet on top of the loose braids, wanting to protect her curls from future breakage.

The girl pulled down her light, turning it off before getting underneath the covers. Closing her iPad, she sunk her head into the silk pillows that happily embraced her, closing her eyes.

It was pitch black in Miyah’s room. Not a shred of light peeked through her curtains. Stirring, she sat up. Glancing over at her alarm clock, the red bold numbers stating 3:32am. Sighing, she got out of bed, putting on her fluffy slippers.

Walking down the stairs she flicked the kitchen lights on, changing the settings to dim, not wanting to fully wake herself up. Grabbing a glass, she filled it up with water before taking a sip. Sighing, Miyah popped the now used glass, back into the sink before heading towards the stairs.

Something stopped her.

A rustle was heard from the living room next door. Slowly crawling into the kitchen, Miyah slightly opened the drawer for the utensils before grabbing a sharp knife. Peeking around the counter a black figure appeared before her.

“Who are-“

Wasting no time, the figure quickly punched Miyah causing her to stumble back. Throwing another punch to her chest, the figure then raised their fist, angling it towards a certain direction before throwing another. It was pretty clear they were male. Adrenaline ran through Miyah’s glands which secreted them into her bloodstream, activating her fight or flight.

Dodging the fist that was coming her way, she ducked and kicked the male in his balls before quickly running up the stairs. Loud banging was heard from within the room due to the stomps coming from the woman. just before reaching her bedroom a hand grabbed her ankles, brutally dropping her down on the marble floor.

“Fuck!! Get off me!”

The mystery man then swiftly got on top of Miyah, wrapping his rough hands around her neck before harshly gripping it. Pain and frustration overcoming the poor girl

“Stop..”

Pressing down onto her neck mired the man added more pressure, forcing less and less oxygen to not enter the girls body. Miyah’s muscles started to become frail as less oxygen was reaching the muscles, building more lactic acid causing them to become tired.

Slowly, her life began to slip away.

Her mind flashed to a deserted beach. The blue crystalline waves crashed against each other, slowly overlapping one another. The sky transitioned from a purple to orange ombré as the sun was setting, the orange rays shining onto the brownskin girl that stood there in the middle of the beach. Her curls waved in the wind due to the gentle breeze coming from the west.

A gentle tap was felt on Miyah’s shoulder, causing her turn around.

“It’s not your time.” The figure said before disappearing.

Suddenly, she was back in the present. Still feeling the man strangling her, a surge of strength powered suddenly came through.

Grabbing the nearest plant pot, she cracked it over the intruders head causing him to stumble back in pain. Gasping for air, Miyah panted heavily.

Yet, the man was still not done. Stomping over to her, he attempted to kick Miyah who was on the floor, out of breath. “Nigga, what- the fuck- is your issue?”

Quickly sliding out of the way, Miyah grabbed the man’s leg causing him to fall onto the floor, before grabbing a picture frame off the wall and violently smashing it off the intruders head, knocking the consciousness out of him.

“That’s what you get bitch.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @thedarkworldofhananerea @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @dyttomori @5tarlan7 @deadpool15 @yeahnohoneybye @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @amplifiedmoan @sarcasticbitchsblog

[xjaylyn]

PART 3 - Bad Boys: Second Chances

Pairing: Armando x Black! OC (Rya)

Warnings: blood, graphic, guns, death, mature, language (use of the n word), and some other stuff I probably forgot about sorry

Summary: Its been two years since Captain Conrad was framed. Another mission brings the team back together and new relationships are formed. It's said everyone deserves second chances and room to grow. So maybe this is that second chance

a/n: It's a really long chapter like 2 chapters long because I will be out of town for a few days and probably wont have time to update. But I will try if I have some free time. Chapter 4 will be shorter.

"This is it,"

Mike pulls into an apartment complex. At a glance, you can tell it's a quiet place, slightly run down; not many people living here. Getting out of the car, the duo follows Armando to his unit. Unlocking the door, Armando steps inside and turns the light on, it flickering slightly for a second before focusing. His place is small, about the size of a hotel suite, with a small kitchen barely able to fit two people. Tight space but enough for someone who doesn't own much but himself anyway.

"I just need to pack some things and we can head out... don't touch nothing," Armando says while walking into his room. Still standing by the front door, Mike and Marcus look around the place.

"Barely looks lived in... well shit, at least he has a TV," Marcus says, walking towards the small couch to take a seat. Mike steps towards the kitchen, opening the small fridge to see barely anything in there: only a couple of water bottles and simple ingredients to make a sandwich, but that was it. Closing the door, he spots something in the corner on the counter: two small cut-out pictures. One of Armando's mother, Isabel, and one of him. Feeling his chest tighten, he gently places the photos back in the corner.

Hearing Armando walk back into the small space, he steps out of the kitchen. "Nephew, what games you play on here?" Marcus asks, pointing at the PlayStation lying next to the small TV.

Armando looks at the man, raises his brow, "why is that important?"

"Because if it's Call of Duty I'll whoop yo ass, what's your tag?" Adjusting the bag strap on his shoulder, Armando turns his body completely towards his uncle, "What's your rank?"

"Diamond 3 rank 2," Marcus says, crossing his arms.

Scoffing with a smirk on his face, Armando just shakes his head. Dropping his arms, Marcus furrows his brows, "what? What's so funny 'bout that?"

"Nothing, but you ain't whooping nobody ass with that weak ass rank," Armando says, walking up to the door.

"Oh, you a lil disrespectful motherfucker, alright, we gon' see 'bout that," Marcus follows behind him, pointing his finger at the young man walking out the door. "Mike, he just don't know how I do."

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

Four hours into the ride, the three of them sat in peaceful silence. Armando looks at the two in the front, Mike focused on driving and Marcus knocked out, snoring a little bit. Looking at his father, he decides to break the silence.

"What's the mission?" he asks.

Mike glances in the rearview mirror, "Apparently the biggest case the government has ever had... was told you might know something about it."

"I don't know why your people think I know it all, I only worked on what my mother told me to do... she's the one with the answers," Armando shrugs.

"Well, that's fine... we have someone that may know something to help us out... we're picking her up when we arrive in Miami."

Nodding his head, he looks down at the back seat noticing a file sitting beside him. "That's the case file, you can look through it and see if you find something you might recognize."

Picking up the file, he skims through everything. Besides the people he has worked with in the past, he's not sure about everything else. Shaking his head, he looks back up at his father, "Nah, I don't know."

Another silence falls upon the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to fill Armando in on the past 2 years. "Things have been normal since the last mission... thank you, by the way, for helping clear Cap's name-"

"I didn't have much of a choice," Armando interrupts, raising a brow.

"Yeah, well, thank you anyway..." Another silence falls between the two. Clearing his throat, Mike decides to try for a conversation again. "You have a baby sister," Mike mentions, glancing at Armando through the rearview mirror to see his face.

Armando looks up at him, making eye contact but doesn't say a word.

"Yeah, uh, she just turned one yesterday... cutest thing too... she loves anybody that gives her food," Mike laughs. Dropping his hand, he digs in his pocket for his wallet. Opening it up, he reaches back to give it to Armando.

Taking the wallet from him, Armando sees a picture of a baby girl. 'Cute.' Mike notices how Armando's face slightly softens. It wasn't a big facial expression, but you can tell it did something to him. Looking at the picture a little more, his attention looks down to another photo, it was old... one of him as a baby. Closing the wallet, he hands it back to his father.

"Congrats," Armando says, cutting the one-sided conversation to an end and looking out the window watching everything pass by.

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

...MIAMI...

Finally arriving at their destination, Mike pulls into the private base, security guarding every corner. Stopping at the gate, Mike and Marcus show their badges. The guard nods and lets them through. Getting out of the car, the three notice Chief Paul Nicola and a couple of guards walking towards them.

"Glad to see you all are here. This way, please," Paul extends his arm out, leading the small group into the private building. "For the past six months, we have kept our informant in max security... she was found in uniform so she is to be kept chained up as we do not know exactly what she is capable of. She has agreed to only speak to the people working with her to negotiate a deal," Paul says while scanning his ID to enter a private area in the building.

Stopping at a door, Paul turns to the trio. "Please don't fuck this up."

Allowing the men to step into the room, there's only one source of light from a small window making it dim. In the center of the room, they see a table and a person sitting down completely covered head to toe in chains that are bolted into the floor—securely fastened to ensure no way to escape.

The trio takes a seat at the table. A guard standing in the corner walks up to unlock the headlock. The sound of the metal mask dropping to the floor echoes through the room. She has a disheveled look to her: curly hair matted and covering some of her features, faded bruises on her face, and a busted lip. Looking into her eyes, they see she is scared and nervous. She stares at the men in front of her uncertainly.

Marcus clears his throat and softly speaks up, "Okay... I'm Detective Marcus Burnett and this is my partner Detective Mike Lowery and Armando." He points to his left and right where Mike nods at her and Armando just stares. "We know you know something that we need to know to get this shit together. So what is it that you need us to do for us to help each other?" Marcus asks, cutting straight to the chase.

The woman continues to stare at the men in front of her before nodding her head towards the guard behind her. "Get him out first."

Looking up at the guard, Mike waves his hand in a shooing motion. "We'll be good, sir," smiling at the guard who hesitates for a second before stepping out. Hearing the heavy door close, she starts, "I need one thing guaranteed to me."

"Layla Batiste... I need one of you to free her... she should be in the 7th cell on the right. Free her and give her anything she needs to make a living," the woman says, her voice shaking a bit.

"Okay, and who is this Layla? Why do we need to free her?" Mike questions.

"My sister... just agree to do that and we have a deal," she pleads, looking at Mike. "And write it down too so you don't forget... Layla Bat-"

"Batiste, 7th cell on the right. Yeah, I got it," Mike says, leaning back in his chair. "Done. Now, what do you know? Actually, what is your name before anything?"

Taking a breath, the woman sits back in her seat. "My name is Rya," she says.

"Okay, Rya, what do you know?"

"Do we have a deal?" Rya presses.

"Yes, we have a deal. We free Layla and you help us. Done. Sealed," Marcus says, leaning forward on the table. Armando just sits back with his arms crossed, watching the whole ordeal.

"You were captured by our military in a uniform... what were you doing in uniform?" Marcus questions.

Rya looks at Marcus then looks down. "I have been a prisoner since I was 10... a way for my parents to pay their debt... he sends us on missions as decoys... I was sent there as a distraction and ended up being caught."

Armando raises a brow at her wording, leaning forward to make his presence known. "Who's he?" he asks, looking at her with a hard expression.

Looking up, Rya makes eye contact with the brown eyes staring at her. She can tell he is studying her, looking for any reason not to trust her and her words. "A man named Sergio... he's dangerous and powerful. His family for decades has been a part of this big project to take over the world. For reasons I don't know... I just know his kind is powerful... and it's not just him. He has the military, doctors, scientists, judges, governments in different countries working for him. Any influence you can think of, he has someone there working for him. It's a world operation that has been growing nonstop... he's just the center of it."

The three men look at the girl in front of them and then at each other, taking in the information given to them. Mike looks back at the girl. "So why help us... what's in it for you?" he questions. She pauses for a second. "No one wants to be locked up and held captive for the rest of their life... this is my only chance and I can't do it by myself. I need your help." She looks at the men in front of her, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"Hey, we are here to help as long as you can help us... you said he has connections everywhere... is there any place that you know that we can look into to gather evidence or something?" Marcus asks. Rya nods her head, closing her eyes to hold the tears back. "He has these liquid drops he's creating that's a mixture of different drugs and chemicals... there's a place on the strip... an abandoned lot that no one looks into, that's where he makes some of it."

"You know the exact place and where these drops would be?" Mike asks. Rya nods her head yes.

Slapping his hands on the table, Mike stands up looking down at the young girl. "Well, let's take a look at his little operation and make some shit happen." The three men make their way out of the room. Paul, standing in the hall on his phone, looks up as he hears the door open. Quickly putting his phone away, he walks towards the trio. "So what do we got?" He asks, putting his hands in his pocket, looking back and forth at them.

"The man we're looking for is Sergio. His family is the center of this operation and has connections everywhere. She said there's a secret lab on the strip. Claims he's making liquid drops laced with different drugs. We're gonna check it out and build up the case," Marcus says.

"Okay, good, we have something... I'm going to release her to you guys. Make sure she is protected at all costs. We can't afford to lose her," Paul tells them before walking off.

"Well... now we're babysitting... great."

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

Walking out of the building, Paul and two guards on each side of Rya, her hands and feet cuffed. She looks up at the sky, squinting her eyes, and takes a deep breath, finally getting fresh air and light after being confined in a tight cell for 6 months. Looking down, she sees the three men from earlier standing by a car, waiting for her. She wasn't lying when she said Sergio is a dangerous man... his nickname to the people was "The Devil". With the type of connections he has, it's considered damn near impossible to take him down. But still, with the right people and enough evidence... there's a chance. She can only hope she made the right choice and that those three are the ones that can help her.

Feeling a slight tug, her body is forced to a stop. The guard on the right unlocks the cuffs on her feet. Leaving the handcuffs on, he hands the keys to Mike. "The hands are to remain locked." Mike nods, opening the back door to the car. Rya gets in, the door closing behind her. Looking out, she can see Paul exchange a few words with the men before the car doors open and they get in.

"We're going to the station to meet with the team. There you can change and we'll run down everything. Okay?" Mike says, looking back at her in the back seat.

Nodding her head, she feels eyes on her and turns her head to the right, seeing Armando staring at her. She looks him up and down, raising her brow when he doesn't look away. She hears Marcus speak from the front. "Don't worry about him," Marcus says, looking at the two in the back. "He's in his moody teenage phase where he hates his life and everyone in it..." He whispers to Rya. Furrowing his brows, Armando breaks their eye contact by slowly turning his head towards Marcus. "He'll get over it... eventually he tolerates you," Marcus winks at Rya and looks at Armando. "You ever eventually shut the hell up?" Armando asks, causing Mike and Marcus to look at him surprised. "Whoooa," Marcus exclaims, looking at his partner. Mike looks at Armando, "Hey, too much."

Armando rolls his eyes and looks at Rya one more time before he looks away and out the window. "You hear how he talks to me, Mike?... Just no respect for his elders!" Marcus whines from the front seat. "Yeah, I heard him..." The two continue to go back and forth. Rya raises a brow at the dynamic between the people she was put with. Glancing over at Armando, seeing him in his own world, she leans over into the corner of her seat, laying her head back. 'What the hell did I get myself into?'

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

...Miami Precinct...

Stepping out of the shower, Rya wraps her towel around her body and walks over to the locker room mirror. She was able to wash her hair and brush it out, leaving it down to air dry. Wiping the mirror, she looks a little more like herself. The scars and light bruises all over her body are still visible, serving as a reminder of what she had to go through. Shaking her head, she looks over at the folded clothes given to her and quickly puts them on. It's a simple Miami PD t-shirt and black cargos along with black socks, comfortable enough to move around in. Slipping on her shoes, she walks out into the foyer where everybody was waiting for her.

Looking up from the computer, Mike claps his hands and points to Rya. "Everyone, this is Rya, our informant. Rya, this is Rita, the boss, and Kelly and Dorn. They are our tech kids, formally known as AMMO," he says, pointing at everyone. They all wave at her with a small smile, causing her to nod her head in acknowledgment.

Marcus walks up to her with her handcuffs. "Sorry, but they said at all times," he looks at her apologetically, putting the cuffs on her.

"Alright, I have the map of the entire strip. I marked up the abandoned buildings. I just need you to point it out for us," Dorn says, walking up to the table in the middle and laying the map flat on it.

Rya skims over the map. "This one," she says, pointing at a building.

"You sure?"

"Yes, it's that one," she says, looking up at the team.

"Alright, here's the plan," Mike starts. "Rya, you are going to go in and grab a sample of the drops. Grab anything you think we might need that can be used as evidence."

Rya looks at Mike, her eyes widened. "By myself?!" she asks.

"No, uh, Armando will go with you to make sure nothing happens to you. The rest of the team will be watching on the drones, so there's no need to worry."

Calming down a little bit, Rya nods her head. "Okay."

"Armando, you good with that?" Mike asks, looking back at his son who was standing in the back of the room. Armando shrugs and walks off.

"Okay. Well, the plan is set. Let's get ready."

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

...3 Hours Later...

"Alright, can you hear me?" Dorn asks, looking at Armando and Rya who both wore protective gear and their earpieces. Both of them nod their heads as they make their way out of the truck.

"Alright, we'll be right behind you guys. Just grab a sample and get out safely," Rita says, looking at the two before closing the truck door.

Armando starts to walk toward the building, not paying Rya any attention. Rolling her eyes, Rya follows behind, picking up her pace to catch up to him. "Alright, we'll enter first to make sure it's clear," she heard Dorn say into the earpieces. Watching the drone fly into the building a couple of minutes later, she hears Dorn clear them to enter.

Walking into the building, there were broken pieces of glass and boarded-up openings. "You know where the stuff is at, right?" Armando questions, looking back at Rya.

"Yeah, it should be a little further down in a locked room," she replies. Making their way around the building, the two end up at a dead end.

"It's a dead end," Armando says, looking at the wall.

"No, it's just made to look that way," Rya corrects him.

Armando looks at Rya for a second before looking back at the wall. Stepping back a little, he kicks at the wall, and it easily crumbles, revealing a laboratory full of different substances. Skimming the room before stepping in, Armando picks up a bag full of white pills. "Opioids?" Armando mumbles, setting the bag back down. Watching Armando look around the place, Rya sneaks her still cuffed hands into her pocket, pulling out a flash drive. Looking around, she sees a desk off in the corner with a computer on it.

"Where are the drops?" Armando asks, looking back at her.

Quickly hiding the flash drive in her palm, she looks back at Armando and clears her throat.

"It should be in a case or one of these tubes," she says, stepping into the room.

Walking around, she makes her way towards the computer, quickly putting the flash drive in and pressing a button to turn on the computer. Looking back up to make sure Armando was still looking around, she presses around until she sees a downloading screen. Quickly walking away from the computer to look around.

"What are you doing?" She hears Armando question, staring at her.

"Looking for the drops, it should be around here somewhere," she replies, glancing around and noticing a small black case sitting on top of a shelf.

Lifting her cuffed hands, she points at the case.

"There, I think that's it."

Walking over, Armando picks up the case and places it on the counter. Unlocking it, he opens it to see a bunch of little tubes full of a liquid labeled 'OPP.M'. Glancing at Rya, who is looking at the tubes, he grabs one of the tubes and puts it in his pocket.

"Alright, let's go."

Suddenly, a beeping sound goes off.

"What is that?" Armando says, and Rya looks over at the computer.

Quickly walking over, she sees an error displayed on the screen.

"Shit," she mumbles, quickly grabbing the flash drive. She feels Armando grab her shoulder roughly, causing her to turn towards him.

"What the fuck is that?" His face hardens.

"Guys, we have people coming in," Kelly speaks into the earpiece.

All of a sudden, a man fully covered in black with a gold star stitched on his vest comes in firing at the two. Armando swiftly dodges, pulling Rya with him. Getting pushed under the counter, Rya watches as Armando grabs the man, making him stumble. Taking his gun away from him, Armando shoots the man.

More men in black come into the room. Armando fights each one coming at him. Watching him get outnumbered, Rya runs out, taking her cuffed hands and grabbing one of the men from behind, choking him with the chain.

Turning around, she takes the man with her, using him as a shield as one of the other men tries to shoot at her. Dropping his body, she drops to her knee, sliding across the floor, picking up a gun and shooting the men coming towards her. Running out of ammo, she runs up to one of the men, dodging the bullets before hitting him with the butt of the gun.

Grabbing one of the glass flasks on the desk, she breaks it and picks up the sharpest piece. A man comes up to her, throwing a punch. She strategically maneuvers, causing him to fall forward and land on the desk. Stabbing the man a few times in the back, she then turns around and slices the neck of another man coming towards her. A few minutes pass of her and Armando fighting, the last body dropping. She looks up at Armando, slightly roughed up and out of breath, already staring at her. Looking down at her bloody cuffed hands, she drops the piece of glass.

"What the fuck?" she hears Mike in her earpiece. Taking a breath, she looks back up at Armando.

"We got what we need, let's go," she says before turning around and walking out of the room, Armando following behind, glaring at her.

Making her way out of the building, she sees the doors of the truck open up, the team looking at her and Armando coming over. Stepping into the truck, she makes her way over to Dorn's computer and screens. "hey thats my seat" Dorn says pointing at her.

"What the fuck was that?" Marcus says, furrowing his brows and looking at Rya with his arms open.

Armando sits on the seat, unstrapping his vest. "Clearly your informant isn't just an informant," he says, glaring at her.

Rolling her eyes, she pulls out the flash drive from her pocket and swiftly inserts it into the computer, a bunch of files popping up. "Hey, who the fuck are you? Because that wasn't the same helpless girl that was crying and shit, pleading for us to help her back at the prison?!" Marcus says, pulling her shoulder back, forcing her to face the team, all looking at her with confusion apparent on their faces.

"You got some explaining to do," Mike says, crossing his arms.

Staring back at the team, Rya leans back in the chair. 'Well, shit.'

Tag List (lmk if you want to be added!):

@blackgirlmagicforever @believeinthefireflies95 @wizewhispers @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful @sarcasticbitchsblog @maybepersuasivetom @d4rno

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[guiltyasdave]

heaven can't help me now

chapter 3 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You're afraid Dave might not like you as much as you like him. ...Meanwhile, Dave is afraid of the same thing. (They're idiots okay)

word count: 6.5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad sucks), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, phone sex, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, biting, cream pie, use of panties as a gag, orgasm denial, pet names, let me know if anything is missing!

a/n: co-written with my angel @joelscurls, throwing around these ideas with you is so fun, i love you <3

taylor swift said “what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh” and i took that personally

thank you @catchallfangirl for beta reading! <3 (and listening to me freak out about this on a daily basis)

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics 🤍

Dave regrets the message as soon as the small text underneath it switches from delivered to read. 

He knows that he’s been cruel to you, he could see the confusion and hurt written all over your face when he drove you home. But he has to be the responsible one, the adult in this situation. The one who’s able to hold back. Nothing should have happened between you and him, not once, let alone twice. He shouldn’t indulge in this, shouldn’t give you hope. 

He has always looked down on men who were with women much younger than them. Midlife crisis. Not able to have a relationship with someone on the same maturity level. 

That’s not who he is. He understands that the reason why you’re attracted to him lies at least partially in your relationship with your father, and he won’t take advantage of that. It’s not who he is and it’s not what you deserve. 

You’re gonna go back to college in a few weeks and he can pretend that none of this ever happened. You’re gonna meet a nice boy your age, become a lawyer, get married and live your life the way you’re supposed to. Eventually, the memory of you writhing underneath him, your voice so sweet and needy in your desperation, surely won’t be as vivid as it is right now.

But then he found your panties between the cushions of his couch, still damp with your arousal, still smelling of you. His mind started wandering, conjuring images that he should be ashamed of. The things he could do to you, the things he could show you. 

It’s like he’s lost in a haze, stroking his throbbing cock to fantasies of you, all the depraved shit that some respectful fellow student would never do, but that he knows you crave. He hears your whimpers so clearly in his head, pictures your face, so pretty begging him for things only he knows how to give you, until he releases himself all over the lacy bit of fabric that’s clutched between his fingers. 

But now you’re not answering, and shame is swirling in his stomach, surely now he’s overstepped, why did he even think– 

His racing thoughts are interrupted by the quiet ping of his phone and a message from you. Just a photo, no text. 

His eyes widen, taking in the image. He can’t see your face, only the shape of your tits, already so familiar to him, covered in dark, lacy fabric. Exactly the same color, exactly the same pattern as the fabric that he soiled and photographed to send to you.

You put on the matching bra for him, he realizes. Which is probably why it took you longer than usual to answer, you had to get into the lingerie and put yourself all prettily on display for him. He drinks in the shape of you, the skin that he knows would feel so soft underneath his touch, the swell of your breasts, the nipples hidden behind lace, how they would harden for him, how you would squirm if he–

Desire starts coursing through him again, and he feels like a teenager, reduced to this by just a photo. His thumb finds your name on the display almost instinctively.

“Fuck, baby.”

The rasp of his voice hits your ear as soon as you accept the call. Your heart had been hammering away inside your chest since you hit send on the photo. 

“You like it?” 

You hate how needy you sound, how desperate for his approval. David exhales sharply and you wish you were with him again.

“Trust me, I like it very much.” 

Your cheeks heat at his tone. He blows all other thoughts out of your head. You forget how rejected you felt, how you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen again. It doesn’t matter, not when he talks to you like this. You whisper a thank you and he chuckles. 

“Are you in bed, sweetheart?”

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, considering the words resting on the top of your tongue. Deciding to take the leap. “Wish you were here too.”

You don’t need to see his face to know how he purses his lips, how he slowly curls them into a smirk.

“Mhm? What would you like me to do if I was?” 

Your face burns hotter. 

“I– Touch me, use your fingers to–” 

He groans, a rich, deep sound in your ear. You’re still sore, but your fingertips ghost down your body anyway, chasing the need that’s building up between your legs again. You gasp when they find your clit, already swollen and covered in your slick. 

“Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Yes, please David, I need–”

“Don’t worry, baby. I got you.” 

He keeps talking to you, low murmurs in your ear, directing your fingers over your body. He doesn’t let up until you’ve come twice, until he’s reduced you to a whimpering mess without even being there. 

He doesn’t apologize for earlier, not directly at least. You didn’t expect him to. In a twisted way, that you’re not sure anyone but the two of you would understand, this was his apology. 

You’re not sure what changed his mind, but he doesn’t go back to his distant self afterwards. Maybe he’s come to the same realization as you. That neither of you is going to be able to stay away. 

He’s on your mind constantly, you catch yourself checking your phone for new messages way too often and smiling down at the screen whenever he’s texting you. You know that you shouldn’t act like this, shouldn’t give him that much power in your mind. But it feels so good, to be seen, to be wanted like that. 

You’re both busy; he’s working on an important case and you’re in desperate need to catch up on job applications and college work, which you’ve neglected over the past few days, as your father is quick to remind you. 

But you keep exchanging messages, keep sharing hushed whispers at night. It never lets up, the thrill of his voice guiding your fingers and hearing the sounds that he makes when he’s putting his hands on himself. Knowing that it’s you, the thought of you that elicits them. 

You’re having dinner with your father, who is home earlier than most days, the brightly lit dining room reflecting off the massive windows, when the bubble bursts. 

“You remember Dave, right? From the country club?”

You freeze, your fork hovering in the air over your plate. He knows, your mind screams. No, there’s no way he would know. 

You fight hard to appear nonchalant, to not let your face betray you. You nod, humming questioningly in a way that you hope sounds innocent enough. 

“I told you how he got divorced recently, didn’t I? It’s been hard on him, poor fella…” 

Your dad sighs and shakes his head. You furrow your brow, at a complete loss where this conversation might be going. 

“Well, guess who got him a date?! Cheryl from the office is single and I realized, she’s perfect for him! An amazing match. He never goes out, always been a bit of a loner, I guess… But I set them up and they went out last night! Great, huh?” 

Your mind is running a mile a minute. You force a weak smile, lifting your head to meet your father’s proud grin. 

“Y-yeah, dad. Great,” you echo. You feel hollow.

He leans back in his chair, looking extremely pleased with himself. 

“Looks like I’m gonna have to play matchmaker for you too, eventually, with the way things are going, hm?” 

Under different conditions, the snide remark about your dating life and how he’s never been even remotely happy with any guy you had dared to bring home, would sting a lot more. Right now though, you’re reeling from the fact that David went out with another woman last night. 

“Sure,” you whisper. “May I please be excused?” 

You don’t wait for an answer, already pushing back from the table and rushing up the stairs. Back in your room, you grab your phone, scrolling through your past messages. You didn’t hear from him last night, which you hadn’t found weird at the time, but it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth now. 

Maybe he finally realized that someone his age would be much better suited for him. A real woman, not some little girl who still goes to school, calls him drunk in the middle of the night and can’t stand up against her father. Of course that’s not what he wants. 

You pace in your room, thoughts running through your head. Do you confront him? You never talked about it, never discussed exclusivity, but still… You don’t want anyone else and you had thought that he wouldn’t either.

After tossing and turning in your bed for hours, you decide not to ask David about it, to not contact him at all. Maybe that’s for the best. Save him the trouble of letting you down. It’s like a weight pulling under, the uncertainty and fear of this being it tying itself into a tight knot in your stomach. But you’ve been desperate enough for him already, you try to reason, you need to stop embarrassing yourself by running after him. 

He texts you the next day, sounding just the same way he always does. You can’t bring yourself to not reply to him at all, but it’s clipped, one-sentence answers, which he picks up on soon enough. His name lights up your phone as you’re hunched over your desk in your bedroom, pondering over an essay that you’re supposed to write over the break. 

“Hello?” 

“Sweetheart.” The deep smoothness of his voice travels from the speaker right under your skin, holding you under his spell the way he always does. “Is something wrong?”

You bite your lip, muttering a no in reply. You sound like a petulant teenager, everything that you don’t want him to see you as.

“Now why do I not believe that?”

You hear his smile in the way he sounds. You want to see him so badly, want to be on the receiving end of that smile. You wonder if Cheryl from the office got to see it last night too. If he’s given her all the parts of him that he’s given you. 

“Dunno.” There’s a sting in your voice, not unlike the sting that you feel piercing through your heart at the thought of him with someone else. 

Dave frowns at the way you sound. You’re never this short with him, never seemed so sad since that night you called him drunk and he turned you down. And even then, it was different, not dismissive the way you are now. 

His anxious mind immediately provides him with a variety of explanations. Maybe you’ve finally come to your senses and realized that you don’t want him. That you don’t want a man twice your age, that him wanting you actually makes him a fucking creep, that he isn’t as great as you’ve built him up to be in your head. Maybe you’ve realized that what you’re doing is wrong. He wouldn’t blame you for it. One of you should be reasonable and end things for good. He has been telling himself that.

But you sound so upset that worry settles in his gut. He feels that pull towards you again, only that it’s not explicitly sexual this time. He just really needs to see you, to touch you, to make sure that you’re okay. 

The invitation for you to come over leaves his lips without thinking about it, just the overwhelming need to have you close. You pause, so long that he gets even more uneasy, but eventually you agree.

Dave knows that something is wrong as soon as he opens the door. You look smaller, slightly curling in on yourself. You don’t meet his gaze, eyes downturned and without the spark in them that he sees in his mind when he thinks about you. He pulls you into a hug, one that you barely return.

His bedroom door is once again firmly closed, and he’s directing you towards his couch again. Still the last invisible line, the one that he tells himself will keep him from letting you in all the way. Your eyes linger there for a moment, he can almost see the wheels turning in your head. You deflate even more.

He hates to see you like this. Fights the urge to wrap you in his arms, satisfy his hunger for your lips and fuck you until every trace of that sadness written over your face is erased.

The door that you presume leads to his bedroom is closed, just like the last time you were here. You wonder if he opened it for Cheryl, if she got to see a part of him that you didn’t. Then again, he probably treated her like a lady. Wined and dined her properly, maybe a chaste kiss to say good night. Because she’s someone who’s right for him, someone worth putting the effort in. Not the quick fuck that you had been. 

He probably invited you over to tell you in person that he really can’t see you anymore. That he means it this time. You suppose that in his mind, that’s the decent thing to do. You think that you would have rather had him text you about it. That way you wouldn’t have to pretend, wouldn’t have to tell him to his face that it’s fine, that you understand, don’t worry.

Still, he called and you came running. Like a fucking idiot. 

You sit down on the edge of his couch, decidedly keeping the images of the last time you were here buried in your memories. “Do you want something to drink?” You shake your head no and he sits down beside you. You’re acutely aware of his presence, of the simmering need that you feel for him, even now. Please just get it over with.

“You didn’t have to do all this, you know.” You’re not looking at him, keeping your eyes on your hands, your fingers gripping each other tightly, tense like the rest of your body.

“Do all what?” 

You bite your lip, attempting to swallow down the anger at the fact that he’s gonna make you the one to say it, but it’s no use. Your eyes fly up to meet his. 

“Make me come here, to talk to me in person, or whatever it is you think you’re doing. You– you could’ve just texted me.”

He furrows his brow, a hint of defensiveness in his warm brown eyes. 

“What are you talking about?” 

You scoff. “My dad told me. About your date.” You’re never like this, your voice biting and your eyes glaring. You’re never like this and you have no right to be like this now, getting worked up over the end of something that never even was, not really. “I’m sure she’s nice. A great match, he said, so you’re gonna tell me to fuck off. It’s okay, I understand.”

Your voice breaks on the last word. A lump is building in your throat and your eyes burn with unshed tears. This can’t be happening. It’s bad enough that you feel this much about it, but it’s indefinitely worse to have him know it. 

David’s expression softens. “Oh, sweetheart. That’s not–” He slips one hand in between yours, gently pries your fingers away from each other. “You thought that’s why I asked you to come over here?” 

You shrug, once again unable to meet his gaze. 

“The date was shit. I wouldn’t even have gone if Jim hadn’t kept bugging me about it.”

Inhaling deeply, you slowly trail your eyes up to his face again. 

“Really?”

He nods, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest. His lips press against your forehead. 

“Promise.” He sighs. “You sounded so upset, that’s why I asked you to come–”

You sniffle, suddenly feeling stupid about the whole scene you made. He holds you a little longer, and you revel in his scent that’s engulfing you, in the warmth and solidness of his body. When he finally pulls away, his hand finds your chin and lifts it until you’re looking straight at him. A hint of amusement is glinting in his eyes.

“Were you jealous, baby?” 

You’re well aware that he can see right through you, but shake your head anyway. He allows himself a grin.

“What then? Worried that you’ll find no one else to fuck you like I do?” 

Heat is burning in your cheeks, but you can’t help but laugh. He’s not wrong, at least partially. 

Your lips curling up and the soft laugh tumbling out of you soothes him, eases the sting in his chest. The severity of your reaction to the idea of him dumping you for another woman took him off guard. He never wants to see that kind of hurt written over your face ever again. 

He should have told you, he realizes that now. He knew nothing would come out of meeting with that woman that Jim had been boasting about all week, but what was he supposed to say? No need pal, I already got everything I need fucking your daughter? 

He doesn’t know when you began feeling like everything he needed. He knows that you shouldn’t. He knows that he shouldn’t check his phone as often as he does, shouldn’t spend his days fantasizing about you, shouldn’t imagine you by his side almost constantly. 

But how can he not, when you’re looking at him like this, your eyes so wide, so filled with trust. Always ready, always desperate to give him everything of you. Like a dream come true that he didn’t know he had. 

“Maybe,” you admit, teasingly but still so, so soft. Everything about you is so fucking soft. His to touch, his to defile. Because, inexplicably, you fucking let him.

He needs to reassure you that he’s worthy of that trust. He leans in closer, feels your breath ghosting over his face as his nose nudges against yours. He pauses, searches your expression for a moment. You dip your chin down in a tiny nod and he’s onto you, chases your mouth with his. He pours all the emotion that he doesn’t understand, can’t begin to name, into the kiss. How much he misses you, how often you are on his mind. How he doesn’t want to hurt you, wants to do right by you, but has no clue how.

Your lips move against his with more fervor, a mess of tongues and teeth clashing against one another. Your whimpers drip into his mouth, leaving him drunk off you. Heat spreads through him, like a fire that’s going to consume you both. He thinks that he wants it to. 

He trails kisses down your throat, sucks at the skin, relishes in the shivers that it sends through your body. You grasp at his shirt, trembling fingers fumbling with the buttons, but he stops you. Nipping at your collarbone, he looks up at you, takes in your wide blown pupils, the hunger in your eyes.

Maybe this is all he can give you, but he’s going to do that right. He’s going to give you what he can, as long as you let him. 

He hooks his fingers under the neckline of your dress, pulls it down a little, inhales the sweet scent of your perfume. Every new inch of your skin that he reveals fills him with the need to worship it. 

“Will you let me make it up to you, sweetheart?” He mouths at your skin again, his eyes still trained on your face. “Let me make you feel good?” 

You nod eagerly, a breathy please, David falling from your lips. He runs his hands up your thighs, marvels at the almost feverish warmth of your skin, before he lifts your dress and helps you pull it over your head. 

Your underwear is white this time, a picture of innocence that only he knows is an illusion. His arousal swells at the thought, his cock pushing against the confines of his pants. 

“Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this,” he admits, his hands trailing over your waist, tightening his grip momentarily and enjoys watching you squirm in response. “I think about you all the time.” 

Your gaze flickers for a moment, and he realizes what he just said. It’s not a lie, but also not a truth that he intended for you to know. You bite your lip, expression turning thoughtful for a moment. Then a small smile spreads over your face. 

“M–me too,” you whisper, a bit shy, like you’re still half-expecting him to take it back, but putting your trust in him anyway. 

He has to kiss you again, remove all remaining doubts about how much he wants you from your mind. Licking into your mouth, he starts toying with the cups of your bra, pulling them down just so that his fingertips can graze over your nipples. You press your body into his touch, your back arching off the cushions, and he undoes the clasp, lets the fabric fall away from your body. 

He runs his fingers over your flesh, teases the hardening buds, loves the way you keen into his mouth in response. Palming your tits roughly, he pulls away a little to look at them. He doesn’t think that he’ll ever tire of the sight of his hands on you. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “Like you were made for me.” It stings only a little right in this moment, while he’s touching you, to know that you are not. He can keep pretending, for a while. It’s worth it, seeing how you light up at the praise, how you drink in his every word, sinking deeper into his touch. His, his, his.

David peels your panties off of you, the image of the white lace against his hand one that you know will burn itself into your memory. His eyes linger on the fabric, a grin slowly growing on his face. Arousal tingles at your spine at the sight. You’re entirely bare now while he hasn’t removed one item of clothing. The obvious power dynamic leaves you feeling vulnerable, you and your body at his mercy, but you trust him. To treat you the way you want, need to be treated, to push you to your limits and to still keep you safe.

The weight of his hands lands on your thighs, slowly pushing them apart, making room for his body between them. You’re acutely aware of how wet you are, and how clearly he can see it right now, with your folds all spread out right in front of him. You feel your slick coating your inner thighs, feel his breath ghosting against it.

He groans at the sight and sinks to his knees, almost at eye level with your pussy. The realization of what he’s about to do sinks in as he leans forward and places a gentle kiss against your clit that has you trembling. But still–

“Y–you don’t have to do that,” you stutter, suddenly feeling a different kind of vulnerable. A shame that you can’t explain starts welling up inside of you. 

He pulls back, sitting back on his haunches and looking up at you. His hands gently push your thighs back together, leaving you less exposed. 

“Do you not want me to?”

You bite your lip, fighting not to avoid his gaze. “I don’t know. I– I’ve never–” Your voice trails off. A fire is burning in his eyes, intimidating you. 

“No one’s ever eaten you out?” He sounds incredulous. 

You shake your head, shoulders moving up in a shrug, a wave of embarrassment growing in you. “Men don’t really… like to. In my experience.” 

He sighs and leans forward, presses a soft kiss to your left knee. “Most men are idiots.” It’s mumbled into your skin, lips moving against it. His fingertips inch up your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “You deserve to feel good, baby.” His voice sinks into your skin, low and raspy, and you have no choice but to believe it. “Will you let me make you feel good?” he asks again.

His dark eyes are on you, his fingers still tracing shapes over your skin. So close to where you want him. You’d let him do anything. 

“Please, David,” you whisper, for the second time. 

He pries your legs back open, a low growl in his throat as you’re spread out for him. Then he dives in, licking and sucking at your clit, gently at first, but quickly getting more intense, until stars start to burst behind your eyelids and you’re gasping his name. It’s overwhelming, unlike anything that you’ve ever experienced before. 

He lets up momentarily, licking through your slit, drinking up your arousal that’s dripping out of you and groaning at the taste of you. His mouth moves to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking on the sensitive flesh. He bites down suddenly, sinking his teeth into your skin and you scream his name at the unexpected burst of pain that transforms into pleasure almost instantly. 

He does it again, and again, leaving his marks on your body. It hurts just right, the sensation of him leaving his trace on you, marking you as his. You clench around nothing, desperate to feel him on your clit again, to take you the final bit to the top. 

As if he was reading your mind, he lets up his ministrations on your thighs and kisses his way to the spot where you need him so desperately. Your fingers sink into his hair, tugging at the roots, and he looks up at you, smug pride glinting in his eyes. He licks through your folds, nudges at your entrance with his tongue, before his lips find your clit again, closing around the sensitive nub. 

You come within seconds, the waves of your arousal crashing over you so suddenly that it takes your breath away. His groans vibrate against your skin as he laps at you, drinking you down. You feel like you’re in heaven. 

David gives you time to calm down, gently mouths at your heated skin, licks over the spots where you feel the indents of his teeth, before he kisses his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips when they connect with yours. It’s messy, and filthy, and you can’t get enough of it. 

You whimper when he pulls back and his eyes find yours again, his almost black, the pupils blown wide. He rises to his feet and looks down to where you’re spread out, thighs parted, on full display for him as he towers over you. He leans down, a finger tapping against your mouth.

“Open.” 

Your lips part immediately, giving him all the access he wants. He groans at your obedience, trails his knuckles over your cheek for a moment, before raising his hand to your eyes. He’s holding your panties again. 

“These are so pretty. Would be a shame to just leave them lying around, don’t you think?” 

You let out a sound, something akin to agreement. His grin widens. 

“Good girl.” 

His fingers push the fabric into your mouth, your spit soaking the material, mixing with the arousal that’s already sticking to it. You moan at the taste, your eyelids fluttering shut. 

His palm connects with your cheek in a light slap. Not hard enough to sting, but your eyes fly back open at the sensation. You grind down onto the cushions, desperate for friction as another wave of need floods you. 

“Eyes on me, remember?” 

You try voicing a sorry, but it comes out garbled and he chuckles. Soothing his fingers over the spot he just slapped. 

“There’s no need for you to talk. Just be a good girl and take what I give you, yeah?” 

Your body is buzzing, but your mind is blissfully empty. Ready to give yourself over to him, to submit to whatever he asks. It feels so good, so easily being able to please for once in your life. To follow rules and be praised for it. Simple. Safe. 

He wraps the lace around your head and ties it together in the back, effectively gagging you, leaving your mouth opened, the fabric stretching against the corners. Your desire is coursing through your body with so much force that it’s almost painful. 

He kisses you over the gag, pressing his lips against yours. One of his hands wraps around your throat, applying a hint of pressure. Your hips chase him, your arousal close to unbearable. He chuckles against your mouth before he pulls back.

“Such a good girl.”

He teases you endlessly. Drinks in the sight of you writhing under him as his fingers are back on your nipples, tugging them harshly and eliciting soft mewls from you. You look beautiful in the golden light of the evening sun that’s falling through his windows, almost angelic. 

An angel that he wrecked, already so fucked out when he finally sheds his own clothes and starts sliding his cock through your folds. He coats himself with the slick of your desire, taps his head against your clit, nudges at your entrance again and again without sliding inside. 

Your whimpering cries are music to his ears, your fingernails digging into his shoulders sting just right. You’re pleading with him through the makeshift gag, your words all muffled, and he revels in the desperation in your eyes. Loves the sight of it. 

“What do you want, sweetheart?” he coos, slides over your clit again. “Tell me.” 

You’re trying, trying so hard to get out real words, and he chuckles at your efforts. Deciding to grant you a little mercy, he pushes the head of his weeping cock into you. He throbs at the feeling of it, of how your slick pissy tries pulling him in deeper. You’re whining at the stretch, your hands desperately grabbing at him, before he pulls back again. 

Your eyes are swimming with tears, silently pleading with him. It’s like a rush. You’re always such a good, polite and well-behaved girl, so sweet, and here you are, completely bare and spread out underneath him, crying to get fucked. By him. He’s a bad man, he knows it. He doesn’t care, not when it feels like this. 

He smirks down at you. “Say please.” 

It’s obvious that you’re trying, your tongue struggling against the soaked fabric in your mouth. He lines himself up once more, looks at your face, at the desperate hope written out in your eyes. Then he slams into you. You scream, gripping his shoulders so tightly that he thinks you’ve drawn blood. He couldn’t care less.

Now that he feels your tight walls all around his cock, engulfing him with pulsing heat, it’s impossible to tease you any longer. He pulls back, just to sink deep into you, again and again. You cry out at every thrust, every time that he hits that spot deep inside of you that leaves you such a trembling mess. 

He can tell when you’re starting to tighten around him, your cries getting higher, and he knows that you’re close. Slowing down, he leans his head down to yours, his thrusts becoming more shallow. 

“Hold it,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting against the soft shell of your ear. A whine escapes from your throat, fresh tears falling from your eyes, your whole body trembling underneath him, your cunt squeezing him deliciously tight. He’s breathless, high on the control you’re giving him, on your level of obedience, doing every single thing that he asks from you. 

Letting you calm down a little, he busies himself with kissing every inch of your skin that he can reach. Almost bursting with arousal himself, he knows that he’s not gonna be able to keep this up much longer. 

When he speeds up again, he sets a harsh rhythm, jostling your body with every thrust, mesmerized by the way your tits bounce with the movement. Your walls start tightening around him again, pulling him in. He can’t hold back anymore. 

“I’m gonna come. Gonna leave you just as messy as those little panties of yours. ‘S that what you want?” 

You nod eagerly, more unintelligible pleads stumbling through the gag. 

“Fuck, come here–“ His fingers scramble, ripping the fabric out of your mouth to kiss you properly, to feel your tongue against his. 

His hips move at rapid speed, pumping into you and chasing both your orgasms. He’s breathless, high on the feeling of your wet cunt squeezing him so tight. You come with a cry, muffled by his mouth on yours, and the sensation of you clenching around him sends him over the edge as well. He buries himself deep inside of you, spilling his cum to leave you just as messy as he promised you. 

“Fucking perfect, like you were made for me, only want you sweetheart…” He’s rambling, barely aware of what he's saying, still lost in the bliss of his orgasm. The words only register when an unreadable expression flies over your face in reaction. Shit. He goes through things to say, ways to somehow explain, though he couldn’t even explain the words to himself. 

His mind quiets when you smile shyly and burrow your face in his neck. He moves the both of you until you’re a tangle of intertwined limbs, resting on his cushions, watching as the light slowly fades outside. You’re warm in his arms, your breath coming softly, fanning against his skin. It feels too right to be wrong, he decides silently. 

The peaceful silence between you breaks with a chime from his phone, a message from  your father. 

“Looks like I’m invited to have dinner at yours,” he says, turning the screen towards you. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, grabbing for your own phone to check the time. “I should get going.” 

He helps you get dressed, until your still soaked panties end up in his hands again. His eyes flit up and down your body, lingering on the hem of your skirt, on the bare thighs beneath them. You take a step closer, your hand stretched out for them, but he pulls them away, sliding them into his pocket. 

A smirk grazes your features as you take another step closer. “Again? Really?” 

He shrugs, takes your hand to pull you into him. Your responding giggle is a sound that he’ll never get tired of. He sneaks a hand under your dress, palms your bare ass and presses your body against his. 

“Be a good girl and stay like this, for dinner,” he murmurs against your lips, before he kisses you once more. 

A grin slowly grows on your face as you realize what he’s saying. 

“Deal,” you agree, your eyes glinting. 

You’re sitting down next to him, sliding into the chair beside him with the most innocent, sweetest smile to both your father and him. You’re still wearing the dress that you left his place in, the one that, if you’ve been good, you’re bare underneath. 

He reaches for you almost instantly, hidden under the tabletop, the pull towards your skin too strong to resist. You tense up for a moment, throwing him a quick glance, before you relax into his touch. He draws circles, featherlight on your skin, and you part your thighs a little more, allowing him to slide further between them. 

Focussing on the conversation with your father isn’t easy, not when you’re right here beside him, so pliant under his touch. 

“So, how was it with Cheryl?” your father asks, far too invested in the whole thing for Dave’s liking. You’re looking down at your plate, your shoulders slumped forward. 

He shrugs, his hand traveling upwards, beneath the hem of your skirt, pulling your thighs apart a little more. “She’s nice, but– Not the right fit for me, I think.” 

The memory of meeting the woman flashes through his mind. “You must be Dave,” accompanied by a shake of his hand. All wrong, so different from the way it sounds when David falls from your lips. He had wanted to leave right then and there. His grip on you tightens at the memory. 

“Well that’s a shame,” Jim sighs, leaning back in his chair. “I really thought you two were a good match.” 

Dave grunts noncommittally, taking another bite of his food. 

“This one,” your father continues, his eyes falling to you, “has yet to find a good match as well. Not the best choices so far.” He chuckles, either blind or indifferent to the way you seem to shrink in your chair. You mumble something about focussing on school and your career right now, your voice so small that it breaks Dave’s heart. 

“Boys your age are idiots anyway,” he says, grinning at how your eyes widen, his emphasis on your age in no way lost on you. “Wouldn’t want to have them distracting you, right?” 

You nod silently, but fire burns in your eyes when his hand reaches so high that his fingers swirl through the slick that’s covering your upper thighs. Dave grits his teeth, fighting the urge to kiss you right here and now, consequences be damned.

It’s wrong, it’s so so wrong, but it’s like he’s lost in a haze, high on the feeling of your skin under his fingertips. On the way your thighs fall open so willingly for him, always such a good and obedient girl. On the way you both know that you’re bare underneath your skirt, dripping with the filthy proof of what you did together. On the way he’s staked his claim all over your inner thighs, to the point that he’s certain the indents of his teeth are still pressed into your flesh. All while your father has no idea what’s happening right in front of him. 

The secret rebellion of it thrills you, he understands that now. He wonders if that’s what he is to you, an opportunity to do something so deliciously forbidden that you couldn’t resist. He’ll gladly be that for you. The idea to be the person who brought this out in you thrills him too. 

He somehow makes it through the evening. Not a single conversation topic has found its way into his memories. All he can think about, all that he knows he will remember is the feeling of you under his tight grip. All his. 

You had excused yourself when your father brought out the whiskey, squeezed his hand under the table before you stood up, carefully smoothing out your skirt. Call me, you had mouthed, turning back to look at him before exiting the room. 

He knows that he will.

as always, if you enjoyed this, please consider putting a smile on my face by reblogging, commenting or sending in an ask <3 thank you for reading!

[house-of-lovin]

legally binded - 4

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

masterlist | series mast. | prev part | next part

Chapter 4: Family Bonding, Festivals and Feelings?

Summary: After getting caught in some hot waters with the press, you are forced into an unexpected agreement with America's sweetheart, Jenna Ortega to save your career.

Warnings/Tags: dual!pov, famous!reader, mentions of hard substances, intoxication, mature language, real people (do not read if any of these makes you uncomfortable)

(this is all fiction!)

Note: Things are gearing up 😮‍💨 (ik i said i was gonna take a break, but i couldn’t help myself, now ill take a break lol, happy readin!)

Word Count: 6k+

“No one’s going to get cancelled — it’ll be fun.” Colin Jost smiles curtly on your flat screen TV.

You sit on the bed with a spoon hanging from your lips, an eye on the bright screen having just finished watching a rerun of Jenna’s SNL episode. You made sure to buy it as soon as it was available; locking yourself away in your room.

Currently, you are watching this week’s episode of SNL and Colin and Che are giving their weekly news update.

“Las Vegas is opening up a pop-up vaccine site in a strip club and don’t worry the strippers say the vaccine comes with singer and actress Y/N L/N. This time she’ll be the designated driver – I heard she’s on a tight leash.”

Your smile instantly drops.

“Speaking of Y/N,” Colin bounces off, reading off the cue cards. “Did you see her last week sitting in the audience during Jenna Ortega’s episode… hey, I wonder if they’re a real thing.”

Colin and Che share a knowing glance, “Nah.” They say in unison then move on to their next bit.

Scowling, you turn the TV off, practically throwing your bowl of cereal on the side table. 

You supposed you can’t be too mad – all too familiar with the snide jabs and harmless jokes from others in the industry. This is what you signed up for, right?

Whatever, you’re sure people are loving it.

It’s been a whole week since you left New York and you haven’t spoken to Jenna. It seems how you two acted back in the Big Apple was a success because it got your managers to back off, for now. You didn’t see a reason to contact the actress so you let the silence pass — you see when she posts on social media. 

You don’t have time to think about it because Coachella weekend is coming up soon. For the first time since Vegas, you will be working and you have been itching – wanting nothing more than to dive head-first into work mode. 

It’s what you do best.

You are invited to do a guest performance on a big producer’s set for the festival. It would be your first ever time performing at Coachella but you were privy to the culture of the festival, having gone as an audience member to support your musician friends.

“Hey, you got a minute?” Link pops his head in your door, holding a phone up.

–

“Please don’t do this.” Your pleas go underheard.

“I don’t know why you keep trying, the answer is the same Y/N.” Link rolled his eyes, pointing to a house.

“I think this is the one.”

You scan the two-story typical American home tucked away in the boroughs of suburbia up in the desert, otherwise known as Coachella Valley.

Or well, Jenna’s parent’s house at least. 

After Link had dropped the most terrible news; you had to be seen with Jenna in Coachella. Liv and Jake had instructed your team to drive you to stay with Jenna as you prepare for the festival – it was convenient they said.

Convenient my ass.

“Relax... Marcus will be back to pick you up, he’s gonna drop off your bags at the rental house.”

“Why can’t I just go with you then?” You ask.

“Liv said to drive you to this address. Jenna gave explicit directions to drive you here.”

You frown pulling on a loose thread on your sweater.

What could Jenna possibly want that she’d want you here? She looked pretty upset at you, the last time you talked.

You really don’t have it in you to fight with her, again, especially after the long drive from L.A. up to the desert where you thought — you’d be staying in your villa for Coachella weekend.

“Now go see the girl, please.” Link reaches over to open the door.

When you step out, the car is already driving speedily down the street not even giving you a chance to change your mind. You hear a flurry of voices from the side of the house but it sounds far away. Toy cars and trollies litter the grass yard. 

Slowly, you walked up her porch, your shoes scraped as you ascend the concrete steps. Hesitating for a brief moment, you realize: Jenna is inside. Well duh.  But the thought of her on the other side of the door has your heart dropping out of nowhere. You see flashes in your memory of her frown as you explain why you have to leave New York so soon.

Unspoken words as she says ‘well I thought–’

What did she think?

You would probably never know.

The door opens with a creak breaking you out of your thoughts.

“We have to stop meeting like this.” Aliyah leans against the doorframe, smiling.

You laughed, “Yeah, we do.”

She doesn’t say anything else and just yells over her shoulder, “Jenna, she’s here.”

Then walked off. 

“Hi…” Jenna appears, leaning on the doorframe with a hand.

She scans you for a brief moment; not having seen you since New York, a week ago. She had to make sure you’re still alive because she hasn’t heard from you since then.

You also practically ghosted her.

After feeling guilty about how she left things with you, Jenna sent you a text the next day, asking if you made it back to Los Angeles safely.

You liked her message with a thumbs up.

A thumbs up! Not responding would have been better, the actress bitterly thought.

“Hey.” You greet. “How are you?”

“Fine. You?” She answered quickly, smile sealed tight like an envelope.

“I’m… good. Yeah. Just working.” You answer honestly.

“Oh really?” Jenna asked.

“Yeah, something for Coachella actually.”

Jenna raised her brows in surprise. “Like what?”

You send a tight-lipped smile, “It’s a surprise. People don’t know I’m here yet.”

Jenna can’t fight her excitement; giddy about being in on a secret. But then she remembers that she’s supposed to be annoyed at you and not fascinated.

“Why haven’t you texted me?” Jenna sighed, her voice dropping to a lowly whisper, in case someone was walking by.

You raised your brows, surprised by her question. “Oh… um. I’ve been busy like I said, just working, trying to keep my head down and all that.”

“Are you sure that’s it?” She asked accusingly.

You missed her tone and shrugged, reassuring her, “Yeah. Of course.”

“But, I heard you were busy this week too, filming another movie with Barry Keoghan and The Weeknd?” You changed the subject, hoping to talk about something else. She takes the bait after scanning your eyes for a second.

“Yeah, it was just a short role. But it was a lot of fun. Abel actually talked about you.”

“That’s great, I’m happy for you Jen… and yeah he’s an old friend.”

“Sung your praises pretty high, I had to make sure he was talking about the right person.”

You chuckle, “Oh okay, I see how it is.”

Your laugh caused a sudden warmness to manifest in Jenna and she couldn't help but join along. “Come on, my family has been dying to see you again.”

“Really?” You asked, stepping inside her childhood home. “So you think I made a good impression?”

She turned to look back at you, surprised that you care. “Maybe… don’t let it get to your head, though.”

You laughed as you followed her through the house. “Is that jealousy I hear Ortega? Scared you won't be the only movie star around?”

She snorted, rolling her eyes. “Shut up. You’re an idiot.”

“An idiot that may have impressed your family?” You cocked your head and grinned wide.

“Yeah, yeah. Like, I said. Don’t let it get to your head. They could care less about celebrities and Hollywood. They’re pretty grounded.”

You shrugged, looking at the various family pictures hanging on the wall. “It’s fine. There’s only one Ortega I want to impress anyway.”

You’re not sure where that came from and it seemed Jenna shared the same thought because she raised her brows at you – but didn’t comment.

Jenna blocks you from walking when you reached the sliding glass door. “What?”

Jenna chewed her lip anxiously, “My family can be a lot. In numbers and in the other sense too. There’s a lot of us.”

“Oh… that’s okay.” You answered. A bit confused as to why she is telling you this. When you see her genuine concern your gaze softens. “Jenna, relax. I can handle the family… and I can charm anyone’s socks off.”

She relented, rolling her eyes at your joke. “Okay, okay.”

"Wait..."

Jenna turns around.

"Why am I here exactly? At your parents, that is. Link told me that you gave my driver instructions to bring me here."

Jenna bites her lip in contemplation. "Um—like I said my family wanted to see you again and I heard you were going to Coachella anyway so you know, two birds one stone."

You nod, accepting her answer.

Jenna opens the door for you two to step out.

–

Sounds of laughter rang around as you and Jenna sat in lawn chairs in her parent’s backyard.

“What are Timothee Chalamet and Zendaya like in real life?” Markus – Jenna’s brother leaned forward to ask. 

“Markus!” Jenna scolded and threw her brother a glare.

The actress blushed as she sat beside you but all she felt was the vibrations of your laughter, indulging her brother’s question. 

Jenna can’t help but wonder if you have other family members that spend time with you like this. You look so carefree and genuinely happy; comfortable around her family — after knowing you for a couple months now; she guesses it’s a no.

“They’re cool. Just like everyone else to be honest. Especially, Timothee, sweet guy but he’s a bit of a typical frat bro.” You joked, “And Zendaya, well. She’s just as amazing as everyone says she is. Great work ethic, it’s inspiring when you work with someone passionate like that – makes you want to be better and work harder.”

Jenna’s sisters are eating your story up. Secretly she knew they enjoyed the tales of celebrities and pop culture. It’s nearly impossible to live your life without seeing a public figure pop up on an ad on your phone or on the side of a bus stop on your drive home. 

Jenna is barely home enough to be able to have moments like this where she can humour her sister's questions. But they all had their own lives to live. She's has been looking forward to this break for a while, knowing it was coming up after her long week in New York.

She still can’t describe New York.

Something seems to have shifted between you two by the end of the week. But she didn’t know if it was for the better. The two of you have this constant push and pull; where everything is fine one moment, then one of you says something and it turns tense and weird as you both stay silent or you just completely blow up on each other.

Jenna didn’t know if she had it in her to try to decipher what these restrained responses she gets from you could possibly mean.

You are an enigma; a defensive, hot-headed asshole that grinded every gear the actress had.

“Do you like Zendaya, buddy?” You bounced her niece in your lap, enjoying how the baby grabbed at your fingers. 

But then Jenna turns around and you act like this. Sweet, protective, charming. 

How are you the same person?

She can’t fight her smile as she watched the adorable sight.

Jenna didn’t know you were good with babies. 

“I think Z would think you’re just the most adorable thing. Oh my god, Jen, can I send her a picture of us?” You turned to her, with a bright smile.

Jenna didn’t know when you started calling her by her nickname but she certainly won’t say how she enjoys how it sounds when you say it. “Uh–sure, if it’s okay with my sister.”

“Zendaya’s gonna have a picture of my baby on her phone? Uh yes!”

Jenna laughed, nodding. “I’ll take the picture.” She took your phone, opening the camera.

“What are you doing? Get in here with us." You asked with an adorable scrunch in the nose, surprising Jenna.

“Oh, I just thought— okay.” She swallows her growing grin, sliding in beside you.

Her sisters share knowing glances.

You happily scooted in, pressing your chest to her back.

Jenna is suddenly reminded of her you and her, alone in her dressing room.

She presses back into you. 

“Say, cheese guys!” Jenna clears her throat.

With big bright smiles, you placed your head above her shoulder to get in the frame, repeating, “Cheese!”

Even her niece seemed to be enjoying the attention as she smiled brightly and toothless while standing on your lap with her chubby legs. Jenna snapped a couple for good measure, checking over the pictures. The three of you are squished together as she held it in portrait; you all looked cute Jenna can admit. 

Like a little family.

What?

“Oh Jenna, send me that, please. I want to post it on my Instagram.” Her mom spoke up already reaching for her phone. 

“Okay, okay.” Jenna rolled her eyes but sent herself the pictures first before airdropping them to – everyone – who begged for it. 

“This is adorable, I think I’m gonna make this my lock screen.” You grinned, staring at the photo. She sees you typing a message, indeed sending it to the actress like you said you would. “Just for your niece.”

Jenna felt her heart skip a beat. “Are you saying you’re gonna crop me out the photo?”

“No… but now that’s a good idea, thanks.” You mocked with a smile.

“Mom, how did you already post that picture so fast?” Mia asked.

–

“Don’t be mad.” Jenna begged.

“Mad? Jenna. This isn’t what I signed up for.” You pinched the bridge of your nose.

The two of you were standing in her driveway, in a discord of course. Jenna just forced you into another situation that you wanted no part of.

“You just told Link to call off my driver and now you’re saying don’t be mad. Of course, I’m mad! Why did you say yes to your Mom, Jenna.” You sighed, dropping your hand limply.

“I didn’t know she’d insist.” She groaned walking closer, “She said that you shouldn’t stay in that big house by yourself for the weekend when there is room here, next thing I know she’s forcing me to ask you in front of everybody.”

"I'm sorry." She grabs your arm. “Link said you might be mad.”

You stare at her for a couple of moments. Their hearts are in the right place, you guessed. Eventually, you rolled your eyes and sighed. “Thank you I guess… I appreciate that the sentiment.”

Jenna smiled in relief, “Yeah, of course.” Then scrunched her nose in thought.  “We actually really don’t have the room so I don’t know where she’ll put you.”

She should have known. This is so typical and cliche; sharing a bed trope? Please, can the universe be any more unoriginal? 

“Mom, are you sure?” Jenna whispered as she peaked her head out the small awning of the door – making sure you can’t hear. 

“Jen, go to sleep. We have a packed day tomorrow. Everyone’s coming over for the game.”

Tomorrow is sports night and her uncles, aunts, cousins and grandparents are set to come over. It was a weekly tradition for the extended family to host a gathering to watch the game every Friday; with Jenna’s busy schedule, she hasn’t been to one in months. She’s grateful this one is hosted at her house but then inwardly sighed because she should probably warn you about that too.

“Mom…” She pleaded in a whisper.

“Goodnight and be responsible. I trust you two.”

“Mom!”

Jenna dropped her head in defeat as she listened to her Mom’s footsteps dwindle further away. 

“Hey, you should probably get in there before all the hot water runs out..”

She turns, seeing your freshly showered figure. For a moment, Jenna finds herself stuck. You’re rubbing a towel on your wet hair as grey sweats hung lowly on your hips and she was desperately trying to avert her eyes from the small patch of you skin exposed.

“I already showered.”

“Oh okay.” You shrugged walking over to grab your phone. 

“Which side do you prefer?” You asked absentmindedly,

“What?” Jenna blinks away.

“Of the bed. Which side do you prefer?” 

“Oh. The left.”

“Thank god. Every bed I’ve had to share I’ve had to fight for the right side. You’re perfect.” 

Jenna watched as you jump into your preferred side, getting comfortable under her covers.

She doesn’t know why she feels a mismatched thump fall out of rhythm with her heartbeat at seeing you in her bed. 

“Alright, are you gonna be weird about sharing a bed? ‘Cause I can just take the couch or call my driver to pick me up. I can get a hotel room or something.” You sighed sitting up. 

Jenna furrowed her brows, “What no. Can you please stop jumping to conclusions?”

“I’m not.” You mumbled but don’t argue further. Jenna gets in beside you. 

“You satisfied now?” She throws out but it sounds just shy of playful and maybe even flirtatious – definitely not how she meant for it to sound.

“Uh– sure.” You replied sliding the blanket up to your chin as you tried to get comfortable again.

There’s that weird tension again, Jenna thinks and she thinks it’s starting to annoy her.

“Okay, what’s your deal?” Jenna crossed her arms, turning to you.

You blinked, confused. “What?”

“Why are you being so weird?”

“I’m not.” You sat up to face the other actress.

Jenna frowned, “Yes you are. You have been since New York. Did I do something? Because you still haven’t told me why you just left town like that.”

“I told you. Jake wanted me back for Coachella. Why else would I have just left all of a sudden?” You explained.

“I just– I just feel like you’re not telling me something.” She admits, a bit insecure. “I, at least, thought we’re friends now and when I didn’t see you in the crowd or the dressing room after SNL I was a bit… disappointed? I don't know if it’s dumb but you really did calm me down before my monologue and I wanted to thank you over dinner. But, yeah–” 

Jenna looks away, missing your guilty frown. “Jenna… it’s not dumb. God, I feel like an asshole.”

“Well, sometimes you can be.”

You laugh but it’s dry. “I’m so sorry. I–I should have been there.”

You grab her hands. “Look at me, please.” It gets her to look up, the light from the lamp is bouncing off your eyes making them look softer in the dim light. “I promise, I’ll always be there for the important moments from now on. Before, during and after – we are stuck together until the foreseeable future, so.”

Jenna snorts, looking down at your hands. You begin to rub lines with your fingers on her open palm making her shiver. “Yeah, I guess we are.” She whispers.

She doesn’t know when she makes the bold move to intertwine your fingers. But for the first time since SNL, you two hold hands and this time you don’t pull away. But she doesn’t miss the questioning glint in your eyes as you look down. Jenna ignores the attention and squeezes your hand to make you look at her again.

“You mean it though?”

Your eyes soften. “I mean it.”

–

“Where’s Y/N?” Mia asked over the breakfast table.

“Rehearsals,” Jenna mumbled sleepily shoving spoonfuls of food in her dry mouth – still trying to wake up.

When the actress had awakened, the sun was high above the horizon and the desert heat was already inching inside her cracked window. But she woke up, alone.

Differing from how she went to sleep the previous night with you barely pressed up beside her as you laid with your backs to each other. Jenna only found herself un-tensing after hearing your breathing fall into short even exhales.

When she turned over to grab her phone this morning, you had sent a text:

Sorry for not waking you up. You sleep like a rock but I had to go to rehearsals. I’ll be back by 3 :)

She couldn’t be too annoyed at the smiley face you leave with your occasional messages.

“She’s performing?” Mia asks shocked.

Jenna nods, too tired for words.

“The crowd is gonna lose their minds.” Aliyah laughs. “With who?”

“Won’t say.” Jenna muttered bitterly, thinking back to her incessant begging; you never caved.

“Okay… can we talk about it, now then?”

“Talk about what Mia,” Jenna sighs dropping her fork on her plate.

“You and Y/N.” She says like it’s obvious.

“There is no me and Y/N, it’s all for the cameras. Remember the NDA I had to beg you guys to sign?” The actress rolls her eyes. 

“Then why were you so upset after New York?” She challenges; tired of her sister’s silence over this whole situation. There’s no way she’s just unaffected by this.

“Mia drop it.” Her mom says.

“No. I’m serious, she’s literally staying under our roof, sharing a room with Jenna. And no one is still saying anything? Am I the only one who thinks there’s something going on?”

“Yes.” Jenna says quickly.

Mia rolls her eyes, “You still haven’t answered my question, Jen.”

Jenna crosses her arms, sitting up. “Of course I was upset. She just left town without a warning, if we didn’t catch her in the lobby she was just gonna a send a text. A text! Anyone would be upset at that — but it doesn’t mean what you think it means.”

But her sister doesn’t buy it. She opens her mouth to refute but their Dad swoops in saving the day. “Leave your sister alone, Mia. I’m sure whatever is going on with Y/N and Jenna – they can figure it out themselves.”

Jenna groans, “Dad, not helping.”

He shrugs, sitting at the head of the table with his own plate of breakfast.

Eventually, her family scatters to their own corners of the house to get ready for the day. Her other family members would be arriving soon and the actress had to start getting ready. Crap, she forgot to warn you about game night because you left so early. Jenna decides she’ll send you a text after she gets out of the shower.

With the raucous of the day, Jenna forgets to send the text. Her cousins arrived much earlier than anticipated and she was already getting pulled out to living room to talk about her upcoming projects. She gets so lost catching up with her cousins that she doesn’t realize when you arrive.

"Jenna, your novia is here." One of her aunts shouts making her head snap up to you as the front door opens. "Oh wow, and she's brought the whole store!"

Jenna's jaw drops as you walk in, holding multiple large bouquets of different arrangements of flowers. "Y/N?"

"Hey!" You peek your head out from the large flowers. "These are for your family... but I may have overestimated how big these were and Link refused to help me."

"Oh god, these are beautiful Y/N." Jenna's mom gets up from her seat, grabbing as many flowers as she can. "You didn't have to..."

"Oh, it's nothing, really. You guys are letting me stay here, I just wanted to express a little gratitude." You duck your head, all timid now.

Jenna knows it's not nothing. Those flowers cost a fuck ton, she would know she gets gifted those whenever she has an event.

"Well, gratitude expressed. I don't even know where to put these. Mia, Aliyah help the girl, please!"

The two sisters grab all but one smaller bouquet from your hands, walking away with smug smiles.

"Jen, get up," Aliyah whispers in passing as all the women and Jenna's dad filter over to the kitchen to view the gorgeous flowers.

She still hasn't moved from the couch and briefly, she thinks she can feel her cousin's smirking at her reaction.

"You got my family flowers?" Jenna asks dumbly, walking over slowly; ignoring everyone's eyes on them.

"Uh—yeah. Sorry if it's a bit much. I wasn't sure what everyone liked so... I got them all." You scratch your head with a bouquet in hand, catching Jenna's eye.

"These are for you..." You smile, holding out a smaller albeit more personal? flower arrangement. It felt like Jenna, somehow.

“I picked it out myself.” Your smile turns shy.

Like, if she were to walk into a flower shop and see this bouquet, she would instantly grasp it and never let go.

We still talking flowers?

"Thanks..." Jenna mumbles, grabbing the flowers; your fingertips touching sends sparks down her arm.

"Um—you're back early..." Is all she manages to say.

“Yeah… they didn’t need me for a long time so I decided to come back.” You explained, glancing at the new faces in the room. “Uh– what’s all this?”

The actress sends you a sheepish smile, “Family game night, we watch the game every Friday and cook some barbeque, it’s a whole thing. I forgot to text you, I’m sorry. You can call your driver back if this is too much.”

You laugh, squeezing her shoulder. “And miss out on great food? No, thank you.”

Jenna scans your eyes for the truth, “Are you sure? I know this isn’t exactly your scene so I understand.”

“Jen.” Your hand slides down, softly grabbing her hand. “I can’t even remember how long it’s been since the last time I had a home-cooked meal. I’m so in.”

You squeeze her hand for good measure. “Guys close the door.” Someone shouts.

Jenna doesn’t let you drop your hands this time because she’s already gripping them, pulling you to sit with her cousins – introducing you.

She ignores the giddy feeling in her chest that you want to stay.

You don’t say anything even when you’re both sitting and she’s still holding your hand.

–

“Who are you performing with?” Jenna tugs on your arm.

You squint to see her through your sunglasses. The Californian sun was making its presence known today and there are crowds of people everywhere as you tried to find some shade. It’s just past 6 PM and people are already starting to get rowdy – before all the good sets are even on. 

Fish nets, sparkles and bedazzles are all you see in the sea of people and you just know you’re at Coachella.

“I can’t say…” You fight the smile on your face, finding her begging adorable. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

“But Aliyah knows! I heard you whisper it to her.” She glares back at her sister standing a fair distance away from you two – who was talking to Mia and her boyfriend.

“I didn’t tell her anything, Jen. We were just fucking with you.” You laugh, sliding your hand in hers. 

An unspoken comfortableness has formed between you two. Light touches are a new development in this… situation Jenna had with you.

Whether it was knees touching under the dinner table, walking shoulder to shoulder on your daily walks around the neighbourhood (there wasn’t much to do as Coachella weekend approached) or leaning her head on your shoulder as she slept when you two watched TV before bed.

And now, it seems like things have escalated to a new level of comfort where you two willingly linked fingers whenever you walked anywhere. Neither of you make a peep when someone eventually reaches for the other’s hand. 

“Rude…” She pinches your side making you flinch away from her.

Jenna’s immediately tugging you back closer.

“Hey… I can’t get an injury before my performance. I’m legally binded to a contract.” You state.

Jenna snorts, “I thought you were friends with the performer? Are you really not gonna tell me who it is?”

“Nope and sure we’re friends but, I’m still contractually obligated to the festival and all that.”

“Come on Y/N!” She groaned unconsciously stepping closer to you. “I’ve been so nice to you, I haven’t called you an idiot all day!”

You laugh, “Is that supposed to win me over?”

“You tell me? Is it working?” The laugh dies in your lips when she tits her head in question.

Jenna misses the gulp you take because she was leaning closer, trying to find your eyes behind the dark-tinted glasses you had on. 

“No…” You replied with a vacant tone.

Jenna steps back when the sun blinds her eye. “You’re no fun.”

“I don’t know what to tell you… you’re gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Speaking of everyone else, I’m surprised we’re not surrounded by your groupies.” Jenna eyes the group of people hovering not too far away. 

You snicker, “They are not my groupies. I barely know those people but it happens at every music event. They flock over like geese. I let Link handle them.”

Jenna frowns, “Doesn’t it bother you?”

“What?” You look down.

“That you can’t even enjoy yourself at a festival without someone hovering over your shoulder.”

Since Jenna’s started this PR relationship with you her fame’s only increased overnight. She hates to say it but Sarah was right, being associated with you has only made her more famous and well-known. She felt like a Kardashian or Tom Holland who couldn’t even step out of their own homes without a camera being shoved in their faces. 

It’s getting so bad that Jenna has security with her everywhere she goes. She stopped driving herself to places. A headline even dropped that you two are official and serious now and that you have met her family; paparazzi tried to camp at her parent’s house until they called the police.

“Sometimes.” You answer honestly, shrugging. “But it’s part of the job.”

Jenna’s frown deepens, looking around. “This is not part of the job. At least not what I’ve seen.”

“Yeah, but we learn to deal with it, right?” You nudge her shoulder. Seemingly unbothered that made Jenna bothered for you.

“How?” Jenna couldn’t help her curiosity.

“Surround yourself with people that genuinely care about you. That still picks you even after all your fuck ups. Only got me about three of those, so I try to keep them close.” Then you let out a sad laugh, “I make it very hard for them sometimes, though.”

Jenna looks at Link as he holds a bored hand up when a girl tries to walk up to you. Then he’s shooing her away and whispering to both of your security guards.

She wants to fight the urge to say that you have a fourth person in your corner with her.

Instead, she says:

“I think you got a good one with him.” She nods to Link.

You follow her sight, “Yeah, I do... He’s usually right about most things too.”

“What do you mean?” She looks up in questioning.

Maybe Jenna’s not so bad? Flashes in your memory but you don’t tell Jenna. “Nothing.”

Jenna squints her eyes. “Fine… keep your secrets.” Tone a playfully bitter.

Eventually, you, Jenna and her sisters walk around aimlessly from set to set, taking pictures and enjoying the atmosphere. Jenna would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying herself right now. Somehow you all managed to find an empty corner by the Artist section of the performances which meant you had loosened up a bit. 

Jenna decided she liked it when you’re smiling, carefree and happy.

It suits you better than your permanent scowl. 

You’ve been so stressed this last week, taking phone calls and Zoom meetings. She tried not to express her concern at seeing how you obsessively fretted over some project, consuming you some nights. 

Jenna knows obsessive. She knows anxiety. This was different.

She finds herself with more questions than answers when it comes to you.

Why are you so closed off all the time? Is this how you work all the time? Where did this recent streak of bad behaviour start? Is there more to it than what you’re saying?

Are you okay?

But Jenna can’t find the right words to ask, so she doesn’t.

Only offering her warm pressure on top of you to hopefully lull you to sleep when you both drift off in her childhood bed.

Somewhere along the evening, she finds herself close to you.

You've loosened up as the days progressed and somehow, you and Jenna have found yourselves wrapped up in each other's arms as you danced.

Jenna had her back pressed firmly against your chest; her head tucked under your chin as your arms wrap around her waist from behind; hands linked as you jammed along to the music.

“The Met Gala’s coming up.” Jenna speaks up after a few moments of silence. “I’m invited.”

“Me too.” You reveal. She perks up, looking back at you.

“Yeah?” She smiles, pleased with your answer.

“Mhmm. I’m actually a co-chair this year.” You send an embarrassed smile.

She turns in your hold, jaw-dropping. “You are?”

“Yeah… why do you think I’ve been taking those calls all week? I was getting ready for the Met.”

“I thought that was for Coachella?” She snorts but can't help but ask, "Do you ever stop working?"

“Says you. Miss Scream Queen.” You tease making her roll her eyes.

“Be my date.” She says all of a sudden. “and walk the carpet with me this time.”

You raise your brows at her bluntness. This time?

You remember the last time she said those words and a tiny part of you prayed she meant it differently this time. But you can't fight your smile because you couldn't even say no if you wanted to — overwhelmed with the sudden want, to show off the girl in your arms. “I would love to be your date.”

Jenna's eyes sparkled with delight, beaming at you widely.

"Great! I'll talk to Enrique and Thom Browne about it."

"But I'm a Prada Ambassador?"

"I'll handle it." She nods with finality.

But before you can say anything, Link slides in with a whisper in your ear and a knowing smirk in Jenna’s direction.

“Hey, I have to go.” You whisper into her ear, pulling away but Jenna tightens her grip.

“Wait.” She steps forward – much closer than she means to.

“Yeah?” You asked softly and suddenly Jenna can’t hear the loud thumping of the bass anymore.

“Good luck and break a leg.” She says in a whisper.

Her hand reaches up to brush your neck still looking into your eyes. Jenna feels the same overwhelming pressure in her chest that she’s recently felt around you and gives into her sudden impulse; leaning in, parting her lips; meaning for them to connect to your cheek but instead swerve and slot in between your lips instead, in a moment’s haste.

She feels you tense for a moment before giving in, cupping her cheeks too. Kissing her back. Jenna loses it a bit, not expecting your lips to feel so soft and smooth and perfect against hers. Jenna can't help but tilt her head to the side, allowing your lips to press harder.

She feels the same electricity from your first meeting – when you shook her hand. The same electricity she tries to fight off every time she's near you. Except this time, it's by tenfold.

Jenna is so lost in you that she can’t even hear her heart beating loudly in her ears anymore — only feeling your thumb softly stroking her jaw.

The sound of coughing breaks you two apart.

“Sorry but Y/N we need to go.” Link sends a sheepish smile but he's trying to fight his grin at having a front-row seat to the show.

When Jenna pulls away she looks deeply into your eyes searching for some kind of indication of your feelings.

You smile shyly, squeezing her waist and rubbing her back. “I’ll find you after the show?”  

“Yeah…” Jenna whispers, still staring into your eyes.

“I’ll find you!” You yell over her shoulder as Link drags you away.

“Holy shit, finally!” Mia slides in beside her. 

Jenna doesn’t have the energy to shrug off the arm Aliyah throws over her shoulder as she brings her fingers up to her burning lips. “I don't know why I did that...”

“Oh my god, you’re an idiot. The both of you.” Mia rolls her eyes walking back to her boyfriend.

Jenna looks around, blinking, immediately catching the phones held in the air capturing her moment with you.

She walks off, following her sisters.

Unbeknownst to you and Jenna, a headline is about to drop:

New developments in Y/N L/N's Vegas case. Caught with cocaine! Las Vegas PD makes no official comments on possible charges or arrests. But is this the end for the bright star?

-

:)

The strip club and vaccine bit with Colin and Che is from a real line in one of their segments LOL.

yall happy now?

-

@alexkolax @ladey @jjsmaybank20 @werewoofrobinbuckley @chealsib @fanboy7794 @la-douleur-ne-finit-jamais @zelload @natashadeservedmoree @orang3-ish @friedryes @canyonyodeler @nahnahnahwhatt @be-missed @jjuncidio @fearstreetsoloyouandurmom @oksana-moods @theirishmanronan @r-ude @wokethefuxkup @bandaidss @skate-to-breathee @user173781 @frasersgf @natblidaclexa @justafoolinlove @bring-mecoffee @slu7her @haughtsauce21 @wheesunsangel @cyberexpertalienspy-blog @jennaortegasfootrest @zaza11sblog @omega-horus @heroofdeath11 @selluequestrian @justalittledissociation @imaloserbby @catswag22 @sorexhera @smjmgko @acutenobody @raven-ss @canceldevvi @sweetaimu @rockwyn @rwndsana @cheesybacon1 @cvluswnt @secretbackrooms @vixen1006 @zhasmindoesntknow @namesduntmatter @ulicebld @rozmrazaradelfinow @icarly23 @cartierdreamx @thenextdawn @annalestern

[writerswall26]

First Time In Years

Synopsis: Y/N is an action star who's dubbed as Tom Cruise Jr. she was in a relationship with Jenna for a while before the two of them broke up due to Jenna's uprising status in the industry. The two of them happened to bump into each other at an award show and time stopped when they saw each other again.

Warning: Bad writing, Feels.

Words: 1.1k

Masterlist

A/N: I was feeling a bit bored then this popped in my head so I thought I'd share it to you guys. Happy Reading!

You've been away from the entertainment lime light for a couple of years because of an accident that happened in a production you were doing a few years ago.

During those times you were down and under, one person stuck by your side and supported you, from recovery, to therapy, to getting back in shape. You'd never ever forget that person, she was the one for you, you believed that. But fate had something instilled for the both of you. She was an uprising superstar, you did not want to hold her back. So you did what you thought was best at the time, you broke up with her.

A few years back, you were not so sure you're gonna be back into doing action films due to an accident you had on a set that left you bed bound for at least 3 months. You thought your time in doing actions was done by that point. But here you are, leading a sequel from one of the best action films of all time, Top Gun: Maverick. Your Godfather pushed you to be in this movie, quoting "you're gonna be my successor, I want you in this movie". So yeah, what Tom Cruise asks, he shall get. And today, you're back in an award show with your castmates.

Today, you're gonna have to face that person again. You're not entirely sure what would happen, or if anything would happen at all. You haven't seen her since you two broke up, but you did follow her activities. Watch her series, movies, anything that would update you of what she's been up to. And you couldn't be more proud of what success she'd had. She was becoming a household name and she's still getting bigger and bigger as the time goes by.

So, when you saw her being interviewed wearing a wonderful dress, you could not help but stare, you're shameless about that, but can you blame yourself? She was looking beautiful. She looked more mature now, her long hair cut shorter, she looked more of a woman now, it's crazy what time did to her. She looked more beautiful, she's always been beautiful in your eyes.

"Stop staring and start approaching, kid." She heard Miles whisper in her ears.

Y/N turned to her castmate and gave out a chuckle. "I don't think that's a wise idea."

Miles looked confused. "Why is that?"

Y/N shrugged. "Let's just say we want to leave it where it was left." She said before she walked on. Miles was still confused as he followed her inside with their team.

"So, who's that girl you were looking at lovingly outside?" Glen asked as soon as they got to their table.

Y/N groaned, not wanting this topic to be the talk of the entire night.

"She's just... some I used to know, okay?" She told them, pleading for them to stop asking questions.

The older men and women got the signal as soon as they heard her frustrated voice, and thankfully, they did not continue to ask.

The entire show, Y/N would steal glances to look at the girl she's watching outside. She couldn't help it. It's been so long. Of all the places, she never thought she'd be seeing her here, with a guy she knows has been linked to the girl.

"I'm gonna go to the toilet real quick." Y/N told her mates and went without waiting for a reply.

She did her business and was about to leave when she stopped on her track as she was face to face with the girl she's been eyeing the entire time. She looked as shocked as Y/N, her eyes widened.

Should've tried to hold it in. Y/N thought.

The two of them stood there, in the middle of the comfort room, staring at each other with wide eyes. No one made an attempt to move, or even to speak. It's like they're stuck in a dimension where they're just there, standing and staring at each other.

Y/N was the first to move, to get back to her senses. She gave out a small chuckle, thinking how dumb they probably look inside the toilet room, just staring at each other.

She cleared her throat, getting the attention of the girl in front of her. "Well, you look extremely lovely." Y/N said genuinely, smiling.

The girl in front of her giggles as well, her dimples showing. Y/N always loved those cute dimples, and she most definitely loved the sound of those cute giggles.

"It's so weird that the first time I see you after so long, we're in a comfort room." Jenna said, giving out a giggle again, lowering her head, shaking it lightly.

Y/N laughed with Jenna as well. The two of them looked like madmen inside the comfort room.

"How have you been?" Y/N asked when they finally calmed down.

Jenna's smile never left her face. "Good. I've been good. You?"

Y/N nodded. "I'm getting by. Trying to get back on my feet."

Jenna nodded, then she looked at Y/N from head to toe. She never thought she would see the taller girl again. Ever since they broke up, Y/N seemingly went under the radar, like she was hiding, not wanting anyone to find her. But here she was, standing tall and healthy.

"I saw the film. I thought you weren't gonna get back to it. Was afraid I'd heard on the news that you broke something again." Jenna admitted, making Y/N's heart jump at the thought that Jenna was still worried about her after all these times.

"I wasn't expecting to get back in action as well. Just tried to bring back the old me, but did not expect to get back."

Jenna nodded. "What made you take the film?"

Y/N grinned. "Tom Cruise."

Jenna giggled again. "Ah, of course. Can never say no to the godfather." She said, causing the both of them to share a small laugh.

"You realize we're really catching up inside a freakin' comfort room, right?" Y/N said, giving Jenna one of those weird looks she loves to give.

"Yeah, I know it's weird, and disgusting."

Y/N just shook her head. She stared at Jenna for a moment, taking all of her in. She's still as beautiful as before, maybe even more. But one thing's for sure, she's still the Jenna she knows, nothing has changed.

"Congratulations on everything you've achieved. I'm extremely proud." Y/N turned serious, but the smile on her face never left.

"Congratulations on getting back to the screen, I'm extremely proud." Jenna replied.

The two of them stared at one another, before Y/N broke their eye contact.

"I'll see you around, Jenna." She finally spoke.

"See you around, Y/N."

And they both left it at that. Their hearts are full knowing the sacrifice both of them made blossomed into something bigger than they both expected. That would stay in both their hearts forever.