#And we’re back to in real time self doubt

[bestrongbebrave49]

It’s gonna ranty in my tags guys (trigger warning SA)

the amount of times on relationship advice you see women who have been with literally the worst dude you’ve ever heard of/the devil incarnate for years and feel guilty about thinking badly of him after he’s destroyed your belongings and called you names and threatened your life at worst, or just completely neglected you and put no effort into the relationship or life at best is just. wow

[darkmatilda]

𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your first solo, undercover mission unexpectedly spirals out of control when a real heist begins at the scene.

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: spencer reid x newbaumember!femalereader, robbery, the reader becomes a hostage, is beaten by the attacker (quite severely), killing of hostages, shooting, inspired by s1e9 where spencer saves elle on a train (the plot is very similar but set in a different scenery), spencer's pov, the attackers are definitely not the gentle type, reader is wearing a skirt (her whole outfit is described), glasses reid propaganda

𝐚/𝐧: merry christmas guys <3 fasten your seatbealts and get ready for this rollercoaster.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 14.8 k

"Why do I get the feeling that neither of you is even half as stressed as I am? Actually, scratch that—neither of you is even one-tenth as stressed as me?”

The question left your lips accompanied by a kind of sigh, an attempt to expel the air poisoned with anxiety and replace it with something fresh, clean.

"Because we know you’re going to do brilliantly, sweetheart," Penelope replied without hesitation, sparing you only a fleeting glance as she momentarily tore her eyes away from her computer screen. One of many screens.

Her office was filled with an uncountable number of them, all glowing brightly and lighting up the small, dimly lit space, which was also packed with her colorful accessories—pom-pom-topped pencils and flowerless plants in tiny pots, most adorned with smiling faces or hearts.

"Or rather," Reid interjected, spinning in a circle on his swivel chair, "because we both doubt you’ll even be remotely useful out there." A white box of Chinese takeout rested on his lap.

You shot him a grimace.

"Next time you try to undermine my self-confidence, make sure I’m not holding anything sharp," you warned, pointing one of your chopsticks at him. Yes, less than an hour before your first solo assignment, you were all happily indulging in junk food from the closest restaurant to the office, ignoring the looming possibility of digestive regrets. "Or you’ll lose an eye."

"Aren’t you tired of trying to kill me yet? First, you gave me a concussion…"

"You didn’t get a concussion, Reid. Stop exaggerating…"

"And now, you’re openly admitting that you plan to cause me permanent damage by depriving me of my sense of sight—which, as it is," he said, tapping the frame of his glasses, "is already in less-than-stellar condition."

"You two are just adorable when you argue with each other like an old, bitter married couple," Penelope commented with a small smile on her pink-lipsticked lips.

You first looked at each other, then at her, eyebrows raised, and in a synchronized moment, you both let out a huff. Unfazed, she continued.

"But now we really need to get to work. The exhibit starts in an hour, and you should get there with him. Have you ever used that microphone? It’s the latest model we’re testing, gosh, I’m so excited…"

"You’re adorable when you act like a typical nerd," you shot back, mimicking her little smile and tone of voice.

"A nerd I proudly am! Just like this guy here," she nodded toward Reid, who pouted slightly, looking offended. "You’re surrounded by nerds, sweetheart. Soon enough, you’ll become one too."

"Dear God, forgive me my sins and watch over me…" you whispered, staring at the ceiling.

The mysterious he that Garcia mentioned was named Christopher Allen, and he was surprisingly young for a neurotechnology engineer. He worked on issues surrounding the human brain and developed devices designed to have a broad range of effects on it. But why were you supposed to go with him to some exhibit? Equipped with a spy microphone? And why was it stressing you out so much that for the past ten minutes, you had only been picking at your Chinese takeout instead of eating it?

Well, it's hard to decide where to start explaining from.

You were summoned before Hotch yesterday, who informed you that an opportunity had arisen for you to prove yourself in the field. Alone, undercover, for the first time in your—let’s be honest—tragically short career at the FBI. On top of that, this was meant to test all the new equipment your team had received, the kind that Penelope had been so enthusiastic about. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the main reason you’d been assigned this task. Someone had to check the effectiveness of the gear, and at the same time, you, the rookie, needed to gain more experience. Allen’s case was like killing two birds with one stone.

This scientist had worked with the FBI multiple times, and that’s why when danger started looming over him, he was quickly assigned protection. The threat came from threatening letters and even a direct attack at his own home, which fortunately didn’t end in tragedy. Allen was descending into paranoia and was afraid to even attend public events, even ones with full protection, like the tech exhibition—taking place in one of the modest local museums—designed to showcase the latest advancements in neurotechnology and more.

He was probably afraid that during the event, someone would simply rush at him with fists and try to murder him in front of dozens of random technology and brain enthusiasts. Or something like that. Your task was to pretend to be his assistant, never leaving his side and carefully observing the surroundings. And that was it. Nothing too demanding was expected of you, unless things started to go south. However, that seemed highly unlikely, as everyone made it clear to you.

Still, you couldn’t shake the fear—whether justified or not—that something would go wrong. And it would be your fault.

“Reid, clip the microphone on her,” Penelope interrupted your train of thought with the order. “You’ve never used one of these before, have you, sweetheart?”

You nodded in confirmation, watching as Reid set aside his box of Chinese takeout to take the tiny device from her.  He stopped a step in front of you, perched on the edge of one of the desks, his gaze shifting uncertainly between the small black microphone in his hand and you.

“Where… where can I…?” he asked, trailing off as he made a vague gesture with his hand, surprisingly loaded with awkwardness.

“Oh,” you let out a confused sigh, beginning to consider where it might be best to place it. The sleeve? Shouldn’t it be closer to your face to capture even your quietest whispers?

“Okay, I’ve got an idea,” you said, starting to unbutton your white shirt, revealing a significant portion of your neckline. “Here?” you asked.

“Yeah… I think so,” he replied hesitantly but didn’t move.

It wasn’t until a moment later that he swallowed and, with a slow, deliberate motion, reached for a section of your shirt near your cleavage. His actions were careful—almost excessively so—like his top priority was ensuring he didn’t accidentally brush against your skin.

The microphone’s clip was quite small, though, and attaching it to your clothing required him to take another step closer and lower his head near your chest.

Even as your breathing slowed, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Penelope shaking her head in amused disbelief. 

You preferred to look straight ahead rather than at his fingers, working with such careful focus, though you couldn’t help but let your gaze flicker to them repeatedly. Just for fractions of a second—it was difficult to pull your eyes away once they landed there.

Only when he finished, his hands dropping quickly to his sides as he stepped back, did you realize you’d been holding your breath for quite some time. You became acutely aware of how stifling Penelope’s little office was—how did she even manage in the summer?

"That's not all," the woman on the screen broke the silence, one you hadn't even realized had fallen. "There's also a transmitter you'll need to keep on you somewhere. Securely, so it doesn't fall out. Are you planning to go dressed like that?"

You glanced down at your outfit. A simple black skirt and white shirt—the first thing that came to mind then you learned you'd be posing as an assistant.

"Inappropriate?" you asked, searching for an answer first on Garcia's face, then on Reid's. The latter gave the barest shrug, barely even looking at you.

"You look amazing. Absolutely stunning, darling. I wish I could have an assistant like you," Penelope reassured you. "But in this economy, I can only dream about it. Anyway, my point is, you don't have any pockets. Where are you planning to keep the transmitter and your gun?"

"I was thinking of just tucking it into my skirt. At the back."

"I don’t think that’s the best idea," Reid interjected doubtfully. He hadn’t reclaimed his spot on the swivel chair and stood instead, arms crossed over his chest. The embarrassment you’d managed to put him in (quite adorable, really) was slowly dissipating, leaving only a faint blush on his cheeks. The corner of your mouth twitched when you noticed it. "I mean, it could fall out, or start sticking out, which could lead to questions like why an assistant is walking around with a gun..."

"Okay, I get it," you sighed. You could’ve thought this through a bit better. "Maybe I’ll have time to swing by home and grab, I don’t know, a blazer or something..."

"You won’t," Penelope declared after glancing at the time. "But you can always borrow my jacket."

You looked at the garment draped over the back of her chair—a bright pink leather jacket. You didn’t even bother responding; you simply stared at it, letting the expression on your face do the talking.

"Alright, I admit it, I didn’t think this proposal through. So, it looks like we’ll have to..." She trailed off, her gaze landing on Reid’s figure. Surprised by the attention, he pointed at himself.

You also directed your attention at him. He was wearing a simple brown blazer, which would go well with your unremarkable outfit.

"Take it off," you instructed.

He was silent for a moment, though there was no visible protest on his face—just doubt.

"It’s gonna be too big," he remarked, his hands gently grasping the edges of the jacket as if unsure whether to take it off.

"Apparently, oversized is coming back into fashion."

"Okay, fine," he sighed, removing the jacket. Underneath, he wore a shirt and a black vest, from which a matching tie peeked out. Initially, he seemed hesitant about the idea, but handed it to you with some urgency. "Here you go."

You sent him a brief, grateful smile.

"You’re saving my mission, Reid. I’ll mention you in the report. And I’ll frame your name with a little heart, drawn with one of Penelope’s glitter pens," you declared.

He returned the gesture, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly as he gave a small nod. You noticed his gaze was almost fixed on your face, as if some invisible force were forbidding him to look away, down or sideways.

You didn't think too much about what it meant, you didn't really have time. You put on the blazer, which was indeed a little too long, and hid the transmitter in the inside pocket. You placed the weapon at your hip, concealing it with your clothes. As you were about to leave, you said talk to you later because the two of them were going to communicate with you through the earpiece the entire time. They wished you good luck, and you were just about to leave the desk when Reid, suddenly as if unable to stop himself, said your name one last time.

You looked at him questioningly. Instead of responding, he made an uncertain gesture near his chest. Confused, you looked down.

For the entire time, half of the buttons on your shirt were still undone.

*

You had never met him in person, but you recognized his face from snippets of interviews that occasionally appeared online, or perhaps he had even been on the news a few times. He was in his thirties, give or take five years, hard to tell. His entire persona seemed to be built around the carefree nature of a young eccentric with a sharp mind and an unrestrained tongue, constantly refining his thoughts and conclusions, often controversial, causing an uproar among the public. Without a doubt, he was one of those people often called a genius. Which, not always, was a compliment.

Allen seemed deeply displeased by your presence. He looked… tired. His red hair contrasted with his very pale complexion, as if made of glass, and dark circles rimmed his eyes. He wasn’t shockingly tall, about your height, but with broad shoulders.

"The FBI was supposed to provide me with protection because some psycho is literally trying to kill me, and they send you?" he asked, bitterly, exchanging a brief handshake with you before getting into the car.

You both sat in the back, the driver at the wheel. You were supposed to arrive at the exhibition together. His reaction caught you off guard, his open anger sparking the same feeling in you.

"What's your problem?" you asked. His insulting tone irritated you the most, especially since he hadn’t even had the chance to get to know you.

For a moment, the man sat staring out the window. His body was tense, almost stiff, as if stressed. His elegant attire, with a shirt half-tucked into his pants and too many buttons undone, suggested that he usually dressed more casually.

He let out a heavy sigh, as if furious, then hastily wiped his face with his hand.

"Just..." he began coolly and cautiously, as if holding back some cruel words. "I get the feeling that everyone is downplaying the seriousness of this situation."

"We're all approaching this with the necessary commitment," you replied, though it wasn't entirely true. Allen had every right to fear for his life, but each of you honestly doubted anything would happen to him during this exhibition. If the threat had been real... Hotch probably wouldn't have sent you. "Believe me, we understand the gravity of the situation..."

"Really? Even the letters I've been getting? The content of them?"

You knew about the threats sent by an unknown sender, but you hadn't delved into what exactly they contained. Seeing you hesitate to answer, Allen scoffed.

"You're fucking great at your job, no doubt. So let me fill you in. They come every day. Every fucking day. And I read every single one of them. You know, I've even started seeing a pattern. First, they beg me. Then they threaten to fucking kill me. Smash my face into the ground, beat me to death with a metal rod, rip out my ribs, douse me in gasoline, and set me on fire..." He paused, dramatically scratching his chin. "Oh, almost forgot. They're going to peel the skin off my back. Then there's a day off. No letter comes. The next day, they apologize. I don’t know if this psycho has some extreme split personality or... or... I have no fucking idea. The cops said, get this, it's normal. 'Cause I’m a public figure."

"They brushed it off?" you asked, slightly shaken.

No matter how famous he was, threats were still threats.

He shrugged. He was trying to speak with a voice full of dismissive irony, but it wasn’t working. He stumbled, taking breaks to swallow. Though he had treated you like a complete jerk earlier, you were starting to understand.

“First off, until someone broke into my house and tried to drag me out of bed and take me…God knows where. Probably if I hadn’t had a dog…” he trailed off, glancing back out the window. You’d arrived at the museum, where the exhibition was to be held, but Allen hesitated to get out of the car. ��This guy is nuts, whoever he is. I don’t know what to expect from him. He wants to kill me, kidnap me, torture me? Or maybe he’ll just settle for shooting me from a distance like I’m some goddamn Kennedy?”

“That doesn’t really sound like him,” you said in a calming tone. “He tried to kidnap you from your house, why would he suddenly attack you in a public place…”

“My fiancée is pregnant,” he suddenly blurted out.

You blinked, unsure how to respond to the sudden confession.

“Congratulations?”

“For her safety, I sent her very, very far away, somewhere she shouldn’t be in any danger,” he continued, completely ignoring your words. “And though her and the baby’s well-being is my top priority… I also need to take care of myself. I need to make it to their birth…and longer, of course. But that’s why I’m afraid to even go out to the damn store for milk, and that’s why I was so pissed off when I found out they assigned me a woman who, no offense, looks like she wouldn’t know how to hold a gun.”

You instinctively scoffed at his last comment, though it was hard to stay particularly mad at him, knowing everything he was going through. An awkward silence fell between you, heavy and laden, during which the two of you simply stared at each other. It hit you that you were responsible not only for his safety but also for ensuring that someone’s fiancé and future father would make it home.

“We should get going,” you said, nodding toward the museum. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a certain tension at the thought of leaving the car. You shook your head slightly, trying to dispel it. “And just so we’re clear, I do know how to handle a gun—more than you’d think. But for your sake, you better hope we don’t have to put that to the test.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch.

"Well then, onward, assistant. Tell me, how much do you know about neurotechnology?"

Well, by the end of this day, you were definitely going to know a lot more. Together with Allen, you crossed the threshold of the museum. Its decor clashed with the theme of the exhibition, but apparently, they hadn’t managed to secure a better location. 

The interior layout was harmonious—rounded arches were supported by symmetrically arranged marble columns, and the dominant shades were gold and royal red.

Your destination was the exhibition hall, circular in shape, where mahogany tables served as display stations for various prototypes in the fields of medicine, neurobiology, and informatics. In other parts of the building, there were tall, arched windows, but this particular room had none. No natural light entered; all illumination was generated by lamps that, to their credit, mimicked the natural diffusion of sunlight quite effectively.

Among the displays were an interactive brain map and various projects still in development but aimed at assisting people with disabilities.

You observed all of this with interest while simultaneously listening to your companion’s impromptu lecture on the human brain (apparently, talking helped him calm down). At the same time, you were closely monitoring the crowd around you.

True multitasking.

The exhibition was open to everyone; no one was checking who entered the venue. Although you counted three security guards in the room—dressed in simple black suits and mostly tasked with ensuring that no one tried to steal anything—there was a subtle air of unease hanging in the atmosphere. If Allen’s suspicions were correct, the person intent on ending his life could be one of these faces. To your surprise, however, he suddenly seemed far less concerned about it than you were.

“You don’t have to follow me around like a shadow,” he said, leaning toward you to make himself heard over the murmur of surrounding conversations. A familiar face with a loud, bright red tie waved at him and began making their way over. “Just don’t take your eyes off me, no matter what. And keep an eye out for anyone suspicious—whatever that means to you. Hey, man!”

He greeted his acquaintance with a friendly handshake. Following his instructions, you took a small step back, deciding to take a short stroll among the exhibits. But after barely two steps, your finger went to the discreet earpiece hidden under your hair.

“Are you there, my lovely nerds?” you asked with a playful smile, knowing they couldn’t see it but imagining their reactions.

“At your service!” Garcia responded enthusiastically, and you could almost picture her saluting on the other end.

“And what about Mr. Smartass? Did he get bored and wander off to study the reproductive habits of ants?”

“I heard that!” he replied, summoned by his new nickname. “Such gratitude for letting you borrow my jacket.”

“Speaking of the jacket,” you continued, “I found a candy in the pocket. How thoughtful of you to leave me a little sweet treat.” You weren’t joking; there really was a candy inside. You inspected the wrapper and frowned. “Marzipan? Ugh. Do you have the taste buds of my grandma?”

"To what I know, I haven't had a taste bud transplant. Especially not from anyone's grandmother," he replied nonchalantly. "And as for those ants..."

"Sorry to interrupt, my darlings, but I have a few questions about the sound quality of these new microphones..."

True to her word, Garcia began asking you how well you could hear them and instructed you to lower your voice to a whisper and then raise it sharply. Some sort of test or whatever. You did it all patiently while staring at the red-haired mop at the station across from you. Allen seemed pretty relaxed now, probably realizing nothing was going to happen to him.

"Okay, now do the sound like a chicken. I mean the noise."

"What?"

"You know, cluck."

"Pen, is this really necessary?"

"Yes, sweetie. I need to check something else. Last thing, I swear. Scout’s honor."

You sighed, looking around at the people nearby. Few were paying attention to you, you were just one face in the crowd. God, for something like this, you could ask for a raise.

"Exactly, honey. Just louder," Garcia asked.

You rolled your eyes and tried again to make the chicken sound. An older couple glanced at you, their eyes wide with horror.

"Alright, enough," you muttered, embarrassed, into the earpiece, quickly moving to a different spot.

And then you heard the pair on the other side literally choking with laughter.

"I fucking hate you guys," you said. "I hate you. Especially you, Penelope. Give me Reid on the mic, from now on I'm only talking to him."

Another burst of laughter from the woman. You clenched your jaw. And as if that weren’t enough…

 "Did you want to hear me, little chick?" Reid asked politely.

“I should’ve gouged your eye out with a chopstick when I had the chance,” you hissed into the phone, a little too loudly, drawing a few curious glances. You were supposed to be watching for suspicious people, but it turned out you were acting the most suspicious of all…

“Did you catch what she said?” Reid addressed Penelope. “I only heard clucking.”

“Ha-ha,” you rolled your eyes.

For fifteen minutes, you had to endure such jokes. You seriously began to worry that they’d never get tired of it, but finally, after a quarter of an hour of psychological torture, they fell silent. You kept a sharp eye on your surroundings.

“By the way,” you began, still a bit offended by the chicken joke. “You guys should regret not being here to see these inventions. Perfect for you, nerds.”

“Well, actually, we can see them,” Reid’s voice came through the earpiece, sounding very clear, clearly taking the whole mic for himself. “Garcia grabbed footage from the cameras inside the room.”

“So you can see me? This whole time?”

 “Yep. And we saw that terrified couple who ran as far away from you as they could as soon as you started clucking like a chicken. Poor souls.”

You ignored the comment and began scanning the room for the cameras. When you found them, you scratched your forehead with your middle finger.

“Can you see this too?”

“I can see how much fun you’re having,” he scoffed. “Are you going to include that in your report?”

“Exactly. Right under your name, framed with a glittery little heart. Any other requests?” Not waiting for his response, you added, “By the way, how do I look in your jacket? Does it fit me well?”

"I think so. I mean, the blazer is incredibly well-tailored. And of good quality. It’s impossible for it to look bad on anyone." He paused for a moment, and his voice grew more serious. "How’s it going? Have you noticed anything suspicious? Still feeling stressed?"

"Not anymore," you admitted, speaking the truth. Even though the exhibition had just started and was supposed to last about another hour, you felt like you had passed some milestone where nothing could go wrong anymore. "But of course, I’m still keeping an eye out. I had a little chat with Allen…"

"I heard," Reid acknowledged. "Very interesting lecture on the human brain, I must admit."

You let out a small laugh.

"I talked to Allen earlier. Still in the car. After what he told me, I don’t think he's a paranoiac. The guy is just really worried about his safety. And not just his.”

A moment of silence fell on both sides.

"Speaking of Allen, he's heading your way," he informed you, likely watching the feed from the cameras. "I guess I'll hear from you later then. I mean, I’ll be hearing you the whole time, just not the other way around. Unless you want me to constantly broadcast about ant reproduction?"

"Sorry, Reid, but I’ll pass. Maybe some other time," you chuckled, noticing the engineer approaching. As he walked, he bumped into a man in the crowd and exchanged a quick apology. You used that moment to add something else, a bit impulsively. "And what about this? Do you see this?"

You pressed the inside of your hand to your lips before unfolding it, sending a kiss toward one of the cameras. Reid was silent as Allen drew closer.

"I see it," he finally admitted, quieter. You regretted not being able to see his expression, it was unusually hard for you to picture it at that particular moment. Was he smiling? "And I like it a lot more than what you showed me earlier."

You turned your back to the camera so he wouldn’t see you smile. It only hit you afterward that he probably saw it anyway, just from a different angle.

"I see you're enjoying the exhibition," Allen said, standing in front of you with his hands in his pockets. He had stopped pretending to be the classy guy and fully embraced his more laid-back side. "So, uh, sorry, but I think I'd rather head out now."

Worried, you discreetly glanced around.

"Did something happen? Did someone stare at you weirdly, do something...?"

He shook his head, a negative gesture.

"Nothing like that. I just saw what I needed to see. Check it off the list, I’m ready to leave..."

After his words, an absolute darkness fell.

Absolute darkness, in the truest sense of the word. The exhibition hall had no windows. When the lights went out, it felt as if someone had tied a cloth tightly over your eyes. Yet, like a fool, you kept looking around, as if moving your head could somehow tear through the blackness enveloping you, freeing you from the growing panic that was slowly flooding your senses.

“Garcia, what’s up with the cameras?” Reid’s voice sounded in your ear. He was confused, not yet frightened. He didn’t know what was happening yet. None of you did.

The people around you, of course, were also surprised by the sudden blackout. A few muffled gasps echoed, one or two squeals, a smattering of curses. But there were no screams, no one tearing at their throats or blindly bolting forward, trampling others in the process. That came later.

Exactly four seconds after the first gunshot rang out.

Before, the world seemed to freeze in place; everyone’s breaths were trapped in their lungs, unwilling to escape, even out of curiosity. Your body lunged forward as if trying to flee, but it quickly dawned on you that there was nowhere to run. Where had the shot come from? Who had fired it? Was someone hurt?

Something—or rather, someone’s hand—clamped painfully around your wrist. Instinctively, you tried to pull free, letting out a sound somewhere between a growl and a garbled cry.

“It’s me,” Allen choked out, his voice trembling. You couldn’t see his silhouette, but you knew the blood had drained from his face. “What the fuck... what the fuck is happen—”

The second shot rang out, closer and sharper than the first. Chaos erupted in the room. Screams, so hysterical they drowned out the voices coming through your earpiece, filled the air. Something struck you hard, sending you stumbling as pain radiated through your shoulder. It was an empty kind of pain—something you felt and yet didn’t. You realized it must have been one of the panicked people charging blindly through the dark.

“Here,” you commanded, your mind snapping briefly into clarity. In your mind’s eye, you pictured the layout of the room before the lights went out. The corner of the hall, the wooden table behind you, where one of the prototypes had been displayed.

You slipped under the table, dragging Allen with you. He groaned as his head hit the underside of the furniture.

You were so utterly disoriented that it felt as though your own name was echoing on a loop inside your head. It took you a moment to realize it wasn’t just your mind playing tricks—it was someone’s voice, growing more familiar with each passing second.

The third gunshot.

Allen choked on his breath, his hand still gripping your wrist so tightly you feared it might snap—yet you didn’t register it as pain, merely as a sensation. The two of you crouched beneath the table, facing each other, teetering on the edge of succumbing to the abyss of panic.

Reid spoke your name again, faintly, as though he were far too close to the microphone. As though leaning in would somehow make you hear him better—make you respond.

“I’m here,” you managed to stammer, the first thing that came to your mind.

"Thank God, I thought..." he sighed, suddenly stopping, as if realizing it wasn't yet time for relief. "Are you... are you hurt?"

"My arm."

You didn't know why those words escaped your lips. Maybe because, although your mind was too occupied with trying to figure out the situation to focus on something like pain, your body couldn’t ignore the fact that it felt it. Against your will, you let out a hiss and finally pulled your hand out of Allen's grip.

"You've been shot? We... we can't see anything, do you have anything to stop the bleeding, maybe use my jacket..."

"I don't know what's happening, we've completely lost access to the camera feed, someone must have turned them all off, just like the power... Reid, immediately notify Hotch, he needs to know something's wrong..."

On the other side, chaos erupted, comparable to the one surrounding you. Penelope was aggressively pressing the keyboard keys, Reid was rushing between a phone conversation with Hotch and throwing random phrases at you like stay where you are or how's your arm?

But was staying put the right decision? Wasn't it just waiting for the person responsible for starting this... massacre to come for you? On the other hand, how were you supposed to escape? In complete darkness? You had a weapon... but what good was it if you couldn't see anything? A sound of resigned sobbing escaped you.

And then, suddenly, right before your eyes, Allen’s red hair materialized, his fingers pressed into his skull as if he wanted to tear it apart himself. You both looked into each other's eyes. Visibility returned.

“We have light,” you said, though it didn’t loosen the grip on your chest.

“What?” Penelope sputtered, confused. “We still can’t see anything, the cameras are still…”

Allen let out a choked cry. You followed his gaze. Just before your hiding spot, a pair of leather shoes stopped.

“Get out,” commanded a male voice. You lifted your head. Above you stood a man with dark facial hair and a submachine gun, looking like an extension of his broad shoulder. You immediately noticed, besides the weapon, he was also carrying a black sports bag slung over his shoulder. Both of you were too disoriented and terrified to follow the order. “I said, fuckin’ get out and against the wall, I won’t repeat myself.”

Like animals herded into a pen, you followed his instructions to the designated spot. The entire crowd inside gathered against one of the blood-red walls of the room, some pressing their backs against it as if that embrace would ensure their safety...

“What’s going on there now?” Reid asked. “We still don’t have a feed... I can hear you breathing,” he blurted out unexpectedly.

You realized that your breath had indeed become heavy and loud. It dawned on you that you hadn’t gone through any extensive training on how to handle a situation like this; you were useless...

“Just...damn it, I know it’s easier for me to say, but try not to panic, okay? Whatever’s going on... panic will only make it worse. You need to focus, please. Can you do that? Breathe? Slowly, like I’m doing now?”

Your hands clenched around the fabric of his jacket, feeling it under your fingers. Closing your eyes, you could almost imagine him standing right in front of you, in this very building, speaking those words. It helped calm you down, at least enough for your mind to stay somewhat communicative...

“Good. Very...very good. Now, can you describe what’s happening over there?”

You knew that every piece of information you passed on would be worth its weight in gold. You tightened your grip on the fabric of Reid's jacket and began scanning your surroundings.

“One shooter. He’s herding us... all of us, against one of the walls and... stuffing prototypes into the bag, every one he can get his hands on,” you reported, describing everything you’d seen. “It looks like a robbery.”

“Just one?” Reid asked. “What were those shots? Someone... got hurt?”

You were about to deny it when your attention was drawn to a bloodstain spreading across the marble floor at the opposite corner of the room. Allen nudged you, pointing to something else—a body lying motionless.

“Guards. He... he killed all the guards,” you recognized them by their uniforms, the words barely escaping your throat. So, he hadn’t hesitated to kill, not one of those inexperienced types with any moral inhibitions. Trying to make sense of everything happening around you, you pressed your hand to your forehead. “But... but how could he see them in this darkness...”

“Night vision,” Allen interrupted suddenly, his previously hunched figure straightening as he realized it.

You found the man busy with the theft and controlling the area. He was quite solidly built, you could compare him to Derek. And, as the engineer had observed, around his neck hung a device for seeing in the dark.

“The police have arrived outside the museum, but they won’t go inside as long as you’re trapped with him. They don’t want anyone to get hurt,” Penelope informed you, then let out a soft, wheezing breath, as if she was trying to calm herself down. “Sweetheart, the whole team is on their way too. From now on, you’re our informant…”

“Is Christopher Allen among you?” A commanding voice suddenly cut through the sheet of panic blanketing the room, drawing everyone’s attention. It belonged to a truly imposing man with a shaved head and a forehead lined with wrinkles that seemed to stem more from exhaustion than age. But by far, the most significant detail about him was the submachine gun he held in his hands.

Two. There were two shooters.

Your focus shifted to the man standing right in front of you, as if delivering some kind of speech. At first, you didn’t even register what he’d asked. He repeated the question quickly and impatiently, and you froze. Not that you’d been particularly active before, but in that moment, all your bodily functions seemed to shut down completely. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at Allen—not even for a fleeting glance.

“Christopher Allen. Biotech engineer. He should be here,” the man continued, scanning the faces in front of him almost desperately, searching for the one he needed. He sounded almost... distraught? That broken expression, teetering on the edge of tears and madness, starkly contrasted with his militaristic physique.

Suddenly, his accomplice appeared, tugging at his arm.

“Jesus, give it a rest. We need to get out of here. The car’s waiting for us, remember?”

He shoved the smaller man with a force befitting his build, sending him staggering backward.

“I’m not leaving until I talk to him!” he declared with furious determination. “Christopher Allen…”

“You’ve gotta be shitting me…”

“Allen…”

His eyes scanned the surroundings until they landed on the two of you. You felt someone lightly wrap their fingers around your forearm, gripping it almost instinctively. It wasn’t a strong or painful hold, but rather one born of genuine fear, seeking protection. Protection that, from the start, had been your responsibility to provide. Yet now, standing face to face with two armed assailants, with lifeless bodies lying in pools of blood in the same room…you felt the crushing weight of an obligation you were physically incapable of fulfilling, creating a storm of chaos within your mind.

Allen must have been fooling himself into thinking he could blend into the crowd and remain unnoticed. Even as everyone’s gaze began to focus on him, urgently and with some unspoken hope, he stubbornly stood still. Or was he simply paralyzed by fear?

For the first time since he was called out, you looked at him. His eyes conveyed one thing: a simple message. It was him. The man who had been sending him threats, the one who had broken into his house. You furrowed your brows, this whole situation was becoming incomprehensible. He cared so much about kidnapping the engineer that he had organized the heist at the exhibition where he was supposed to be?

 “Come here. I need to talk to you, you… you need to do something for me.”

Once again, in your ears, you heard the description of the tortures that were mentioned in the letter.

"You have to do this," you said very softly, almost a whisper. "We can't let him get angry. Do you hear me?"

 It seemed like your words weren’t reaching him at all. You nervously glanced at the gunmen, hoping that the command you had given hadn’t raised any suspicion or made them think you were trying to outsmart them, deceive them in some way. Slowly, but with deep remorse, you loosened Allen’s grip on your forearm. His chest wasn’t rising, as if he weren’t breathing. But then his gaze shifted, not to you, but to the people around you, to the ones standing in fear, waiting for his reaction. Something in his face shifted, then he took a step forward.

“Slowly,” you instructed.

It seemed like the best solution. Unsub knew that the person he was looking for was among you, he had identified him without any difficulty. Allen couldn’t hide or escape, all that was left for him was to comply with the orders, for his own sake and for everyone else's. It was also important that he stalled for time. You hoped that as soon as your team arrived, they’d be able to come up with something. Maybe they were already there, working to make contact with the shooters and free you all, alive and unharmed.

At the same time, someone called your name.

"Report in."

It was Hotch. At the sound of his stoic voice, a fleeting wave of relief washed over you. You even parted your lips to answer when you realized the second gunman was staring at you. The room fell into absolute silence as Allen slowly approached them. You shouldn’t reveal that you were with the FBI or any other agency—that was a basic rule…

 "Listen to me carefully now," the unsub spat, placing one of his massive hands on Allen's shoulder, causing him to almost buckle under the forceful touch. Someone behind you let out a muffled cry. "You need to remove it from me, do you understand?"

"Shit," his partner muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. He was holding a bag with the stolen equipment, constantly glancing toward the exit. You wondered if he had anything to do with the threats sent to Allen. "Shit, we need to get the hell out of here before the cops completely block our escape. We don't have time for your fucking delusions!"

“Remove…?” the baffled engineer repeated, completely thrown off.

“The chip. The one inside me. Right here, on the back of my neck.” The man jabbed a finger at the spot. “Someone has to cut it out of me. You work with brains—you must know how to do it. He’s controlling me, watching my thoughts… I saw an interview with you once. I know you’re the only one who can do this…”

The man’s words devolved into a stream of incoherent rambling. Allen had no idea how to respond, and silence stretched on the other end of the phone. Meanwhile, the second gunman tried once again to persuade his partner to escape, but this only triggered an explosive burst of rage that made everyone around them shrink in fear.

“Shut up, or I’ll blow your head off too!” the man shouted. “I’ve waited too long for this. I don’t give a damn about all that crap you stole. I don’t care if they catch me. He’s going to cut out that chip!”

“What chip?” Allen finally managed to stammer. “I don’t understand…”

“The chip the government implanted in me to control me! That’s why no hospital will remove it—they’re all under government control! Only you can do it!”

“The unsub is delusional, that much is clear,” Reid’s voice suddenly crackled in your earpiece, catching you by surprise. He must have made it from Penelope’s office to the museum—where he joined Hotch and the rest of the team—at an impressive speed. “The reality he’s constructed is starting to blur with actual reality, which makes him extremely dangerous. Just from the tone of his speech, you can tell he’s emotionally unbalanced and on the brink of a breakdown. Unfortunately, this means his actions could be erratic and violent, with a strong tendency toward escalation.”

"What can I do?" you whispered as quietly as possible, taking advantage of the commotion in the center of the room.

"Are you there? Can you speak safely?" he asked, exhaling a breath of trapped air. "I mean... What you can do, first and foremost, is stay cautious. Don’t say or do anything that could provoke him further," he instructed, his tone turning focused and determined to provide you with as much guidance as possible. You nodded almost imperceptibly as you listened, as if he could see you. At some point, your fingers began nervously clutching the fabric of his blazer again, a small, unconscious tic.

"Don’t confront his delusions—or rather, don’t outright deny them. Try not to introduce any new elements either, to avoid deepening his paranoia, alright? That could put you in even greater danger..."

"Above all, try to redirect his anger away from Allen and the other hostages," Hotch cut in. "We’re working on a way to get inside. You just need to buy us some time."

Buy some time, it was easy for him to say, you thought with sudden frustration. What exactly could you do? It was incredibly hard to make any decisions when you were fully aware that their consequences could result in the death of an innocent person—or people.

Allen was still in front of the unsub, gripped tightly by the gun-wielding man, slightly shaking his head from side to side, clearly overwhelmed by the situation.

"But... but how am I supposed to get the chip out, do you really believe the government..."

"He doesn’t have the right tools," you interrupted, taking a step forward to draw the shooters’ attention to you. You raised your hands in a gesture of surrender as soon as you found yourself in the second man’s line of sight. You were scared of the direction Allen was heading in—after all, Reid had told you not to deny his delusions. Though you weren’t sure it was the right approach, you tried to make eye contact with the unsub. You had a feeling that he might only fully understand what you were trying to convey if you did.

Everyone was looking at you now. Nervously, you swallowed before speaking again.

"If you want him to remove the chip from your body... you’ll need at least a scalpel. Well, and if it was implanted by the government... that might not be enough?"

To your surprise, the second attacker spoke up.

"She's right, Erick, we don't have anything like that. Leave him, we need to get out of here... though fuck, it probably doesn't matter anymore, I wonder if the police have already caught our driver..."

You hoped that the team had heard this and started looking for suspicious vehicles in the area. Erick, or rather the unsub, began to stare intensely at you, analyzing what you'd said.

"Keep it up," Reid said. "It looks like you’ve planted some doubt in his mind about his own plan. You can keep going in that direction, just please, please, be careful..."

"Reid," Hotch admonished him.

You took a deep breath, your mind was working so fast that it was starting to go blank. You had to say something more before it consumed you entirely.

"But... but I'm sure that if you had met under different circumstances, outside the museum, he would have been able to extract the chip..."

"No! I've waited too long, I can't stand having this crap under my skin for another minute! He'll take it out now, or he won't leave here!"

Allen's raised hands trembled at those words.

"How can we communicate with the police? Is there a phone here?" he asked his companion.

"Are you fucking out of your mind..."

"They'll bring us the equipment. A scalpel. They won't have a choice, or I'll shoot them all, one by one."

"We should focus on how to get out of here..."

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT!" the unsub roared at him. Fueled by this outburst, he shoved Allen away so forcefully that the man fell to the floor. The startled man took a step back, unable to hide his fear. It was clear who had the final say in this duo. Erick was not only physically larger, most likely more ruthless, but above all, incredibly unpredictable. Without looking at you, he issued an order.

"Everyone sit against the wall, you too." Allen awkwardly got to his feet and almost ran to the indicated spot.

You didn't want to sit, to put yourself in an even more vulnerable position. But when a man with a submachine gun and a completely deranged gleam in his eyes is standing in front of you, you don't have much of a choice. Slowly, you sat down on the floor, surrounded by all these terrified people.

You studied the faces of everyone around you—scientists and random people who had ended up here simply because they were intrigued by the exhibit's theme. And that innocent curiosity had led them into such a hopeless situation, where each breath, drawn into trembling lungs, could prove to be the final one. What terrified you was the fact that the only thing distinguishing you from them was the tiny microphone pinned to your clothes and the earpiece in your ear.

The woman sitting next to you, so close that your elbows were touching, looked as though she was about to faint. Without hesitation, you offered her your hand, which she took with no resistance. In situations like that, the escape from fear was desperately sought wherever it could be found—even among strangers.

“What’s happening in there now?” Hotch asked.

You explained the situation to him as clearly and logically as possible, correcting anything they might have missed due to their lack of actual insight into what was happening inside the museum. The woman beside you looked at you strangely, smudged mascara around her eyes.

“Please don’t worry,” you whispered, making sure none of the attackers could hear you. Though maybe you shouldn’t have, you felt you needed to reveal yourself to her, to help her survive the nightmare she had found herself in. “I’m... a federal agent. I have contact with the team outside, they’re working on how to get us out of here.”

You didn’t know if those words had particularly soothed her fear—just as you spoke them, Allen practically pressed himself against you, trying to whisper something into your ear.

“Give me your gun,” he practically ordered.

You looked at him with your eyebrows raised in shock. No words were needed. Your face clearly expressed one big what?

He looked like one of those people going on and on about a newly invented device they had been working on for years, staying up every night. In his eyes was a comparable crazy but incredibly self-assured gleam.

“I know you have it, but you won’t use it. Because you're scared. And I don’t blame you!” he quickly added, moving slightly away from you. Still, your faces were tilted toward each other in a conspiratorial whisper.

“But listen to me. He cares about me, right? Or rather, he cares that I get the nonexistent chip from him. He won’t hurt me when I get closer, he’s too desperate, in his eyes, I’m his only chance…”

“You must have lost your mind,” you said through clenched teeth. Was he really willing to take such a risk and play the hero when he and his fiancée were expecting a child? “And what about the other guy, huh? Do you think he’ll just stand there calmly when...?”

“Then I’ll shoot him first. I used to go to the shooting range, I was pretty good at it. The other one will be too scared to hurt me, and then I...”

“Absolutely not,” Reid interjected.

You snorted.

“As if I would even consider it…” you muttered. Looking at Allen, you tapped your forehead. “No way. You’re not risking your life on such a stupid plan where everything could go wrong…”

“Do you think I’m asking for your opinion?” he hissed, clutching his head in desperation. “The answer is no. I’m just saying, give me your gun. Where is it?”

As he said this, he grabbed the fabric of your blazer, searching under it for what he so desperately wanted. You tried to catch his hand, but he trapped it in his grip, digging through the layers of your clothes, under your skirt. You jerked your whole body in an attempt to break free.

“Leave me alone, they’ll notice us soon…”

“What’s he doing?” Reid asked sharply. Although he couldn’t see what was happening, his voice was not only confused, but also clearly worried, maybe even angry.

“Just give it to me, what the hell does it hurt…”

His hand, despite your resistance, finally reached the grip of your gun, slightly sliding it out from beneath your skirt. You shot a quick glance toward the attackers, still engrossed in their conversation—or rather, argument. Terrified by the thought that they might notice what Allen was pulling from under your clothing, you instinctively swung at his face, causing his head to snap back with a muffled cry of pain.

“What language do I need to speak for you to understand? What you’re planning is idiotic,” you said, your words flowing together with a surprisingly calm yet furious ease. You struggled to keep your voice low, feeling as though shouting might make him grasp it faster. But that wasn’t an option. “You’d risk not only your life but everyone else’s,” you said, gesturing toward what you now had no choice but to call the hostages. “And no one wants to die because of some brainless idiot with a hero complex.”

After you hit him, Allen backed away to a distance that no longer invaded your personal space. With your breath quickened, you adjusted the position of the gun, suddenly panicked that it might fall out during his attempt to grab it against your will. Despite yourself, a strange feeling overcame you. Out of everyone—of all the people trapped in the museum—you were the only one with even minimal knowledge of what to do in this situation, the only one with outside communication to the police, and, most importantly... a weapon. And yet, with that arsenal at your disposal, you were doing embarrassingly little to improve the situation.

Your jaw tightened at the thought, your fists clutching the fabric of your blazer so hard that your knuckles turned white. It was astonishing how much that small action helped you regain your composure. Not just the feel of the fabric but also... the scent. You could almost imagine you weren’t entirely alone in this. And though you wouldn’t trade places with Reid or anyone else from the team for anything, you couldn’t shake the feeling they would handle this far better than you were.

And speaking of Reid...

"Are you okay?" he asked again, his tone much softer than before.

"I'm fine," you tried to give your voice a casual, almost dismissive tone, though you doubted you fully succeeded in masking the tension. You let out a helpless scoff in an attempt to lighten it. "I mean, fine as much as one can be fine in this situation..."

You trailed off, and he hesitated before replying.

"Hang in there, okay?" he said, so quietly you thought you might have misheard. It made you wonder if it was because he didn’t want anyone else to overhear what he was saying into the mic. If that were the case, was it because he didn’t want anyone accusing him of chatting with you when he should be doing something more important? Or maybe, he just didn’t want this simple yet anxious message to reach unwelcome ears and lose its sense of privacy. You heard him swallow. "We’ll get you all out of there soon. Garcia got the phone number of one of the attackers, the delusional one—his name’s Erick Larson, by the way. If he has it on him..."

As if on cue, the sound of an incoming call rang out. They stopped talking, and the surprised man reached into his pocket.

"What are you going to do? Negotiate?" you asked.

"Hotch is going to talk to him. The main goal is to get the hostages released."

The word hostage sounded so strange to you; you couldn’t connect it to your situation. A hostage didn’t have a gun tucked under their clothing or communicate with an FBI team through an earpiece. Those people, holding each other's hands in fear and huddled on the floor, were the hostages. Not you.

"Can you stay on the line?" the words slipped out before you could stop them. "Just, I don’t know... tell me how it really is with those ants or something." You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of embarrassment crashed over you. You were acting like a scared child who needed a bedtime story to forget the monster under the bed. "Forget it, that’s stupid. You’ve probably got your hands full. Focus on helping us, on the negotiations."

"I'm still on the line," he reassured you, even before the echo of your last words faded. "And I’ll stay on it the whole time. And since talking to you might help you not lose your mind in there... well, I guess that counts as helping all of you. The information you’ve given us, everything you’ve told us... you’re playing a crucial role in all of this."

"I don’t think so. I could be doing so much more."

"Like what, something that idiot was planning?" he asked, stressing the word idiot. "Please, don’t even think about it. You’re doing exactly what’s needed. You’re not sticking your neck out, you’re staying in contact with us. You’re calming the others down, like that woman. That... that’s heroism, not blindly rushing at two armed men."

Moved by his words, you weakly smiled. You’d forgotten again that he couldn’t see you, or maybe it was just automatic.

"Stop, I’m going to blush. But... but thank you, Reid."

"You don’t need to thank me. Oh, he picked up..."

And indeed, Erik pressed the phone to his ear, probably realizing that it was the police trying to make contact. You fixed your gaze on him.

A completely new stage of the robbery was beginning, one on which everything depended—negotiations.

*

Spencer had never had a particular obsession with control. 

In the vast majority of crisis situations, all he needed was a deep understanding of the causes and course of events. A thorough analysis of what had happened so far, drawing conclusions based on that, and then coming up with possible solutions, each with its pros and cons, which he also had to consider.

It involved emotionally distancing himself from the situation and relying on advice from his trusty friend—logic. And when he was guided by that cold logic, he didn’t feel the need to actively participate in what was happening around him or take any direct control. But in that particular moment—ever since he had heard the first shot coming from inside the museum, shortly after losing access to the cameras—he was almost losing his mind over how little he could do. Powerlessness was the first blow, the fact that her life, and others', depended on a man with probable schizophrenia, driven by dangerous delusions, the second, much stronger one.

As with every hostage situation, a makeshift operations camp was set up outside the building, where all necessary units gathered. Garcia stayed at her post, but he saw no other option but to go there personally. The rest of the team quickly gathered, and Hotch arrived so fast it seemed like he lived just around the corner. After all, there was a member of his team inside, the one he had sent there, never expecting such a turn of events. The two perpetrators, who were working together, seemed to have two completely different goals. One, apparently, was persuaded to go along with a simple robbery and escape. The second, Erick, however, had a different, more complicated desire from the start. He wanted Allen, who was supposed to extract a non-existent chip from his body, allegedly implanted by the government.

Allen. He spoke that name with an incomprehensible bitterness and disdain. He was disgusted by his thoughtlessness, pure stupidity. Though he was familiar with his achievements in the field of neurotechnology, he couldn't call him a scientist, really not anything other than an idiot. And it was all because he had nearly put her and everyone else in danger, because he pressured her so much that she had to defend herself by striking him in the face. He remembered how once they had slept in the same bed, so small that they almost fell off it and were forced to lie literally on top of each other. By accident, he had jabbed her with his elbow in the ribs, and before he could even whisper an apology, she hit him with such force that he lost his breath. He hoped Allen had taken an even harder blow.

He forced himself back to reality, as everyone gathered around Hotch, who was leaning over the phone. The unsub had answered, and the discussion began.

"We'll deliver what you need. All the equipment. But first, you must release the innocent people inside and promise you won't hurt anyone else. Not Allen, or anyone."

They argued, a lot. Of course, they wanted him to let everyone go, which was, realistically, impossible. Eventually, the number sixteen was agreed upon, a little more than half of the people present.

Through the microphone clipped to her clothes, they could hear him pointing at the people who were to be released. The second perpetrator seemed to have completely given in to his paranoid companion, and stopped trying to convince him to escape. He must have realized it was already too late for that.

“You’re the one who’s leaving,” he said, his words very clear, suggesting he was standing very close to her, pointing at her.

Spencer straightened up, a sudden rush of premature relief washing over him. Premature—that was the key word.

“No,” she protested sharply. “No, let her go instead of me. She’s older and not feeling well. I should stay…”

He pressed the microphone to his mouth, trying to talk her out of it.

“Do what they say, resisting might make him angry…”

“No, Reid, she’s right,” Hotch interrupted him. Spencer looked at his boss in surprise, shaking his head in confusion. Instead of explaining his decision to him, Hotch turned to her.

“You have to do everything you can to stay inside. You’re our only source of information, our access to what’s happening in there.”

“Hotch…”

Someone, JJ, placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from protesting further. It dawned on him that they were right, but... it was hard for him to accept. It was true that, as an FBI agent, part of her duty sometimes meant risking her life for the greater good. Still, this decision made his hands ball into fists, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself. Suddenly, it struck him that if an unfamiliar agent, not a member of the BAU, not his friend, and someone who hadn’t shared a bed with him when his fear of the dark grew stronger, were in the same situation... he would have agreed with Hotch without hesitation.

“I told you to leave, so you leave. There’s gotta be sixteen people, or they won’t bring it to me, goddammit.”

“So let someone else go…” She cut off abruptly, a rustling sound echoing through the air, as if— as if he tugged at her clothes. Spencer almost spoke again but stopped herself. The same thought had crossed Hotch’s face, he saw it. 

“Seriously, this will be better. I... I can help with removing the chip...”

“Allen has to do it.”

“Yes, but…” her voice grew more desperate, trying to come up with something more, an excuse to fulfill her duty.

“Oh, what don’t you understand, you stupid bitch…”

Spencer anticipated the sudden outburst of aggression, he had felt it building for a while. Though the unsub was unpredictable, his anger rose and fell within mere seconds, Spencer knew it was all heading in that direction. So, he squeezed his eyes shut just before the horrible, dull thud rang out, followed by a muffled cry of pain. Then the sound was drowned out by a rush, something like a thud, and he could only guess that she had fallen to the floor.

He didn't open his eyes, but something pricked at his chest. He knew that if he looked at Hotch, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving him a big, i told you so. It wasn’t even about being right—he didn’t care about that, not at that moment. What mattered to him was that nothing happened to her, and that was exactly what had just happened.

No one from the team said a word, though Derek turned his gaze away from the speaker, his expression one of discomfort, like someone averting their eyes from an unpleasant scene. Hotch stared at some fixed point ahead, his face unreadable, before leaning into the microphone just as—

“What the hell is this?!” the unsub suddenly screamed. “A gun? Why the hell does she have a gun on her?!”

Reid’s eyes shot open as he nearly dropped to his knees by the microphone, as if somehow that could help. The weapon must have slipped out when she fell, sliding free from where it had been concealed beneath her clothes…

He noticed Elle nervously biting her thumb, her face pale as a sheet. He read the same grim, terrified realization on her face that had already taken root in everyone’s minds. She was burned. Her cover as the assistant was completely blown.

“He can’t find out she’s FBI,” Gideon declared, leaning heavily against the edge of the table. “He’s a paranoid maniac who thinks the government is after him. If he realizes a federal agent has been in there the entire time…”

“Wait!” the second attacker spoke up. He had long since given up and was now quietly following his partner’s orders. “I heard the hostages talking... something about there being someone from the FBI among them, someone who’s in contact with the cops. I thought they were just talking crap, but...”

“How does he know that?” JJ asked, her lips slightly parted in shock.

“She told one of the women,” Spencer blurted out, though it felt like the words came from someone else. Some part of him—still detached from the full realization of what her exposure meant—clung to the fragments of logic not yet consumed by his nerves. “To calm her down... but that woman must have passed it on to someone else.”

“FBI?” the unsub repeated, almost in a daze. “Fucking FBI?”

The sound of something slamming echoed sharply—an explosion of frustration and shock. Every pained whimper, every labored breath she took, reached Spencer with cruel clarity, amplified by that damned new microphone clipped to her chest, capturing every sound in merciless detail.

He wanted to cover his ears, to block it out, but he couldn’t. His lower lip trembled, caught between screaming or vomiting the moment he opened his mouth. 

Covering his ears would have been a selfish gesture, one that would only bring relief to him. She didn’t have that option; all that was left for her was to endure, as he assumed, the next kicks...

He lowered his head, not looking at the others, not wanting to see their equally helpless expressions. And although he hated himself for even thinking about it, he took two steps to move away. To escape from this place, from these sounds. Because he simply couldn’t bear them.

However, he didn’t get far; he staggered as if drunk and had to grab the table tightly to keep from falling. JJ, in some protective impulse that she probably wasn’t even aware of, reached out her hand, wanting to touch his shoulder, but he pushed her away.

“I’m calling him,” Hotch announced, immediately moving into action. “Maybe that’ll stop him…”

“Check if she has a microphone on her. If she’s with the FBI, she could have been spying on us the whole time,” suggested the second attacker, in a strangely satisfied tone. He was probably some sadistic bastard who enjoyed this turn of events.

This caused Erik to stop his attack. He completely ignored the incoming call. She took a breath, inhaling deeply, though it clearly caused her pain.

“She has…”

The unsub’s voice became very clear, he must have located the microphone and then disconnected it from her clothing, carefully watching him.

“We need to go in, we have to do something,” Elle said desperately, but it didn’t stir anyone else. 

Yes, they needed to do something, but... what? Going in meant putting the hostages at risk, and their survival was the priority.

"I knew the government was spying on me," Erick muttered to himself, the microphone had probably slipped from his hand and fallen to the ground. "Not just with the chip, but they also sent that fucking..." He kicked her. "...agent."

"Give it to me," Spencer requested, exhaling with a resigned hiss. He was, of course, referring to the microphone. She still had the earpiece in; she could hear him. He didn’t yet know what he intended to say. Maybe he’d ask her to stay strong? Assure her that it would all be over soon? Would that even count as a lie if he had no real certainty they could take any action to save her? Or was this one of those morally gray situations where a lie was better than the truth?

Without protest, someone handed the microphone to him, practically shoving it into his hands.

But then they lost the connection.

The unsub must have destroyed it, stomping the microphone underfoot.

And before it happened—before the static filled the line—a gunshot rang out.

Spence found himself sitting on a chair. Not that he’d blacked out in the literal sense, but one moment he was standing upright, and the next he was slumped onto the seat—probably the only chair in their makeshift camp across from the museum. It was one of those folding chairs made of black metal and unbelievably uncomfortable. For some reason, their look always reminded him of golf courses in the blazing sun. Sometimes they’d be there… wait, why the hell was he thinking about chairs?

Disoriented, he lifted his gaze. Derek was pacing back and forth, his hands on his head, while Elle and JJ were nowhere in sight. Hotch stood in front of him, turned slightly to the side, eyes fixed on the ground, a phone pressed to his ear. His rolled-up sleeves exposed tense veins on his forearms, his hands clenched into fists.

“You killed a hostage,” Hotch said the moment the attacker picked up. Hearing the words spoken aloud, the gunshot echoed again in Spencer’s mind. He flinched, though he hadn’t the first time it happened for real.

It really happened. This wasn’t some hysterical thought creeping into your mind when someone you care about is late to a meeting and doesn’t pick up their phone, the kind of thought where your brain starts whispering that something terrible must have happened. It wasn’t a dream either, nor a nightmare blending with reality. And it wasn’t some devastating novel, a climactic moment designed to shatter the reader’s heart into pieces.

This

really

happened.

"I’ll remind you of the terms of our agreement," Hotch continued. His tone was usually sharp, leaving no room for argument. But now, having just lost a member of his team and addressing the person responsible for it, his words didn’t just cut—they sliced. Spencer fixed his gaze on him, unable to comprehend how Hotch could remain so composed in the moment. He himself…

“You don’t harm anyone else, and in return, we provide you with the necessary tools. Shooting that innocent person…”

How did it come to this—that the person who, just that morning, ordered Chinese food with him to calm her nerves; who had teasingly told him to clip the microphone onto her, leaving him flustered; whose sweet scent of hair lingered so strongly in his senses that he had to hold his breath just to focus; who, one moment, could make him laugh until tears blurred his vision, and the next, worry so deeply about her that he felt feverish with concern; who listened, truly listened, even when he had grown tired of his own voice; who helped him discover pieces of himself he hadn’t known were there; who revealed, day after day, some new and enchanting fragment of her soul; and whose laughter made him want to capture its melody, bottle it, and keep it for eternity—was now reduced to the cold, detached phrase an innocent person shot dead?

He realized his mind had become entirely consumed with replaying those moments. Thanks to his eidetic memory, each recollection was painfully vivid, yet at the same time—perhaps due to the awareness of what came next—filled with a paralyzing void. Detached from reality, he wasn’t even listening to the ongoing negotiations, only snapping back when the shadow of someone’s figure fell over him.

“Spencer,” Gideon called his name, alternating between looking at him with concern and averting his gaze, as if unable to bear the shattered expression on his face. “Did you hear what Hotch said?”

He couldn’t bring himself to shake his head, though he doubted it was necessary. Rarely did something fail to interest him, especially something Hotch had said, but whatever it was, it had landed firmly in that narrow category. After all, what could Hotch possibly have said? That he’d reached an agreement with the murderer, who would now release eighteen hostages instead of sixteen? Or perhaps, in an act of twisted mercy, he’d declared that once they brought the requested items, the killer would allow one person to go inside and retrieve her body?

He had seen many bodies with gunshot wounds to the head in his life. A vision of her with similar injuries haunted him, so vivid and detailed that he closed his eyes in an attempt to escape it. But the moment he did, the image only grew stronger, searing itself into his mind with unbearable clarity.

"He wants you to go inside pretending to be a surgeon. That’s what the unsub is asking for in exchange for the hostages. Your task would be to fake removing a chip from his body, pulling off one of your magic tricks," Gideon explained matter-of-factly, though his expression betrayed a certain doubt about the plan. He suddenly fell silent, hesitation creeping into his voice. "If you can’t do it… this isn’t an order, kid. No one will blame you if you say no."

“We didn’t know it would be such a terrible mistake,” Gideon said quietly.

“Well, that’s the thing about mistakes,” he scoffed bitterly. “You don’t usually realize you’re making them. But you should be able to predict them, especially when someone’s…” His voice broke, and he looked away, his anger momentarily crumbling into something rawer.

Even though he had lashed out at Gideon, the older man didn’t react with anger. Instead, he stared at Spencer with a calm, almost sorrowful expression. When Spencer stood, he felt the weight of Gideon’s hand resting on his numb shoulder.

“I’ll do it,” he declared after a moment.

There was no fear in his voice, no visible sign of stress. Under different circumstances, he’d likely have been unraveling, nerves fraying at the thought of entering the building with the task of saving her. But now…now all he wanted was to stand face-to-face with the man inside. More specifically, next to his neck. With a scalpel in hand.

There was no time to waste. He practiced his sleight of hand trick—making the chip suddenly appear in his palm—a few times. It had been a while since he’d done it, but even so, it came off flawlessly every time. He clenched the small device tightly in his hand and, before he knew it, found himself standing at the foot of the museum steps.

The doors opened, and the first hostages began to emerge. Their reactions followed the same pattern. First came the shock—the struggle to process that they were truly stepping outside again, alive. Then, as they began to accept it, their terrified, hesitant steps turned into a relieved jog, and their eyes brimmed with tears of gratitude.

Spencer stopped, his gaze fixed on the faces of random strangers as they rushed past. Somewhere, deep down, he held onto a foolish, fleeting hope that she might appear in those doors as well. She didn’t, of course.

But if she had… he thought, his chest tightening at the mere idea. If she had, he wasn’t sure he’d ever stop being thankful. Not necessarily to God, but to everything—every twist of fate—that had brought her back.

He had seen the interior of the building on the camera footage and had managed to memorize it. He knew exactly where to head to meet the unsub. The unsub was standing right in the center of the room. Spencer knew there had to be a second shooter somewhere, but he was afraid to look around. If his gaze happened to land on her, not only would his chip trick fail, but he was also certain he’d never be able to shake the image from his mind. It would embed itself in every cell of his brain, one after the other.

He focused all his attention on him, on Erik. He turned to him trustingly, showing the spot on his neck where he believed the chip was located. Everything about his posture radiated the peak of madness. His voice and expression oscillated between hope, desperation, paranoia, and much more that could be listed.

Spencer tried to concentrate on the chip in his hand, not on the scalpel in his other hand. He knew it would be incredibly foolish, but as he was so close to this man's throat, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. He realized that the only thing holding him back was the awareness that the second shooter was likely keeping him in their sights. It was almost certain; he didn’t need to look around to know that. But as soon as the blade touched the man’s skin at the back of his neck, his gaze, against his will, began searching. He looked at the wall where the remaining hostages were gathered, the ones who hadn’t made it into the lucky sixteen. He didn’t find the shooter.

But he found her. If he weren’t wearing his glasses, he might have assumed he’d mistaken her for some other woman. He could only blame his brain and possible hallucinations... but before he could entertain those thoughts, one simple sentence took over his mind.

She was there. Blood dripping from her nose, clothes torn, curled up on the ground among the rest of the hostages, but she was there. She was there, alive.

*

When you stood up for that woman, a brief struggle broke out between you and the unsub. He ordered you to go outside, but the voice in your ear told you to stay inside at all costs. Unsure of what to do, you started mumbling excuses and explanations, leading to an argument... during which he swung his weapon at you, aiming for your face.

As you fell, your weapon—clumsily shoved into your clothing after an argument with Allen—slipped out. And then things escalated rapidly.

Upon learning you were with the FBI, the unsub went into his usual paranoid frenzy. He dropped the microphone he had taken from you, and the heavy kicks of his leather boots landed on your body, on your ribs, on your back. You could barely keep up with protecting yourself, as the blows kept coming faster and faster.

And in that moment, something happened that probably saved your life. But at the same time, it cost another man and his family everything.

Allen sprang at the second attacker, who was almost hypnotized by the injuries being inflicted on you. He seized the moment of distraction, yanking the weapon from his hand and turning it against its owner. You remembered the fleeting look of triumph on his face as he aimed it at Erik. And then, the look of confusion when he was overtaken and the bullets tore through his body.

Somewhere in that moment, your microphone must have been destroyed, leaving you without contact with the team. And without it... you were just like any other hostage. Beaten, forced to stem the blood running from your nose with your blazer. You remembered glancing at it, running your finger over the fabric soaked in crimson, and thinking you'd have to wash it before returning it to Reid. Then, the hopeless realization hit you that maybe you wouldn’t get the chance to do that, and helpless tears filled your eyes for the first time.

It was strange that the unsub decided to spare you. Was it the incoming phone call that distracted him? Or perhaps the death of Allen? Was he the reason for this whole attack? You weren’t sure, maybe both at once. But you managed to return to your spot against the wall, where the other hostages had moved as far away as they could from the two lifeless bodies lying in a pool of blood.

Behind your back, the unsub was arguing with the police, probably Hotch. You weren’t paying attention to their negotiations, instead kneeling beside Allen. Completely staining your clothes, you reached for his hand. His eyes were wide open, his chest... maybe rising slightly, or maybe it was just your perception. In any case, you didn’t grab him to check his pulse, to see if there was anything that could be done to save him. You knew there wasn’t. You took his hand in a gesture of gratitude for everything, filled with sincere and deep compassion, despite everything that had happened between you. Maybe he turned out to be a jerk in that one, crisis situation where it’s normal for people to lose their minds. But what mattered was what kind of man he was in everyday, calm conditions. What kind of friend, fiancé, father he was.

You froze in place, staring at his face, his messy red hair. You snapped back to reality only when you realized the unsub was releasing the hostages. You weren’t part of that group. He didn’t look at you, or Allen, or his dead accomplice, as if you didn’t exist. The people were let out of the building, and then…

You nearly jumped to your feet at the sight of Reid, but the sharp pain in your ribs stopped you. Instead, you stared at him, confused as to why he’d gotten himself into such a messed-up situation alone. No one was with him, and you couldn’t even tell if he was carrying a weapon. Why was he taking such a risk? Couldn’t they have sent someone else?

Although your gaze bored into him, asking without words, he stubbornly avoided looking at you. It took a while, but then it hit you—he’d probably been told to hide the fact that you knew each other. He was pretending to be a surgeon, you realized.

You watched in shock as the unsub dropped his weapon and turned his back to Reid, begging him quietly to remove the chip from his body.

Before Reid touched the scalpel to his neck, he looked straight at you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, but you knew there was a lot going on. It was a long moment of eye contact, which he broke to get to work. Focused, brow furrowed.

You shook your head in disbelief when he really pulled the tiny device from his body. Wait, so what? It had really been there all along? The unsub wasn’t a paranoid delusional?

At the sight of the chip, Erik staggered with a mix of hysterical joy and relief, and after a moment, he literally collapsed to his knees, burying his face in his hands. His body was shaken by sobs as he muttered his thanks. He was... absolutely harmless. The hostages took advantage of his vulnerability, using the opportunity to silently leave the museum. You found yourself among them, even helping those who, due to shock, struggled to move. How? With your injuries? You had no idea.

You pointed one woman toward the ambulance waiting outside the building, ready to take any injured hostages. Around you, sounds echoed, people were running in all directions. A sense of disconnection and disbelief washed over you, as if you couldn’t quite grasp that it was all over.

You turned around, sensing someone's presence behind you.

The first thing you noticed was that Spencer was still wearing his blue rubber gloves. Strange, but the first thing that came to your mind was to focus on that detail. You even opened your mouth to speak, but stopped when he gently cupped your face in both of his hands. As if you were a fragile relic, he tilted his head slightly from side to side, almost as though he was trying to deny the fact that you were standing before him.

"As if you saw a ghost," you whispered, a faint smile appearing on your face.

Taking advantage of the fact that he was leaning toward you, you pressed your forehead against his. With your eyes still open, you saw his eyelids tremble. When he closed them, you caught sight of that single tear beginning to form beneath them.

*

"Reid," you said, as he and the rest of the team were heading towards the exit. All heads turned in your direction, but you only cared about that one. "Can we talk?"

He opened his mouth, seemingly surprised by the request, but then swallowed and nodded.

"Sure. If... just, sure."

You couldn't help but let out a small laugh. Since your rib injuries were numerous, you had to be taken to the hospital for an X-ray. Your face wasn’t looking too good either. Only a few hours had passed since everything happened, and all your wounds were fresh and painful. After taking a decent amount of painkillers, you felt a bit like you were floating. You were sitting on the hospital bed, your legs resting on the floor as if on a bench. You made space beside you, and although he hesitated for a moment, he sat right next to you, so close your shoulders almost touched.

What you wanted to say, everything you felt, was hard to put into words. So you spent a few minutes in silence, during which you concluded that the simpler, the better.

"Thank you, Reid."

His dark eyes narrowed slightly, and he shook his head dismissively.

"Thank you? For what? I should be thanking you."

You knew this would happen. That he would downplay what he did, and it would be incredibly hard for you to express all the gratitude you felt towards him.

"For what? For everything," you stated briefly. He was preparing a response, but you beat him to it. You even raised a finger decisively, signaling for a moment of silence. You had a lot to say. "Not just for pretending to be a surgeon and getting into that museum. And don't shrug it off like it was a small thing! You saved those people."

"Maybe a little, but…"

"But that's not all. You were… you were with me the whole time. You kept talking to me the entire time…"

"Just like everyone else…"

"Everyone else gave me orders. Told me what to do to survive and what not to do. And of course, I'm incredibly grateful to them—if it weren't for them, I would have probably pissed off that unsub after less than fifteen minutes and we'd all be dead by now."

Reid flinched when you said that. Maybe you should hold off on such words, while the whole situation was still so fresh.

"You... you kept asking how I was feeling, talking to me, just... your voice, the fact that I had you on the other end, it helped me not panic. When, at the very beginning, you asked me to breathe with you..."

You shook your head, holding back the involuntary recollection of that moment, that memory when you were still trapped in that building with two armed men. Helpless and lost, clutching his jacket with all your strength. 

You realized with growing difficulty that you were holding back tears.

Reid had been listening to you quietly the whole time, but suddenly, he lowered his gaze. His hand found yours, hesitated for a moment, then gently grasped it. You immediately squeezed it tightly. Something came to your mind.

"And what did you want to thank me for?" you asked, referring to when he interrupted you the first time.

"It's not... I don't have as much to say as you do," he confessed, circling the topic more than addressing it directly. He still hadn't let go of your hand, and as he thought, his thumb seemed to absentmindedly stroke its surface.

"Wow," you murmured. "I never expected Spencer Reid to say something like that in my presence, but here we are. So?"

He smiled for a moment at your comment. However, that expression quickly gave way to a more serious one, carrying with it the unburied remnants of the horror you had both endured just a few hours ago.

"Just for you being alive," he said. Your brows furrowed slightly when you heard that. It wasn't what you expected. "For a while... when you were still inside, and your mic was destroyed..." With a sigh, he tilted his head back, holding back from returning to that moment. It couldn't have been easy for him, referring to exactly the moment that caused him pain. "We heard a gunshot. Everyone thought it was you.  That's why... that's why I just wanted to thank you for that."

Given that you had absolutely no control over it, those were the strangest thanks anyone had ever given you. But still, they squeezed your heart like no others ever had.

You leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

taglist: @she-wont-miss @mggslover @nyeddleblog @dylanobrienswife0420 @wmoony

@heddgie @khxna @marauder-exe-old @yujyujj @charleyreid @kitty-kai @sp3ncelle @pleasantwitchgarden @beesin03 @misserabella @re1dsb1xch

[bunnliix]

When Eight Becomes Nine - Chapter Twelve

I managed to get through another chapter of this fic hehe. This is just a cute lil chapter because we all need the fluff in our lives, especially myself. <3

Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader  Summary: Y/n has her realization about what's happening now, and has a talk with Jongho about his actions. wc: 2.8k AU: a/b/o  Genre: Fluff/Angst  warnings: playflighting, yelling, referencing last chapter's events without much detail, jokes about being hurt, mentions of discrimation and hate against omegas, self-doubt, crying, I think that's it? masterlist

Wooyoung’s laugh broke the silence that followed y/n’s realization. He couldn’t believe that it took y/n this long to realize what they had said back in the conference room. His laughter provoked the others into joining, to which they got yelled at by the subject of their laughter.

“HEY! Don’t laugh at me, there’s been a lot going on, okay? You try being in my shoes today and having this all happen to you and see how you react, huh?” She argued, only to make them laugh even further.

You- You really didn’t realize until now?” Wooyoung questioned her, his words being interrupted by his laughter.

“Obviously not, idiot.” She fired back at the idol, who jokingly reached over to try and grab her.

Seonghwa gripped the back of Wooyoung’s top, stopping the younger idol from reaching her. “No fighting. We just left a fight, we’re not starting another one.”

The restrained idol pouted and whined at Seonghwa. “It’s not like it’s a real fight, I was just gonna play around a bit.”

“And I think we’ve had enough excitement for the day, Youngie.” Seonghwa reasoned, and the other man continued to pout, and instead turned to tackle the pack omega, starting a little omega fight while they others watched.

Eventually the other younger members joined in, while Yunho and Hongjoong had moved a bit farther away to discuss something, leaving Jongho and y/n the only two left to their own devices. Y/n decided that this was a great time to get to know the fellow ‘00 liner better. They really hadn’t talked much since she arrived here, as she had been pulled this way and that by the other members. She scooted a bit closer to the maknae, leaving a bit of distance still, so that he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

Jongho turned to look at her, “Hi,” he greeted her, “I hope this day hasn’t been too much on you.”

“It could have been worse, y’know. I could have gotten hurt, but I didn’t,” y/n tried to joke, but it fell flat when Jongho didn’t find her words funny.

“You found out that the one person you trusted in that group, was out to hurt you. I think that counts as getting hurt.” Jongho stated, looking decidedly unamused at her attempts to joke. “You know it’s okay to feel hurt about it, and to mourn the loss of a friendship, right?”

“I know. I’m still processing it now, and I’ll come to terms with it.” The omega explained, looking down at her lap.

“Good. Otherwise, it was a bit of a waste to tackle him.” Jongho commented.

That made her think for a minute. Why exactly did Jongho decide to tackle Aaron? All he would have had to do was get the attention of the others, not tackle the man. She fell silent for a moment, and the silence worried the singer next to her.

“Why did you tackle him?” She asked him, breaking the silence.

“What?” Jongho said, not expecting the question.

“Why did you tackle Aaron? How did you even hear what he said over the yelling? We’ve barely interacted, why would you potentially get yourself hurt, over someone like him?” She queried, curious as to how he would answer.

Jongho didn’t think, answering right away. “He was being an absolute asshole, and I had to protect you from that, from him. I’ve seen how other subgenders’ treat omegas, and I’ve seen firsthand the effects of it. Seonghwa and Wooyoung-hyung have dealt with more than their fair share of discrimination and hate, simply for being omegas. I may not know you that well yet, but it seems that the rest of my pack is set on you, and so I think it’s time we get to know each other better. It may be an interesting way to start off a friendship, but I wouldn’t change my actions. His words and actions were despicable. And they’re not acceptable in today’s society, let alone in Ateez.”

Y/n’s eyes started to water as she listened to the maknae’s words, not expecting this answer. She didn’t realize that while getting lost in the idol’s words that her scent was getting stronger, the scent of fresh flowers fading into something much more subtle. One that could almost be described as wilting flowers, if they had a scent.

“What do you all see in me? I’m just me. I’m someone that none of you wanted in your group, and I’ve barely interacted with most of you besides Wooyoung and maybe Seonghwa and Hongjoong.” She asked him, unknowingly garnering the attention of the others, having heard their names.

“I see someone who doesn’t give up when they struggle. Someone who enjoys dancing and performing, just like we do.” Yunho chimed in, making y/n realize she had caught the attention of the others.

“Yunho’s right. You’re talented y/n. I may not have heard you sing yet, but on performance alone, you strive to get better and perform to the best of your ability. Sure, you need to work on stamina and a few other things, but Yunho and I have seen how determined you are. Y’know, Yunho commented that he sees me in you, in how you look after finishing a run through.” San further cemented his fellow dancer’s words.

She looked up at the two of them, who both smiled kindly back down at her, which made her tear up further. To hear those words from idols she’s admired and watched for so long, it made her efforts feel worth it. She felt like she could die happy in that moment, and she was so grateful to be here and have these experiences with the men surrounding her.

“You have such a kind heart, y/n. Your personality is what I see in you. Sure, talent and the ability to be an idol is important, but it’s also important to be sure of who you are, and to be kind. Fans can sense when we’re not being truthful, and I know that you have been nothing but honest around us and the others. So I think you’d fit in well as a member of Ateez.” Seonghwa stated, smiling softly down at her, before he moved to sit in front of her.

“Everyone is right, you know,” Hongjoong said, moving to sit behind Seonghwa, as he looked at her, “You’re an amazing person, and you’re a great singer. I trust our dancers to know where you’re at dancing skill wise, and based on what I just heard, that’s basically glowing praise from those two. You have been nothing but graceful and kind, and I find myself drawn to you, and I know Seonghwa and Wooyoung would be very unhappy if I let you go. So, will you trust our judgement and become the ninth member of Ateez?”

Y/n looked up at him, so many emotions clearly showing on her face. A tear trailed down her face as she processed all of their answers, and she could see her vision blur as tears welled up in her eyes. San came to sit next to her, wrapping an arm around the omega’s shoulders but loose enough if she wanted to pull away if it was too much for her. The comfort was welcomed as the younger omega leaned into the beta’s side, looking around at the seven members who had moved to sit in front and to the side of her, gentle smiles from each of them directed at her.

“You all really want me to be a member of Ateez?” She asked, her voice soft with an undertone of disbelief.

“Of course.” Seonghwa reassured her.

Y/n looked at Hongjoong, and nodded, “Then yes, I’ll trust your judgement and become your ninth member.” She said simply.

The room burst into a cacophony of noise at her words, and San pulls her closer in a side hug before Wooyoung swoops in on her other side, pushing Jongho away so he could sit right next to her. “Baby omega~,” Wooyoung crooned, “You’re really gonna be one of us!” He shouted, almost directly into her ear as she cringed away from him and into San, who scolded his fellow ‘99 liner for how loud he was being.

Someone reached out and grabbed her hands, and when she looked to see who it was, she found two people instead. Mingi and Yunho had both grabbed one of her hands, and she found herself smiling at them, and lightly squeezing their hands in silent thanks for everything they had done. Yunho had been a great help while perfecting their choreography, and while in the moment she had protested it, she was very thankful for Mingi’s help the previous day.

“Thank you both, so much.” She said, her voice so soft that the two had to strain their ears to hear her.

“You never need to thank us. We’ll always be by your side, and if you get better, then Ateez gets better, hmm?” Mingi told her, chuckling at the end, as Yunho nodded in agreement to his best friend and packmate’s words.

Y/n pulled out of Woosan’s hold to launch herself at the taller men, who caught her and hugged her as she struggled to hug them both at the same time. As the three hugged, she realized that holy fuck she would be spending however long Ateez existed with these men, and how that didn’t feel real, but she knew it had to be because she could feel the two bodies surrounding her. She felt so happy and the others smiled as her scent changed to reflect her feelings as Yeosang moved in to ruffle her hair as she let out a whine at the alpha messing up her hair. 

“Don’t do that!” She whined as she pulled a hand away from hugging the duo in front of her to rearrange her hair back to how it was before.

She heard her name called and she looked to find that it was Jongho who had called out to her. When he saw that she was looking at him, he nodded his head and smiled, before pointing to something to the other side of her. She smiled back at him before looking to find Seonghwa and Hongjoong watching all of them with big smiles on their faces and looks of fondness for the six men surrounding her. She moved out of Yunho and Mingi’s hold and got up, heading over to the two eldest and leaders of the Ateez pack.

“Why are you two over here by yourselves?” She asked them.

“Does there have to be a reason?” Seonghwa asked her in return.

“Of course there does.” She fired back.

“Can’t we just observe our members having fun and enjoying themselves?” Hongjoong interrupted.

“No, because you two need to join in too.” She said, getting a bit fired up at the two not joining in on the happy moment.

“Someone is a bit insistent, aren’t you?” Seonghwa said, chuckling.

Y/n gave up on trying to convince them to join the other six, grabbing the pair’s hands and tugging the two behind her as they let themselves be pulled along, not minding in the least. She made the two sit down before she would sit down, eventually being pulled down herself to sit in between the two. 

“So now we can have trios!” Wooyoung broke the silence, making the others laugh.

“Yes Wooyoung-ah, we can have trios. Not that we wouldn’t have had them already, in the upcoming album.” Hongjoong pointed out to the younger man, who pouted at being reminded of that fact.

“Trios?” The newest member questioned, looking at the captain.

“Wooyoung, San and Yeosang are doing a trio for their unit song in the upcoming album, which we need to get you on, but that’s a discussion for tomorrow. Today we’ll just celebrate you becoming our newest member.” Hongjoong explained.

“Yes! We’re celebrating you today! Our newest member and my baby omega!” Wooyoung shouted, getting slapped on both shoulders by San and Jongho, who had gotten the lion’s share of his shouting. This made the omega pout, and then was promptly tackled by San. The others laughed at their shenanigans, and it made y/n feel right at home here with them as she laughed along with them.

“Are you ready to deal with this craziness every day?” She heard, looking to find that Hongjoong was the source of the question. Before she could answer, Seonghwa moved away from the duo to police the roughhousing that had started.

“Probably not, but I don’t think I have a choice now, do I?” She replied, to which he shook his head.

“No, you don’t,” He said, pausing for a moment before speaking again, “Thank you for giving me a second chance after what I did that first day.”

“Of course, Hongjoong-oppa. You meant your apology, so I had no reason not to give you another chance. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now. And I should be thanking you for giving me a chance, for taking me in as part of your group.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. Your actions last night helped cement that you fit in with us, in a way that makes me think that you were meant for Ateez.” Hongjoong said, looking down at her with more emotions in his eyes than y/n could discern. She could see that adoration that he usually reserved for his members, and it was hard for her to reconcile the idea that he’d look at her this way too, because she was one of his members now. But she knew she’d come to terms with all of this, though it might take a while.

Hongjoong saw the wonder in her eyes and disbelief, which he understood, and he wouldn’t fault her for feeling that way, when he’s felt the same way before. He reached out to wrap an arm around her shoulders, like San had done not long before, as he felt her do the same, albeit her arm was around his waist instead. Checking to see that no one was looking, he leaned his head on hers, and out of instinct with his two omegas, kissed the top of her head without thinking about it, leaving y/n to be surprised and feel her cheeks heating up at his actions.

“You two are getting cozy together again,” Seonghwa commented, his voice soft, as he sat back down next to the two.

Hongjoong pulled away from her, glaring halfheartedly at his pack omega. The omega only chuckled in response, not deeming there to be a need to respond verbally. The arm that was around her shoulders reached over to lightly shove the omega sitting next to her, making her giggle.

“So, sweetheart, what do you want to do today? It’s your decision.” Seonghwa asked, turning himself to look at her.

She hummed, not exactly sure what she wanted to do, plus the fact that she hadn’t exactly gotten a chance to go out and explore Seoul, so she didn’t know what there was to do, besides the obvious things.

“I don’t know?” She replied to the older man, “I haven’t gotten a chance to explore Seoul, as I think you might be aware of? So I don’t really know what there is to do around here?” She answered, her voice uncertain.

“We can always pick a few of our favorite things to show you? Would that be something you’d be interested in doing?” Yunho butted into the conversation, making the three look over to find that he had abandoned the other’s play fighting.

“That would be good. It makes it a little easier on me, than trying to figure out what there is to do, and I can get to know each of you a bit better that way too.” She said, nodding and smiling at the third-eldest.

“Then we’ll do that.” Hongjoong decided as he pulled away from y/n, who let out an almost inaudible whine in response to the alpha leaving her side, before being embarrassed at her reaction.

While Hongjoong went to corral the others, Seonghwa and Yunho discussed their favorite places and activities with y/n, providing her some options on what to do today. It was a little overwhelming, but she knew that they wouldn’t push her into doing too many things.

Once everyone was corralled over to where y/n and the others were sitting, they immediately launched into a discussion. Some were more enthusiastic than others, but in the end, they had created a list that featured almost one place or activity from every member. They had decided to start with whatever was farthest from KQ and work their way back to the company. This was also all done without the permission of their managers or the company, but they could care less about that.

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[sosa2imagines]

Let us be there for you...

Warning- Angst, insecurity, introvert, self doubts, fluff. Disclaimer- @mrvl-addict finally got all four parts ready for you fic idea.

You’ve been a part of the Avengers for a few weeks now, and on the outside, you’re everything you’re expected to be confident, outgoing, always ready with a joke, never shy to dive into conversation. You make people laugh, you keep things light, you engage in every mission and meeting with the kind of energy that makes you look like you belong.

On the inside, however, you’re terrified. Terrified of being found out. Terrified of not being good enough. On the inside, you’re the opposite of everything you try to portray.  What the Avengers see, it’s all just a disguise. You put on a mask, a persona to cover up the real you.

You’ve spent your whole life like this. Putting on this persona in order to feel accepted, to feel wanted. To feel like you belong somewhere. You don’t actually know how to truly be yourself. Being yourself got you bullied, being yourself got you hurt. So you’ve learned to rely on masks.

Every moment spent around people leaves you drained. The constant performance of being the ‘fun one’, the ‘social butterfly’, is exhausting. You’d much rather find a quiet corner to recharge, but you don’t want to be seen as weak, or worse, lonely. So, you push through, hoping no one will notice that you’re barely keeping it together.

Except Steve and Bucky do notice.

It’s a typical afternoon in the Tower. Everyone’s just wrapped up training, lounging around in the common area to catch their breath.

Tony’s in the middle of telling some absurd story about his latest tech malfunction on a mission, his voice animated as usual. You’re on the couch, laughing along, making jokes, throwing in a few quips of your own. After all, you don’t want to be left out.

But as you laugh, you feel a familiar weight at the back of your mind. Steve and Bucky are both watching you from the corner of the room. You glance over, and for a moment, it feels like they’re seeing right through you.

Steve turns to Bucky, his voice low, but not low enough that you can’t hear. “She’s been acting like this a lot lately. It’s like she’s trying too hard to stay in the center of things.”

Bucky doesn’t respond immediately, but his eyes narrow slightly, like he’s weighing his words. “Yeah. I don’t know… she’s doing it, but I don’t think she’s really there.”

You can feel your heart rate quicken, and you’re not sure why it stings. You’re just trying to keep up the persona, to keep everyone happy, make it look easy. And yet, somehow, they see right through it. Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out, trying to brush off their observation with a grin, moving towards them, “What? What are you both talking about? I’m having a blast, really!”

There’s a brief pause. Steve’s expression softens, and it’s almost too much, the way he looks at you, like he’s reading your every thought. He smiles gently, but there’s an undercurrent of concern. “Of course you are,” he says, his voice warm. “But you don’t have to always be on for us, you know? You don’t have to prove anything.”

You blink, taken aback. For a split second, you feel a wave of embarrassment. It’s like they’ve peeled back the layers, and you’re exposed. You try to laugh it off, but your voice is a little quieter. “No, really, I’m fine. I’m just… just trying to keep things light, you know?”

Bucky, sitting across the room, looks at you with a careful expression. “You don’t have to do that with us, doll…” he says, his tone calm and surprisingly gentle. “We’re not gonna judge you for not being on all the time. If you need a break, or if you just want to…  we’re okay with that.”

His words hit you in a way you didn’t expect. It’s not the typical ‘you’re part of the team’ pep talk. It’s something different, something that feels like permission to be yourself, no masks. You feel a rush of gratitude, but also an overwhelming sense of vulnerability. You force a smile, but it’s a little shaky this time.

“I… didn’t mean to put on an act or anything,” you say quickly, suddenly feeling the need to clarify. “I just don’t want to be a drag, you know? I guess I’ve just gotten used to being the one who keeps the mood up.”

Steve’s eyes meet yours, and there’s no judgment there, just understanding. He leans forward slightly, his voice quiet but sincere. “We all have our moments. You don’t always have to be the one holding it together. It’s okay to lean on us.”

Bucky’s nod is almost imperceptible, but you catch it. He doesn’t say anything more, but the look on his face is one of quiet reassurance. He doesn’t expect anything from you, not the way you’ve been expecting from yourself.

You sit back on the couch, feeling a little out of place. For a moment, there’s silence. Then Tony, oblivious to the shift in the room, starts talking again, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Later that evening, after everyone has gone to bed, you find yourself standing in front of one of the massive windows in the Tower, looking out at the city. The lights are peaceful, calming, and for once, you don’t feel the need to pretend. You’re just… you.

Footsteps sound behind you, and before you can react, Steve’s voice cuts through the quiet. “Hey, you okay?”

You don’t turn around right away, but the warmth in his voice makes your chest tighten. You inhale slowly, then speak softly, your words almost a whisper. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

There’s a pause, and then Steve steps closer. “You don’t have to pretend with us, you know. We’re not gonna expect you to be this... bubbly, confident person all the time.”

You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your neck. It’s embarrassing, this sudden exposure of everything you’ve tried so hard to keep hidden. You turn to face him, and the words catch in your throat for a moment. “I guess… I guess I just don’t know how to be anything else sometimes.”

Steve’s expression softens, his eyes kind. “You don’t have to be anything else. Just be yourself. That’s more than enough for us.”

Bucky’s voice comes from the doorway, quiet but steady. “You’re part of the team. That means we’re here for the quiet moments, too. You don’t have to go through everything on your own.”

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. There’s a weight in your chest that’s easing, bit by bit. It’s strange to feel like you don’t have to keep up the act anymore. Like, for once, it’s okay to just be.

“Let us be there for you…doll.”

“Thanks,” you say, and this time, you mean it. “I’ll try to remember that.”

There’s a long moment of quiet, and for the first time since joining, you don’t feel like you have to be anyone other than yourself. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a step toward something better.

Part 2-

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[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Mess in Chat >w^

This is an entry for the Sweet Shroud Summer 2024 event held by the lovely @cloudcountry

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some swearing here and there

Word Count; 1.8 K

Part 2; Mess at Con

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Summer was back in full force. Even from within the cold walls and highly air-conditioned hallways of S.T.Y.X. Idia was overheating. He didn’t even have Ortho, since he was powered down to prevent his system from overheating — they both learned that lesson last summer and neither of them were happy not to have the other for three days while Idia was trying to fix him up. So, he was busy typing away at his computer, switching between his actual tasks and the multitude of open tabs that he had open.

Finishing up on reading one of what seemed to be a never-ending pile of reports, Idia took a look at his messages, Mess in Chat >w^ — getting a small smile from the little winky face — and saw that there was a new message … from an hour ago.

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I’m melting I’ve melted I’m a pool of goop on the floor

Idia tapped his fingers on his keyboard, trying to think of something to say. While he wouldn’t say the two of you were overly friendly, you also weren’t acquaintances. Idia knows that you’re trying to be his friend — dear Sevens, Ortho was so happy when he saw Idia smile at his phone when you messaged him — but it’s hard with being online. 

Would he actually ask to meet in real life? Oh Sevens no! You, the self proclaimed ‘mess’ (Idia wouldn’t even say that you were a mess, just well-meaning and a bit awkward at times) low keyed scared him. Well not actually scare him, but he didn’t want to get too close only for the friendship to blow up in his face.

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess AHA! I CAN SEE THAT YOU’RE ONLINE!

Idia sighed, the jig was up.

Gloomurai I thought you melted into goop Goop can’t type

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I’ve regained my non-goop form to bug you I’M BOREDDDDDDDDDDDDD

Gloomurai … F

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess DON’T PUT AN F IN THE CHAT WHAT THE HELL … eugh… dying of heatstroke Tell my cat that I love him…. X-X

Idia coughed out a small laugh. He doubted you were as melodramatic IRL as you were online, but it made the monotony of his day — especially now that he didn’t even have the excuse of classes to break it up — a bit better.

Gloomurai You shall be missed CAT CAT PIC PLEASE CAT PIC IN THESE TRYING TIMES

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … my phone doesn’t have a camera … And he’s on top of the fridge complaining about the heat

Idia sighed, remembering that besides having a laptop for classes, that was the best tech that you had. He remembers you complaining about your lack of funds and your employer. How you managed to balance your job and schooling at the same time baffled and, as you two got closer, worried him.

Gloomurai You really need a better phone

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I’M A BROKE STUDENT I’M TRYING MY BEST I EVEN HAVE A SECOND JOB

Gloomurai So you’re not only dying of heatstroke but also overworking yourself? F … what’s your second job?

‘WHAT AM I THINKING?! I DON’T KNOW THEM LIKE THAT-’

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess … swan boats …

Gloomurai … swan boats?

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Swan boats.  Even have a silly uniform and everything The pay is decent though, and I only work weekends UNLIKE MY OTHER JOB-

“We’re going to see them, right?” Ortho asked, making Idia jump.

“OrThO-” Idia squeaked, switching tabs at the speed of light, and clearing his throat. “... no”

Ortho looked at Idia, who was smiling a minute ago and was now back to being jumpy. “But-” he paused, looking between the screen and his brother. He knew who Friendly Neighbourhood Mess was — hard not to when you can see the entirety of Night Raven’s search history — but he also knew his brother. “Just know that they enjoy having you as a friend.”

Idia looked back to his screen, knowing you were going on a tirade about your first boss. “They enjoy having Gloomurai as a friend,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Besides,” he looked back at Ortho,”it would be weird for me to just show up.”

“Not if they invite you.~” Ortho chirped, going back to his room since he could feel his systems starting to overheat again. “They’re your friend online… so why not in person too?”

Idia opened up your tab again, and sure enough, you were on a full blown tirade.

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess I SHOULD REPORT HIS ASS BUT THEN I WON’T HAVE A PLACE TO LIVE- OH WHEN I GRADUATE HIS ASS IS GRASS I TELL YOU-

Gloomurai I’ll bring you one of those lawnmowers you drive

Friendly Neighbour Mess *sniffles* You’re a true friend

Gloomurai So, about your other job…

‘Come on, think of a believable excuse so you don’t look like a loser. THINK! COME ON BRAIN! BE SMART!’

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Wait Idea

Idia felt his hair warming, but patted it. ‘Get a hold of yourself, it’s just the word idea for Sevens sake!’

I take you for a spin on one of those death traps

Gloomurai I- DEATH TRAPS? NEVERMIND

Friendly Neighbourhood Mess Too late >w^ See you Saturday!

Idia stared at his screen for a bit, processing everything. You had invited him to your work. He was going to meet you IRL. He was going to get in a swan boat, like the one you see in cheesy otome cutscenes and animes, and they were, apparently, death traps.

… why was he excited about it then?

…

…

You were at work, giving your best customer service smile and voice to the kids, families, and couples that came up through the line. “Remember folks to keep on your life jackets at all times, and to keep your arms and legs inside the boat at all times! Enjoy your ride!~”

While yes, you did have to wear an all-white uniform complete with a baseball cap with swan wings, it wasn’t half bad. 

The lunch room was always packed with good food, cold drinks, and the comfiest couch you have ever had the pleasure of plopping down into. Sure, it was a bit embarrassing — Ace had nearly laughed his ass off when he saw you in your get up and the fakely sweet smile you gave him — but it was only for this summer, and only for the weekends. Besides, it was cushy and most importantly, not putting your life into peril every five to seven business days when compared to the job that Crowley had given you.

You were already getting into your little monologue that you’re used to saying to customers when you faltered. “Enjoy your- Idia?” You blinked, surprised to see him. You barely got to see him at school, so seeing him here of all places was a shock to put it lightly.

Idia was fidgeting with the zipper of his life jacket and jumped when you said his name. ‘Y/N? The Ramshackle prefect-’ “... hi?”

“Hi,” you say back. “Umm, sorry, but there has to be two people to a boat,” you say sheepishly.

Idia jumps a bit and accidentally zips some of his hair in the zipper. “I was waiting for a friend…” he mutters, “they, uh, work here?”

You pause and your eyes widen. “YOU!”

“Me?!” Idia blinked rapidly. “Wait, you?!” Idia put the pieces together.

The lamenting about your first job. The complaints about your cat stealing your food. The silly uniform for your second job — which is silly, but you make it work. And the way you spoke online matched how you spoke with your IRL friends.

“You’re Friendly Neighbourhood Mess-”

“You’re Gloomurai!”

You both say it at the same time. You offer him a bright smile before saying something quietly into your walkie-talkie and putting on a bright yellow life jacket.

“Well,” you chuckle, “good thing you have a friend that’s willing to get on one of these death traps with you then!”

Idia let you take the lead before stumbling into the boat. “You probably shouldn’t call these ‘death traps’ since you work here,” he offered lightly.

You helped stabilize him since he was struggling to stand due to the light waves. “Well, they are, my land-loving friend.”

Idia sat down quickly, trying not to get flustered by the skin contact but failing. “Then I p-probably shouldn’t be on here, should I?”

“Nope,” you popped the p at the end and started moving the boat with the hand pedals. “But it takes two people to move these things.”

Idia started pedalling with you, and despite his fears of you wanting to make idle small talk, you didn’t. Instead, you pointed out some favourite spots and allowed him to contribute to the conversation at his own pace. Even though it idled here and there, it wasn’t awkward. It was comfortable.

When you sailed (can it even be called sailing when it’s a swan boat?) under the canopy of a weeping willow, you spoke again. “So, why did you agree to meet me? Let alone in one of these?”

Idia looked at you again, the dappled lighting blocking out the heat of the sun, yet he felt warmer now than before. “I don’t know, just,” he breathed in, centring himself, “I guess I wanted to spend time with a friend.” He smiled then, it was a small thing, but it was genuine. “Also,” he coughed, “you lied about the death trap part about this whole thing.”

You laughed, shaking the boat a little. “Oh it is, if not physically, then, reputation-wise. Death to social life via swan boat.”

Idia snorted. ‘Well, good thing that I don’t … didn’t have one then.’ “Good thing there’s someone who knows what they’re doing then… you do know what you’re doing, right?”

You shrugged, “I have a certificate if that eases your mind a bit.”

And the two of you continued paddling away, chatting here and there before heading back to the dock where a few of your coworkers gave the both of you thumbs-ups and winks. Idia felt himself go warm, whereas you rolled your eyes at them before helping Idia out.

“If you don’t mind, want to do this again?” You asked, undoing your lifejacket, looking expectantly towards him.

Idia fumbled with his own before you helped him out. “... that would be fun,” he smiled.

You smiled back, patted him on the shoulder as he walked away, and went back to greeting customers again.

Idia was happy about how today went, even though he would wake up a lovely shade of lobster red tomorrow and a very curious Ortho, but for the first time in a while, he was looking forward to summer vacation, and having some of it be outside of his computer screen. And, most importantly, have a friend that he didn’t feel like he had to be someone else with.

~~~~~~~

Tags; @afunkyfreshblog, @bloomstruck, @edith-is-a-cat, @eynnwwyjth, @inkybloom-luv, @ithseem, @lucid-stories, @syrenkitsune, @the-v-lociraptor, @twistwonderlanddevotee, @xxoomiii

[thebearer]

i'll be so happy loving you |carmen berzatto x reader|

prompt: a two for one special- the proposal and the elopement :) or how you and carmen get married.

contains: language, alludes to sexual references, some smut at the end but not super graphic. mainly just lovey dovey fluff!!!

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Looks pretty in here, bear.” You hum, looking around the newly renovated restaurant. “I love that painting.”  Now that The Bear was bringing in some revenue, Carmen and Sydney could decorate more how they envisioned, tiny touches that made the place dazzle- look and feel more like how they dreamed it would be. 

“Yeah? Like it better than the old one?” Carmen grinned, arms looping around your waist, cheek pressed lazily to your own. 

You melted into his touch, nodding gently. “Yeah. Much better.” You turn so your noses are nearly touching. “A lot better than that watercolor piece.” 

Carmen snorted. “Yeah, I told Sugar it looked weird. Told her we needed fuckin’ abstract or somethin’.” 

You looked at the painting, a configuration of muted lines and colors that somehow fit the aesthetic of the restaurant perfectly. “Yeah, I think everyone will like it. Looks perfect.” You mutter, lips brushing against Carmen’s cheek for a sweet kiss. He shouldn’t have flustered so easily, but how could he not? When you kissed him, looked at him, loved him this way. 

“So what’s on the menu for tonight?” You asked, turning in Carmen’s arms, lazily looping your own around his neck. 

“We’re closed tonight.” Carmen hoped you couldn’t feel the pounding in his heart, running his clammy hands down your waist while your brows knitted together. “Got a private event.” 

“Private event? Ooh, very fancy, chef.” You quipped. “How did I miss that? I swear it wasn’t on the calendar-” 

“-It wasn’t.” Carmen said quickly, far too quickly to be cool and unsuspecting like he’d hoped. You pulled back, a little shocked at his tone, his hands pulling you back to him, running soothingly down your spine. “I mean… It's a private party. A sort of celebration just for all of us. For the staff. Since we’ve been, uh, doin’ so good.” 

You paused for a moment, eyes darting all over his face, trying desperately to read his expression. Carmen hoped you couldn’t see through him, hoped that the lie Richie made him rehearse would work on you. Hoped he wouldn’t ruin this like he ruined everything else. 

“That’s sweet.” Your pursed lips melted into a smile. “I think that’ll be really nice, Carm. That’s very sweet. They deserved it. You deserve it, Carm.” 

Carmen blushed, letting his eyes fall down between the two of you. He was still getting used to that, after all this time, the sweet compliments you gave him freely. Not as an apology or to get something out of him- use it to control him like others had. 

“You deserve it too, y’know.” Carmen could feel his chest beating, rising and stomach turning the way it did when his heat rate picked up. The rational voice in his head was telling him there was nothing to be worried about, but it was a hushed whisper compared to the roar of “what if’s” and self doubting screams that took over. 

Your lips curled in a little smile. You didn’t agree, but you didn’t argue either. Carmen could feel the lurch of his heart flutter back down into his chest. “So, I’ll pick you up at seven?” 

You laughed, brows lifting in amusement. “Oh? It’s a date? Thought this was staff appreciation.” 

“More like a fancy kinda family.” Carmen schmoozed you easily. “But one where you should maybe wear that dress? Or really, whatever you want, but ya know… I’ll be dressed up and so will everyone else. It’s stupid, but-but I wanted it to be nice like the real experience sorta thing-” 

“-Carm,” You cut off his rambling with a hand cradling his jaw, thumb gliding over the stubble on his chin. “I think it’s really sweet. I’ll dress up. Thanks for giving me a heads up. I don’t want to be a jack off in jeans.” 

“A what?” Carmen barked out a laugh. “A jack off?” You frowned, nodding slightly. Carmen bit back his laugh, lips pulling in a wide smile. “It's a jag-off, baby. Gotta let it roll off the tongue.” 

You blushed, rolling your eyes at him to hide your own embarrassment. “You’re a jagoff, Berzatto.” You jammed your finger into his chest, leaving him laughing. 

Present 

“This is it.” Carmen muttered, pushing the creaking door of the house open. You looked around the room, dimly lit with creaking planks of wood for floors. House plants everywhere and the sound of the waves rolling gently on the water outside when the boats cruised by. 

“This is it, hm?” You grinned, looking around while Carmen set the bags down by the door, nervously tracking you. 

“Yeah. It-It’s not a lot, baby, I told you it wouldn’t be. But I-I just… Wait until you see the view in the morning or-or at sunset, when it goes down over the water it’s so clear, you won’t believe it-” 

“-Carmen,” You laughed lightly, a grin so wide your cheeks were hurting. “It’s perfect. Cute, I love it.” You giggled, pushing the blinds open to let the light in. Carmen’s chest aches with the release of tension from hearing that- that you liked it. 

“So where’s this cat?” You hum, ducking under the table and couch to look, eyes scanning the small space of the boat house. 

“The cat that doesn’t exist?” Carmen snorted lightly. 

“You and Marcus say that but I know it’s here.” You hum, scanning the room for a cat door, anyway that the animal might come in and out. “Probably just scared of the two of you.” 

“Kinda the charm of this place, honey. You don’t see the cat. Just feed the invisible cat and water the plants.” Carmen was beaming, watching your frame illuminated by the bright Denmark sun shining in through the windows. 

“Hm, I’m gonna see this cat before I leave.” You declared, checking the cabinets, the hall closets- all the places your own cat liked to hide. Anchovy, you and Carmen’s precious boy, found in the dumpster outside of The Bear. 

Carmen’s lips quipped in a smirk. “I wanna see your cat. How about that, hm?” It was corny, cheesy, made you cringe and laugh and gag exaggeratedly all at the same time; which is exactly why he said it. Arms wrapping around your waist, he pulled you close, lips hovering over yours. 

“Carm,” You sighed gently, a trace of a giggle following with the breathy moan that hitched in your throat when his hands kneaded the fat of your ass. “Thought we had to meet your friend later? I still have to get ready and shower-” 

“-We got two hours, baby.” Carmen purred, tongue running over your bottom lip teasingly, feeling you tense under his touch. “C’mon, we got time. I’ll take a shower with you, too. Save time.” 

You snorted lightly, rolling your eyes. He was insatiable, and you couldn’t blame him. The two of you here, back at the “most beautiful fuckin’ place on Earth” according to Carmen. He looked so good, so pretty. The way the sunlight would catch in his eyes. They were brighter here, bluer. You didn’t know how that was possible, but it was, and it left you clinging to his hand while you strolled down the street, gazing into his eyes positively dopey and love drunk. 

“You gotta be quick.” You pointed at him with an exaggerated glare, already giving in. “Not like last night. We almost missed our flight, bear.” 

“But we didn’t.” Carmen grinned, his breath hot when it trailed down your cheek to your jaw, leaving wet, sloppy kisses in its wake, hands tilting your head back gently to get to your neck. 

Carmen walked you back towards the kitchen table, hands gripping and sliding down your waist up to your neck. “You just look s’pretty. My pretty girl.” 

You blushed, enveloping his lips fully, letting yourself melt into him, maybe he was melting into you- the two of you molding into each other, fusing together like it was your only purpose in life. Your legs around his waist, lying back on the rickety oak table that Carmen assured “It’ll be fine, just relax, baby. I got ya.” His hand in yours while he rolled deeply inside of you, skin to skin, a chorus of whines and mewls mixing in harmony in the kitchen. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“Oh, looks like we’re early.” You look around the restaurant. The tables were set and lights dim, but only you and Carmen seemed to be the ones in it. 

“Uh, they-they finished late, but, uh, they’ll be here.” Carmen stuttered, hands running down the front of his pants again, eyes darting around the room. 

Your eyes narrowed lightly, but shook it off. Carmen was nervous, he had been for weeks. You thought it was because of the restaurant’s new Michelin star holder status, or maybe because of the countless interviews and press that came with it. Still, that had been weeks ago, the press had died down slightly, and Carmen was still anxious. 

“Ah, good evening, folks.” Richie beamed, sliding behind the hostess stand. “How are the two of you this fine night?” 

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Great, Richie. How are you?” You played along. 

“I am having a lovely night, even better not that you are here.” Richie schmoozed, leaving you snorting lightly at his dramatics. “Right this way.” 

“So what time does everyone get here?” You ask, sliding into the booth. 

“Oh, they’ll be here soon.” Richie said easily, calming your suspicions. “I'll go ahead and get you two started while you wait.” 

“So you didn’t get the night off?” You laugh gently. 

“Someone’s gotta take care of everything, sweetheart.” Richie shrugged. “Champagne? Or is that too early?” 

Carmen’s eyes flashed at Richie. “I just want water, Cousin.” 

If there was any hostility, Richie didn’t seem to notice, simply turning to you. “And for the lovely lady?” 

“Uh, I’m good with water for now too.” You nodded. “I’ll wait until everyone else gets here.” 

“Wonderful.” Richie grinned, eyes cutting in a glare towards Carmen’s. “I’ll be back with that for the two of you.” 

You waited until Richie was gone, turning to Carmen carefully. “Hey, what was that?” You asked. 

“What?” Carmen tried to appear calm and chill, his body tensing beside you. “What-What was what?” 

Your brows furrowed. “Carmen… Are you ok?” You asked, reaching out to grab his hand lightly. His hands were clammy, tensing in yours, and pulling away quickly to wipe the perspiration on his jeans. “What’s going on? Did something happen?”

“No.” Carmen shook his head furiously. He felt like he might throw up and sob at the same time. Felt like his own heart might just give out entirely. “I’m fine, baby, I promise. I’m just… I’m still trying to figure out the summer menu. Make sure it’s good because we’ve never done that before. That’s what we’re trying tonight, and-and I just hope it’s good, ya know?” It wasn’t a total lie, Carmen was worried about the menu and you were testing it tonight. 

You seemed to believe him, his chest loosening when you scooched closer to him, cuddled together in the booth. “It’ll be good. You know it will, bear.” You hummed, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, laughing when you pulled apart. “Shit, I’m sorry I forgot I have lipstick on.” You giggle, wiping the imprint away lightly off his blushing cheeks. 

“Sorry for the wait.” Richie hummed, dropping the two waters off easily with the new starter for you to try. A classic Mediterranean salad and pita spruced up “Sydney style” as you would say. The term had caught on in the kitchen, finding its way into the names and actions done there. Carmen loved it. Loved the way you said it, the way the staff said it, that it came from you. 

“I’ll leave this here, and I’ll be back with the first course.” Richie smiled. 

“Richie, why don’t you sit with us and try it until the others get here?” You nodded to the spot beside you. 

Carmen froze and so did Richie, the two of them looking at each other for only a moment- but it was a moment too long. Your suspicions rose again, eyes flickering between the two of them. “Ya know, I would love to, but I gotta help the newbies in the kitchen.” Richie said easily. “Gotta make sure they got everything covered. I’m head chef tonight.” 

You didn’t laugh or roll your eyes like you normally would. Instead, you glared at him lightly. Richie’s eyes flashed to Carmen’s. “Alright, well, uh, if the two of you need anything? I’m your guy, alright?”

You waited until he was back in the kitchen, Carmen’s eyes focused on the food, knee bouncing furiously under the table. “Carmen, look at me.” You demanded, turning to him fully. His eyes lifted hesitant towards yours, wide and round like a child caught coloring on the walls. “What’s goin’ on?” 

“Nothin’, baby, I promise.” Carmen said quickly, trying to soothe you but his rigid, frantic tone didn’t help. 

“Carmen-” 

“-It’s nothing.” Carmen said, matching your firm tone. “Just Richie bein’... I dunno what the fuck he’s doin’. Pissin’ me off.” Carmen grumbled, shaking his head. 

“Did you two get in a fight or something?” You pressed. “Is that why you’re being weird?” 

Carmen blinked. “Yes.” He blurted. That wasn’t true, not even remotely. He and Richie had been getting along great, actually, for once. But if it would throw off your suspicions, then he’d gladly throw Richie under the bus- this once. 

“Oh.” You frowned lightly. “Why? I thought you guys were getting along?” 

“You know how Richie is.” Carmen rolled his eyes for emphasis. “He just… He can’t keep his fuckin’ mouth shut.” 

“What did he say?” You asked, reaching for the pita, scooping it in the blended dip of sorts. 

“Just… It was stupid and gross. I really don’t want to talk about it.” Carmen shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about him. Wanna talk to you. How is it?” 

You hummed, chewing lightly. “Amazing. As always.” You beamed proudly at Carmen. “I told you it would be. You’re the best, bear.” 

Carmen blushed, chewing on his own piece. It was good. Sydney had found the perfect balance, she always did. “Well, this is Syd, not me. Can’t take the credit for this one.” 

“Mm, I thought it tasted very Sydney style.” You giggled. 

“Yeah,” Carmen nodded, hoping you didn’t see the way his hands shook when he took a sip of water. He could barely eat, barely drink around the lump in his throat. “She did most of this, but, uh, I did the dessert.” 

“You did?” You gawked gently. “Not Marcus?” 

“No.” Carmen nudged you lightly. “Well, he helped a little. But it was mostly me. He said I could take the credit on this one” 

“That bad, huh?” You laughed. “Marcus doesn’t even want to put his name on it? Yikes.” 

Carmen rolled his eyes, grinning fondly at you. “I think you’ll like it.” 

You eyed him playfully. “Well, I have high hopes, Berzatto.” 

Me too. Carmen thought, shoving another torn piece of pita in his mouth, hand rubbing anxiously over his pocket again. 

Present 

“So the two of you met in school?” You ask, hand on Carmen’s knee under the table, lightly rubbing over his slacks soothingly. 

“Yes. And he was so much better than me, I thought about dropping out every single day.” Luca grinned playfully at Carmen. “You know, that’s why I went to pastry? Because I knew I’d never compete with Carmen in the other areas, but making a tart? I could outdo him on a tart.” 

“I could never get the crust right.” Carmen shrugged. “Could never figure out how to get it flaky enough. Used to drive me fuckin’ insane.” 

Luca grinned smugly, refilling his own glass of wine. “Well, your chef, Marcus, has got it. Might have it even better than me. Real talent on that one.” 

“Yeah.” Carmen beamed. “He’s good. Real good.” 

“He is.” Luca nodded, before looking over at you. “I’m sorry, darling, I don’t want to be rude, talking about all this cooking nonsense. I’m sure you’ve had enough of that back home.” 

“Oh, no. I love to hear about it.” You beamed, reassuringly. “I wish I could cook like that. You can ask Carm, I’m a hopeless cook. Horrible at it.” 

“No, you’re not, c’mon.” Carmen shook his head lightly at you. “She’s good. Can make a better grilled cheese than any of us.” 

Luca grinned at your blush, the way Carmen pulled you into his side lovingly. It was good to see Carmen like this. The last time, right after Mikey’s death, Carmen was dull. It worried Luca. Carmen had always been tightly wound, anxious, meticulous to a fault, but it seemed to get more extreme- damaging. It was refreshing to see him now. Luca could hardly recognize him, the relaxed, cool man in front of him. No ounce of competition in his tone, his guard down for once. Here with you; happy with you. 

“So, I hope I’m not overstepping, but I have to ask.” Luca said, leaning forward on the table gently. “Why here? Why not at home for the two of you? Not that I mind, at all, of course. I’m honored, but I have to know why here?” 

You looked at Carmen, lashes batting lightly. “Well, Carmen always said it was the most beautiful place he’d ever been. Marcus, too. And… I dunno, I’d always wanted to come, so we figured why not?” 

“This place has always been good for me, ya know?” Carmen muttered, his knee bouncing lightly. “I-I… nothin’ bad has ever happened here like it has other places.” He didn’t need to say it, you both knew. “It’s always been good, and-and I wanna keep the good. We’re already good, I just wanna do it somewhere good, too.” 

Luca nodded slowly, lifting his own wine glass up to the two of you. “Well, then; to keeping the good.” He grinned, his glass clinking against your own when they touched. “And I’m honored to be a part of this, really.” 

“Thank you for bein’ a part of it.” Carmen said, jaw clenched with emotion. “Means a lot, Luca. I, uh, I-I really-” 

“Don’t mention it, friend. I’m happy to. Excited, really, for the two of you.” Luca nodded warmly. 

“We are too.” You grin, beaming up at Carmen lovingly. 

“Yeah… yeah we are.” Carmen hummed, hand sliding down your hip and squeezing it gently. 

Six Weeks Earlier 

“I think it’s great, but you know me, bear. I’d eat chicken tenders every day if I could.” You giggled. 

“Still?” Carmen beamed, eyes dazzling in amusement, huddled into you in the booth like you two were the only two in the restaurant- and well, you were. You hadn’t seemed to notice, thankfully. 

“Thought I finally got you outta that?” Carmen teased. 

“Nuh-uh, no way, bear. I’m still a tender defender-” 

“-Tender defender?” Carmen howled in laughter. 

“Yes! I love chicken tenders, and frankly, your disdain for them is off putting, Berzatto. You should love and appreciate all foods, Mr. Michelin star Chef of the year.” You tickled his side lightly, making him squirm gently, a little blushy under your praise. 

“Yeah, maybe not tenders. Nuggets? I can get behind nuggets.” Carmen hummed, his smile falling gently when he saw Richie come out, holding the small covered tray. His heart hammered, feeling his stomach turn while you still giggled beside him. 

“And dessert is here.” Richie said smoothly, eyes cutting to Carmen’s. 

“Ooh, what is it?” You asked, reaching over to pull the cloche off. 

“Eh, eh, hold on.” Richie pulled it away gently. “The Chef,” His eyes cut dramatically to Carmen’s. “Wants it to be a surprise. Wants to surprise you himself.” 

You looked at Carmen, an amused grin on your lips. “Oh, does he?” You quip. 

Richie winked at Carmen, backing away. “Enjoy, you two.” 

Carmen waited until the doors shut to look at you, sure his heart was going to stop entirely. “So?” You lifted a brow, a finger tracing the bottom plate lightly. “What’s the big surprise?” 

Carmen’s heart fluttered in his chest at your smile, wiping his hands one more time on his pants before he grasped the lid, a white knuckled grip so his shaking would still. “You, uh, you remember how Marcus was talking that one time about the cake he had in Copenhagen? And how-how it was the best thing he’d ever had?” Fuck, he was stuttering, his mind racing, and his hands were clamming all over again. 

“Yeah, the sponge one, right?” You asked, nodding gently. 

“Yeah, yeah, that’s the one.” Carmen nodded. “So, uh, I was thinking… You should try it.” 

“Oh?” You grinned, eyes flashing to him excitedly. “Is that what this is? Carmen, that’s so sweet-” 

“-No.” Carmen shook his head, watching your face fall in confusion. “Fuck, I mean, yeah, it is- it’s- I’m just-” Carmen took a deep breath, trying to still his nerves, stop his ramblings. “I think you should try it for yourself,” His hands shook when he pulled the lid off, revealing the plate. 

You gawked, looking at the tiny sponge cake, covered in a thin layer of chocolate separating the many layers, a dollop of cream of some sorts on top. But that wasn’t what caught your eye. No, it was the two tickets sticking out of the top, plane tickets to Copenhagen. 

“Carmen…” You gasped lightly, looking at him with bright eyes that made his heat leap. 

“I think you should get to try it for yourself, there.” Carmen grinned. “I-I want us to go together and try it.” 

“Carmen, oh my god, this is-this is just… You’re so fuckin’ sweet.” You grin, hands grabbing his cheeks, pulling him into you in a hard kiss. One that had his mind stilling, body melting to yours. Kissing you always made him feel like that. Like he had no other purpose than to just kiss you, and to him, maybe he didn’t. 

“This is so sweet. I-I can’t wait!” You squealed, hugging him tightly. “Oh, I want to go to that restaurant your friend works at! And maybe we could go to those gardens? I saw them on TikTok and I’ve wanted to go so badly since then.” 

Carmen nodded, your head on his chest, he was sure now that you could hear his heart still hammering. “Yeah, yeah, we can do that. Whatever you want to do.” His eyes closed, taking a cleansing breath. Carmen looked at you, the excitement in your eyes. It’s now or never, Berzatto. Let it rip. 

“There’s, uh, o-one more thing I’d like to do.” Carmen shuddered, sliding away from you gently, his hand slipping in his pocket as casually as he could. 

You were bubbly, positively giddy with excitement, you didn’t even notice it. “Yeah? What else? Anything, baby.” 

Carmen fought back a tiny laugh, his sweaty hand clasped in front of you, free one taking your hand. “I, uh, I-I… I wanna marry you?” 

Your breath hitched, body stilling. You were sure you’d heard him wrong, grip tightening in his. “W-What?” 

Carmen’s hand opened slowly, revealing the ring, dazzling even in the low light of the restaurant. Your breath hitched, falling out of your lungs sharply at the sight. 

“I wanna marry you.” Carmen repeated, steadier this time even of the rapid fire beats of his heart. “I mean, I want to marry you even if it’s not there, but-but we talked about a destination wedding if we ever did… And-And I… I can’t imagine living another day without you. I have never loved anything- anyone the way I loved you. Never been loved the way you love me, and… I want to do it every single day for the rest of my life.” 

Your lip wobbled, tears pricking your eyes as Carmen picked up the ring, holding it between his pointer and thumb. Your eyes flickered back to his. “You're the best person I’ve ever met; I ever will meet, baby. You’re-you’re fun, and you’re caring and sweet, and you always are so good to me. Even when I don’t deserve it.” 

“Carm-” 

“-No, I mean it. You are. You are the best. And I love you so much, it-it makes my fuckin’ chest hurt sometimes how much I love you.” Carmen let out a breathy laugh. Your own watery laugh bubbled out of your chest, making your lip wobble, tears streaming down your face. 

“I want to go to Copenhagen with you, and-and I want to go to France with you, and- fuck, I wanna go everywhere and do everything with you for the rest of my life.” Carmen rambled, his own eyes glassy when they looked into yours. 

He said your name, letting each syllable roll off his tongue, your own heart squeezing with joy. “Will you marry me?” 

Your throat felt strangled with emotions, a wet sniffle and a tiny squeak of a cry falling from your lips. “Yes.” You nodded, your own hand shaking in his. “Yes, Carm, yes. I’ll marry you, yes.” 

“Yes?” Carmen was sure he was hallucinating; dreaming, maybe. Had to be. But yet, there you were, wiping your eyes, nodding and giving a watery laugh that had his heart aching in the best way. 

“Yes, Carmen, are you kidding me? Yes. Of course, I’ll marry you.” You muttered, your hands finding his jaw easily, pulling him for another kiss that had his head reeling, a small sob passing through his lips onto yours. 

Carmen fumbled through his own teary sniffles, hands shaking with adrenaline when he slipped the ring on, your foreheads pressed together. “Holy shit, it’s… it’s beautiful, Carmen.” You gawked, pulling the ring up to see it. The design, the cuts, it screamed Carmen in the best way- made your lip quiver all over again. 

“Yeah? I-I designed it, and I just… It looked like something you’d like.” Carmen muttered, turning to wipe his eyes. 

“I love it.” You beam. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” Carmen whispered, hands cradling your wet cheeks, moving sweetly back to you. 

“So,” Richie’s voice interrupted, halting the two of you. You turned, seeing the staff standing excitedly behind him. “Do you want the champagne now?” 

Present 

The ceremony was a whirlwind. The two of you, standing hand in hand in the Copenhagen City Hall. Carmen in a suit, sans tie, a blue gray sort of jacket that made his eyes pop even more, if that was possible. You,  in your wedding dress, casual and short but still so pretty. You knew when you saw it that it was the one. A tiny veil and a bouquet of flowers, Carmen had surprised you with this morning, your ring dazzling. 

Luca passed you the ring, a warm smile when you took it, repeating the vows to Carmen before you slipped it on his inked finger. A couple signatures and a kiss later, and the two of you were married- married. The photographer you’d hired snapped photos in the garden out front, Luca gifted you a bottle of Jouet and well wishes. 

Carmen carried you through the threshold, insisted on it, scooping you up and kicking the door open while you squealed and giggled. The two of you were giddy, climbing on a high of adrenaline and oxytocin. 

Carmen kissed you in the kitchen, his wife. His hand cradled your cheeks, your hand slipping over his, rings scratching lightly- metal on metal. A reminder that it was real- this was real. 

For the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Berzatto. 

For the first time tangled in the sheets with his wife. Feeling your lips against his, your fingers in his hair, diamond scratching his scalp when your fists curled. His ring left an imprint on your thighs when he gripped them. 

Carmen’s head was buried between your thighs, lapping at your dripping heat like his heart might give out if he didn’t. “Oh! Carm, right there, right there…” You hummed, eyes fluttering, and back arching off the creaking bed. You didn’t care that it shook, part of you hoped you'd break it. 

Carmen could barely hear, your thighs clamped around his head like earmuffs. He was in his own ecstasy driven state, high off the day's events and his love for you, mindlessly lapping at you until he felt your hands push him away. 

“What?” Carmen panted, your slickness coating his mouth, pupils blown with lust. “What’s wrong?” 

“Look,” You whispered, pointing to the corner of the room. 

Carmen turned, hands still gripping your thighs, neck craning to see. There at the edge of the door, two blinking eyes gazed back at him. An orange tabby, perched and clicking back at the two of you curiously. 

“No fuckin’ way.” Carmen muttered, cheek resting against your thigh lightly. 

You giggled, running a hand through his hair. “Told you! He’s probably just scared of you.” You hummed. 

Carmen snorted lightly, standing to coax the cat out gently before he shut the door. He didn’t need you distracted or worse; the cat jumping up on the bed while you two were going at it. 

“Can’t believe that fuckin’ cat’s real.” Carmen grinned, shaking his head lightly. 

“He’s just scared of you and Marcus. I must have good energy.” You beamed playfully. 

Carmen rolled his eyes, pushing you back lightly on the bed. “Just lay back f’me, alright? Let me take care of you, baby.” 

You purred, hips grinding into his touch. “Yes, Mr. Berzatto.” You giggled, back arching when he licked a long, flat tongue stripe through your drenched folds. Copenhagen was better than you could have imagined, even better now. Weeks later, you’d frame the photo of the two of you in the garden, grinning fondly at the memory. At your husband. At your life together with him now and forever.

[blackenedsnow]

ART X A SELF DOUBTING VAMPIRE READER PSLPLSPSLLS!! like they think they taste all rotten and nasty but art doesnt think sooo!

red as snow

WARNING: Self doubt

PAIRING: Art the Clown x Vampire! Reader

NOTE: Omg this is so fun to think about!! thanks for the ask <3 I ALWAYS love writing about vampires OHHHH MAN

SUMMARY: Art doesn’t mind what’s wrong with you. That’s the worst part, really. You can’t understand how someone so perfect in his brutality could ever want something so rotten.

The blood pools around your feet in lazy rivulets, stark and shining against the pale stretch of snow. It’s almost beautiful, in a grotesque sort of way – the kind of beauty you find in shattered glass or a body just before the life leaves it. Art would know what you mean.

He’s doing something behind you, a slow, lilting tune, soft as snowfall. He’s in his own little world, swaying slightly, his bloodied hands clasped behind his back. His clothes look filthy now, stained with deep red streaks.

You think he looks ridiculous. And perfect.

“Do you ever think,” you say quietly, your voice barely carrying over the winter hush, “that I might taste bad?”

Art stops. His head snaps toward you, and even though you know he doesn’t speak, you feel the weight of his question in the tilt of his head, the way his wide eyes narrow just slightly.

“You know,” you murmur, staring down at the corpse between you, “if someone tried to bite me. My blood’s probably awful. There’s something wrong with me.” you glance back at him, watching the way his grin widens like it’s some private joke only he gets. “You’d agree, wouldn’t you?”

You’re half-joking, but it still stings when he laughs – or whatever you’d call that silent, breathy wheeze of his. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach like you’ve just told the funniest joke in the world.

“I’m serious,” you say, your voice sharper now, a little defensive. You fold your arms over your chest. “Why wouldn’t it be bad? I’m rotting from the inside out, Art. I can feel it. There’s no way it’d taste good.”

He straightens up, wiping at his face even though there’s no tears, no sign of any real laughter – just that grin of his, smeared with someone else’s blood. He takes a step closer, his boots crunching over the snow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you mutter, turning away. “I mean it. It’s not romantic to drink from something dead.”

He’s behind you before you can finish the thought, his hands curling over your shoulders in a way that makes your skin crawl – and not because you don’t like it. You hate that you do. That you want him to hold you tighter, to crush you in that terrible grip of his.

“I mean, maybe it’s fitting,” you continue. “You’re a demon. I’m a vampire. We’re both monsters. But even monsters deserve something better than this, don’t you think?”

Art spins you around in one fluid movement, his hands dropping to your arms to hold you in place. You can feel the press of his fingers through your clothing, too strong, too insistent, but you don’t pull away. He’s tilting his head again, his grin growing impossibly wider, like he’s daring you to keep talking.

“You don’t believe me,” you say softly.

He shakes his head, slow and deliberate. Then, quick as a flash, his hand moves to his chest, dragging his fingers down like he’s unzipping it, miming something pulling at his heart.

You swallow hard. “You’re just saying that.”

He glares at you, his grin faltering for the first time. It’s subtle, just the faintest twitch at the corners of his mouth, but it’s enough to make your breath catch.

“Okay, okay,” you say quickly, raising your hands in surrender. “You love me. I get it. You don’t have to be so dramatic about it.”

He doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans in closer, his face inches from yours. You can smell the copper tang of blood on him, can see the splatters drying on his skin.

Maybe he doesn’t care what’s wrong with you, doesn’t care if your blood tastes like poison, if your body is too far gone to be anything worth having. He just loves you.

[pickingupmymercedes]

Bed Chem - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

Part of 1K Jukebox Event

song: Bed Chem - Sabrina Carpenter - anon

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

genre: smut

wordcount: +3k (got carried aways, ops)

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT

______________________________________________________________

My mind’s been trying to talk me out of this for days.

It’s just another Thursday night. Nothing special about it except the fact that, yet again, I’ve found myself driving to Lewis’s place, the city lights blurring into streaks as I try to remember why I agreed to this.

Because it’s supposed to be a one-time thing.

Hell, it was supposed to be over after that first night. But here I am, again.

A weekly occurrence. I can’t even remember how it happened—how the "no strings attached" turned into this. This pull.

He texted me this morning, just like he does every week. A simple, “Pasta night at mine?” Like it’s a casual thing.

Like we didn’t have our clothes half off before the water even started boiling last time.

God, I’m such a fool.

I pull into his driveway, trying to convince myself to turn around, go home, and pretend I have some semblance of self-control.

But the second I see the soft glow of lights through his window, the thought evaporates. And I can almost feel his hands on me already.

The door swings open before I even knock, and there he is—Lewis, wearing that same damn smile that has me fighting against myself every time.

“You made it,” he says, like he ever doubted I would.

“Yeah, well, here I am.” I give him a look, my last-ditch attempt to act like I’ve got this under control.

He steps aside to let me in, the smell of tomatoes wafting through the air. He’s actually cooking tonight; I notice with a smirk. It’s endearing, really.

“You’re actually serious about the pasta?” I tease, shrugging out of my jacket.

His eyes flick down to my outfit—something casual, but I know he’s still taking it in, lingering just a second longer than necessary.

That’s how it starts. Always.

He smiles, raising an eyebrow. “I can multitask, you know.”

God, his voice. Smooth, effortless. Every word has this undercurrent to it, like he’s saying something else entirely.

And I know exactly what he’s thinking because I’m thinking the same thing.

“We’ll see,” I reply, folding my arms over my chest, trying to act like I’m here for the food and not ... you know. “Where’s the wine?”

He chuckles, already moving towards the kitchen. I follow, keeping my distance, because proximity is dangerous with him.

Every time we’re close, my mind scrambles. I forget how to be rational, how to keep this detached and casual.

He hands me a glass, his fingers brushing mine for a second too long. I try not to react, but the heat between us is instant. Of course, it is.

I take a sip, trying to ground myself in the taste, trying to ignore how he’s leaning against the counter, looking at me like he’s already undressing me in his mind.

“So, how was your week?” he asks, voice casual, but there’s that hint of something—like he knows where this is headed.

“It was fine,” I say, shrugging, though the tension in the air says otherwise.

We make small talk while he finishes the pasta, but it’s like the words don’t even matter. There’s a rhythm between us, in the stupid attempt at making this a real date.

But it’s useless.

He plates the pasta, setting the dishes on the counter, and I can feel him beside me. Too close. Far too close.

“Hungry?” he asks, his voice low, too damn tempting.

“For food? Not really,” I blurt out before I can stop myself, my eyes darting to his lips for a split second.

I curse myself internally because I’ve lost the game. He saw it.

His smile widens, that knowing smirk creeping onto his face, and I know I’ve given him all the signal he needs.

He steps closer, and I’m trapped between him and the counter. My logical side is screaming at me to back off, but my body… well I’m already leaning into him, craving his touch.

“You know” he murmurs, leaning in, his breath warm against my ear, “we could skip the pasta” His hand brushes my hip, and it’s all I can do to keep breathing.

I bite my lip, trying to play it cool, trying not to let him see how much I want this. Want him. “Skipping dinner, again? We’re really getting lazy, aren’t we?”

“Who needs pasta when we’ve got... other plans?” His hands slide up my waist, fingers tracing the outline of my shirt, and my resolve is already out the window.

Damn him.

I grab the collar of his shirt, pulling him into me, our lips crashing together with the kind of urgency that says we’ve been holding back for too long. Except we did exactly that, a week ago.

His hands are everywhere—my waist, my back, pulling me closer, like he can’t get enough.

I don’t know who moves first, but suddenly we’re stumbling towards the living room, the sofa the inevitable destination.

It’s a blur of hands, lips, clothes hitting the floor in a mess of fabric and desire.

My mind is still protesting somewhere in the background, telling me this is a bad idea, that I’m setting myself up for failure.

But every time his hands skim across my skin, the voice gets quieter and quieter until all I can focus on is him. The way he knows exactly where to touch, how to pull me into him, how to make me forget anything else exists.

We collapse onto the sofa, him pinning me beneath him, and I gasp as his mouth finds the sensitive spot on my neck. It’s always like this with him—fast, intense, like we can’t get enough of each other.

There’s a chemistry here that neither of us can deny.

His hands slide under my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, and I arch into him, letting out a soft moan as his lips move lower, tracing the curve of my collarbone. My logical side is completely gone now, replaced by a hunger that only he can satisfy.

His fingers fumble with my bra, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound breathless and amused “You’d think you’d be better at that.”

He grins against my skin, finally unclasping it. “Practice makes perfect.”

The bra hits the floor, and his hands are on me again, his touch firm but gentle, like he knows exactly what I need. And he does. He always does.

I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel more of him, and he obliges, pulling it off in one swift motion. My hands roam his chest, tracing the lines of muscle, the tattoos that decorate his skin.

He’s beautiful, and for a moment, I allow myself to just... appreciate it.

But then his mouth is on mine again, and any coherent thought I had is gone. All that’s left is the feel of him, the way he presses into me, the heat between us building until it’s almost unbearable.

He pulls back for a second, his forehead resting against mine as we catch our breath. “You good?” he asks, his voice low and rough.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. Because if I do, I’ll say something I can’t take back. Something like, “I’m falling for you,” or “This isn’t just casual anymore,” or any number of other things I’ve been trying to deny since this whole thing started.

Instead, I pull him back to me, kissing him hard, my hands in his neck, pulling him down on top of me.

And I know I swore I’d keep it light, casual, like I didn’t feel this magnetic pull every time I was near him. But the second I see him, smell him, feel the warmth of his body against mine, every boundary I have shatters.

It’s maddening, really, how easily he unravels me.

I try to keep it together, to play it off like I’m here for the pasta, the wine, the company, like I’m not craving him with every fiber of my being.

But who am I kidding? I was gone the moment I step through his door.

The thought that this is supposed to be a “no strings attached” situation seems laughable. We’re fooling ourselves. This is anything but simple.

“Tell me to stop” he murmurs, his voice rough against my ear, but we both know I won’t. I can’t.

My body responds before my mind can catch up, my hands gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, needing more of him. I press my hips against his, my breath catching as I feel how much he wants this, wants me.

“I can’t” I whisper, and it’s not just about the sex. It’s everything—the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he makes me feel like I’m the only thing that matters in this moment.

Kind the problem, isn’t it? I know deep down this can’t stay casual, no matter how much we pretend. Each time I come back to him, each time we fall into this rhythm, it gets harder to keep my distance.

Harder to keep my heart out of it.

But I don’t say any of that. I just kiss him again, my lips moving against his with a desperation I can’t hide. Because I don’t want to think about what this all means. I just want to feel.

His hands find the small of my back, pulling me flush against him, and I let out a soft gasp, the sound slipping from my throat before I can stop it. God, he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.

“Still thinking about the pasta?” he teases although I can tell he’s trying to bring me out of my own head, and I can’t help but laugh, the sound low and breathless.

“Screw the pasta,” I whisper, my hands tangling in neck, pulling him closer, deeper, until there’s nothing left between us but skin and heat and the overwhelming need to be as close as possible.

Because with him, there’s no room for logic. No room for second thoughts or regrets. There’s only this—the way his body feels against mine, the way his hands know exactly where to touch, the way we fit together like we were made for each other.

And then his hands move lower, firm but careful as they grip my hips. He pauses for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable as he looks me over, then—swiftly—he buckles my hips upwards, hands sliding to hook into the waistband of my sweats.

I lift my hips, barely giving him any resistance, and in one smooth motion, he pulls the soft fabric down, taking my panties with them. His breath catches for a split second when he sees the matching set.

"Knew there was something under those sweats," he teases, a smug grin forming on his lips as he tosses the fabric to the floor.

His fingers trace the edge of my thighs, skimming over the sensitive skin, the warmth of his touch unraveling me.

"Shut up," I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady, but the way his hands move it does something to my resolve. He knows it.

"I will" he says, his voice lowering with an edge of promise.

And the bastard keeps his word as his fingers slip between my folds, not muttering a word as his eyes never leave mine. My breath hitches in response, and his grin widens, knowing exactly what he's doing to me.

His thumb grazes my clit in one teasing stroke, and my back arches involuntarily, the sound of my breathy gasp filling the space between us. I bite down on my lip, trying to stifle any sound, but when his mouth joins his fingers, blowing a soft breath over my swollen bud, all hope of control is lost.

"Oh... God."

It’s all I can manage as his mouth works me over. He knows exactly what he’s doing, alternating between gentle kisses and deep sucks that make my head spin.

My legs tremble, and I grab the cushion beneath me, trying to ground myself as my body responds to every precise move he makes.

His tongue flicks against me, skillful, intentional, and when he adds just enough pressure with his fingers, sliding two finger inside me with ease, my mind goes blank.

Every coherent thought evaporates, replaced by the building pressure, the pure pleasure that courses through me with each flick, each movement, each stroke.

My breath quickens, my thighs tense around his head, and I can’t help but let out a moan, the sound embarrassingly thick with need.

“Lewis...” I manage, barely, as his mouth and fingers push me to the edge, that overwhelming sense of release hovering just out of reach.

He hums in response, the vibration sending a wave of pleasure through me that has me arching into him, desperate for more.

And then his fingers curl just right inside me and I’m done.

My body shudders, thighs clamping around him as the orgasm rips through me, every muscle tightening and releasing in waves. The sensation is overwhelming, like I’m seeing white, and all I can do is gasp for breath as he carries me through it, his mouth never stopping, not until I’m trembling in his arms.

When I can finally hear my surroundings, I collapse back into the sofa, chest heaving, limbs heavy. He pulls away slowly, his lips grazing the inside of my thigh as if to say, ‘I’m not done with you yet’ but for now, he gives me a moment to catch my breath.

His hands trail lazily up my body, stopping just below my ribs as he looks up at me, that damn smirk still playing on his lips.

“Menace” I say again, breathless, trying to regain some sense of control.

He chuckles, leaning in to kiss me, and I taste myself on his lips—soft, tender, and entirely too addicting.

"You seemed pretty pleased it with just seconds ago" he murmurs against my mouth, and even though I’m still recovering, I can’t help but smile.

Lewis pulls away, his weight shifting off me as he rises from the sofa. I can already see the glint in his eye, that familiar focus taking over as he fishes out a stack of condoms from the nearest drawer in the living room.

He’s quick, flipping it open and grabbing the condom like it’s second nature. And considering his stash he probably is.

Before he can tear it open, I sit up, my body still tingling. I reach out, taking the foil packet from his hand with a smirk and a teasing wink.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by the sudden boldness. "You sure about this?" he asks, though his voice betrays the concern that’s written all over his face.

I don’t bother answering. I slide down from the sofa just enough to grab the waistband of his shorts, my fingers hooking underneath and tugging them down along with his briefs.

His member springs free, not fully hard yet, but close. I meet his eyes and smirk, noticing how quickly his breathing has picked up.

"Someone seems eager," I tease, running my fingers lightly along his length, watching as he grows harder beneath my touch. His body responds instantly, his breath catching as I give him a few slow pumps, feeling him swell fully in my hand.

His head tilts back slightly, eyes fluttering shut for a second as he lets out a low groan and I can tell he’s barely holding it together.

I tear the condom wrapper with my teeth, slowly rolling it down over him, my fingers moving with deliberate care. Once I’ve got him fully sheathed, I rise back up, straddling him on the sofa, my lips finding his in a deep kiss.

It’s heated, urgent, but I take my time, letting the tension build even more between us.

In the midst of our kiss, he pulls back just slightly, his voice low and rough, barely more than a whisper. "I mean it, tell me to stop" he says again, his forehead resting against mine, his breath warm against my skin.

I shush him softly, pressing a finger to his lips, then replacing it with my mouth, kissing him again.

My hand slides down between us, wrapping around his length again, and I can feel how tense he is, how much he’s holding back.

"Shut up" I murmur, smiling against his lips, pushing him gently back so that his back rests against the couch. He leans back, his hands gripping my hips as I position myself over him.

I take my time, teasing him with the moment before I finally lower myself onto him.

 Slowly, so slowly, I ease down, feeling him stretch and fill me inch by inch until he’s buried completely inside me. We both let out a sharp gasp, the feeling overwhelming for a second, his grip on my hips tightening as I settle onto him.

I stay still for a moment, our eyes locked, the tension between us thick and electrifying. My hands rest on his chest, fingers splayed over the hard muscles, feeling his heartbeat under my palms. For a second, we’re completely in sync, breathing as one.

"God..." he breathes, his eyes dark with need as he looks up at me, his hands sliding up my sides, possessive and steady.

I smile, shifting just slightly, already feeling the pressure build again between us."I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” I tease, rolling my hips slowly to drive him even crazier.

His eyes darken further, his hands gripping me tighter as I start to move, a slow, deliberate rhythm that has both of us teetering on the edge from the start.

There’s something primal in the way we fit together, and as I pick up the pace, our bodies collide in a seamless rhythm, like we’ve done this a hundred times before—because we have.

Lewis’s grip tightens on my hips as I move, his eyes never leaving mine. He starts to guide me, lifting his hips in time with my rhythm, his hands firm but steady, helping me set the pace.

I bite my lip, fighting to stay in control of my breathing as the sensation builds. It’s so intense, the way we move together—every thrust, every roll of my hips sending shockwaves of pleasure through my body.

But then, just as I find my rhythm, he takes over.

His hands tighten around my waist, pulling me down harder as he starts thrusting up into me with slow, deliberate movements. Each upward motion hits deeper, sending sparks of pleasure through me that make it impossible to hold back the soft moans escaping my lips.

I let him have his moment, feeling the way he takes control, the raw power behind each thrust.

But I narrow my eyes at him, already planning my next move. I let him keep the reins, let him revel in his control as he pushes me closer and closer to the edge. His pace is maddening—just slow enough to tease, to keep me wanting more.

And he knows it.

But I can feel it when he starts to slow down, the strain in his muscles telling me he’s getting close. That’s when I take over again.

With a wicked grin, I shift my weight, changing the angle as I start to move again, but this time adding a slow, rocking motion as I go up and down on him. And he tenses beneath me, his breath catching as his hands move from my waist to my thighs, trying to slow me down.

"Babe..." he gasps, his voice strained, but I just chuckle softly, my pace quickening, refusing to give him any relief.

“What’s wrong?” I quip, my tone playful but laced with challenge. I can feel the tremor in his muscles, the way his body is straining to hold on, but I don’t let up, riding him faster now, the intensity building until it’s almost unbearable.

"Love... Y/n..." His words come out broken, barely a breath as his head falls back against the sofa, his hands tightening on my thighs as if that’ll slow me down.

But it doesn’t. I lean into him, pressing my chest against his, feeling the way his body shudders beneath mine.

And then he’s coming undone.

I feel it—the way his body jerks, the tension snapping as he lets out a guttural groan, his hands desperately gripping me as I continue to rock against him.

His eyes squeeze shut, and he tries to tell me to slow down, but the words never fully form. He’s lost, completely undone beneath me, and I savor every second of it.

I don’t stop until he hisses, his hands shooting up to still my hips, his breathing ragged and uneven. "Fuck..." he mutters, his voice hoarse, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks up at me, still catching his breath.

I smirk, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips, savoring the way his body still trembles. His hands loosen their grip on my hips, and I feel him exhale deeply, the tension draining from him.

“It’s always so much better than in my head” he says, his voice low and raw, and there’s something in the way he says it that makes my heart skip a beat.

I bite back a laugh, pulling away just enough to look down at him, my fingers brushing at his beard.

Better, huh?

But there’s something more to it, something neither of us is ready to admit, not out loud anyway.

And for now, we don’t have to.

For now, we can pretend this is just about that type of chemistry.

______________________________________________________________

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[foreverisntenough]

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 24- An Alexander-Arnold Angel | ‘Ours’

word count - 11 k

“Can you tell me what that is, baby?” You cooed, bouncing Teddy on your knee pointing outside through the big window. You were sat in a lounge at the airport waiting to board your flight to the United States for your wedding. Trent had gotten a private jet to take you to New York. He figured if you had ever taken an important trip it would be this one so flying private seemed like the thing to do. 

“Aib pla!” Teddy yelled the jumbled words. You giggled and shushed her loud outburst. You pulled her by her pudgy tummy back into you more. You leaned around her and kissed her chubby cheek. 

“Yeah, Ted. That’s an airplane. You’re so smart. Do you like going on planes, baby bear?” Trent asked Teddy, sharing the same laugh you did hearing her excitedly squeal in a fairly quiet room. She shrugged, not sure if she did or maybe she didn’t understand his question. To her credit the last time she flew, she probably didn’t even remember the experience all that well. You wondered how good her memory was and if she would remember going to New York at all. 

“I think you do. You’re such a good flyer, baby. Do you know where we’re going?”  You picked up her hands and tried to wipe them clean from the yogurt she had been eating. It seemed to have gotten just about everywhere but in her mouth. 

“Pop pops.” She murmured out to you now deciding that after her snack and all the questions she was tired and needed a cuddle. She was referring to your dad. That’s what you had landed on calling him. You wiped her hands and pulled her into your arms situating her on your chest. 

“Yeah, we’re going to see pop pop, mum mum, Laur, and Win Win too. Aren’t you so excited?” You asked her. Trent was listening to your conversation and ran his hand over her hair before kissing her head. 

“Ted, do you know what else we’re going to do?” Trent asked Teddy cupping her cheek and turning her head a little for her to look at him.

“Nos dada.” She sleepily cooed trying to wrangle away and get her face back to its place tucked into the nape of your neck. 

“Me and mummy are going to get married. Give mummy a big kiss like this…Mwah!” Trent messed about pulling your face into his, kissing your lips dramatically with the ‘mwah’ sound Teddy still loved. She giggled with a ‘dada’ grabbing for him and pushing her lips out for a kiss of her own from him. “Going to have a big party as well. You can wear your pretty dress like mummy too. Will you dance with daddy?” He asked her with a smiley pout seeing how tired she was. He was hoping that he could make her happy by asking her a silly question and bringing up the dress she had been really excited to wear. 

“Is dada even going to dance?” Your brow furrowed with a smirk mocking Trent’s usual indifference for dancing. He rolled his eyes at your smart remark. You giggled a little. Trent didn’t like to dance. He’d do it for you though. He’d hold you tight to him and whisper in your ear. Frankly, you liked the way he did dance. It was always a heated moment and typically turned fairly intimate following. Opposing that, you thought him dancing with Teddy would be the cutest thing in the world so you didn’t mean to tease too much. 

“Yeah, well I want to dance with my Ted. Maybe I don’t want to dance with you.” He quipped with a bit of bite and a devilish smirk. Teddy giggled, bringing herself more upright to grab his face with her tiny hands again.

“Aww that makes me sad. Please daddy.” You whined while you dramatically pouted at him. You had a short first dance planned but it was more of an intimate thing for the wedding day. The idea of your two favorite people sharing a dance as well was precious. He rolled his eyes and kissed you before returning his attention to your daughter. 

You still had a bit of time before you boarded so you plopped Teddy on the ground with a piece of paper and some crayons to color. You leaned back and got comfortable. Trent moved over to the seat directly next to you on a couch. The cushion sank as he shifted closer. He moved his hand and placed his fingers under your chin to turn you to face him. He kissed your lips but was quick to pull away to lean down to Teddy to ask her what she was coloring. You frowned at him though wishing he gave you a longer kiss. He flicked his eyes back up to you and flashed you a smug grin with a wink. 

“Baby bear, what are you drawing?” He asked Teddy, as she furiously scribbled with a blue crayon. Just a bunch of swirls and circley shapes.

“Doggies!” She told him very seriously focused on her paper. She stuck her tongue out into the corner of her mouth like Trent did when he concentrated. Trent hummed inspecting her work with a little laugh. A little while and a couple scribbles of dogs later, you needed to board. 

“Good girl! Look how nicely you did! Can you pack up your  crayons for me, Teddy girl?” You cooed getting your own things packed up. She very carefully put each crayon back in its original place. Trent stood above her patiently letting her do it as she liked.  A very clear sign that she was maybe inheriting some of your predisposed organization. Trent gave you a smug grin and cheeky laugh seeing your daughter’s resemblance to you shine through. 

“Can I give you a kiss, beautiful?” Trent asked, holding your hand on the tarmac before you boarded the plane. You giggled and squeezed his hand. 

“You don’t have to ask.” You turned towards him, moving your lips towards his.  He laughed and his smile almost made you stutter. It made even the gray cold summer weather in the summer in England feel like it was bright sun. 

“I gotta ask, don’t I? Consent is what good guys do, no? I want you to marry me in a couple days. I’m trying to not mess up.” He cooed with a smirk. You shook your head. 

“Can you just kiss me? Now I’ve been waiting too long.” You complained. He gave you a devastating grin. He pressed his lips to yours and you shut your eyes in bliss. You boarded the flight and settled in a seat with Teddy while Trent brought your carry ons aboard. You scrolled through your phone calendar before the plane took off. You flicked through your packed schedule for the next few days and then just jumped ahead for a little to check the exact date of when you needed to schedule your next nail appointment for ahead of your flight for your honeymoon and then the exact date that Trent was scheduled to leave for preseason. It was a little crazy that he’d be leaving for preseason as your husband, he’d be leaving you as his wife, it was just a little unfortunate that date was as soon as it was. 

“You know I heard there is going to be a very good looking boy at Liverpool’s preseason this year.” You cooed cheekily, picking up your gaze from your phone and to Trent finally taking his seat. 

“Oh yeah?” Trent sent a smirk your way and your heart faltered but you were trying to flirt a little. 

“I think his name is Trent Alexander-Arnold.” You giggled with a little smile as your lips turned at the corners looking back at him. “Heard he’s sexy, cute too.” 

“That’s me, baby.” He laughed with a wink. “Sorry to disappoint though but I’m engaged, getting married in a few days as well.” You pouted at him and whispered a curse. “I’m all hers, most beautiful fiance.” He reflected your pout back to you. You giggled at how childish this whole conversation was. “Now can my beautiful fiance let me give her a kiss now?” He laughed with you. He took your cheek in his palm. You nodded to him, fixing your gaze on his eyes.  He kissed you and it was perfection. You felt the world slow. Everytime his lips were on yours as dramatic as it sounds the world just melted away. He felt like heaven each and every time. 

“Do you know where we are? We’re where mummy used to live.” You cooed to a sleepy Teddy in the car from the airport to your apartment in Manhattan. She was fairly confused by your question. “When I was a little girl like you, Teddy bear. I didn’t even know daddy yet.” You giggled smushing a kiss to her cheek. 

“No dada?” She asked you with her big eyes narrowing at you. You told her no. You were referring to your childhood but she didn’t seem too interested if her dad wasn’t involved. “Why mama? Lub dada.” She gave you a disgruntled disapproving face. She didn’t like the idea of you without Trent.

“I know. I love daddy as well. I just hadn’t met him yet. Not until I was a big girl.” You cooed looking at her progressively more unhappy face in her car seat. 

“Dada best. Why mama?” She looked so angry at you. You couldn’t believe how similar her angry scowl looked like Trent’s. You were trying to bite back the smile. 

“I think he’s the best too. That’s why we had you, cute girl. Why are you mad at me right now?” You laughed, a little taken aback that she was so annoyed.  

“Ted, why are you mad at mummy?” Trent asked, trying not to laugh as well. He was smiling though. He brushed his thumb over her pout in an effort to wipe it off. It didn’t work. She stayed steadfast. 

“My dada best!” She yelped moving towards Trent in her seat away from your direction. Your eyes widened that she was taking this so personally. 

“Teddy, I couldn’t have known dada. We lived in different countries. What do you want me to do? I’ve known him longer than you have!” You teased squeezing her arm. She scowled at you, incredibly offended by your remark. 

“No! Know dada long.” She rebutted very quickly with some real vigor. 

“Yeah but not as long as mummy has.” You cooed initially with some humor in your tone. Tears began to well though in her puppy dog eyes.  “Okay, okay. Come here. You’re right, baby. You’ve known daddy the longest, yeah? You and I love him the most. Daddy’s the best.” You pouted at Teddy  helping her out of her car seat into your lap. 

“Daddy is the best and mummy should’ve met him earlier.” Trent quipped. Teddy let out a snarky ‘yeah.’ Trent laughed giving her a gentle kiss on her identical pout. He wiped a few of her tears that had fallen. 

“Okay… that’s not helpful. Thank you, T.” You gave him a glare. Him fueling her anger at you for the impossible, not meeting her soon wasn’t helping. When you finally arrived at your New York apartment, Teddy was fast asleep, her annoyance at you evaporated. Trent and you tried your best to be quiet and get her inside without waking her.

You had a few days before the first event to make sure everything was good to go and get a few beauty appointments sorted. One thing you really needed to get sorted was your raging desire to have sex again. You and Trent had foolishly decided you wouldn’t fuck until your wedding day once you arrived in New York. Something you were seriously regretting the past few days. You didn’t really pay much attention to just how often you had been having sex with him but not doing it… it had become very apparent just how frequently you did. It was the night before the welcome day, the day before your wedding, and you had reached a breaking point of horniness with Trent in bed. 

“I don’t want to sleep apart tomorrow.” You whined cuddling up to him under the covers.  

“How come baby?” Trent asked you quietly, pulling you into him more with a kiss to your temple.  

“Because I want your hands on me.” You muffled out digging your face into his neck. You pouted your lip pushing it against his warm skin. “T, pleassseee, just touch me.” You complained as you  moved his hands for him from your sides to cheekily beneath your tiny pajama shorts.  

“I’m not going to loose this.” He whispered teasingly, ghosting your lips with his. He moved closer to you his cold minty breath hitting you with a dervish handsome smile smirking back at you. 

“I miss you baby.” You whined again hoping you could convince him if you made him feel bad enough for keeping himself from you for the past few days.  

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve been thinking about you a lot but I don’t loose I’m sorry, pretty girl.” Trent cooed. This wasn’t even a game you decided this together but you knew Trent well enough that he wasn’t going to break the pact you made and he wasn’t going to let you otherwise you would have ‘failed’ or ‘lost’ and that’s just something he didn’t want to do.

“I don’t care, I’ll loose T…” you moaned but Trent just shook his head at you.  He wasn’t going to loose by you giving up. “What have you been thinking about?” You asked in an attempt to shift his mindset to all the things you’ve currently been thinking about and certainly missing. 

“Mmmm.” He hummed reminiscing. “Baby, just been thinking about tasting you, kissing your neck, eating you out, sliding inside you,  and I know you’ll say otherwise but playing with your ass.” He cheekily whispered in your ear. A shiver ran up your spine.  

“Please.” You whined in response shutting your eyes desperately wanting him to do anything with you right now. Yes, even that. Anything. “Come here, gimme a cuddle, baby. Alexander-Arnold’s don’t lose.” He cooed,kissing on your neck. 

“T.” You pouted “I hate this.” You continued to complain. Being an Alexander-Arnold didn’t sound like much fun at this very minute. You just wanted him to concede and fuck you. 

“I know you do, pretty girl. You just want me to play with that pretty pussy.” He kept his voice hush, dragging his fingers under the waistband of your shorts, gliding over your smooth skin. Close but still incredibly far from where you wanted them. 

“T, stopppp! Just get away from me then.” You huffed genuinely upset at your frantic state. You gave him a pouty face and tried to move away from him in the bed. 

“Nah, c’mere. Just  stay with me, you’ll be okay, baby.” He cooed gently pulling you into him somehow in a non sexual way but in a very loving comforting manner. He kissed the top of your head. “Soon. Promise. Trust me, you won’t have to even ask.” He whispered. You nuzzled into him, pressing your pouty lips to his neck. 

You had gotten ready in your apartment and gone for a lunch earlier in the day with all your family and friends to welcome them to Manhattan. It was the day before your wedding which seemed surreal that was the case. Your mum took Teddy for you and Trent after lunch. The two of you giggled drunk off champagne stumbling back into the hotel room you two had shared the first time you ever met. In a way you felt like it was your room. You knew it so well. You clung to Trent as he fumbled the key to open the door. You had bags dropped off for you both at the hotel earlier. What was driving you crazy was the you two wouldn’t spend the night together ahead of the wedding. Needless to say you were glued to each other. It was rare spending nights apart when you didn’t have to. Trent traveled so much that spending additional nights apart was awful and avoided at all costs. 

“T… are you still hungry?” You giggled probably more buzzed than you realized from lunch. Calling it a lunch was a little bit of a stretch though, you hadn’t gotten to eat all the much though because you were talking so much. 

“Hungry, thirsty, and very in love with you, baby.”  He cooed. He came up behind you and wrapped his arms over your chest across you. You craned your neck to the side and kissed his covered shoulder. 

“Room service it is then because I need to get ready soon but I’m not leaving your side.” You kissed him again and reached your arms behind your holding his body to his. 

“Usual?” He asked and you smiled, liking the fact that you had a usual and the fact that he knew it. You hummed. He ordered you two cheeseburgers, fries, and champagne. It was a dream. You sat on top of the bed you’d sadly sleep in alone tonight with your head resting on his shoulder eating and drinking, kissing and talking. Eventually you got off the bed to get dressed. Your mum had organized a dinner tonight at The Plaza. You gave tonight to your her to host. It was probably more formal than your actual wedding the following day but you’d give it to her, more her vibe then yours. It was her dream for you, to throw this sort of ornate event. That said, fancy or casual, you were about to turn put a look your mum would kill you for. You and Winnie had found a dress Moda Operandi had carried by Nensi Dojaka that was entirely see through and it was gorgeous. It was ‘white sequined’ as you described it to your mum which wasn’t a lie, you just had chosen to send her the off model photo of the dress keeping the transparency element a secret until she saw you tonight. You slipped into a sheer sequined gown in the ensuite. You pulled it on and even though you could do it yourself you slinked back into the room while Trent buttoned his shirt. 

“Do you mind zipping this for me?” You cheekily asked him excited to see his reaction to your very cheeky dress. 

“Oh my fucking … oh my god. Are you serious right now? Baby… holy fuck. Come here.” His jaw stayed stack as he took your hand and held it above your head for you to spin around for him. When your back was to him mid twirl he groaned seeing your ass through the material in just a Miu Miu pair of underwear maybe shorts you weren’t sure what you’d call them but they were intended to be seen. 

“Do you like?” You giggled turning back around to him draping your arms over his shoulders. His eyes scanned you and Trent shook his head in disbelief. You let go and thanked him for zipping your dress and skipped back to the bathroom to put the finishing touches on your makeup. 

“Erm… where do you think you’re going wearing that? Jesus, baby, you’re not leaving my side tonight.” He cooed following you into the room. His hands were quick to find their way to your covered ass. “I hate being the one that just zipped this thing up. I really should be taking this off you. Honestly, that’s all I’m going to be thinking about tonight. You rolled your eyes with a blushing smile looking back at him through the mirror. “I know you’ve probably had your outfit picked out for ages so don’t feel inclined to switch anything up for me but I did get you a little something…” He spoke quietly in your ear resting his chin on your shoulder. 

“A little something like what, T?” You giggled fairly sure it would be something from Bergdorf Goodman. He snuck away from you and grabbed the all too familiar purple bag. You smiled a little bigger coming to see him with it. 

“I know you wanted this for a little and couldn’t find it but I’ll find anything for you, baby. I’ll do anything to make you happy, I’ll get you anything you want.” He cooed, handing you the bag. You took it from his hesitantly, not totally sure what it would be. You unboxed a Louis Vuitton bag you’d been hunting for for ages. It was a trunk style clutch in all white. 

“T… thank you, baby. I’ll wear it tonight no question. I love it and I love you more.” You cooed placing the bag on the bed carefully before giving him a sweet kiss. As you gathered your stuff to head down to the party you looked at Trent inspecting himself in the mirror. “T… why did you talk to me on the corner, you know when we met?” You cooed curious for an answer, sort of shocked you’d never asked him outright before. 

“What?” He looked at you through the full length mirror but turned around to look at you properly. “I mean, baby, looks aside.” He gestured to your figure currently as you clasped your heels on. “I liked how nervous you were about your confidence.” He smiled at you.  

“You liked that I was insecure?” You asked him in response with a furrowed brow. It seemed like an odd answer. It definitely wasn’t the one you probably were expecting. 

“No, no.” He let out a breathy laugh. “I hated it, actually because it made no sense. I needed you to know how beautiful you were, you are, how smart you are. It was like you betrayed yourself by talking to me. You should be that confident but every time you said something you looked like you were shocked it came out of your mouth.” He kept his sweet smile as he walked towards you. He cupped your cheek and ran his thumb along your jawline. “I wanted to just make sure you knew how beautiful you are, inside, outside, and even if you didn’t want to date me, see me again, which I wasn’t keen on, you deserved to know that. You had me hooked from the jump, baby.” He cooed. 

“I know you think I am.” You replied with a pouty smile thinking his reasoning was really tender.  

“We’re getting there right? How beautiful, you think you are?” He cooed gently knowing this conversation was entering dicey territory. Your opinion of yourself, your own beauty was something you were working on. You nodded shyly. ”Good baby.” he winked at you and kissed your lips. You felt butterflies fill your stomach. It hadn’t really sunk in yet that this man who took such good care of you, who really truly and deeply cared about your well being above everything else was going to be yours for the rest of your life.

You went to the party and were met with an eye roll from your mum, a squeal of excitement from Lauren, kisses from Teddy, and a few jokes from Marcel. It was a very fun night. It was the perfect way to kick things off. Your anxiety though was growing as the hours of the night ticked by and faded into the morning ones of your big day. You had a tearful goodnight and goodbye to Trent holding your baby girl. You were trying not to cry but both of you crying in front of Trent probably wouldn’t have been a nice thing for him to deal with, not tonight. You managed and made your way back to the hotel room upstairs you two had shared for years. Instead of her crib you had Teddy cozied up to you cuddling in the big bed just wanted the comfort of her. 

“Mama, need dada.” Teddy cooed sleepily nuzzling her face into your cleavage not being able to fall asleep without him. You had said goodnight but not in the usual fashion. Typically Trent would call if he was away. That always made her more calm and settled.  

“Why baby?  Mummy’s got you.” You told her quietly trying to reassure her everything was okay.

“Lub mama.” Teddy humphed out but continued squirming against you unhappily.   

“Yeah, I know.” You cooed gently. “Why do you need daddy right now though?” You asked her brushing your hand over her head dragging her curls back. 

“Dada tect mama and teddy.” She whimpered out. You pouted at her. It was so cute. 

“Yeah, he does, he takes good care of us, right?”  You looked at her adorably similar face to his, his eyes essentially reflecting back at you. It was a comfort you didn’t know you needed. 

“Yeah huh, mama need.” She babbled back, cuddling into you more wrapping her arms around your neck. 

“Okay, baby.” You hummed kissing the top of her head. You didn’t want to call and break the rules you had agreed upon. You had said goodnight and that was supposed to be it before you saw each other for the actual ceremony but you weren’t going to deprive Teddy of him. “We’ll text daddy. Okay? Send him a picture of us. Can you say cheese for me?” You smiled at her reaching for your phone. You took a selfie of you two tucked in bed and sent it to Trent with a message.   

‘Little teddy bear misses her daddy. Says he protects her and mama. Can we have our bedtime kiss please.’

Trent was quick to respond, thankfully as you were both definitely getting tired and you, very very nervous. He sent it along with a voice note with a ‘mwah!’ And a photo of him and Teddy’s stuffed bear in bed. 

‘Love my baby bear and mummy so much. My beautiful girls. Sending you the biggest hugs and kisses. Get a good sleep for me.’  

“Dada where?” Teddy cooed as you left the party tonight. She was very confused why you had to say bye and split up.   “I’m gonna go have a sleepover with Celly and Ty. You, mama, and Win are gonna have one, okay?” He told her with a soft smile not trying to get into the logistics of pre wedding ceremony archaic traditions you weren’t sure you even knew why you were doing.  “Why?” Teddy looked back at Trent devastated. Her big eyes filling quickly with tears. You told it was okay coddling her. “Take dada. No ‘lone.” She cooed with a terribly cute pout trying to hand Trent her stuffed bear.  “Aw thank you, baby. Okay, so I’llI get your beary and you get mama, that’s a fair trade off.” Trent cooed taking the floppy stuffed bear. He kissed Teddy’s forehead with a ‘thank you.’

“Look who’s already asleep with dada, Ted.” You cooed while showing her the phone after you read her the message.. Trent had tucked her little bear in the bed with him and folded the comforter over resting its head on the pillow beside him.   

“Mama sleep?” Teddy asked quietly and tiredly seeing your eyes still open staring out the window looking out into the warm glow of the Manhattan night.  

“Sorry, baby. I’m okay. Just thinking.” You smiled at her and gave her a kiss. Her brow furrowed, confused. Not sure what you meant so you figured if you were both awake you might as well explain. Truthfully, emotions were trashing around in your body. “You know how when you're sad, dada makes it all better. Makes you happy?” You asked her setting up her reasoning and understanding. She nodded “Well dada does that for me too. Dada makes mummy not sad anymore.” Saying it out loud made you so sentimental. You started crying trying to fight back the lump forming in your throat. Trent would wipe Teddy’s tears if she was scared of a thunderstorm or if she scraped her knee but what he’d done for you was on another scale. He really pulled you out of a really bad place. It definitely was still lingering but the light he had brought into your life was like nothing you could’ve imagined. 

“Mama, no sad. Need dada?” Teddy asked you worried you were crying.  She tried to wipe tears and it made your heart break. So much had happened it was so amazing you’d finally all be connected under one surname. You’d be husband and wife with your little girl. It seemed mundane but it made such a difference to you. It was such a massive deal to you. 

“I’ve got you, Teddy bear. You make mama so happy, yeah?” You cooed with a sad smile kissing her sleepy pout. You pulled her tight to you and breathed her in. Your heart stilled in appreciation for what you and Trent had created. Trent and Teddy were your entire life. They meant everything to you. They really did make you happy and you couldn’t ask for anything more. 

“Come with me Mrs. Alexander Arnold!! We’ve got shit to do!” Winnie quietly squealed waking you up. Your mum in the other room shook her head at Winnie’s mouth.

“Can you cuddle with Win Win?” You cooed stroking your hand over a very sleepy Teddy’s head. She cuddled closer to you but you had to peel her off. You had to wake up extra early to begin the lengthy process of getting ready for arguably the biggest day of your life. You had a lymphatic drainage appointment first, followed by your nails, then your hair, and makeup, 

“C’mere, Teddy girl, you and I are gonna go snooze a little longer, yeah?” Winnie’s cooed plopping herself on the bed and pulling Teddy over to her.

“Are you gonna look pretty like mama today?” One hairstylist asked Teddy as she did her hair. She giggled a yeah as she watched her carefully part her curls. Yourself, Winnie, Lauren, Teddy and your mum all were getting ready at The Plaza and taking a helicopter out to the location of your ceremony out east. 

“I have a delivery!” Lauren cooed running into the room with a gift bag and a big thing of flowers. 

“I wonder who it’s from!” Winnie teased sarcastically as if it could be from anyone else but Trent. You giggled, pausing getting your hair for a moment to see what he had sent along. You scooped Teddy off the ground and sat her on your lap. 

“Is it from dada? Let's see what he sent to me and you, Teddy girl.” You cooed with a big smile pressing your cheek to hers. You unwrapped two jewelry boxes with dainty gold bracelets, one for each of you, Teddy’s much smaller for her wrist, with two small diamond A letters on it. You pouted as your hairstylist helped you clasp the fine bracelet. “And what will we say to daddy?” You asked Teddy inspecting her tiny wrist new adorn with a matching bracelet. Your eyes started to fill with tears. The morning was starting to get to you. 

“Tanks dada, lub most.” Teddy looked at you with her big brown eyes and a pout seeing you look so emotional. She tilted her head confused. Your mum came over and wiped under your eye with her thumb. 

“No tears after makeup is finished.” Your mum spoke softly. You knew it was coming from a good place but of course it had to be about keeping your appearance up. “Isn’t that right, beautiful girl?” She cooed once more, shifting her focus to Teddy. 

You stood on a slight pedestal in the middle of a grand room high up in the plaza as two stylist helped zip your wedding dress up. 

“Y/N… it's perfect.” Winnie crocked out starting to cry. Her bottom lip quivered as she tried to reel back in her tears. Teddy sat on her lap in a little dress. You weren’t doing the traditional bridesmaids thing but both her and Lauren were in light pink looks. Winnie in an Alaia gown, Lauren in lace Alessandra Rich dress. You wanted it to be relaxed for everyone. High end and chic but casual materials for comfort. Not to mention it would create a moment for your dress to stand out that much more. Your dress was everything you wanted and more. You had originally found a dress in London but things changed quickly when you got word of the Oscar de La Renta column gown of your dreams was available. It was strapless not overtly white but had pearl embellishments in a scalloped pattern overlaying a sheer-ish silk fabric. It was classic but cheeky and you felt like it embodied you.  When you felt the stylist zip it up you felt an odd sense of relief wash over you and your anxiety leave you, feeling more confident in your appearance than ever in this dress.

“What do you think?” You spun around with a childish grin with your arms raised for all the girls in the room to see it, you all done up for your wedding day. You had kind of run with the whole beach wedding theme choosing the scalloped pattern and pearl gown so you opted for a pair of drop pearl earrings with a hint of gold and Jimmy Choo satin sandal heels.

“Mama pwincess!” Teddy squeal shuffling off Winnie’s lap and running to you. You leaned down to her and kissed her forehead. 

“Yeah? You think? What do you think dada will say?” You giggled really appreciating her compliment. That’s all you really wanted was for your daughter to think of you that way. 

“Dada say booful, mama!” She cooed happily swaying back and forth in front of you, anchoring herself to you by grabbing the dress. You thought your stylists were about to have an aneurysm watching her pull on the beading but you didn’t care. You had a photographer with you all day capturing your morning which was surreal so after an hour or so of pictures you made your way to the west side to get the helicopter out to Montauk. Nerves beginning to rise once again. Lauren of course organizing champagne to be on board. Another thing organized was a little girl she had sent to Trent from you for that morning. She had somehow convinced you to do a photoshoot in the lingerie you had purchased to wear on your wedding night with him. She had gotten a bunch of them printed out and placed in glassine envelopes to sneak into his day. One in the interior pocket of his jacket. Another to find tucked under the dinner plate he’d eventually sit at, and a bunch of other sneaky places she could think of. Your favorite were probably the ones where you weren’t even in the lingerie. They were spicy, still sweet but definitely sexy and just for your husband… and Lauren because she helped you narrow down your selections. (vibes 1, 2)

‘We begin our story in New York’ was the sign at the entrance to the ceremony. You squeezed Winnie’s hand trying to not cry. Your dad met you outside Gurney's resort where all the guests had already arrived. Your mum, Winnie, and Lauren took Teddy and made their way to their seats. It was small and intimate but everyone important in your lives were there. Trent waiting anxiously for your arrival. His palms began to get clammy once he saw Teddy get plopped down in his mum's lap knowing very well that meant you were close to come walking down the aisle to him, into your marriage, into the next phase of your life.

Falling for Trent had been unexpected. You felt like your life had been a labyrinth before you ran into him on 78th Street. It was endless turns and dead ends until you found him. This unbelievably handsome, talented, intelligent, loving, man who treated you the way you deserved to be treated. He treated you like an absolute angel. When you saw him outside your apartment building for your first date you could feel your heart calm, when he held you months later a in the tunnel at Anfield, when he told you he loved you, when you moved in together, when you got pregnant, during all of these unbelievably exciting things you got to enjoy then each with the calmest of hearts, so sure he would always take care of you. He made you feel so special, so important. Out of all the amazing, incredibly important people Trent knew from around the world, he always made sure that you knew you mattered too. That you were supposed to be anywhere so purposefully. He’d squeeze your hand and your body would calm once again.

“It will be the best day of your life. Have faith.” Your dad cooed in your ear like he always did, telling you to trust and 'have faith.' Your dad stood with you before the aisle. You could feel yourself shaking. He wrapped his arm around you still holding your hand with the other. “I love you, Y/N. I’m so proud of you. I’m so honored I get to be a part of your day with Trent. Unbelievably happy that you found someone that returns all the love and joy you bring into everyone else’s lives.” He spoke softly and you began to tear. He wiped under your eyes and kissed your temple. You had a floaty feeling lingering all day but one of true comfort engulfed you with his reassurance. You stepped out into the aisle and shut your eyes gently for a moment taking a deep breath. Trent looked at you with a confident gaze at first. There was a tinge of nerves behind his eyes but his perfect pout fell into a soft comforting smile. He licked his lips in the way that he always did. You remember being awestruck by the way he looked in person the first time you met him, the way his skin gleamed in the golden sunlight the same way it did right now.  It wasn’t surprising but it was more so just amazing how his looks had such an intoxicating effect on you, your wedding day was no exception.

'You needed more of him. He was intoxicating, he felt like you took a shot of liquor. You felt light headed, the world blurred around you, giggling to yourself at the feeling in your chest. What the hell was wrong with you. '

Walking down the aisle was a blur, literally and figuratively. Your eyes were filled with tears glazing over them but also the feeling walking down the floral pathway (vibes). You could smell the flowers and the salty air, you could feel the slight breeze coming off the water hitting your skin warmed by the beating sun’s rays, but you couldn’t really make anything else out but Trent at the end of it all, the bright devilishly handsome smile beaming back at you.Trent’s heart was thumping against his rib cage. Nostalgia rushing through him as he remembered the first time he saw you. You looked different today though in the best way possible. You looked older but in a mature more beautiful way. You looked less nervous but in a confident more beautiful way. You looked ethereal as your veil cascaded around you. The sunlight reflecting off the ocean water onto your skin through the cathedral length tulle around you. He definitely didn’t see it off the jump. He was focused on your stunning bronzy natural beachy made up face but the veil was embroidered with the date of your ceremony and a cheeky ‘Til’ Death Due Us Part - TAA.’ You were a vision, an angel on earth, and the love of his life. Your dress reflected and shined, it wasn’t anything like Trent was expecting. It was far better than anything he could’ve imagined.  He mouthed an ‘You look beautiful’ with his waterline filling with tears. You responded with a pouty ‘I love you.’ You said your vows and in a way it felt like you could sense a shift, like there was a change in you that felt more at ease. It wasn’t a valid or genuine worry Trent would leave you but you were insecure and in some way, the fact that you were stood with him in front of your family and friends declaring your love, committing your life to one another was such a relief to you. It was like you could feel the anxiety draining from your body. You kept things fairly simple at the ceremony. You were stood on the very edge of a grassy cliff at the resort overlooking the water. You had filled the area with summer floral arrangements, bunches of green hydrangeas, coral delphiniums, pink dahlias and yellow ranunculuses. You loved the contrast of your ornate dress with the relaxed environment. You had convinced Trent to wear a double breasted light tan linen suit from Brunello Cucinelli with a white button down. He looked delicious and just perfect. You held his hands across from you bitting the inside of your lip trying not to cry as you said your vows. You didn’t read any personal sentiments aloud because you knew neither of you would be able to get through them without balling. You had written them and planned to share them with each other on your own time but they were just for you two to share. You whispered back and forth something you had placed in both your vows, a rendered snippet from Beethoven's letter ‘Immortal Beloved’ and while it sounds pretentious it was just something you had once read aloud to Trent once on a plane. It stuck and you often said it to each other.

“Forever yours.” You quietly spoke just to Trent before the anticipated moment to seal your marriage with a kiss when prompted by the officiant. 

“Forever mine.” He responded the next line in a whisper. 

“Forever ours.” You whispered ghosting your lips over his leaning in a little closer. Trent moved in and you sunk into his pillow lips. It was paradise on earth. Nothing would ever be better than kissing… your husband. It was affectionate, sweet and sincere, long enough that your photographer had a chance to get the best photo and the officiant to step out of the way. You turned around to look at all your family and friends, plenty of tears being shed in their seats. Teddy was sitting more quietly than you could’ve hoped on Dianne’s lap in the front row of seats clapping along with everyone else.

“C’mere, baby bear.” Trent cooed, picking up Teddy in his arms. He grabbed for your hand again, kissing your lips once more. “Happy for mummy and daddy?” He asked Teddy quietly in her ear. She nodded then reached out for your attention. You cupped her cheek and rubbed your nose against hers. 

“You, me, and daddy forever, okay?” You whispered to her before kissing her lips. She giggled in Trent’s arms as you processed down the aisle as The Alexander - Arnold’s. You spent a good amount of time, maybe an hour or so taking photos just the three of you before your reception. Tears welled up in your eyes as you poorly tried to blink them away seeing photos being taken of just Trent and Teddy. They were your whole world but they were also so strikingly beautiful. Your bottom lip rolled into a pout looking on. You didn’t have to say anything Trent could read you like a book. You watched him whisper something to Teddy. He placed her on the grass and she ran to you with giggles.

“Mama! Mama!” She squealed. You bent down the best you could to her level, slightly restricted in your dress. “Piture with dada and Teddy.” She grabbed at your hand and pulled you. “Dada say pretty like mama.” She stopped the tug of your arm to twirl a little in front of you showing you her own dress she was absolutely loving being in. 

“Yeah, my most beautiful girl. Mummy and Daddy’s pretty girl.” You pulled her back into you to kiss her lips and then let her run back to Trent as you followed in her wake. You had put Teddy in a fun Gucci dress. It was summer in Montauk, you didn’t want her to be uncomfortable or give her any space to be upset or complain so you had found a really fun marine motif printed smock pleated dress in creams, blues, and pinks. She really liked twirling about in it and asking everyone she could if they had seen the ‘fwish’ on it which was adorable of course. Her hair brushed tight and slicked into a bun with a few ringlets escaping. 

Your guests found their way and funneled over to the back garden overlooking the sea at your parent’s estate. You had one long table scape for all your guests for the dinner portion that lined and ran directly along the edge of the property next to the water’s edge. It had the same wildflower arrangements like those from the ceremony on the table’s runner. It was earthy and calm, natural and relaxed but of course you needed to change looks for the reception. You weren’t going to wear just one dress on your big day. You switched into a Tom Ford crochet knit dress. It was more laid back. Although it definitely didn’t feel all that relaxed to Trent.

“You need to stop looking so good or I’m going to have to make you leave our own wedding.” Tried cheekily cooed wrapping his arms low around your waist pulling your body flush against his. “You’ve been teasing me all day. Those sneaky pictures were unfair, baby. Can’t see my wife looking like that and expect me to behave.” He whispered closer to your ear.

“T… I am counting down the minutes until you take me out of the dress.” You giggled whispering back to him. “You didn’t like the photos? I thought my husband would want to see me like that only for him.” You sarcastically joked quietly to him. He hummed with some distain kissing your temple. You were in fact dreaming of Trent peeling your dress off, you wanted to rile him up with all the seductive photos you had left for him.  You were desperate to get back into bed with him but for now you had your wedding to celebrate. You sat in a chair next to Trent with Teddy on your knee as Winnie got up to speak. You’d be lying if you weren’t a little nervous for what she was going to say. She introduced herself and began, your heart racing.

“Erm… growing up with Y/N was a mixed bag. She was and is my best friend but constantly being compared to the most perfect person on earth gets old quick but I imagine Marce and Ty can relate and know that feeling quite well with T. It’s one of the many many reasons there are no two people more suited. Never have two more perfect people been paired together. The envy you evoke from the entire world is completely merited and we all hate.. I mean love you for it. 

"To the Alexander- Arnold boys, you are getting the best sister in the world. Somethings I know you’ve gotten a chance to come to know like you will always have the most fun and a good laugh, you will never have a bad cocktail I promise, you will always get great advise, although I’ve heard Tyler gives Y/N a run for her money in that department, and the best closet in the world to ‘borrow’ from but maybe that last bit doesn’t really apply to either of you, nevertheless she is the best sister in the world. You are inheriting one of the biggest blessings and joys of my life being related to Y/N…” Winnie continued rambling on for a little while before beginning to tell a story she wanted to share. “If you know Y/N, and I’m assuming you all do, she’s the bride.” She joked and you shook your head. “ Y/N is fairly synonymous with her best friend Lauren. They traveled a lot together and I’m not sure they every really knew where they were, I could frankly never keep up but what I did begin to notice was that a few years ago when Y/N was in England, I saw that Lauren was in Spain, when Lauren was in Amsterdam,  Y/N was in England, and then oddly enough when Lauren was in Paris… Y/N was still in England. To pull them apart, it had to be something good and to be fair, I think it was.” She looked at you with a cheeky grin as you hid behind your hands embarrassed. “I just wish you had told me what was keeping you in England earlier. So in retaliation for keeping your relationship so secretive in the beginning I’m going to embarrass you but it’s my job and you should’ve known this would come up at some point, sorry.” She giggled, raising her glass to you. You shook your head with a shy grin waiting apprehensively for her to say whatever it was going to be for her to embarrass you. “I remember my jaw just about dropping through the floor into the apartment below mine when Y/N finally admitted she was seeing someone and that was why she was still in England. I figured as much but it’d be fair to say it definitely wasn’t what I was expecting. I once received a text from Y/N when she and my dad had gone to Liverpool for a match a few years prior. She sent me a cheeky picture of the man next to her right now… Yes, I have it here.” Winnie spoke and held up her phone. “Thank you, Apple for saving this as well as unearthing a lot of my embarrassing drunk texts sent in the process but I will read Y/N’s text aloud for you all. ‘I am obsessed with this boy's face.’ She sent me his instagram beneath the text to which I responded ‘wow, are you with him?’” Winnie gestured to you. “Y/N was quick to reply ‘Are you..’  Please close Teddy girl’s ears, your mum curses in the next sentence. ‘Are you fucking insane? Did you look at his instagram he plays for the club. No I’m not with him! I’d have nothing to say!!!’ Well I think you were wrong because evidently you have had plenty to say. She then sent me a photo of Trent on the pitch, just doing his job, unaware his eventual wife was in the stadium. I will skip a more crude text she had also sent.” Winnie laughed and you mouthed an ‘oh my god’ tucking your face in Trent’s neck.

“T, if you want to read, I will show you. Mum, dad, Alexander-Arnold family, I will spare you from it but moving on… I, the smart girl that I am said ‘wow, maybe you’ll get married, get dad season tickets.’ Joking of course, but coming away with the relationship you and Trent have built and the love you share is much more lucrative and valuable than any match ticket, although I know dad has been thrilled with your choice of person to fall for. To be honest, as a younger sister it was hard for me to wrap my head around Y/N moving to a new country selfishly. I had eventually met Trent a little further into the relationship and he was everything and more. T, truly you are one of my favorite people in the world, we always have a good time, you’re a terrible loser, but the best man for Y/N and an amazing father as well.I really couldn’t build a more ideal man for Y/N and I know she agrees with me. Something I know about Y/N is that she isn’t one for the spotlight but it seems to find her, I mean.. have you seen her? Regardless, I was hesitant about the whole relationship. I was scared of the lifestyle, I was scared that she’d be overlooked and under-appreciated I won't lie but there was a turning point for me that I just wanted to share quickly. Trent was visiting our house here and I heard them in the kitchen late one night. As the younger sibling I had a responsibility to eavesdrop so I listened to Trent call her an angel and I felt like he, someone, finally really understood just how amazing she is. Trent, thank you for taking care of my sister and of course my cutie niece. She is an angel and all I ask in this marriage is that you never forget or never take for granted what an angel she is.” You weren’t able to hold in your tears back anymore. Hearing Winnie begin to sniffle between her words tipped you over the edge. You kissed Teddy’s head trying not to just entirely burst into a fit. Winnie carried on a little longer with a few more jokes and well wishes. You had cut a simple sheet cake that just had the same ‘Till Death Do Us Part’ again written atop it. Your mum hated it and you adored it. The night carried on and you had the best time of your life and you were adamant about staying in the moment but you were simultaneously eager for the night to be over so you could go home with Trent, it had been far too long. You enjoyed the night partying with family and friends, Winnie was glued to Jadon, Lauren to Jude and while you were dying to hear about it all you’d have to settle to ask about them another day. As the night dwindled down you had one thing in your mind and one thing only. Your mum had taken Teddy and you were left with Trent giggling your way through the door of your room. 

“Where are you going, beautiful.” Trent asked as you let go of him and scampered off into the bathroom. You giggled and shut the door into the ensuite. He wasn’t sure what you were doing but you knew that’d he’d like what you were doing. You slinked off your crochet dress and slipped into white lingerie that would make any man drool, right now, you’d hope it’d have that effect on your man. 

“For my husband.” You cooed opening the door standing in its frame illuminated by the warm bathroom light. Trent’s jaw slacked just the way you had wanted it to. 

“I am the luckiest man in the whole world. Holy fuck. C’mere baby.” He grinned at you. He stood up off the edge of the bed, taking both of your hands before he pulled you towards him. He sat you on the bed and leaned you backwards crawling over you. Things moved simultaneously slow and fast all at once. Before you knew it he had worked kisses down from your neck to in between your legs. 

“T, oh my god baby I missed you so much.” You breathed unsteadily as he kissed the inside of your thighs before he dove nose deep into your pussy eating you out like a starved animal after your days of no sex. He was eating you out messily and you were in heaven.  

“Fuck, baby. I needed this. I needed you.” He muffled out, his hot breath hitting against your wet folds covered with your juices and his spit. He played mercilessly with your pulsating clit. He was slurping you clean. Your legs were spread open for him as you gripped his hair pulling him further into you, shoving his face closer against you. The noise of it all was impossibly lewd. His plump lips latching on to your arousal. He had the cheekiest smile as he worked away, keeping his eyes flicked up to watch your face scrunch in pleasure. He dragged his tongue from your clit through your folds before he dove into your entrance, keeping his nose rubbing up and down against the sensitive nub. “Taste so fucking good, baby.” 

“Please, T! Right there, oh my god.” You whined, your thighs beginning to shake. The sound of your cries making Trent grow painfully hard. He groaned into your pussy and the vibrations made you throb even more. His lips were drenched with your westness, it ran down his chin and he was loving every second of it, and to no surprise, obviously you were too. He pulled away momentarily and spit directly on your pussy, you were so sensitive even the feeling of it running down you had you whining more. You could feel your back arch involuntarily off the bed. His tongue continued to swiftly maneuver against your opening. You were so wet Trent probably could probably drown between your legs. Swiftly you felt your first orgasm of the night crash over you. He hummed kissing your sensitive clit once more pulling away with a smug grin loving the fucked out expression on your face you couldn’t wipe if you tried. He worked kisses back up your body and each one lit your skin on fire. He dragged his two fingers through your folds before brining them up for you. 

“Open f’me, baby.” Trent whispered still working his kisses up you now at your neck as he brought his fingers covered in your juices and slipped them in between your lips. You moaned, swirling your tongue around his fingers sucking them like you would his cock. “Such a good girl.” He cooed removing them before he sloppily kissed you in between desperate breaths. He climbed over you once more and removed the last bit of your lingerie. “I really loved this, baby but I need to see more of you, this fucking body.” He cooed, beginning to pump his hardening cock in his hand dragging it through your wet folds.  

“T, I need you inside me. Please. I want you to fuck me. I want to take all of you. Make me take you.” You begged him desperate to feel his size stretch you out again.

“I got you, baby.” He whispered, guiding his length inside of you beginning slow languid strokes. You rolled your hips up into him. He groaned feeling your hands drop from around his neck to drag your nails down his back.  He looked down at you with his big mahogany eyes filled with love and laced with lust. You both moaned simultaneously as the sounds of your wet pussy squelched with every thrust stretching you out, hitting deeper and deeper. Trent bit his plump lip watching you take him. You wrapped your legs around his waist tightly pulling his body down into yours. Your foot dragged down his back. He kissed you and then pulled away with a devastatingly gorgeous smile. “You’re so perfect. So fucking beautiful.” He cooed. Trent really believed that he’d never laid eyes on anyone more beautiful than you. “God, just want to marry you all over again, want to get you pregnant again, make more babies that have the most beautiful mummy in the world.” 

“T. I want that. You’re so fucking amazing. I want everything with you. I want you. I want more of you, baby. I love you so much.” You babled frantically losing your breath as he pushed your knees higher up towards your chest. His eyes flicked down at your tits as they bounced from the force of his thrusts. You moaned feeling him find that spot, the spot, the one only he knew. He dropped his head into your boobs, stuffing his face between them. Your breath hitched when you felt him drag his tongue over your nipples before latching his lips to one and then the other after. Your bodies were made for one another and you could feel that sync in pleasure. Trent propped himself up above you to watch his length glide in and out, a white ring forming around the base of his cock. It’d been hours of you sprawled for him. 

“I love you so much. You’re made for me. Perfect for me. I missed this so much. Fuck you feel so good.”  Trent grunted, continuing his pace, lifting your one leg over his shoulder to pound into you deeper. His thrusts growing slightly sloppier. 

“Fuck me, baby. Don’t stop. Please.” You whined. Nothing could ever compare to this. Your chest heaving in and out beneath him. You looked up at him and it felt like with every thrust the more and more you fell in love with him, and the closer and closer you were getting to another orgasm. 

“I promise you, beautiful I will never stop fucking you for the rest of my life.” He cooed. His eyes had a glimmer in them that made your heart flutter. You were so in love with him. He was just so pretty and right now, very sexy. The way his perfect pout was slightly agape, the way his brow creased from the pleasure from fucking you was gorgeous. Only you could make him feel like this, only your pussy. Your body was made for his pleasure. Your jaw slacked when he picked up your other leg and had both held up against his shoulders. His cock pushed so deep you could see it bulge in your stomach. He leaned forwards and kissed you. “I want to get you pregnant again, baby. Fill you up so good.”  He bit your lip and pulled it. 

“T, please. I need you. Cum inside me. I want I do bad. Get me pregnant again.” You begged getting wetter by the second remembering the feeling what his release inside you felt like. Trent continued to rock into your sopping wet pussy. He was so rough and yet so gentle at the same time. He brushed a piece of your hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear. 

“Going to give you everything you ever want, baby.” He smiled at you, his dimples indenting in his cheeks. You reached up and cupped his face. Your eyes shut in pleasure. “Look at me, beautiful. Right here, yeah?” He asked as he continuously hit the spot he knew you loved and he could see it on your face. You opened your eyes just enough to see his smug grin. “That’s it right? This spot. You love this, baby.”  The pleasure was insatiable, it was so good. 

“Yeah, T. Yeah, please. You feel so good. Right there.” You whimpered out nodding desperately pulling him down for another kiss. He kissed you back passionately but you pulled away slightly. “T, baby. I’m going to cum. Feels so fucking good.” You whined as tears began to fill your eyes. “I love you so much.” You pouted up at him. 

“I know, pretty girl. Doing so good f’me.” He cooed gently, taking your hand off his face and lacing it with his and pinning it above your head. Your pussy tightened around his cock and you began to kiss his neck, nibbling and biting on his most sensitive areas. You bit down towards his collarbone when he thrusted particularly harshly into you. Your back arched up more pushing your body further into his. Every movement you made had Trent doing everything in his power to not cum. He couldn’t wait to fill you up but this felt too good to stop.  

“T… I’m cumming. I can’t. Oh my god, fuck!” You cried out. He collapsed further into you, his thrusts becoming more and more sloppy. You were moving in complete harmony and he couldn’t hold out any longer. 

“I gotta cum baby, gonna fill you up. Get you pregnant. Fuck you feel good.” His brow furrowed as he dropped his hands to your hips with a harsh grip as he thrusted into you again and again with more precision. “Make a mess, baby. Go ahead, beautiful. Cum f’me.” He grunted and you moaned as waves and waves of white hot pleasure coursed through you. He began to slow his pace. You wrapped your hands around his strong biceps, your nails leaving crescent marks in his skin as you pulled him into you more. You whined feeling yourself drip down the inside of your thighs. A puddle beneath you. You were following instructions, you were definitely making a mess on his cock. He held your hips tighter and he groaned as he pumped his hot white cum inside of you. It continued to ooze out with his slow thrusts. 

“You’re perfect.” You panted out half way delirious not even sure where you were but very sure whose you were. His. His forever. 

“This is the best day of my life.” He rolled over to your side and pulled you into him drowsily. His chest rose and fell as you moved tighter to him unable to keep away. Velvety ropes of him spilled out of your pussy. You wrapped your arms around his neck. “Good girl.” He whispered, kissing your forehead. 

“I… I love you so much T, baby.” You stuttered out barely able to form words. He hushed you pulling you into his slick warm skin. He peppered kisses all over you letting your body calm in his arms. 

“I love you so much, Mrs. Alexander Arnold.” He hummed with a smile seeing your pouty face, fucked out of your mind. You could barely keep your eyes open from the orgasmic haze you were currently in. He nuzzled his face into your hair and breathed you in. Waves and waves of comfort rushed through him from your scent alone. “My angel baby. You’re so beautiful. God, the most beautiful mummy, the most beautiful wife.” He cooed as his one hand gingerly and playfully toyed with the new stack of wedding ringers on your finger. 

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 25 xx

[toxic-libra]

moth to a flame pt.2 - csb (m)

pairing: soobin x fem!reader word count: 6.6k genre: friends with benefits-ish (he helps her with dating tips and stuff), angst if u squint really hard, smut, fluffy, inspired a bit by moth to a flame - the weeknd warnings: 3rd person pov (as always), mentions of reader in love with another guy (haechan <3), slight fwb dynamic, mature content (big dick!bin ofc, oral sex, brief fingering, mirror sex hihihi, protected sex bc yeah important) tagging: @once27, @pageriviera, @gyuzlover, @kookley77-blog, @sendhelpiloveyeonjun, @bunnyspeach, @pagesoobinie, @acidsoju, @cheekycountesschoi, @pinkbabi

[a/n]: part one here, for those who want to read.

Feeling his stomach swirl as he entered Y/N’s apartment wasn’t common, but so wasn’t having a heart-to-heart with Beomgyu minutes before going to a party… And both happened.

Soobin cursed his gullible mind and male weakness. All those weird thoughts and flutterings had nothing to do with real emotions, they were just his head clouded after crossing the line between friends and something else, plus a good blowjob – Beomgyu’s words, minus the ‘good blowjob’, for Soobin preferred to be ran over and buried alive than telling his best friend about his sex life.

Yeonjun was laying on the couch, reading something on his phone. “Y/N’s in her room.”

“Alright.”

The muffled music made him hesitate in knocking. She was listening to some old EDM tracks, something she did whenever getting ready to go out. After the third knock, the noise stopped and he heard the low ‘Come in’.

Opening the door, he put his head inside. “How long until you’re ready?”

Turning around, she smiled. “Oh, hi Bin! And, uh… Five minutes at max.” She pointed to her jewellery box. “Just deciding on accessories. Why?”

“We’re all waiting for you.”

“Mimi too?”

“Yeah.”

“Good Heaven’s, I’m late then.” She chuckled. “Just give me a second.”

He stared at her dressing table, noticing an open bottle of soju. “Drinking already?”

“I’m quite nervous, so...”

“Just try to relax, everything’s gonna be fine.”

If by ‘going to be fine’ Soobin meant ‘dancing instead of trying to flirt with Donghyuck’, then yes, everything was fine. Because from the moment she arrived, until then, Y/N had barely talked to Hyuck, resorting to her own cowardness and seeking refuge at the safety of the dance floor.

It was too soon.

She wasn’t ready for it yet.

She’d probably never be ready for it.

Walking towards the bar, she asked for a shot of vodka. It was her third, and maybe by the fifth she’d be a bit more confident. However, while waiting, a pair of pretty hands rested on the counter by her side, the slender fingers and pale skin catching her attention.

“Choi Soobin.” She forced a grin.

“What are you doing back there? I thought we were supposed to put our plan into action!”

“I kinda… Chickened-out last minute.”

“I already told Hyuck a thousand times how pretty you look today, and how plump your ass looks in this dress, but if you’re not around, there’s no way he can see it!” Soobin rolled his eyes.

Y/N’s breath caught, cheeks warming. “You said that?”

“Of course I did! Wasn’t this the main…”

“You think I look pretty today?” She cut him off, wanting to sound cheeky, teasing even, but it came out shaky, laced by that unwanted shyness and self-doubt.

He frowned. “Of course I do.”

“Oh.”

“What?”

“Isn’t it for the plot, then?”

Soobin moved before his mind calculated the pros and cons of doing such. Hand on her chin, he tipped her face up, thumb trailing her lower lip. “Not everything I do is aiming at our plan, Y/N. You look pretty every day. You are pretty.” He stated as if telling her the sky was blue.

They stared at each other, atmosphere changing and charging with confused, risky thoughts. The way his palm smoothly flattened on her cheek, his finger still on her lip, eyes tender but darkened, and the absolute warmth that came with Choi Soobin himself… Y/N wanted to dive in so bad.

He was her safety-pin.

But before she could act on any emotion, someone tapped her arm, breaking their connection.

“Your shot, miss.” The bartender didn’t look guilty for interrupting.

“Oh, thank you.” Y/N cleared her throat, putting some distance between her and Soobin. Taking a deep breathe, she downed it and turned to him again, holding his hand and intertwining their fingers. “Ok, I’m good now. Let’s go. I’ll try to talk to him a bit.”

Soobin hummed, swallowing an annoyed sigh at the impulse to tug her closer.

First, they stopped by the dance floor so Y/N could tell her friends she’d rest for a while. Walking there wasn’t easy, for the crowd kept blocking their path. Twice, Soobin got elbowed for trying to protect Y/N against the dancers, who moved carelessly to the rhythm – each time, the feeling of her body pressed against his was enough to make the pain of being hit worth it.

Their table was pretty close to the side they got out, but Y/N felt the pang of insecurity again and dragged Soobin to the bathroom area, saying she needed a minute.

Knowing better than pressuring her, he stood at the hall, calmly waiting.

Once alone, she took a deep breath and went for the sink, where the mirror was.

“Get a grip of yourself.” Y/N murmured to her reflection. “Focus on your goal. You got this. Go there, bat your lashes, crack some jokes, smile prettily and go home.”

With Soobin.

She scowled, telling her mind to shut the fuck up.

However, it made sense. If she left with Soobin, they could sleep together and she’d be ready to finally pursue Donghyuck. It was exactly the reason she sought his help, wasn’t it?!

All her resolve crumbled when the first thing she saw after opening the door was a girl all over Soobin. As if on cue, his eyes found hers and he frowned in annoyance, silently pleading to be rescued. Y/N’s mouth twitched in some unexpected anger and possessiveness, jealousy slowly boiling up her blood. The nerve of some girls!

“I’m back, baby.” She smiled wickedly. “Did I take too long?”

“Not at all, love. Let’s go?” Barely looking at the girl, Soobin offered a bowl. And not missing a beat, he took Y/N’s hand.

“She looked like she was bothering you.” Although she didn’t need to explain, she did it anyway.

“She was.” He nodded, fingers intertwining hers. “Are you ready?”

“You want the honest answer or the expected one?”

“Hyuck’s a good lad, you two already talk, so no need to fret.”

“We talk, yeah, but we don’t flirt… I don’t know how to flirt!”

“He’s gonna do all the work, trust me. You stay there just being pretty, looking at him with your starry eyes and perfect mouth and he’ll be sold.”

Soobin thought she was pretty!

Though her eyes starry and mouth perfect!

God, why was her heart racing?! Why did she feel so proud of herself?!

Taking a deep breath, Y/N tried to push those sensations away. “Ok. Let’s do this.”

“You make it sound like a penitence.”

“Being insecure sucks.”

“Just try to relax, I’ll be by your side.” He squeezed her hand tenderly.

“Give me a second, then. Just a second.” She stalled, still quite far from their table.

“You’re overthinking again.” Soobin murmured. “You don’t have to jump his bones, love, but just... Try to interact a bit more, touch his arm while you talk, brightly smile at him and stuff.”

“I can’t.”

“Why’s that? You do it with me, with Yeonjun…”

“It’s different.”

“Because Yeonjun is your kindred spirit and I’m a mere best friend?” He jested, though his face was slightly serious. She rolled her eyes, recognising the banter.

“No!” Y/N groaned. “I mean, in Yeonjunnie’s case, yes. But in yours… It’s different too. A good different.” She quickly added.

“Such as…?”

The same words she uttered to Yeonjun not a day ago floated on her mind. Saying them to Soobin was a risky move – he shouldn’t be her focus here. However, Y/N hated when he acted like Yeonjun was more important to her.

“With you, things are easy. I don’t feel anxious, nor insecure. On the contrary.” She stared at the floor, quite embarrassed of herself. “I feel… Seen. Cared for. Special. It makes sense.”

Soobin blinked, surprised by her words. He never expected that whatever they were doing would affect her this way – she seemed so sure it would help her with Donghyuck and not change anything between them. He knew he’d prefer an easy, calm love over any turbulent feeling, but…

Oh, fuck.

He shut the thought before it fully took form.

“Well, love…” He cleared his throat. “It’s easy because you don’t have a crush on me.” It wasn’t a 100% true, for there were people that fell in love quietly (his parents, for example), but it didn’t apply to their reality. “So, naturally, since you do like Hyuck, you feel more pressured.”

Their eyes met, and her gaze didn’t hold the same assurance it did when she first asked him for help. No, it held a foreign emotion he had yet to see on her – it looked like a mix of confusion and agony… Like she was trying to decipher what she was really feeling.

Like she was second-guessing her crush on Donghyuck.

“How can I help you get more confident to face him now?”

Y/N knew it wasn’t ideal, but he’d proved her once that it didn’t mind how inexperienced she was. She just needed… Reassurance.

“Would you give me a kiss?”

He hesitated. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s cringe, but whenever we kiss, I get that adrenaline rush as if I’m actually a femme fatale or something like that… I don’t know. It stuck in my head ever since you refused my blowjob…”

Thankfully, before she could utter more nonsense, Soobin covered her mouth with his.

The mention of the night he fingered her, but the recent memories of the perfect blowjob, and whatever weird emotions brewed between them were enough to get him into action.

His tongue found hers immediately, a satisfied sigh leaving her lips as her fingers caressed from his long arms to his shoulders and neck, wrapping around his nape. He crowded over her, too tall that even being on her tiptoes wasn’t enough to ease the distance, so he needed to bend a bit more. He circled her waist, pressing her body against his and relishing at her warmth.

They kissed until her mushy brain gave in, deciding she wasn’t ready for Hyuck yet. But she was ready for Soobin. She had been since that night in his kitchen.

“Take me home.” Y/N murmured against his swollen mouth.

Putting some distance, he frowned, unsure if he heard right. “What?”

“Take me home.”

“Are you sure? What about…”

“Home, Bin. Now.” She cut him off, her clipped tone indicating only one thing.

He couldn’t refuse her. Not when the confusion on her pretty eyes had dissolved into lust.

They preferred to leave quietly, mostly because both were trying to ignore what that ‘impulsive’ move actually meant. The silence wasn’t heavy, but it did bother them a bit.

Instead of going to her apartment, Y/N went to his.

Through the darkness, they walked to his room and Soobin thanked God the city lights peeking through the window were enough for them at the moment. He didn’t want to spoil the surprise (not exactly a surprise, but anyway).

She turned to him, vexed, confused and desperate.

“Choi Soobin, I really, really want to sleep with you tonight.”

Although he felt the blow of her confession on his whole body, the only thing he did was suck a breath, letting each word perforate his heart like sharp claws.

“Are you sure, love?”

“Yes.”

And if he was keen to melodramatics, he would’ve fallen to his knees at her consent.

He closed the distance, mouth on hers before she got to say anything else. Before she could even think of regretting what she said. It was manipulative and wrong, but Soobin wanted her too much to give her enough space to think thoroughly about their situation.

Her head fell back mid-kiss, body limp and pliant to his ministrations. Lips closing on the skin of her neck, he prayed the marks would last for weeks. And at the thought of seeing them, he was reminded of the new decoration of his room… The whole reason why he kept themselves in the dark until now, standing at the door like two fools.

Soobin’s hands trembled a bit as he took her dress off. Her skin was ablaze, although goosebumps rose everywhere his fingers touched. He kissed her shoulder, cupping her boobs and pinching a nipple – the moan she let out was pornography, reaching his dick and making it twitch. “Lay down and close your eyes, love.” He ordered, reaching for the lights. When she thumped on the soft mattress, he took a deep breath, expectant. “Now open.”

Y/N was met with her reflection on the ceiling. “A mirror?”

“Got it installed yesterday.”

“Why?”

“Because I liked it?”

“That’s… Very kinky of you, Choi Soobin.”

The dimples showed up, warming her heart at the sight of his boyish smile. “You’re the first one to see it. I didn’t think much when I bought it, but you’re here and it makes sense now… You were right. Everything makes sense with you.” His knee dipped the bed. “Wanna try it?”

Thank God she was laying down, or else her wobbly legs would give in.

Everything makes sense with you.

“Of course I do.”

He gave her another one of his cute smiles, those that didn’t mirror any of his naughty intentions, and took off his shirt, throwing it on the floor. “Then keep looking up and see the magic happen.”

She giggled, for his words were a bit cheesy, but her smile died as soon as his mouth touched her collarbones. He left some tender bites while his hands kneading her boobs, then, as her fingers threaded between his dark locks, his lips circled a nipple, sucking and licking the hard bud. Y/N moaned, eyes begging to close, but too entranced by their reflection to do so. She could see his tall frame over her, the way her legs rested at each side of his hips, her own face filled with pleasure.

Soobin kept trailing her body with kisses, until he reached her navel. His teeth scraped near her panties’ waistband, his large hands fondling her chest before coming down to her thighs, grabbing them and keeping them open. Y/N held her breath, attention fixed on the mirror – his head was so close to where she wanted it, she could even feel the warmth of his breath. Then, he sucked her over the fabric, and her back arched, heart fluttering at the sensation… But it still wasn’t enough.

“Fuck, Bin.”

“Is everything ok, love?” His voice was tinted with mirth.

“It’ll be when you take my panties off.” She confessed, too hypnotised by him and blinded by her neediness to be bothered of expressing it.

“So impatient.” But his fingers rolled them down, tossing them somewhere on the floor. Before Soobin could dive in, he glanced above, seeing her now naked body splayed on his bed. “Isn’t it such a nice view?” He mused. “I wish I had eyes behind my head to witness everything.”

And then his mouth was on her, not wasting even a second.

His tongue rippled against her clit, soft, curious. His fingers dug into her thighs, pushing her legs as open as he could. Pleasure sparkled on her veins, the feeling of his lips on her pussy so good, so annoyingly good. She moaned, eyes glued to the mirror above, entranced by the erotic sight and caress. She could see his head moving, could feel his smart tongue bumping her needy bud, drawing figures and learning what she liked, what she tasted. Her hips found enough strength to move together with his ministrations, making one of his hands detach from her plump thighs and force her belly down, trying to keep her still.

Y/N’s eyes couldn’t stay open, no matter how wicked and delightful it was to see everything reflected. Her mind went blank at the buzzing of his mouth on her cunt, lapping and coaxing her orgasm. It was all too much – the weird night they had, being with him, the desperation she felt for him, the need to let him rearrange her insides if he wanted to.

A small cry escaped her lips, mixed with his name, body moving as the high crashed on her like waves at the coast. Soobin groaned in pure satisfaction when her thighs closed around his face, suffocating him a bit, but her release was too sweet of a death for him to mind. He kept licking her, drinking every drop, pussy drunk on her ectasis… Until she forced his head up, pulling at his hair with a painful but delicious tug.

“Fuck, sorry, I–”

“I’m good, love.” He purred in reassurance, knowing he couldn’t give her insecurity any space. “You good too?” He grinned sheepishly.

“Shut up.” She couldn’t help but chuckle, despite her racing heart.

“Is this the kind of treatment I get after making you cum?!” He tsked. “Maybe we should stop, then, if you’re going to be rude…”

“No!” Her eyes widened. “No, I’m sorry.”

His adorable dimples deepened. “Well, if you want to keep going…”

“Please! Please, I’ll be good!” Y/N shook her head like a little girl.

“You really want me to fuck you, huh?”

“Desperately.”

“Or else you’ll go berserk?”

“Exactly.”

“We can’t let that happen.” He moved a bit, lips touching her belly, then the valley between her breasts. “Think you can take my fingers now, love?”

“I can take anything you want me to.”

“Just two fingers, then, or if you’re feeling generous, three.”

Y/N softly hummed. “Anything you want, Bin.”

“Here, suck it for me.” He patted her mouth with his index and middle finger. “Get it wet.”

She obeyed, holding his wrist while her tongue coated his skin with glossy, warm spit.

His eyes never left hers, drowsy and hungry. And when he sunk his digits inside her, without as much as a warning, Soobin couldn’t help but get hypnotised by the way her breath hitched, head falling back on the mattress and legs trying to close around him again. She looked so pretty like that, all pliant to his ministrations, vulnerable and desperate for him.

He was rather uncomfortable in his trousers, but stretching her was his priority – it had to be good for her, she couldn’t get hurt or feel any pain that didn’t hint at pleasurable. He knew he’d feel amazing regardless, so there was no need to rush.

Their figures reflected on the mirror made Y/N’s skin tingle with need. She blinked, dazed by the overstimulation, her belly coiling at each steady move of his hand. Her mouth hung open, lewd moans and whines of his nickname leaving her ever so often.

“Feeling generous?” Soobin kissed her ear, then her neck.

“Magnanimous.” Her voice came out hoarse.

He grinned against her collarbones, inserting a third finger and feeling the immediate clench of her wet cunt. It took his breath away, too. “So fucking snug.” His dick twitched, impatient. “You want to cum again, love? Want on my hands now?”

And as much as she appreciated a second orgasm, she wanted to cum together. Finding his gaze, she shook her head. “Want it with you.”

“With me?” He echoed, biting another smile. “How magnanimous, indeed.”

“Please, I’m ready. I know I can take you!”

There was her clipped tone again, and Soobin knew he had her where he wanted. Brows furrowed in frustration, Y/N stared at him like a princess on the verge of a tantrum out of sheer pettiness. He slowed down until stalling completely, not holding back his smirk.

“You’re cute when you’re mad.”

Y/N supposed that being called ‘cute’ after begging for a guy’s dick wasn’t exactly the most flattering eulogy, however, her heart warmed at the compliment. She didn’t get to comment, though, for he left the bed, unbuttoning his jeans and dropping them on the floor, briefs coming along. Going for his nightstand, he took a condom off – although he knew Y/N offered him no danger (and vice-versa), it’d be better if they kept it wrapped for the time being.

She tried not to ogle him while he put the condom on, tried not to feel wetter at the expectation of having him inside her… And failed miserably.

When Soobin hovered her again, cradling her jaw and tilting her face up, stealing a slow kiss, any inch of doubt for the decisions she took that night left her like lightening.

It had to be Soobin.

It made sense, indeed.

And she wanted that more than she wanted a lot of things before.

He rolled around, bringing her body with his, putting her on top and ending the kiss with a bite on her neck. “You want to ride me? That way you can control how much you’re gonna take and I won’t hurt you.” He suggested, a hand pushing her hair off her shoulder so he could kiss there better. “And I get to enjoy the view a bit.” His chuckle was wicked.

“Hmm… We can try…” Her heart soared on her chest as he laid down against the headboard.

Well, they were doing that.

She was finally having sex again after ages.

Y/N spat on him over the condom and smeared it as she pumped his shaft. Frowning slightly, she wondered how he’d fit – yes, he was the famous cliché ‘big and thick’, not at all like the other two guys she had slept with. With wobbly legs and a pinch of insecurity, she circled his hips and aligned him on her hole. Soobin tried to keep his attention on the mirror, but as she sat on his dick, his focus diverted – he couldn’t help the deep groan that left his throat at her snugness and warmth. He was only past the tip when she stopped.

“Too big.” She gulped. “It hurts.” Her eyes weren’t teary, but they stung.

“Slow down, love. Don’t rush.” He gritted his teeth, remaining quiet despite the urge to thrust fully in. “Look up, it’s one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.” Maybe the visual stimulation would get her wetter and make it easier for him to slide in without the pain. She obeyed, her head falling a bit as she faced above. Before she could move again, one hand rested on her waist and the other on her boob, pinching a nipple. “How’s that?”

“Good.” Her voice came out breathy.

“Maybe if I…” His mouth landed on the beak, sucking it.

Y/N immediately moaned, sinking a bit further on him. “So good.”

He changed sides, and her fingers threaded on his hair, tugging at the locks. She was mesmerised by the sight, as he predicted. There was something rather intimate in seeing themselves on the mirror – his face buried on her bosom, her sitting on him, her pleasured expression…

“It’s taking everything in me…” Soobin swallowed a groan, hands now on her ass, groping the flesh with too much strength. “Not to thrust in fully.”

She let out an airy chuckle. It was painful for her, but he probably was having it way worse. So, gathering the remains of courage she still had, she forced her hips down, trying to get most of his length in. “Maybe if you weren’t so big…” Her voice came out strained, bottoming down. “God, this hurts. It’s like I’m a virgin all over again.”

Soobin moaned, dick twitching at the primitive idea of being her first. It was quite an outdated thought, but he was quite possessive and romantic himself, so he couldn’t control his own mind.

“Hi.” He murmured against her jaw, leaving small bites there, hoping they would distract them both – for completely different reasons.

“Hi.” Y/N smiled.

“You’re unbearably so tight, love.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t say that. It’s not a bad thing!”

“Just hang in there for a second, please? Just until the burn goes away.” She stole a peck, thumb caressing his cheek. “I promise it won’t take long.”

This time, instead of a peck, she kissed him. Their tongues met in a sensual dance, her torso pressed against his while his hands didn’t know whether to stay on her plump ass or go back to her waist. His digits left fire where they touched, and Y/N melted on the kiss. Instinctively, she rocked her hips just a bit… Soobin’s grip tightened on her.

“Love, don’t. If you’re not ready, don’t.” He warned.

“I think I am. Eventually, it’ll get better, right? So...”

They looked up briefly, grinning at the sight. Her moves were sloppy, slow, only testing how to work that out, how to ease the pain so it would become pleasurable. Then, Soobin kissed her neck again, leaving purple marks without caring about the aftermath. She found more stability, hips going up and down as he helped her, pushing her ass in sync.

“You’re driving me insane.” Soobin groaned, searching her mouth.

That made Y/N smirk. It was so weird how he made her feel this good. At his every reaction, she felt her confidence awakening, felt some sort of inner power brewing together with pleasure. The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing unnaturally, while she tried to conceal her pace and the caress. She tugged at his hair, nails burning his scalp and making him see stars.

“Help me go fast.” Y/N begged. “H-How?”

“I’ll take charge now, ok? Feeling good?”

“Ok, yes. Please. Fast.” She panted against his lips.

Soobin let his weight on top of her, hands at each side of her face, the good ol’ missionary. The new position offered a perfect angle to hit her sweet spot, not to mention how intimate it was. Sure looking at their reflection was hot, however, witnessing her expression of pure bliss was hotter. And knowing it was him who made her feel that way was… Surreal. Picking up his pace, he tried to go as fast as he could, tried to make every wish of hers command.

She held onto his forearms, back arching with each thrust. It had been so long since she felt this good, and later on she’d regret wasting so much time with her ‘celibacy’ – but right now… Right now, she didn’t want to think of anything other than Choi Soobin.

She couldn’t.

Everywhere she looked, every breath she took, every one of her cells were filled with him. Pleasure boiled together with her blood, buzzing through her body, raw, conquering. Their gazes locked, her name leaving his mouth in that husky timber he had, his hair damp and sticking to his forehead, lips swollen from the millions kisses they shared…

It was too much.

“Bin,” She panted. “I’m coming.”

God, he almost collapsed at her words. Sneaking a hand between them, he found her clit, circling it and rubbing it just right. Y/N’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, legs trembling as her pussy clenched repeatedly when she reached her climax, moaning his name like a prayer.

Hypnotised, Soobin followed like a moth to a flame. If Y/N was the deathly light, he’d perish proudly, peacefully. Lost in her, he spilled inside the condom, thick, strong, intense. Her name on his lips like the only language he knew, her face the only memory he would dare to remember.

And in the afterglow, he secretly wished it could last forever.

Y/N didn’t know much about ‘morning after’s to act like a normal adult woman would. As soon as she woke up, with Soobin’s tall frame pressed against her back, she started scheming how she could flee to her apartment without raising too much suspicion. If Beomgyu was already awake and at home, she was doomed – however, if he was asleep, she still had a chance.

Untangling herself from Soobin’s embrace, Y/N cringed a bit at her sore muscles. He stirred in his slumber, a delicious groan escaping his throat as he turned to the wall’s side.

Oh, dear Lord.

Not even aiming to the bathroom first, she opened the door and poked her head out, looking to both sides and listening to the quietness of the flat. Walking on tip toes, she reached the hall, noticing neither Beomgyu’s nor Mimi’s shoes and coats were there.

Excellent.

She couldn’t go back home because they were there.

Locking herself on the bathroom wasn’t her smartest idea, but she needed to pee and wash up. When she looked at the mirror, her reflection told her everything she didn’t want to know. The glow on her face, Soobin’s marks on her neck, her dishevelled hair… What a fantastic, dangerous night she had. How was she supposed to get back on track?

Was it even possible?

Turning on the shower, she ordered herself to breath. People had one-night-stands, there was no need for her to fret. Actually, when she asked for Soobin’s help, she had that in mind… So why was she so… Antsy? Confused? Dazed?

And then, after the kitchen episode, they agreed to talk about whatever made them awkward. How could she talk about last night?! When ‘awkward’ was absolutely the last thing it was, but…

She needed some time alone.

She needed to think.

Turning off the shower without even getting inside, she decided dealing with Beomgyu was easier than dealing with whatever was going on with her right now. Gathering her dress and panties from the floor, Y/N made to the door, wrapping herself on her coat and putting on her shoes.

It wasn’t the dreadful ‘walk of shame’, however, it wasn’t a prideful one either.

She knew Soobin would be disappointed at her for running away first thing in the morning. Well, he’d have to let her off the hook for this one.

Typing the password, Y/N made way to her bathroom, safely locking herself up. Drawing a bath would be better than showering, and so she did, promising to deal with happened later on.

The cold, short replies on their chat made Soobin’s belly churn unpleasantly. Well, he only had himself to blame. Was it too soon to push her to another man’s arm? Maybe. But if he didn’t do it now, he’d want her all to himself… And she didn’t want him the same, as his empty room so kindly illustrated when he woke up alone near lunch that Sunday (not even a goodbye message left!).

In trying to play cupid, he scheduled another PC Bang meeting. And as they walked there, side to side, avoiding to touch each other, Soobin realised he lost her. The nonchalant girl by his side wasn’t his best friend anymore, and he didn’t know what to do with all the emotions that brewed inside him – from last night, from this night, from the tragic but obvious future…

The PC Bang was too crowded for their liking, so they ditched it for fried chicken and beer. Instead of taking her usual place between Yeonjun and Soobin, this time, Y/N waited for Soobin to sit and sat in front of him. Although the distance was inexpressive, she felt a bit… Safer.

It was already difficult to focus on Donghyuck when Soobin was nearby. And now that she had slept with him, it was ten times worse. Before she could get a grip of herself, her restless mind was flooded by flashes of last night; and when their eyes met, she felt her stomach tighten.

Was he thinking about it too?

Was he aware of her uneasiness towards him?

Was he trying his best not to touch her at any given chance?

Because she felt like fighting a lost battle.

“Yeonjunnie texted.” She looked up from her phone. “They’re almost here. I’ll wait outside!”

“It’s quite cold, stay inside.” Soobin reached for her hand, stalling her.

“He’s a bit sour that we left yesterday without warning, so I want to appease him.” She explained, hoping the goosebumps were from the chilly air. “I’ll be back in a second.”

“You spoil him too much.”

“I spoil everyone I care for, Bin.” She held his gaze for a heartbeat later, then forced a giggle and left – hoping they haven’t noticed how desperate she was to be alone.

Going there was a mistake.

Soobin’s attention remained on Y/N until she disappeared through the entrance door. With a resigned sigh, he took a sip of his beer and relaxed against the booth.

“You two could stop eye-fucking each other in public.” Hyuck chuckled next to him.

“What?”

“Y/N and you. I get it’s the beginning and everything’s quite out of control, but I’m feeling weirdly shy here. Like I’m intruding.”

“What about Y/N and I?” Soobin frowned, somehow knowing where that was going.

“Dating, duh. Everyone knows it already, you two aren’t exactly subtle.”

God, that was so wrong. That was so, so wrong and it would come to bite him in the ass later, but Soobin couldn’t help it anymore. “Everyone noticed, then.”

“I don’t know how you planned to keep it a secret when you two are going on dates non-stop, and I saw you making-out next to the bathrooms yesterday.”

“Oh, fuck. Sorry you got to see that.” His chuckle was forced, since he fought against despair for ruining Y/N’s plan and the unwanted triumph for people thinking she was his.

“Nah, it’s ok. I thought something was fishy when you started bringing her to our meetings often, and you just couldn’t stop talking about her… I just had to put two and two together.” Hyuck shrugged. “She’s a nice girl, bro. I’m glad you found someone good for you.”

“Thanks.”

He was so, so fucked.

Three days later

Y/N had given it enough thought. For the past three days, she witnessed Beomgyu arriving at her flat with brownies, cookies and another Nutella bread… Apparently Soobin was thinking, too. About what? She wasn’t so sure. As for her, she went through all the pros and cons of ending their agreement, of still pretending to want Donghyuck. She knew maybe that was all she would get from Soobin – maybe her mind did play tricks and he actually didn’t like her back. She knew she probably would end up with a broken heart, however, she couldn’t keep that going.

It made no sense anymore.

Not when her feelings for Soobin bloomed like ivy, getting her covered in them.

That’s why, like the day she suggested their agreement, mid-Anime episode, she muttered:

“I think we should stop.”

Soobin didn’t react at first. He was so enthralled by the story, fingers mindlessly playing against her thigh, drawing figures and reminding her why that conversation was necessary. “Mhmm. The episode is almost finished, we can do something else later.”

“No, Bin. We should stop.” She put some distance between them. “Us.”

“What?” He looked at her, confused. “Why?”

“I… I think we should stop seeing each other for a bit.”

Dread pulsed through Soobin, turning his body rigid. Her face dropped, and he read all the wrong emotions there. Shaking his head, he forced himself to stand up, rage and guilt finding their way to his mouth. Before he could articulate any proper thought, his impulsiveness got the best of him.

“You promised nothing would change between us!” He quipped. “You promised we’d still be friends after everything, Y/N. You swore!”

She felt her eyes burning, but as always, she didn’t cry. “I know what I said, but…”

How could Soobin come clean, anyway? She wanted to stop seeing him, probably because after letting him fuck her in the best way possible, she really noticed how strong her feelings for Hyuck were… Although Hyuck thought she was his girlfriend.

They were doomed from the beginning.

“Now I’ve lost you twice.” He turned around, ready to flee from that overwhelming bubble of unsaid feelings. “I knew things wouldn’t end up good, but I still did it… And now I’ve lost you again.” Not even a step was taken when he felt her fingers on his arm.

“Bin, wait.”

“I don’t have the energy to deal with this now.”

“But if we don’t talk, then how…”

“He thinks we’re dating, Y/N.”

“P-pardon?” She froze.

“Donghyuck thinks we’re dating, that’s why keeping this is pointless. He won’t be interested in his friend’s girl.” Soobin looked at her over his shoulder. “But we’re not dating, are we?” He knew exactly what was going through her mind, knew those turbulent eyes better than anyone else. “And I didn’t correct him.” The words came out heavy, poisoned. “Aren’t you asking me why?”

She gulped. “Why?”

“‘Cause yeah, he might be a good match for you, you might have something in common and he’s a nice dude… But will he help you out of your shell like I do? Will he be alright with Yeonjun’s place in your life like I am? Will he…” ‘Love you like I do?’. It was on the tip of his tongue, however, Soobin remained silent. It was too soon for that. “I’m sorry things ended up this way.”

The hand around his pulse tightened. “Aren’t you going to fight for me, then?”

“What?”

“So you tell me all this, but don’t say the only thing that matters?! And you expect me to do what?! How can I feel safe enough to confess my feelings for you when you’re about to leave with a lame ass ‘sorry, I can’t deal with this’, as if it wasn’t obvious I feel the same?!” She sounded angry, and Soobin turned around, finding her scowling at him. “God, Bin, it stopped being about Donghyuck the moment I had your fingers inside me! I get I was kinda slow to notice, but you could’ve guided me to the right path! You’ve been guiding me all along anyway!”

“You realise you just confessed to me, right?” He was half amused, half confused.

Y/N hesitated. “I do.”

“You don’t get to take it back.” He shook his head, coming for her.

“I don’t.” She agreed.

“Say it again, full words now.” Soobin held her chin up, eyes locking with hers.

“I’m not being the one to take the first step again, Bin. I did it twice, it’s your turn now!”

He had some cheesy lines on the tip of his tongue, but she was right. She deserved something genuine after being brave enough for both of them.

“I love that you trusted me to take you off your shell, to help you find confidence and bloom. I love that you were crazy enough to cross the line for both of us, because if you haven’t… I wouldn’t be here now.” Without warning, he stole a peck, relishing on her surprised moan. “I love that you showed me all your versions and let me fall in love with each of them. I love that it’s you and that I get to tell you that it’s you, Y/N. I love you. For real.” She blinked, and Soobin’s eyes winded. “W-Wait a minute! Is this… A teardrop?”

Y/N chuckled, feeling the wet drop on her cheek. “Well, you can’t get all poetic and expect me to be unphased by it! Not after trying to give me up like the hero of a sappy book would!”

“I didn’t know, love.” He shook his head, wiping another tear. “I didn’t know you felt the same. You’re so good at channelling everything, I misread it.”

“I can’t hide much when it’s about you. You make sense, and you make me special.”

“You are special, love. To me.”

“You’re special to me too, Bin. Thanks for deciding on helping me despite the risks.”

“To have you in the end, I’d do it all over again.”

“I love you, Bin. Sorry it took so long.”

“It didn’t take long, we both were just… A bit blind.”

She smiled, agreeing and kissing him again. Now, with honest feelings out in the open, she noticed that the anxiety from before had disappeared. It wasn’t that she was insecure and shy, she was just focusing on the wrong gamer guy.

thank you all for reading <33

as always, english is not my first language, so any mistakes please feel free to tell me!

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

“You came.”

“As always, Harry Potter, your powers of observation astound,” the Dark Lord carps. “Care to explain why we’re both here?”

And there’s the million-dollar question. He hesitates for a moment, sticking his hands in his pockets to keep from fidgeting more. “You can feel it, yeah? Everything’s coming to a head.”

After staring for a few beats, Voldemort gives a terse nod.

Harry nods a couple times awkwardly in return, licking his dry lips. “So. We’re expected to fight, and at least one of us is meant to die.”

Voldemort tenses at his side. “If you intend to ask for mercy–”

“No, no,” Harry says, anxiously dragging a hand through his wild hair and leaving it even more of a mess. “I know there’s no middle ground, for either of us.”

His words catch in his throat, stuck in the anger and frustration and exhaustion of years of fighting and losing people with no real gain.

“But,” Voldemort prompts.

“But,” Harry agrees. “Have you ever ridden a Ferris wheel?”

Voldemort blinks and frowns at the apparent non-sequitur. He says, “I beg your pardon?” but the meaning is clearly ‘Are you mad?’

“Because I haven’t. My relatives,” and his voice breaks on the word because it’s only accurate in the most technical of senses. “Used to go to the local funfair every year. My cousin would always come back with candy apples and caramel corn and some gigantic plush animal he’d say he’d won.”

He smiles, but he can feel how ragged it is. “Fat chance, that. Guaranteed my uncle bought it for him.”

“Potter, what in Merlin’s name are you on about?” He’s apparently worn through Voldemort’s limited patience and the wizard is looking vaguely murderous.

“Right, sorry. Point is, I’ve never been, and I’m guessing you’ve never been to a funfair either. I doubt it was a priority at Wool’s.”

Voldemort’s wand appears in his hand and ‘vaguely’ has shifted quickly into ‘distinctly murderous.’

“Y’know, It’s funny what you fixate on when contemplating your mortality and what you’ll regret not having done when you die,” Harry continues quickly, trying to defuse the situation. “There are lots of things I haven’t done, and so many things I’ll miss. But I keep getting caught up on riding a bloody Ferris wheel, of all things.”

He’d considered asking his friends – he had. But it wouldn’t be new for Hermione, who’d had a pretty normal childhood, magic aside, and Ron wouldn’t get why it was important even once he’d wrapped his mind around the idea of a Ferris wheel. Ron had grown up with flying broomsticks, after all. 

“I thought about who else might understand why it meant something, and, well,” Harry huffs, shuffling his feet self-consciously. “Here you are.”

He refuses to look at Voldemort’s face – who knows what expression he’s wearing, but it’s probably derisive in the extreme – instead focusing on the Dark Lord’s wand in case he has to defend himself.

“You invited me to go to a fair with you,” Voldemort says levelly. “Because we’re going to battle to the death soon.”

Well, when he puts it like that.

(naïve melody)

[horoscope1078]

Gavi wasn’t used to feeling nervous. On the football pitch he was fearless, commanding and full of energy. But tonight was different. Tonight he wasn’t the relentless midfielder controlling the game. Tonight he was just a guy on his first date with a girl he couldn’t stop thinking about.

He sat at the table in the small, cozy restaurant.. tapping his fingers lightly against the menu, glancing at the door every few seconds. The warm lights above him cast a soft glow over the room and the smell of delicious food lingered in the air. But all Gavi could focus on was the anticipation twisting in his stomach.

You were running a little late and with each passing minute his nerves grew. What if he said something stupid? What if you didn’t like the restaurant? What if this wasn’t what you wanted after all?

Just as he was about to spiral into another round of self-doubt the door to the restaurant opened and there you were. His heart skipped a beat as you walked in. Your eyes scanned the room until landed on him. You smiled and all of his worries melted away and replaced by an overwhelming sense of warmth.

“Hey” you said softly as you approached the table. Your voice laced with a hint of shyness. “Sorry I’m a little late. Traffic was crazy.”

Gavi stood up quickly.. nearly knocking his chair over in the process which made you giggle. “No no.. it’s fine! I wasn’t waiting long” he stammered with scratching the back of his neck as he tried to play it cool. “You look.. you look amazing.”

Your cheeks flushed at his compliment and you glanced down at your dress with a bashful smile. “Thanks. You look great too.”

You both sat down.. the air between you buzzing with nervous energy. Gavi reached for the menu.. trying to focus on the words in front of him but his mind kept drifting back to the fact that you were sitting right there. After weeks of texting and hanging out in group settings.. here you were.. on an actual date. And suddenly it all felt so real.

You peeked up at him over your menu with lips curving into a small smile. “So.. how’s training been? Are you ready for the next match?”

Gavi nodded. He was grateful for the familiar topic. “Yea.. training’s been good. The coaches have been pushing us hard but I think we’re ready. I mean.. I hope we are.”

You laughed and the sound was like music to his ears. “You’re always ready. I’ve seen you play.. you never back down.”

He smiled a little shyly at your words. “Thanks. But..um..what about you? How’s work going?”

You shrugged.. tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Busy but good. Nothing as exciting as football though.”

Gavi laughed.. feeling the tension in his shoulders slowly start to ease. There was something about the way you talked, the way you smiled that made him feel more comfortable. Maybe he didn’t need to overthink this. Maybe he could just.. enjoy it.

The waiter came over to take your order and both of you fumbled over your words as you tried to decide what to get. After a few awkward moments of indecision you settled on sharing a few dishes.. something Gavi was secretly relieved about since it meant you wouldn’t have to stress about picking the right thing.

Once your order was placed the conversation flowed a little more easily. You talked about everything and nothing.. football, movies, embarrassing childhood stories. Gavi found himself laughing more than he had in a long time and every time you laughed with him his heart did a little flip.

Still.. beneath the laughter there was an undercurrent of nervousness. Every now and then your hands would brush against each other on the table..sending a spark of electricity through both of you. You would glance at each other, blush and quickly look away as if neither of you knew what to do with the tension building between you.

At one point..after a particularly funny story from you Gavi leaned forward slightly.. resting his chin on his hand as he looked at you. “You know.. I’ve been thinking about this for a while” he admitted with his voice a little quieter and a little more serious.

You tilted your head with your brows raising in curiosity. “Thinking about what?”

“Us” Gavi said with his eyes flicking up to meet yours. “This. I’ve wanted to ask you out for so long but I didn’t know how.”

Your cheeks flushed again and you bit your lip.. your eyes dropping to the table for a moment before meeting his gaze again. “Really? I thought.. I thought maybe you were just being nice. Like..as a friend.”

Gavi felt his heart skip a beat. “No.. definitely not just as a friend” he said with his voice a little firmer this time. “I mean.. I love hanging out with you but I’ve been wanting this for a while. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

For a moment you didn’t say anything. Gavi’s nerves came rushing back in full force. Had he said too much? Was he moving too fast? But then you smiled..a soft, shy smile that made his chest tighten.

“I do” you whispered. “I’ve felt the same way.”

The relief that washed over Gavi was almost overwhelming. He hadn’t even realised how much he’d been holding his breath until you said those words. He grinned.. unable to stop himself and you laughed softly at his reaction.

“Well.. that’s good to know” Gavi said with his voice light with amusement. “Because I don’t think I could’ve taken another week of pretending like I didn’t have a crush on you.”

Your blush deepened and you covered your face with your hands..letting out an embarrassed laugh. “Omg.. don’t say it like that!”

“What? It’s true!” Gavi teased with leaning forward a little more.. his heart racing as he felt the shift in the air between you. “You’re kind of stuck with me now.”

You peeked at him from behind your hands as your eyes sparkling with both nervousness and excitement. “I think I’m okay with that.”

Your food arrived shortly after but by then the tension had eased. The nervousness that had been hanging between you at the start of the night had given way to something else. Something sweeter.. something that felt like the beginning of something real.

As you shared your meal and exchanged smiles Gavi couldn’t help but feel like he was exactly where he was supposed to be. For the first time in a long time he wasn’t thinking about football or the pressure or anything else. All that mattered was you sitting across from him, your smile making his heart race in the best way possible.

[hells-wasabii]

Oh I have an idea! What about Velvette’s girlfriend meeting the other Vees for the first time?

A/N: I'm baaaack. Sorry for the sudden hiatus everybody, life got crazy and I just haven't had the time to write like i did when I started. Hopefully that'll change soon cuz there's still like 90 reqs in my inbox that I plan on writing. If I manage to get back down to a more reasonable number I may reopen reqs. but for now, here's some Velvette. A fair warning, though, I personally feel that this one is a little dialogue heavy, but hopefully yall enjoy it nonetheless

Character: Velvette

Type: Drabble (Velvette x fem!reader introducing gf to the Vee's, Fluff)

The initial pleasantries were out of the way, introductions and the like. It had gone well enough, you supposed, at least that part was over with. As bad as it sounded, you were thankful. Maybe you might actually survive the night after all.

“You know, darling, you’re quite the looker, have you ever considered a career in the film industry?” You shift your weight from one foot to the other, chuckling nervously before the overlords, because what the hell were you supposed to say to that? What the hell have you gotten yourself into? 

Velvette, who stood to your right, shot Valentino a sharp glare. A warning. There sure had been plenty of those tonight already, hadn’t there? The first of the night had been your own.

The influencer had told you what to expect before you had even set foot in Vee Tower. When your girlfriend had invited you to meet the rest of the Vee’s you had initially been unsure. Yeah, you knew Velvette already, the self-proclaimed backbone, the other two surely couldn’t be that, bad right?

“So…” Vox started, a serious expression settling upon his screen as he crossed his arms over his chest. “What are your intentions with our dear Velvette?”

Okay, so that’s where the night was going. Great. Maybe you’d been wrong, but all things considered, it genuinely felt as if you were meeting her parents. They had been surprisingly casual so far, but the trio of overlords had a reputation for being unpredictable, so that could really change at any minute, you realized. You could feel the blood rushing to your cheeks as you sputtered in response. Shit, you’d expected the other two overlords to be intimidating, but definitely not like this.

Velvette was quick to respond, slamming a not-so-subtle heel into his foot. The video star let out a yelp, electricity crackling around his screen as he glitched before pulling his leg away as though to defend it from further assault. 

The Vee’s truly were something else, you decided as the tall moth demon continued with another playful gibe.

“Oh no, Voxy, if anything we should be more worried about Velv’s little girlfriend here.” Valentino grinned as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, you inhaled sharply as you were pulled closer. “Is she treating you well, doll?”

“Of course she is.” You couldn’t help it, really. The words rolled off your tongue before you could think better of it. Velvette raised an eyebrow as a lazy smirk Oh there was no doubt in your mind that the influencer would tease you endlessly later.  The way that Velvette flashed you a lazy smirk made your stomach do a little flip. With flushed cheeks, you cleared your throat while the television demon across from you barked out a laugh.

“You can relax, we’re not gonna bite. Why don’t we sit down and you tell us about yourself?” Vox began, though a smirk overtook his welcoming smile as he went on to tease the youngest overlord further. “We’ve already heard so much from Velvette, but I’d much rather hear about you without all the mushy shit.” 

“Oh for fucks sake, what happened to actually behaving yourselves tonight?” the influencer groaned, though there was no real venom to her words. This prompted another chuckle from the other overlords, you even found yourself stifling a laugh.

“Oh my dear we are behaving.” Though the grin on Valentino’s smug face suggested otherwise. You watched as the three continued going back and forth as you were led to a lounge Despite her protests, Velvette was clearly at ease. This was going to be an interesting night, you thought as a fond smile took to your lips.

[themareverine]

Subaru, It's You | worst!Logan x nameless!femOC

warnings: fluff, domesticity, absolutely self indulgent, mentions of a car accident, based on some limited Googling I’ve placed Logan and Deadpool in Hoboken, NJ.

a/n: car shopping with Logan torturing the salesman and being sexy, lol. can only imagine. absolutely no idea where this came from, took me 20 minutes on my phone. Enjoy.

“I just wanna know if the heads have been done, baby.”

Nervously twisting her foot against the stones and other used-car lot gravel has done little to sway Logan’s insistence on forcing the underpaid salesman to answer earthbending questions just short of torturous. Twice already the man had left back into the office to retrieve records—hasn’t been smart enough to just keep the file on hand. Kids these days, is all Logan had muttered. The man was no less than 55, at a wild hair guess—gray mottling his beard and once-copper hair was evidence.

Attention welded firmly to the top the motor humming quietly in front of him, Logan’s hands slip into his pockets as he studies. He’d been taking her to car dealerships all afternoon, for nearly five weekends in a row—money burning holes in the pockets of his Wranglers, no doubt.

Unable to find anything remotely worth his time, Logan had been nitpicking since she’d proudly waved the check from Geico proudly overhead. Like a battle flag staked in the survival of a car accident, it wasn’t a life changing amount of cash—meager, actually, considering the vehicle lost. She’d trashed the Tuscon on the backroads of Tennessee valley country, a tried and true companion with well over two hundred thousand on the dash and the Midwestern rust to prove it.

A wreck she’d walked away from. Logan had all but flown to her aid—he hadn’t slept the thirteen hours and thirty eight minutes it had taken to rescue her from hill country. With little warning, he’d packed a backpack, punched out of Jersey with his Jeep. Gas station coffee, cigars, and a stashed bottle of Jack Daniel’s under the front seat had found her, swept her up in a kiss and concern, and whisked her back to Hoboken.

And in true Logan fashion, he’d kept under wraps his intentions until that check hit the mailbox. Or, rather—a Snapchat had showed up on his phone. Ecstatic, a heavily filtered and stickered snap had made him smile—and she’d almost dropped her phone. Hadn’t been not a walking mess of flustered and flattered, doe-eyed and dreamwalking since he’d announced he would not only be helping her scout out her new rig, but paying the difference for whatever pink slip she came to acquire.

“It’s just money, darlin’—I got plen’y.”

Mistruth, she knew—Logan worked hard on a barely-livable wage working logs, but, despite any attempt to argue over shared chili cheese fries and rootbeer floats, she’d relented. Hands tossed in the air. He, after all, had money saved. Couldn’t think of a better investment.

“Gotta get my girl into something safer than a fucking Hyundai Tuscon.”

“Logan. I really think it’s fine—“ Hunger burns at the base of her spine. Her feet are near bleeding in wedge heels, and it may as well be sun surface degrees standing on the blacktop in jeans and a Greatest Showman Lip Sync t-shirt. The turquoise squash blossom necklace around her neck is heavy and slick with perspiration from the back of her neck—also a gift from Logan, for Hanukkah. Presented before her family as a grand gesture of vested interest and traditional courtship, it was as real as God. Expensive. Heavy.

His look is hard, wrinkled as his eyes scale over her. “You got somewhere to be?” Nodding to the phone in her hand, “You’re checkin’ the time like it’s your lover, honey. Secret boyfriend I don’t know about?” His brows wag teasingly for a second, pink flashing to life on her cheeks.

“I just think if we’re not gonna buy the car, we shouldn’t be making poor Phil run back and forth,”

They’d already discussed this on the test drive. Phil was two things, if not honest—a jackass, and completely incompetent when it came to the issue of Subaru Outback’s with the 3.6r. Logan and his copious amounts of obsessive access to Google, married with over 200 years of tinkering on anything with wheels, had determined every single known mechanical complaint about these damn wagons—and, once she’d decided which direction to go, had made it his life’s purpose to plague every single online forum to know. He’d asked questions. Googled schematics and blueprints. Had test driven no less than six vehicles, finding faults with all of them. Salespeople aside.

His nose wrinkles, snorting dismissively. “The fuck I won’t,” hands fall from his pockets to the frame of the Outback, Logan bending over the motor to consider the hum of the serpentine belt, “ain’t gonna kill him to make some steps when his ass is gettin’ fat in an office chair, darlin’. B’sides, haven’t decided if we’re buying this or not—not fully.” In other words, I’m having fun pullin’ his chain, baby.

Sighing, she drops her purse off her shoulder and reaches to unclasp the necklace from off her neck. Logan clocks her shift, brows furrowed—moves behind to undo it himself, thick fingers warm and calloused as they gently brush the curls on the back of her neck. Heat ebbs from him like a long black train, breath warm and heady on the back of her neck.

Handing the necklace over her shoulder, his arm snakes around her waist. Tugs her close. Smiling against her flittering pulse, his hand covers the necklace in hers as a low hum of approval rummages around the adamantium in his chest.

“You’re hot,” he hums. And she isn’t sure if he means overheated or otherwise, but opts into the adjective game.

“It’s a hundred degrees,” and that’s no lie. Gently tipping her head to the side, she smiles as his tongue gently lathes the spot behind her ear, “I’m in jeans and heels, Wolvie honey.” Her hand reached to brush fingers through his hair, tempted to pull. “And I know for damn sure you’re not buying this Outback. You don’t like Phil.”

Gut punched and pleasured, his growl is animalistic. Bestial. “How’d ya know that?”

Her lilt is light, teasing as her hips cant back against his pelvis. “You didn’t like him the second he slapped eyes on my tits in this shirt, that’s how,” her sigh is exaggerated, “and—for a guy over two centuries old, you don’t exactly have a poker face, Logan.”

His laugh is hard, rough around his chest. She can feel it rattle down her spine, chasing the heat that pools in the cradle of her womb. Every nerve is alive as he snugs up his arm around her waist, fingers tracing the buckle of her belt. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he gently sways her back and forth.

She continues, “I am also waiting for you to cash in on that promise for lunch,” glancing down, “you can obviously see I’m withering away here, Wolverine.” Trying not to giggle as his hands move to her hips, nipping at her skin, his fingers gently slip into the pockets of her jeans as he angles his head to brush his nose against the shell of her ear.

“Got a better idea, sunshine—how about we screw Felony Phil and his clunker of an Outback, and I take you outback for some product research, huh?”

She didn’t have to be asked twice. Sold.

tags: @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @fandomxo00

[the-witty-pen-name]

Love is Blind Part 2

Eddie Munson x PlusSize!F!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut in later parts, reader has low self-esteem and struggles with self love/acceptance, anxiety/trauma related to bullying, tooth rot worthy fluff, Eddie being a major flirt, cursing, mentions of substance use

Summary: In a last ditch effort to evade the normal disappointments of dating, a group of misfits desperate to have someone see who they are on the inside volunteer for the most recent brain chemistry study at Hawkins Lab. 

Read Part One!

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, please let me know if you enjoyed! If ! forgot anything to include as a warning please let me know. Also, if you would like to be added to the taglist for this fic, just let me know!

Day Three:

Eddie is sitting on the couch upside down, his legs hanging over the backrest and his head dangling over the seat. He stares up at the makeshift ceiling above as he pretends to play the drums on his stomach. The overhead light is starting to make his eyes slightly water but he’s too comfortable to move.

You’ve told him your name and he’s been almost obnoxious with how much he’s using it in your conversation. He’s using any excuse to work it into the front or back of a lot of his sentences. It doesn’t bother you like you thought it would, and you actually love hearing him call you by your name. It helps create a sense of intimacy where you both obviously can’t have it. It makes you feel more real to him, makes you feel closer to him, reminding him that if he sticks this out he could actually see you, maybe even touch you…

“Do you worry about what’s going to happen when this thing ends?” you ask.

“I’m looking forward to it,” he replies, moving so he is sitting upright. You sound concerned, your voice sounding smaller. “I don’t want to talk through a wall anymore, I want to talk like actually in person- not like some lab rats.”

“Do you think about what I look like?” you ask cautiously, and Eddie shakes his head as he stands up to walk directly up against the wall. 

“Of course, I’d love to see you,” Eddie explains, “I haven’t actually thought so much about what you look like, I just want to see you. You know? We’ve talked for what- uh, 7 or 8 hours at this point? Which honestly- insanely small amount of time to get to know someone. But like think about it- average date is what? 2 hours, sometimes less. We’ve been on like 4 “normal length” dates in 3 days. And usually you know you like someone by then at least. And I know I like you, and I love talking to you- without seeing me you have made me feel seen. God, that was so fucking cheesy.” 

You feel the corners of your ears well with tears- a little overwhelmed from the affirmations and attention you are not used to receiving. You realize that you never once doubted you’d not like how Eddie looks, nor do you even care either. You don’t understand why your brain won’t let you accept the same could be true for the way Eddie thinks about you. 

“I feel the same way about you,” you respond, and Eddie pumps his fist in victory. “I’ve had so much I’ve needed to work through. I mean, still working through. I have a lot of trouble accepting the fact that someone could actually like me as I am right now. I’ve always had the thoughts of well, I need to change myself and once I’m more like this, then I’ll be attractive or whatever. But, when I’m here, talking with you, I’m not worried about it anymore. But I’m still worried about what it's going to look like when this whole ordeal is over and you actually see me, and I can’t hide behind the wall anymore. But here, when we’re talking, I feel like I can be completely myself with you and I’m scared of losing that. Cause I also really like you.” 

“I can promise you there is nothing about you that would make me not interested,” he reaffirms. “I mean, I already know that you’re pretty- inside and out so it isn’t going to change anything. Except… I’m hoping you’d let me kiss you if you aren’t completely repulsed by me that is. Ugh, I’m sorry. I sound like a pathetic 14 year old boy. But, you know what I mean. Fuck, this is torturous.”

Eddie beams when he hears your little laugh from the other side of the wall again. He wants to know if there’s anyway he can get out of the experiment early. He needs to touch you, pull you into him. He wants to hug you, and have you here sitting next to him- flush up against his side. He’s craving the small pieces of physical intimacy that would just satisfy this restlessness he’s feeling throughout his whole body. It’s like he’s experiencing withdrawals but for something he’s never even been allowed to taste. He wants to shower you with affection the second you let him. 

“So, what are you hoping for at the end of this?” You ask, snapping yourself out of your daze. In the little notebook they provided to everyone, you’ve caught yourself writing Eddie in different styles with little hearts. You snap the book closed, like you're worried he’s gonna see it or something. You roll your eyes at yourself, leaning back on the couch and putting one of the pillows up to your face, embarrassed. You’re so past the point of no return. 

He takes a deep breath, contemplating his answer. Wanting to be honest, but not so honest that he scares you away by moving too fast. Case closed: he just wants to get your number and ask you on real dates. There’s also wildly inappropriate things swirling around in his head, as he reminds himself of what he did last night. But, he’s not ready to admit that fantasy to you just yet. 

“It depends on how you’ll feel most comfortable,” he settled on. “But I’d love to take you on an actual date. Like a real one, not this weird shit anymore. We can sit and talk face to face, so I can stare at you and you can yell at me to cut it out. I want to make you feel special and attractive because you are and you deserve to be entirely spoiled and pampered. However that looks for you, I’m down. I just want to be near you. I’ll go at your pace.”

You were never the type to make the first move, ever. Which is also why you’re here in the first place. You have never had the courage to vocalize any sort of desire to a man like you have with Eddie. It’s been really thrilling, the way he’s been able to help you open up. You feel like you can share your thoughts on what you want physically and he won’t judge you or shame you. You decide to be blunt. 

“If it’s actually true, that you’re physically attracted to me when you see me for the first time,” you say, unable to control the way your whole body gets covered in goosebumps at the thought. “I don’t want you to hold back. Just whatever feels right to you in that moment, do it. Kiss me, touch me, I’m down for everything.”

“Everything?” 

“I want everything.” 

“Shit, sweetheart, you can’t just say that,” Eddie responds, sounding almost pained. He chuckles, “you’re a tease, you know that?” 

“I’m just being honest,” you respond, and Eddie can hear how you’re being coy. He loves it, he’s happy to hear you coming out of your shell. He’s excited to finally hear about this side of you. You’re slowly but surely peeling back your layers for him. 

“I want you to be more honest,” he flirts. “But Christ, it’s going to be a long week.” 

There were four more days to go before the big reveal. If any of the participants felt they had a connection to another- or fell in love, they’d submit their picks to the technicians and then the technicians would set-up the next phase of the experiment. Unfortunately, if this does happen, the first time you actually get to see Eddie, it’ll still be under surveillance, most likely monitoring heart rate and whatever else they’re looking for. It will feel clinical, which is so not ideal, but once it’s over- you and Eddie could walk out together and do whatever, go wherever. If he still is interested.

“So, um, what type of girls do you usually go for?” you ask, a slight twinge of insecurity working its way back to the front of your mind. 

“Um,” Eddie replies, letting out an exhale, “Alive.” He smiles when he hears a laugh from the other side of the wall. 

“No seriously,” you urge. “I’m curious.”

“I mean- I really don’t have a type,” he states honestly. “I’d like it if she's nice to me, but that’s not even a deal breaker,” he jokes. 

“You like girls being a little mean to you?” You flirt, raising an eyebrow playfully.

“I don’t think I’d hate it,” he grins. “Um, but seriously? I guess I want someone who likes some of the same stuff as me- or at least will put up with me talking about it. I want someone who I feel comfortable around and I’m not afraid to be myself.”

“What about like- appearance wise?” you ask tentatively.

“This feels like a question we shouldn’t be asking,” he taunts. You feel your face get hot. “I feel like if I tell you the truth you won’t believe me,” he answers. 

“Why’s that?” you ask, confused. 

“It feels like you're expecting me to say skinny, blonde and leggy or something, and if I say anything else you’re going to just think I’m lying,” he muses. Your eyes widen at how well he’s able to read you, and it’s mildly infuriating. 

“I think someone or maybe the world or whatever,” he continues, “has convinced you that you aren’t attractive and I really, truly think that isn’t the case at all. And baiting me to try to confirm that isn’t going to work because I can tell it’s a defense mechanism cause you’re afraid.” 

“Well darling,” he smirks, stepping as close as possible to the wall so you hear him clearly, “I’m not gonna let you get away with it. Because, talking to you is convincing me with each passing hour that I’m cooped up in this damn box that this experiment might actually work. I have not been able to think about anything else but getting back to talk to you when I’m not here. You’re desirable, I want you and you’re just gonna have to wrap your pretty little head around that.” 

Buzz

PART THREE

Taglist:

@woahnotmecryingoverafanfiction @ali-r3n @cherrycolas-things @hellfirebabe666 @trixyvixx @stardancerluv @i--wont-run-this-time

[solselah]

Pick A Movie ? 💛

(Channeled messages are unrelated to plot)

PILE 1 - TOTAL RECALL

You’ve been noticing recently that your lucid dreaming has gotten so real !! I believe you had an idea how this journey was going to go but you got hit with a mini curve ball the last time you attempted to lucid dream !! Your guides are kind of smirking like just ask us to “lead and guide you and so it shall be” they are definitely protecting during this interesting moment of learning how to “get off the ground” it seems like you start to astral project and you maybe get a bit overwhelmed & feel the need to stop & try again ! On the other hand as you’re sleeping the whole time you’re lucid dreaming to these dimensions & meeting people you actually know in that realm ! So In reality your guides want to lead you into conscious Astral travel !!! Being that you unexpectedly lucid dream almost every night !!! I see for some you really do meet up in the astral realm like it’s a game lol , like okay player 1 is here , player two is here we’re ready to GO! I would just be aware of those you travel with if this is what you choose to do ! Make sure you’re truly okay with sharing your energy on that level !

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

PILE 2 - MOONLIGHT

I’m hearing you could be a Sagittarius specifically !! If not you have HEAVY Jupiterian energy! The message I’m receiving is that revolving around your self worth & how it’s been at a 0% when it’s literally always been at 100% with you ! I see people around you are concerned and want you to know they care and are here for you , with anything you may need ! For some you’ve just been watching and listening !! For a few you could’ve really had an imbalanced upbringing, I’m seeing that you may have had your parents, which is a positive thing , but they both seem to have “filled the same glass consistently”

meanwhile the other “glasses” (🍷)that were in need of attention remained empty ! So maybe they raised you based off how they were raised or how they simply wanted to. There were usually no input from others , especially family ! They could’ve been so Focused on your goals making sure you don’t make them look any less than they deem themselves to be ! I’m so picking up a mothers energy , she is toxic yall!! And would rather you “raise yourself” than put energy into molding you & raising you with the love that nourishes and not the back handed guilt of love ! Things will be so different when you decide to have kids or even if you do ! You move so different than your family and I commend you for it ! 💙

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

PILE 3 - HIDDEN FIGURES

So I see your having doubts about if this person is literally your twin flame like you don’t have any clue about what that even means or looks like for you & your not the type of person to look online and associate your experiences with the next , you need to experience these things for yourself to really solidify it in your eyes ! So you are doubting which is so okay because I do feel it’s a natural reaction to such a powerful dynamic ! Now as far as labeling it as twin flame that part you’re not sure about , like you rarely like saying boyfriend and girlfriend ! You are okay with being Partners or just people who love each other ! You are my pile that moves independent mostly , what you want you really go out there and get it for you ! To make you feel good , to add to the list of your accomplishments! You feel like this

“Twin flame “ thing might take you off your tracks as far as being independent , you’re not really ready for that level of emotion !! You definitely are dealing with someone who is KARMIC to you and is capable of mirroring to you , your faults ! You’re just not ready for that !! I wouldn’t 100% say you have interacted with your twin flame if you even have one ! I just feel like one of you may think that and the other is feeling so off about it. You’re hiding from the things that are triggering you which is so normal but at some point you’ll HAVE to face it !! Take it gently! Never with force ✨

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PILE 4 - BRIDESMAIDS

(Mini 18+ warning )

You’re so not good with rejection of any kind !! lol you can be the type of person who is like go big or go home ! you will literally pay an arm and leg for something you really want !!! You have a very abundant mind set and can actually create and manifest with that gift so amazingly !! You take action you’re not lazy whatsoever , you are a money maker and may even work from home to where you still are in the comfort of your own Space ! The message for you is to maintain this abundant mindset and you never know where you’ll end up in the next 6 years as far as goals are concerned!! Venus is ushering in some good sex for you ! It’s almost like you work with a goddess connected to Venus and you can manifest the person , place & time lol your definitely a Conjurer or a sorceress an empress , you may work with water as well , I’m seeing water offerings !! So you have a deep connection to the element of water. You could be a Pisces I’m feeling that sign heavily! you may also have a Scorpio Venus for some or even a Jupiter in Taurus for others ! You are really so godly ! The shape , the body, the energy its all goals !!! 🔥🔥

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Hope you enjoy 💛

IG: @ soleccentric