#BUT IT IS BASED ON SOMETHING I NOTICED!!!!!!

[cutielando]

family anew | lando norris

synopsis: in which you're not used to having a happy family, but Lando changes that for you

a/n: based on this request!

pairing: lando norris x girlfriend!reader

my masterlist

You had never really been one for family gatherings. Not because you didn’t like them, but because, well, you didn’t have the kind that people looked forward to.

Your relationship with your own family had been distant for as long as you could remember. Calls went unanswered, messages ignored, and when you did see them, the conversations were clipped and awkward, as if you were more of a familiar acquaintance than blood.

So when Lando invited you to meet his family, you hesitated.

“They really want to meet you,” he had said, excitement shining in his blue eyes.

He was lying next to you on the couch, fingers lazily playing with yours. “Mum’s already planning what to cook, and I’m pretty sure my sisters are going to bombard you with questions.”

You forced a smile, nodding, but your stomach twisted with unease. Meeting his family meant stepping into something unfamiliar—warmth, closeness, genuine care. It wasn’t something you were used to.

Lando seemed to notice your hesitation because his grip on your hand tightened.

“Hey,” he murmured, voice softer now. “If you don’t want to, you don’t have to.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” you admitted, looking down. “I just… I don’t know if I’ll fit in.”

Lando’s brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you mean?”

You hesitated before saying,

“I’m just not used to that kind of family dynamic. My family isn’t exactly close.”

His expression softened even more.

“Then let mine be your family too.”

♡♡♡♡♡

Lando’s childhood home was nothing short of stunning, but it wasn’t the size or the decor that caught your attention—it was the warmth. The second you stepped inside, you were enveloped in it, an energy so foreign yet comforting that it nearly took your breath away.

His mother, Cisca, was the first to greet you, pulling you into a hug before you could even process it.

“It’s so lovely to finally meet you!” she exclaimed, squeezing you tightly. “Lando never stops talking about you.”

Your cheeks flushed, and you laughed softly, casting a glance at Lando, who merely grinned.

“It’s really nice to meet you too.”

His sisters, Flo and Cisca, were next, their enthusiasm making your nerves both spike and settle at the same time.

“So you’re the one stealing all of Lando’s attention,” Flo teased, elbowing him.

Cisca grinned. “Finally! Someone to keep him in check.”

Lando rolled his eyes, muttering, “Oh God, here we go.”

You expected to feel out of place. Instead, you found yourself laughing, being pulled into conversations, and feeling something you couldn’t quite name.

Belonging.

♡♡♡♡♡

Dinner was a lively affair. The table was filled with home-cooked food, and the conversation flowed with ease. Lando’s family wasn’t just close—they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. They told stories, teased one another, and included you in every bit of it.

“Lando was the clumsiest kid,” his mother was saying, eyes alight with amusement. “I swear, he ran into walls more times than I can count.”

“Mum,” Lando groaned, covering his face as his sisters burst into laughter.

Cisca grinned.

“Oh, don’t act embarrassed. You haven’t changed that much.”

You giggled, nudging him.

“That explains a lot, actually.”

Lando shot you a betrayed look, but you could see the happiness in his eyes. He wanted you to be part of this.

You wanted that too.

After dinner, you helped clear the table despite Cisca’s protests that you were a guest. Lando watched you from the doorway, a small smile playing on his lips as you chatted with his sisters while washing dishes.

“You fit right in,” he whispered later when he pulled you aside.

You wanted to believe that.

♡♡♡♡♡

Later that night, you found yourself in the living room, sitting beside Lando’s mother while she flipped through old photo albums. The stories she told filled in gaps you hadn’t realized existed, painting a picture of a childhood so vastly different from your own.

There were birthday parties filled with laughter, summer vacations spent together, Christmas mornings where the entire family piled onto the couch in matching pajamas.

Your fingers grazed a photo of Lando as a child, grinning wildly with a missing front tooth. He looked so happy.

“You didn’t grow up like this, did you?” Cisca asked gently, as if she already knew the answer.

You swallowed. “No.”

She reached over, squeezing your hand.

“Families aren’t just the ones we’re born into. Sometimes, we find them in places we least expect.”

Your eyes stung. No one had ever told you that before.

♡♡♡♡♡

It wasn’t until later that night that Lando found you outside on the patio, staring up at the sky, deep in thought. He wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Alright, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”

You sighed, leaning into his warmth.

“I just… It’s so different from what I’m used to. Your family, they love each other so much. It’s… It’s amazing.”

He turned you around gently so you were facing him.

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“Yeah,” you admitted, voice quiet. “It’s just hard to accept that kind of love when you’ve never had it.”

Lando cupped your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“You deserve it. Every bit of it.”

Your throat tightened. “But what if I don’t fit in?”

He shook his head. “You already do. My mum loves you, my sisters adore you, and I—” He hesitated for a moment before smiling softly. “I love you.”

Your heart stilled. “You do?”

“I do.” His voice was steady, sure. “And love isn’t something you have to earn, alright? It’s given. Freely. You don’t have to be used to it—you just have to let yourself feel it.”

Tears burned the back of your eyes, but for the first time in a long time, they weren’t from sadness. They were from something lighter, something warmer.

Maybe love wasn’t something you had to be afraid of.

Maybe, just maybe, home wasn’t a place.

Maybe home was a person.

And maybe, just maybe, your home had curly hair, blue eyes, and a heart big enough to hold all the love you had been missing.

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[elumish]

So I just spent some time hunting around trying to find more information on this, and I think that the Medium article may not be 100% correct.

Part of the issue here is that the Microsoft AI training information requires a bunch of hunting, and it's super confusing. But here's what I found:

This is the most definitive answer that I found about what they don't train Copilot (Microsoft's AI tool) on (emphasis added):

We do not train Copilot on data from: 

Our commercial customers, or any data from users logged into an organizational M365/EntraID account. You can learn more here.

Users logged in with M365 personal or family subscriptions.

Users who are not logged into Copilot using a Microsoft Account or other third-party authentication.

Authenticated users under the age of 18.

Users who have opted out of training.

Users in Brazil, China (excluding Hong Kong), Israel, Nigeria, South Korea, and Vietnam. This means that AI offerings will be available in those markets, but no user data will be used for generative AI model training in those locations until further notice.

We also limit the types of data we use for training. We do not train AI models on personal account data like your Microsoft account profile data or email contents. We also do not train AI models on the contents of files you upload to Copilot, although any conversations you have with Copilot about the file will be handled just like any other conversation (and subject to your choice about whether to permit model training on your conversations). If any images are included in your AI conversations, we take steps to de-identify them such as removing metadata or other personal data and blurring images of faces.

This is what Microsoft says about what is used for training their AI models (the ellipses are because I took out a link to the section I just quoted above, emphasis added):

Except for certain categories of users...or users who have opted out, Microsoft uses data from Bing, MSN, Copilot, and interactions with ads on Microsoft for AI training. This includes de-identified search and news data, interactions with ads, and your voice and text conversations with Copilot. This data will be used to improve Copilot and our other products and services to create a better user experience for you and others.

By using real-world consumer data to help train our underlying generative AI models, we can improve Copilot and offer a more reliable and relevant experience. The more diversity in conversations our AI models are exposed to, the better they will understand and serve important regional languages, geographies, cultural references, and trending topics of interest to you and other users.

Based on these two together, it seems like the data of yours that they are training on is search data, MSN, ad interactions, and engagement with Copilot itself. Based on this, my understanding is that they are not training AI on what you are writing in files or sending over email.

This is not a shock! I'm not a legal expert, but stealing data from all of your files would probably immediately open Microsoft up to approximately a million lawsuits.

Tl;dr: it's still a good idea to turn off those various connected services and such and to not use Copilot, but there's no indication from Microsoft's own statements that they are using data pulled from your files or emails to train their AI.

(I am not an AI expert or a Microsoft expert so please let me know if I'm getting something wrong.)

Microsoft Office, like many companies in recent months, has slyly turned on an “opt-out” feature that scrapes your Word and Excel documents to train its internal AI systems. This setting is turned on by default, and you have to manually uncheck a box in order to opt out.

If you are a writer who uses MS Word to write any proprietary content (blog posts, novels, or any work you intend to protect with copyright and/or sell), you’re going to want to turn this feature off immediately.How to Turn off Word’s AI Access To Your Content

I won’t beat around the bush. Microsoft Office doesn’t make it easy to opt out of this new AI privacy agreement, as the feature is hidden through a series of popup menus in your settings:On a Windows computer, follow these steps to turn off “Connected Experiences”:

File > Options > Trust Center > Trust Center Settings > Privacy Options > Privacy Settings > Optional Connected Experiences > Uncheck box: “Turn on optional connected experiences”

[moonastro]

Groom persona chart

The ascendant in the signs

what is a groom persona chart? this chart exhibits qualities that your husband will have and possible placements that can be seen in their chart. it is simply a chart all about your spouse in a woman's chart. the asteroid groom can be identified using the code 5129.

The ascendant in the groom persona chart can tell us what your husbands appearance can be like, also how you would describe them as a person.

reminder: this is my interpretation from observations and first hand experiences, so don't take this to heart.

Aries ascendant: spouse can be very muscular, love to workout or do any major, high intensity work or workouts. May love to keep themselves fit whether it’s physically or mentally. Can eat very harshly, ( and I mean they can eat like animals 😅). May like to rush every single thing that they do, eating, doing chores, folding clothes, getting to appointments, they can all be things that they just rush doing. I have noticed that this placement gives your spouse a high temper, like they can genuinely get angry over the little things and will hold a grudge about it too. In terms of appearance, may due their hair a funky colour, can wear funky accessories also like have piercings on their face, even tattoos.

Taurus ascendant: future spouse may be build strong. Not so much as muscular but just genuinely his body may be naturally strong. With this placement, your spouse can enjoy the social interaction from having meals together. He may protrude this big energy physically but inside may be very soft and gentle. May like to express himself by voice stimming, an example would be humming, singing in general, making random noises with his mouth.

Gemini ascendant: your future spouse may be lean and appear to be taller than they are. May look friendly and love LOVEEE to talk. May have a nice voice or you may be interested in their voice also. Can have youthful face and stature. Can even have a voice that sounds like they are younger also. These individuals with this placement can have a spouse that craves to talk, and I’m not saying that they want to talk because of boredom no, it’s something that they connect with, it’s something that they genuinely want to do without thinking about it if that makes sense.

Cancer ascendant: spouse can be a very caring person. In terms of appearance, can dress according to the event. Like if it’s for professional matters, will dress professionally, if for staying at home, comfy clothes etc. can have round features and it may not have to be on the face, it could be around the body also like having a round nose, round forehead, round chest etc. your spouse can also have a resting sad face or even so they really tell how they think based on their facial expressions. Like their face will NOT lie, they will react accordingly to how they feel about a situation. May have slight eye-bags if they haven’t been keeping well like if they haven’t been able to get enough sleep, or have been overworked, you can tell that by their face, like may have dry skin, puffy eyes because of not resting or keeping good care of themselves physically.

Leo ascendant: these individuals are well known by a lot of people. Whether it’s what they do for work, from their social interactions, their hobbies, your spouses name may just be something that people have heard of and know of. Your future spouse may do anything and it can be analysed by the public even if no one knows him, but he can have a lot of confidence within him, so this can be why people tend to keep an eye out on him. In terms of appearance, may always dress up for any occasion, may like to jazz up their appearance from time to time for example like dye their hair purple( or whatever colour), or wear some makeup, even dressing up a completely different style etc.

Virgo ascendant: spouse may be of average height, on the leaner side. May look youngER than his age. Can have facial hair or look clean with it, suit it also. With this placement I have noticed that people don’t notice them for their looks but their vibe, I don’t know if this makes sense but people don’t tend to notice their appearance like clothes etc, but their personality and their actions. For your spouse, actions speak louder than ANYTHING, they look good in anything tbh, just as long as their actions are in check everything’s all good. In terms of personality they like to chat, talking is like the most important thing to them, not only that noticing them and making them feel heard is important also. Omggg also may tend to blush easily, and their smile may be something you love about them. They can tend to smile a lot.

Libra ascendant: spouse may look and appear to be well groomed. Whether it’s facial hair cut, hairstyle sorted, clothes ironed etc. spouse may care what others think of them about their appearance. Also this placement loves to be clean and smell clean so your spouse may look after their hygiene and genuinely enjoy to smell nice 24/7. Personality wise spouse can be lighthearted, but tend to judge others by their flaws and often miss their own. May have unknown enemies or people who assume things or go off by rumours said about him.

🌸for example, my mother has Libra degree ascendant (7°) and my father would always nitpick the tiniest of flaws in his clothes, even to us as kids😂😂. Like if our uniform had a little stain he would notice and say something about it, he always and I mean ALWAYS has a clean shaven face, irons all his clothes by himself and the list goes on and on and you get the gist.

Scorpio ascendant: your spouse may look intimidating and have heavy Pluto placements. Appearance wise may have dark eye circles/bags, have pointy features but may be muscular ( not Aries like) not buff but just naturally muscular. With this placement I’ve noticed they tend to lose their hairline as they age. But also may tan very easily. As to sum up what they will be a s a person may never give up with their opinion, your spouse may be one to keep arguing until their point is heard, it’s not like they think it’s right it’s them getting the point that it’s important to them. Also may be tall and slim unless other planets in first house that can interpret otherwise.

Sagittarius ascendant: spouse may be tall, a lot taller than you anyway. May come from a different country so may have features that look foreign or different to yours. I’ve noticed with this placement spouse can become more at ease with their appearance as the relationship gets further on down the line. By that I mean they may not be too compelled to look perfect. For example, may let their facial hair grow out, may repeat outfits multiple of days in a row, may put on weight etc etc. ( really depends on degree and other planets in 1st house). As to say for personality may be always matching your energy, may make the effort to always put your needs before his also.

🌸for example, my aunt has sag ascendant and Venus in first house, they have been together for years and from the first time they have met until now he has a tendency to snack ( Venus trait of sweet treats) therefore has put on a bit of weight(ABSOLUTELY FRIGGIN NOT A BAD THING- just an observation). Also to back this up( as I am NOT stating that this is true to anyone who has a Sagittarius ascendant or Venus in 1st house) she has Jupiter in 6th house( body, health) so ya know.

Capricorn ascendant: spouse can have sharp bone structure anywhere around his body. May like to look lean and tidy. Spouse can naturally portray a serious aura around him even when unintentional. Your future spouse may love to dress up not in a fun way but a smart way, like he may love buying new suits, new shoes, new ties etc. he can represent himself as someone smart but may often like to keep the same style on him. I’ve noticed that they may tend to do that in accordingly so that people can associate them with that piece of clothing, but it never looks bad on them for how many times he repeats the outfit.

Aquarius ascendant: your future spouse can have this cartoon character appearance. I don’t know why but they do, they can have features that look good on them but if you analysed them individually they would look almost weird. Like for example may have eyes that are close together, or a nose that is extremely pointy, or like lips that have a noticeable outline on them etc etc. little things that you would have to look for in order to actually tell them apart. But on them it looks natural if that makes sense. Your spouse can either be the type to follow trends if they like it and dress accordingly to the latest trends, or be the type to have their own style that stays out of the trends.

Pisces ascendant: spouse can look tired or look sad naturally. Oops I don’t know but all the people with this placement have a partner that looks high. But nonetheless, spouse may be gentle and just very soft spoken and have this light energy around them. May look soft and clean. Can be the type of person who stays out of drama or is a behinds the scene type of person. They may complete something but it may be unknown by many. Can rarely raise their voice, like may often times stay quite most of the time. Also another thing is they tend to have this peaceful energy about them, they may have light feet and so sometimes you won’t even notice they have left or entered a room (just a silly obs).

Thank you so much for reading and taking the time to like my content, it is much appreciated. I hope you all have a lovely rest of your day 😊🌼

[hcneymooners]

౨ৎ stargirl interlude: chapter ii.

wnba!paige x pop star!azzi. men & minors dni.

⋆ 🪩 masterlist.

synopsis: azzi’s one of the industry’s fastest rising stars—a notorious ice princess. she doesn’t pay much attention to the internet, so she’s caught off guard when she finds out who her biggest fan is: world-class athlete paige bueckers, publicly losing her mind over her.

cw: implied mental health issues, fluff, first date, medium burn?, young girls rediscovering themselves and their desires, slight angst, mentions of faith.

notes: hi, my doves. let me know if you enjoyed this. sorry this is a little sad, but azzi is a product of childhood fame. love you. can't wait to see you in my inbox.

II: SECOND SKIN.

“i’d like to work on something different. something that feels more like me.”

azzi watched as her manager’s brow rose, sensed her mother's gaze boring holes deep into her skin. she steadfastly ignored them, focusing instead on the condensation dripping down the plastic body of her iced blueberry matcha. 

the head of the label sat across from her. he was a stout man with a pinched face. it always looked as though he was struggling to breathe. he was kind though, had seen many a pop legend come and go, and seemed to have a soft spot for her ideas, usually called silly, when she presented them to katie on the car ride home.

“you don’t feel any connection to what you’re doing now?” he asked her, and azzi blinked back into the moment.  

“i think i did at some point but,” azzi pursed her lips, then let out a flow of air, “i’m not feeling myself in any of it. i look at the lyrics and open my mouth and nothing comes out. at least nothing i’m proud of.”

the man sat back, green eyes unnervingly bright. she focused on the liver spot that pulled across his neck, mind running as she tried to remember his name. it was something rather clandestine. micheal? murray? 

“what do you feel yourself in?”

azzi looked up from beneath her lashes, her cheeks haloed by her unbrushed curls. she was only in a midi black dress, the straps thick and the neckline square. along her collarbones lay a thin diamond chain with a silver, cursive ‘a’ pendant that swung forward every time she readjusted herself. her feet were encased in faux-leather flats, the small, needlework rosary tattoo she’d gotten on a whim dark and visible.

“i’ve been listening to a lot of indie rock. red hot chili peppers, smashing pumpkins, the teenagers. i like the way i feel when i listen. there’s more room in the writing to sing about what i’m going through, big or small. i’m—” she hesitated. “i’m tired of being a sexy baby.”

“indie rock, huh?” the man said, his eyes crinkling as he smiled. “i didn’t think kids knew of red hot chili peppers these days.”

azzi smiled, her two front teeth shining white and new. her mother, who had been holding on for a rather impressive amount of time, finally gave her input.

“but she’s not a rockstar, max! she’s a pop star.”

oh, so his name was max. yes, very clandestine. max rolled his neck over to one side as he glanced irritably at katie, his jaw working before he responded. 

“i get that, katie, i really do.” azzi tried not to laugh and took a sip of her matcha. “but reinvention is how these girls stay alive in this world. azzi’s right. people are not looking for the sexy baby thing right now. i mean there’s always an audience, but azzi’s demographic has grown with her. and if she wants her growth to be noticeable, i think it's smart to play up a different image other than discovering that you have a body and desires for the first time.” 

huh, azzi thought. go, max.

he looked back at her, eyed her drink. “need another?’

“sure,” azzi said, her voice quiet but her resolve strong. 

they got up. they took a walk.

⟡

azzi pushed three thick sprays of salt water through the nozzle and into the back of her throat, her nose burning as california brine coated the muscles. then she texted paige. 

» hey, paige. just wanted to touch base about getting coffee this week.

her arms burned when she pressed the meat of them into the metal strings of her bass guitar. she shined it earlier and its teal corpse stared at her, reflecting a distorted image of her face as it begged her to touch it—to raise it from the dead. she felt the feeble spirit of her thirteen-year-old self in the marrow of the instrument, and she focused she could hear her too.  

she hated the message once she sent it. she sounded so out of touch with what it meant to be a young girl, a cool girl. while she waited for paige’s response, her eyes roved over the other girl’s instagram. she cataloged what she knew of her already: she was twenty-five, two years to azzi’s twenty-three, and a well-loved prodigy. she frequented texas, dallas to be specific, due to her current contract. she flew back and forth to new york, apparently helping to coach teenage athletes in her spare time. 

azzi liked that, that the goodness of her heart gave her a reason to plant her feet on new york’s rat-run ground. azzi sometimes worried that she wasn’t good, not even a little bit. 

she lingered on a candid of paige in the pews of a church, the light streaming in through the thin stained glass adorning her with mock sainthood. azzi wondered if it would matter to paige that god tended to put a frog in her throat, that she had removed his hands from around her neck and thighs and was trying to sit next to him without flinching on most days. maybe they would never get there. 

» hey, azzi. yeah, i’m still good for coffee. 

azzi smiled. i wonder if you know how good you make me feel, she thought and then was immediately embarrassed. 

» that’s really good to hear. 

she paused, then sent another message. 

» sorry about saying “touch base”. it was weird.

the response was swift.

» nah, it wasn’t. 

azzi wondered if she should leave it alone, but if she was going to coffee she may as well ensure it wasn’t too awkward. she raised her arms, ignoring the indentations in her skin, and snapped a picture of her guitar. the steel of its strings gleamed; the teal paint seemed to cry. you could see her shadow reach across it. her leg was bent, but visible—tender from her weight being shifted across it for several hours.

» trying to learn how to use her again » going a new direction with my music and i’m kind of really scared 

too honest, she berated herself. paige didn’t seem to think so.

(paige didn’t think so at all. her crystal blue eyes had fallen on the reddened skin of azzi’s knee, on the thin strip of darkness made by the bend of azzi’s leg and the crush of her thigh. her mouth watered, and she redid her ponytail to regain some self-control.)

» u have a voice like an angel, azzi. some things are just meant to be. 

» God knew what He was doing. 

she capitalized God, azzi noted. her mouth twitched into a smile. she liked that. it was a good detail.

» i’m not that religious, but since you are i guess you would know. » sorry that sounded mean, but i don’t mind it. your faith, i mean. please don’t feel bad.

a moment passed and then,

» i don’t know, i just trust. » and i didn’t feel bad. ur not a mean girl. 

azzi laughed out loud then. 

» it’s my desire to know vs my desire to trust, she said.  » see you tomorrow, paige

her phone buzzed one last time. 

» can’t wait. i’ll be looking for u. 

azzi took a deep breath and closed her eyes. she thought hard of california, saw her father in the waves with a hand around her arm—the bone thick with baby fat. she heard something, someone. 

she touched a string. it sang.

⟡

the morning light came in sharp, cutting the shop into bright angles and long shadows. the windows were too clean, the floor polished to a dull shine. it smelled like scorched milk and antiseptic, something artificial masking something else. the kind of place people pretended to not mind, with its ten-dollar oat lattes and plastic baristas. the kind of place azzi used to think she liked.

she had dressed without thinking—well, no. she had thought about it quite a bit, but it was a good fantasy.

a strapless smocked top, tight across her ribs, the fabric shifting when she moved. faded jeans, loose at the hip, cinched with an old leather belt. they slouched low, soft, and worn in the way vintage denim should be, brushing against the tops of her boots. she carried her jacket in one hand, twisted around her fingers like an afterthought. her hair, loose from whatever styling had held it the other morning, fell in soft, uneven spirals. she’d drawn up the top with brown butterfly clips to prevent it from getting into her eyes. 

she looked like someone caught between selves. not quite undone, but close.

her fingers traced the rim of her mug, nails chipped down to uneven edges. the heat of the ceramic barely registered. paige was watching her. not in the way people usually did—calculating, expectant—but with a slow heat closer to patience. like she was trying to understand something. azzi often felt like a ghost within her own body, but now, someone was gazing at her,  not through her.

paige sat with her legs apart, elbows resting on her thighs. it was the kind of posture that helped make her look present without seeming too comfortable. the light made a halo of her, just for a second.

she wore a white, slightly oversized button-down, sleeves rolled up just once—as she did it absentmindedly, not for style. the fabric looked soft; it seemed the kind that came off better the more it was worn. beneath that: dark wash straight-leg jeans, fitted enough to hint at her strength but relaxed to a degree that spoke to her disinterest in the semantics of fashion. they fell heavy at the hem, half-swallowing her vintage nike cortez sneakers. a simple chain encircled her neck, barely noticeable except when the light caught it. a cross, just simple metal.

the image instilled a sense of wonder in azzi. she wanted to ask about it, if it meant anything.

paige grimaced, picking up her vanilla latte with two shots of espresso. "twelve fucking dollars?" she muttered. "for this?"

azzi watched her, something soft developing in her chest. she slightly recognized this feeling. it was like rediscovering a language she'd forgotten she knew how to speak. it began to bleed through her, raw and unfiltered. she worried that it would stain her shirt.

"so," paige said, her voice slipping through the lo-fi hum of someone’s terrible 2010-esque playlist, "tell me something."

azzi blinked. the overhead lights buzzed, too bright, catching on the fine gold chain around her throat. her small scorpio pendant shifted when she swallowed. 

“um, let’s see. i'm twenty-three," azzi started, her words falling into a practiced rhythm. "born in virginia, but lived in california for a while. i miss it there. uh, oh. my favorite color is pink. i have a birthmark shaped like texas on my left hip.” 

paige took another swig of coffee and then looked her dead in the eye. she raised an eyebrow. "you giving me teen beat facts?"

azzi suppressed a smile. she shrugged.

paige leaned in, elbows on the table, hands loose but steady.

"something that doesn’t exist in a press release." a pause. "give me the real you, please."

the words settled between them. the moment stretched, thin and expectant. something about it made azzi want to look away.

she didn’t.

“um,” her voice was quieter now, “i’m terrified of spiders, but i don’t ever want to kill them. i’m allergic to fake gold, and my ears swelled when i got them pierced as a toddler. i can’t cook or bake, but i have a good eye for presentation. i haven’t really written or performed anything i’ve liked in over two years.”

the last bit took her by surprise, but paige’s eyes only softened. she leaned back and swallowed down the remnants of her drink. she put it down and tilted her head, her blonde hair shifting with the movement. her mouth seemed electric as she spoke. 

“i want to take you somewhere. come with me?”

they ended up at a small ethiopian restaurant.

it was tucked between a laundromat and a convenience store, where the scent of berbere and spiced butter pulled at the air before the door even opened. inside, the walls were warm-toned, lined with woven baskets and paintings, the floor covered in persian rugs softened and faded by years of footsteps. it hummed with low chatter, the clink of metal trays, and the occasional burst of laughter from a group in the corner.

azzi looked around, a little mesmerized. "this is beautiful."

paige watched her, further endeared. "yeah."

they sat on the floor, low cushions pressed against their backs, a tray of injera and slow-cooked stews set between them. the place was packed, families and couples and groups of friends leaning close, tearing pieces of bread with practiced ease. 

it was intimate in a way that surprised azzi—hands reaching, sharing, dipping.  food was so respected here; the art of the meal and family so centered. she followed paige’s lead, watching her scoop a piece and fold it with practiced ease.

azzi’s first bite made her eyes widen, then flutter closed. "oh my god."

"right?" paige grinned, watching as azzi eagerly took another bite. it was so good, flavored in a way that stuck to your ribs. this was the kind of food you could taste long after you’d left the table.

they stayed like that, across from one another but intersecting as their hands met in the warm rivers of heavily spiced sauce and pots of yellow rice.

at some point, azzi got a bit of sauce on her chin, then her cheek, and paige, without thinking, swiped her thumb over it only to smear it across the bridge of her nose. azzi let out a startled laugh, brown eyes crinkling, and paige smirked.

"you missed a spot."

paige watched as azzi lifted her phone, angling the camera to capture the streak of sauce on her cheek, then her nose. she stuck out her tongue, crossing her eyes in one, then tilted her head slightly, lips parted to reveal her american girl teeth, a mess of curls cradling her face.

"these are so cute," she murmured, voice warm as she tapped through the shots. "i never get to have food on my face."

and it was clearly meant to be funny in an offhanded way, but then azzi’s face flickered—like she’d just realized something. a small thing, but a thing that felt bigger, heavier. her throat tightened, and she hurried to blame it on the spice, but she could tell that paige saw through it, saw the way her fingers flexed like she didn't know what to do with them.

under the table, paige found her hand. squeezed. then, casually, she tore another piece of injera, scooped up some stew, and lifted it to azzi’s full lips—the skin a deep pink and swollen by the flame of peppers.

"here, mama," she said, voice easy. "try this one."

azzi took the bite, chewed, and swallowed. she exhaled, slow. paige didn’t let go of her hand.

before they left, the owners took a polaroid for the wall of customers. azzi insisted they take two, so they could have their own. in the photo, azzi was mid-laugh, eyes bright, sauce still dotted on her nose. paige stood beside her, relaxed in a way she didn’t even realize, watching azzi like she had a secret within that she didn’t know yet.  like she always had.

they didn’t decide who would get to keep it officially, but it ended up in the back of azzi’s phone. a pale copy sat in paige’s gallery. azzi pocketed the second polaroid, running a thumb over the glossy surface. something shifted inside her, loose and warm. 

later, on the train home, she tucked her legs beneath her in the seat and hummed under her breath. a melody had given birth inside of her—new, half-formed, and fighting. words came to her unbidden, stale lyrics made better by the fact that she was trying again.

she murmured into her phone’s voice memo app. she held up the phone to paige’s mouth and asked her to speak. paige smiled, tender with joy, and protested that she didn’t know what to say.

“it’s not the real thing,” azzi assured her. “you can say anything.”

paige hummed and then,

“will you get another coffee with me?” 

azzi grinned, her body trembling. she lowered her feet to the floor and leaned over until her head fell onto paige’s shoulder. she picked up paige’s hand and turned it over so that the pale palm was open and exposed. she traced nine letters into the skin.

yes, please.

paige closed her hand and kept her there. 

azzi hummed from the station to her apartment. even the clink of her keys into their designated bowl seemed on-key. 

it was a song. her song. the first in a long time. she could’ve sobbed. 

thank god, she thought, that i remember how to sing.

⟡

voguescandinavia: azzi fudd has a new approach: “i want to keep going to places where i don’t know anyone or anything. i tend to find myself there.”

a black and white portrait accompanied the tweet. azzi's face was slightly turned, wind-blown wisps of her natural curls catching across her cheekbone. her expression was borderline intense, almost vulnerable—eyes looking slightly off-center, not quite meeting the camera.

she wore a simple white tank top, and her skin was slightly tanned, with shadows and bits of sand dusted along parts of her face. the background was indistinct, a blurred landscape suggesting openness, motion. her gaze penetrated.

it was silently understood that she wasn’t performing, but truly present.

the reception was overwhelmingly kind, warm. but only one mattered.

trending simple and proud:

pbueckersofficial: angel falls short but swear it’s her true form 🩶🎙️

on her private account, her heart to mouth filter had failed. the same picture, quote retweeted but with different wording: 

pbuckets5: i want to run away. make a world of just you and me. somewhere between the city lights and the way you breathe—i'm desperate to understand everything.

her teammates' immediately lit up her notifications.

karnold: girl what is happening  aubrey: wait what.   janaaa: oh. drewbuckets: paige poetry era??

azzi, almost half asleep, saw the public thread. smiled. then quote-tweeted:

azzi35: i'd like to stay on earth for another coffee with you 🕊️

the internet imploded. 

username: they actually hang out?!  username: paige bueckers and azzi fudd interacting again??? this is not a drill  uconnsports: we're witnessing history  ⤷ username: who is the intern running this page lmfao username: the way they're speaking about each other?? its giving legacy love story i fear karnold: y’all don’t you worry, we got somebody checking on paige cause she may actually be dead idk

and trending worldwide: #bueckersfudd2028.

⟡

azzi went to sleep. in her dreams there was a stage, but no microphone. azzi opened her mouth and extended a hand to the sole person in the audience. from her mouth burst three pink butterflies. 

teach me, they said with every pump of their wings. please, teach me.

the woman stood from her seat. her hair was so blonde it was almost white. she looked at azzi with her sharp blue gaze, touched her own throat, and then stepped forward to press into azzi’s skin. the heat from her fingertips spiraled up into azzi’s mouth until she felt so warm that she thought her bones might melt into ash and milk. 

the woman cupped her cheek. from her heart a beat; from her mouth a word. 

azzi, she said. her mouth was closed. God himself opened your mouth and placed music on your tongue.

azzi, she said. sing.

© hcneymooners.

[rafedarling]

𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐲

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: a headache sends you reaching for drew, but his phone goes unanswered as you struggle to get to the hospital alone. at the pharmacy, you find him there with odessa.

warning(s): english is not my native language. angst, mild language, jealousy and mistrust, mention of health a scare.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. discussion can be send through my ask box, please feel free to send in anything. ⭐️ taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe @emberaurora @issabellec7 @alexxavicry

notes: i actually write the reader’s emotions and behavior based on how i personally react when i’m mad. i tend to have this i don’t give a fuck attitude. hope all you drew!angsty hoes out there love this one-shot! goodnight :).

“Hey, Drew, it’s me again,” you say into the phone, voice strained as you clutch it to your ear.

Your head’s pounding, a vicious ache that’s got your vision blurring at the edges, and you’re pacing the living room, waiting for him to answer.

It rings, then cuts to voicemail. Again.

“My head’s killing me, and I need to get to the hospital. Please call me back.”

You hang up, staring at the blank screen, willing it to light up. Nothing.

The pain surges, and you wince, pressing a hand to your temple. You’d wanted Drew to drive you, to be there, but he’s MIA. With a shaky breath, you open the Uber app, fumbling to book a ride. The hospital’s close, but every minute feels like torture when your skull’s splitting open.

The driver doesn’t talk, and you’re grateful, slumping against the cool window as the streets slip by. You try Drew once more, just in case.

Voicemail.

“Whatever,” you mutter, shoving the phone into your bag.

You’re on your own.

At the hospital, the ER’s a chaos of noise and weary faces, but they see you fast. The doctor’s steady, jotting notes as you describe the headache, sudden, brutal, unlike anything before. Tests and a scan later, he calls it a stress migraine, writes a prescription for pain meds, and tells you to rest. It’s something, but the relief’s overshadowed by the sting of Drew’s absence.

You’re still unsteady when the Uber drops you at the pharmacy. The bright lights inside jab at your eyes as you head to the counter, prescription in hand. That’s when you see him, Drew. He’s by the cold medicine aisle, smiling faintly at Odessa, who’s holding a basket and saying something that makes him nod. They look comfortable, like this is normal.

Your chest tightens, a mix of exhaustion and something sharper. You don’t move until he notices you, his eyes widening slightly.

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” Drew asks, stepping toward you, his tone surprised but soft.

Odessa lingers behind, watching with mild curiosity.

You don’t answer, just hand the prescription to the pharmacist, your fingers trembling a little. The silence hangs heavy, and Drew shifts closer, frowning.

“Are you okay?” he tries again, voice laced with concern now.

“Almost died,” you say, clipped and cold, avoiding his gaze as you wait for the pills. It’s an exaggeration, but it’s how it felt, and you’re not in the mood to sugarcoat it.

He goes quiet, then exhales. “What happened?”

You turn, meeting his eyes briefly.

“Bad headache. Called you a bunch. You didn’t pick up. Took an Uber to the hospital instead.”

Your words are flat, matter-of-fact, but they land hard.

His face shifts, guilt flickering there.

“I didn’t know, babe. My phone was in the car. I was…”

He glances at Odessa, who’s now pretending to study a box of tissues.

“Helping Dess with something.”

You nod, just once, and grab the bag from the pharmacist with a muttered thanks.

“I need to go,” you say, heading for the door.

Drew hesitates, then follows, leaving Odessa behind.

“Let me drive you home,” he says, catching up outside. His voice is gentle, almost pleading.

You’re too tired to fight, so you shrug, letting him lead you to his car.

The ride’s silent.

You stare out the window, the pharmacy bag crinkling in your lap, the headache dulled but still gnawing. Drew grips the wheel, glancing at you every few seconds, but you don’t give him anything.

No words,

No looks.

Just the hum of the engine and the weight of what’s unsaid.

When you get home, you kick off your shoes by the door and head straight for the kitchen. Drew trails behind, closing the front door softly. You grab a glass from the cabinet, fill it with water from the sink, and pop the pill bottle open, all without a word. The pill slides down your throat, bitter and cold, and you set the glass down, staring at the counter.

“Y/N,”

Drew starts, his voice low as he leans against the doorway.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you hanging like that.”

You don’t look at him, tracing a scratch on the counter with your finger.

“You weren’t there,” you say simply, and it’s not loud, but it cuts.

“I know,” he says, stepping closer.

“I should’ve had my phone. I didn’t think… I didn’t know you needed me.”

You turn then, eyes meeting his, and the hurt spills out before you can stop it.

“Why is it always her, Drew? Why’s Odessa always around, and I’m the one who can’t reach you?”

He blinks, caught off guard.

“She’s just a friend. She needed a ride to the clinic today, that’s all.”

You laugh, short and sharp.

“A friend. Right. She’s always needing something, and you’re always there. Meanwhile, I’m calling you, scared out of my mind, and your phone’s in the car because of her.”

He rubs the back of his neck, looking down.

“It’s not like that. You’re my priority, Y/N. I swear.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel like it?” Your voice rises, trembling a little.

“I needed you today, Drew. Not her. Me. And you weren’t there.”

He steps closer, hands out like he wants to fix it.

“I messed up. I get it. I’ll keep my phone on me, I’ll be there next time. Just… tell me how to make this okay.”

You shake your head, turning back to the counter, gripping the edge.

“I don’t know if you can. It’s not just today. It’s every time she’s around, every time I feel like I’m second.”

“She’s not more important than you,” he says, voice firm but quiet.

“You’re my girl. I’ll talk to her, set some distance. I didn’t see how much this was getting to you.”

You don’t respond, just stand there, the pill kicking in, numbing the ache in your head but not your chest. Drew waits, shifting his weight, like he’s hoping you’ll turn around, say something to close the gap. But you don’t. You grab the glass, rinse it out, and set it in the sink, moving past him to the living room.

“Y/N,” he calls softly, following a step behind. “Please.”

You pause, half-turning, but your eyes don’t meet his.

“I’m tired, Drew. I just need to lie down.”

He nods, slow and uncertain, hands dropping to his sides.

“Okay. I’ll be here if you need me.”

You head for the couch, curling up with a throw pillow, and he lingers by the doorway, watching. You close your eyes, pretending to rest, he doesn’t push. He just stays there, a shadow in the corner, and you’re not sure if he’s close enough to reach or too far to try.

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Sunburn

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request | part of my 1k event

♥ pairing: ollie bearman x fem!reader

♥ synopsis: due to your sister’s demanding job you babysit your niece very frequently. she’s taken a liking to your boyfriend ollie and fans have since become obsessed with their dynamic.

♥ smau - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing !!!

♥ a/n: i actually combined an old ollie draft of mine for this fic! i hope you like it!

-April 12, 2024-

liked by yoursister, lilyzneimer, alexandrasaintmleux, and 135,802 more

yourusername babysitting duty

tagged; @/olliebearman

view comments

user1 the little bear cookies 🥹

paularon_ I didn’t know you baked?!

yourusername just every now and then 🥰

paularon_ you should def bring me one of your treats to try next time you visit ☺️

yourusername i’ll consider it

paularon_ i’ll have a cupcake

kimi.antonelli i’ll take a bear cookie

yourusername apparently i’m a cater now ??

yoursister thanks for helping me out! love you <3

yourusername of course! she’s obsessed with ollie so i’m sure she’ll have a fun time lol. love you more 🫶

user2 loving the pink aesthetic

user10 she’s so cute right?

prema_team the paddock has missed you

yourusername tell the paddock i’ve missed it too 😽

olliebearman i’ll be over in 10 xx

charles_leclerc i thought i said no boys over ☝️

yourusername @/charles_leclerc try and stop me

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

”Ollie!” your niece Laney shouted, dropping the toys out of her hands and sprinting over to your boyfriend.

He laughed, picked her up, and carried her on his hip back over to you.

“What’re you playing?” he asked, looking down at the scene.

On the floor was a cutout paper race track and a group of cars following along it.

She hopped out of his arms, “This one’s you,” she pointed to a red car. “You’re in the front because Lando and Max crashed into each other.”

An orange hot wheel was placed on its side next to a flipped over blue one. Ollie covered his mouth to laugh as she dragged him around the track.

He sat down on the floor with his knees up as she explained the rest of the race, “Here’s Charles, your teammate. He’s in the back though because the pit wasn’t good. They almost messed up yours but I stopped it.”

“What would I do without you?” he giggled.

“I dunno,” she responded with a shrug.

She grabbed the ‘Alpine’ to DNF it before her eyes narrowed, finally noticing a bag he placed by the door.

Ollie stood up and grabbed the gift, bringing it over to her with a smile, "I got you something in Japan."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

yourusername posted two stories

view story replies

user2 duffy!!

user8 ollie bear 🥺

user10 oh stop it they’re so cute

user3 omg I love them

user27 do you really think ollie likes your pink bed? 😐

yourusername @/user27 he more than likes it

olliebearman @/yourusername you can't say that 😭

kimi.antonelli 🫣

olliebearman @/yourusername I'm glad she liked the bear tho

liked by yourusername, kimi.antonelli, frederickvestiofficial, and 123,593 more

olliebearman monaco's just not the same without her

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yourusername I'm there in spirit 🥹🫶 I'll see you in a few weeks

♡ by olliebearman

user9 oh god they're so cute

arthur_leclerc so what I'm hearing is boys night??

olliebearman ...

kimi.antonelli well yes

charles_leclerc well no!

arthur_leclerc @/charles_leclerc club tonight, boys night tomorrow.

user21 ain't you a millionaire fly her out to Monaco !!!

olliebearman she's with the kids

frederickvestiofficial @/olliebearman kidS plural??? 😧

kimi.antonelli papa bear

user1 HELPPPP KIMI 😭

user7 @/kimi.antonelli LMAOOO

-

yourusername posted two stories

view story replies

charles_leclerc je t'aime xx wish you were here to celebrate with us

arthur_leclerc 🫂

olliebearman still can't believe I witnessed this in person

yourusername @/olliebearman you don't have to rub it in 🙄

user9 this is so important to me

user1 I have no one to talk to about this to

user8 oh I bet laney was so excited

user6 @/user8 aren't we all

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by olliebearman, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 804,985 more

yourusername some much needed boyfriend time

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kimi.antonelli aw (ew)

yourusername @/kimi.antonelli ew you

kimi.antonelli a date without me is crazy 😔

user8 everyone needs ollie time

user38 where's Laney?

yourusername with her mother...?

user10 wish that was me in his hotel

yourusername real

user10 @/yourusername bitch

user7 what do I have to do to get an Italy date night

antoniogiovinazzi99 in my home country and you didn't even visit?

yourusername NOO :( I'm sorry I'll stop by soon

arthur_leclerc woww yn and I thought Ferrari was a family

-

liked by olliebearman, lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 304,658 more

yourusername packing for the British Grand Prix <3 Good Luck to the Brit boys this week @/alex_albon, @/lewishamilton, @/landonorris, and @/georgerussell63

view comments

oscarpiastri erm 🤓☝️

yourusername are you 1/29th british

lilyzneimer cant wait to see you <3

yourusername can't wait to see you more

georgerussell63 don't worry I'll win the race for you

landonorris @/georgerussell63 be sooo serious

user2 shout-out british men guys

yourusername WE CAN GO BAND FOR BAND 🗣️🔥🇬🇧☕

user5 LOVING the red

user6 she has to rep the team !!

user7 you're so gorg

kimi.antonelli lewis fan club: meetings at isack's

yourusername I'll be there

user8 I could 100% see isack being the president of a Lewis fan club

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by frederickvestiofficial, haasf1team, francolapinto, and 593,972 more

yourusername I can't believe I had to keep this a secret! @/olliebearman this has been your dream since we were kids and you’ve finally done it 🥹 i couldn’t be prouder <3 I love you so much

view comments

olliebearman couldn't have done it without you

user1 and the cutest couple award goes to

estebanocon welcome him to the grid for me. can't wait to see you two in the garage

♡ by olliebearman

alexandrasaintmleux love you guys

yourusername love you alex xx

charles_leclerc @/yourusername do you love her more than me

yourusername @/charles_leclerc I love her more than ollie

olliebearman @/yourusername ???

olliebearman @/alexandrasaintmleux way to ruin our moment

user7 I'm so happy for him

yoursister laney is ecstatic

♡ by olliebearman

yourusername so proud of her uncle <3

user8 " her uncle" JUST KILL ME

user9 if they break up love is dead

user10 my parents

user6 she's so proud of him 😭🫶

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

"There's a very special supporter in the Ferrari garage right now," Martin said on the pre-race broadcast as the camera zoomed into Laney with her bear.

"There is Oliver Bearman, joined by well—little Ollie Bearman," he said with a chuckle.

"Isn't that just adorable, Martin?" Crofty asked.

"It definitely is, I might need to snag me one of those bears myself," he laughed. "He could probably make a merch line out of that I'm sure it would sell."

"I'd buy it," Crofty added.

"Well, either way," the camera panned back to you and your niece. "Those are some great fans to have by your side."

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, haasf1team, kimi.antonelli, and 1,903, 294 more

olliebearman my day ones 🫶

comments have been restricted

[superhoeva]

awkward!simon/pharmacy au part two | part one

"i never got to thank you for your help."

simon jumps out of his lean against the side of the building, cursing under his breath when the cigarette tucked between his fingers falls dumbly to the ground. gulping, he glances at you before averting his stare to settle somewhere on your cheek.

not your eyes, but close enough.

"s'not a problem," he nods slowly, mind blanking on what else he could say. he catches how you shift, unsure of what to do with the silence he's forced to let linger. biting the inside of his lip, simon clears his throat. "'uh, yeah. glad i could help."

you give him a small, bashful smile in return of his words and the man nearly stops breathing. he feels his face flushing once again, and he's lucky you're nice enough to not say anything about it.

more silence. you and simon squirm when you accidentally make eye contact before quickly looking away to the nearest anything. his stare lands on the bag in your grasp, filled with those damn pills and the few other items he saw you pluck from the shelves when you'd caught his eye at least ten minutes before reluctantly asking him for help.

the nerve's rattling simon soon grate into a prickly annoyance. god, you having to waste your money on something like that for someone that simon's certain is sticking it in someone else is nipping away at his sense. chest puffing as he takes in a sigh, his index finger scratches a random spot as the back of his head as he grumbles.

"wish there was somethin' i could do t' help. gorgeous thing like you shouldn't suffer over some bloke like that..."

gorgeous. did he just say gorgeous? he must've based on the gobsmacked fucking look on your face.

shit. he's fucked–and not just because his insides flutter at how wide your eyes are and how satisfying your lips look when they're parted in surprise.

simon blinks at you, eyes reading of horror and a hint of panic. when you open your mouth to sputter out a reply, the man turns and makes a b-line for the side door of the pharmacy that's a few feet away.

employees only is plastered across it and you need to know the code to press on the keypad to unlock it and get in, so there's no way you can follow after him and his red cheeks. great.

what's not so great is how foolishly simon's fingers mash into the buttons as he attempts to escape. it takes two times of the buzzer letting him know he's wrong before he can finally think slowly enough to remember the correct order of the four numbers.

simon sends you one last breathless glance and already knows that the dumbfounded look still plastered across your face–the look that has all his blood rushing downward–is going to haunt him for the rest of the day. he slips back into the pharmacy's supply room, the door clanging loudly behind him.

the man collapses back-first against the metal with a huff, one of his hands reaching to wipe at his eyes.

nice. you think he's nice?

"fuck," he whispers thickly to himself, glancing down and grunting at just how noticeable his bulge is becoming as his mind floods with the thought of you; your lips. your watery eyes. your sweet words. all of you. squeezing at his cock through his pants, he hisses at the throb it generates.

glancing at a nearby clock, simon's thinks. whether the six minutes he has before john will probably come looking for him are enough or not, simon couldn't care less.

he doesn't even bother unzipping his pants, slinking a hand into his waistband with little shame. his eyes roll at the way his palm slicks right over his head, and simon grinds into the feeling with a pleased huff.

good thing he skipped wearing underwear today. and thank fuck he threw on his darker jeans.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[midnight-shadow-cafe]

Anxious No More

Pairing: Poly 141 x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety, emotional overwhelm, comfort, soft poly relationship, lots of fluff, protective and affectionate 141.

Author’s Note: I use this GIF way too much-

Summary: Feeling overwhelmed has become a constant struggle, but your boys always notice when the weight of the world gets too heavy. Each of them has their own way of pulling you back to safety—reminding you that you’re not alone.

Masterlist

MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+MDNI18+

You weren’t sure when it started—the feeling of being constantly overwhelmed, like the world was pressing in too fast, too loud, too much. Every little thing felt like a weight on your shoulders, every decision another drop in the ocean of uncertainty threatening to drown you. The pressure sat heavy on your chest, coiling like an iron band around your ribs, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But somehow, amidst all the noise, they became your refuge.

Johnny

Johnny was the first to notice.

"Yer thinking too much again, aren’t ya?" His voice was warm, teasing, but his eyes were sharp, watching you closely.

You were sitting in the common room, curled up on the couch, shoulders hunched forward, your hands clenched into fists in your lap. You hadn’t realized how tense you were until Johnny plopped down next to you, throwing an arm around your shoulders with a casual ease that only he could manage.

"Hey, c’mon," he nudged you lightly with his shoulder. "Can’t have ya stressin’ yourself into an early grave. If ya do, who’s gonna listen to my awful jokes?"

You huffed, a weak smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

Johnny grinned. "Ah, there it is. See? That’s better."

Instead of prying, he started rambling about something ridiculous—some past mission that involved Kyle getting chased by an angry old woman with a broom.

"Swear on me life, love, I’ve never seen the man run so fast. You’d think a whole army was after him, but nah—just an old granny screamin’ bloody murder."

It was impossible not to laugh. Johnny always had a way of pulling you out of your own head, grounding you in the moment.

When he felt you relax against him, he pressed a kiss to your temple, his arm tightening around you. "That’s my girl. No more thinkin’. Just stay here with me."

Kyle

Kyle was always the one to step in when things got really bad.

It had been a long day. A heavy day. By the time you made it back to your room, your chest was too tight, your thoughts racing too fast. You felt like you couldn’t breathe, like the walls were closing in.

Kyle found you sitting on the edge of the bed, your head in your hands. He didn’t say anything at first—just sat beside you, resting his hand on your back, rubbing slow, gentle circles.

"Alright, love. We’re gonna do this together, yeah? Five things you can see."

You swallowed hard, blinking through the fog. "Uh… the window. The lamp. Your hands."

"Good. Keep going."

Four things you could touch. Three you could hear. Two you could smell. One you could taste.

By the time you finished, your breathing had evened out, the tightness in your chest easing. Kyle smiled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"See? You’re alright. I’ve got you."

Instead of leaving, he pulled you against him, letting you rest your head on his chest, his arms warm and steady around you.

"Whenever it gets bad, just find me, yeah? You don’t have to do this alone."

John

John didn’t need to say much—his presence alone was enough to make you feel safer.

"You're carrying too much, sweetheart," he murmured one evening, finding you staring out at the base through the window, lost in thought. His voice was low, rough but gentle. "You don’t have to do it alone."

Sometimes, he’d just sit with you, handing you a cup of tea without a word. Other times, he’d pull you into his lap, wrapping you in his arms, pressing slow kisses to your shoulder.

"You’re too hard on yourself," he murmured one night, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your back. "You give so much to everyone else—let us take care of you too, yeah?"

There was no arguing with him when he used that voice, and honestly, you didn’t want to.

Simon

Simon didn’t talk much, but he always knew when you needed him.

One night, the weight of the world pressed down too hard, and you broke. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t quiet. You hadn’t meant for anyone to see, but Simon found you, your back pressed against the cold concrete wall of the hallway, your breaths coming too fast.

He didn’t hesitate.

He just wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, holding you there like he could shield you from everything.

"Breathe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I’ve got you."

No judgment. No questions. Just his steady heartbeat against your ear, his warmth anchoring you back to reality. His gloved hand slid up and down your back, slow and firm, and after a few moments, he pressed his masked face against the top of your head, exhaling quietly.

"You’re not alone."

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, wrapped in his arms, but by the time you pulled away, your breathing had evened out, and the worst of the storm had passed.

Simon didn’t say anything else. He just gave your hand a final squeeze before leading you back to your shared quarters, where the others were waiting.

---

Together, They Were Home

Later that night, you found yourself curled up in the middle of the bed, a tangle of limbs and warmth surrounding you.

Johnny was wrapped around your back, his arm draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck. Kyle was on your other side, his fingers laced with yours, thumb stroking slow circles over your knuckles.

John was at the foot of the bed, propped up on his elbow, watching over all of you with quiet protectiveness.

And Simon? Simon was behind you, his large, steady hand resting against your ribs, feeling the rise and fall of your breath as if making sure you were still there, still safe.

"Y’alright, love?" Kyle murmured sleepily, squeezing your hand.

You nodded, a soft warmth settling in your chest.

"Yeah."

Johnny nuzzled closer, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck. "That’s my girl."

John chuckled, his hand resting on your ankle. "Get some rest, sweetheart. We’ve got you."

You weren’t sure when it started—the feeling of being safe.

But with them?

You weren’t drowning anymore.

You were finally learning how to breathe.

Hope you enjoyed! Please consider liking and reposting! -Midnight💜

[pitchsidestories]

the people always last II Kim Little x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | previous fanfic I word count: 1382

summary: what was meant to be a quiet evening between two lovers takes an unexpected turn. (Kim Little x Reader, romantic), (Arsenal WFC x Reader, platonic) requested

author's note: hi readers, we’re excited for you to read the story and we'd love to hear your thoughts on it.💗

disclaimer: everything in this fanfiction is purely fictional and nothing corresponds to reality. Liv's an OC and isn't based on any real life player. <3

You pulled your coat tighter around you, bracing against the cold wind as you let your gaze wander around the football pitch. You loved football pitches at night, only illuminated by floodlights. There was always something so raw and magical about it.

You watched Kim, Beth and Vivianne surrounded by a team of young girls, chasing them around the pitch and calling out instructions. All three were preparing for their coaching licenses.You and Kim had talked about it at length. Coaching would never be an option for you after your playing career, and Kim had been uncertain too. But watching her now, you knew she wouldn’t regret this choice.

You waited patiently for the session to end. Only then did Kim finally notice you standing on the sidelines. Her face lit up as she strode toward you: “Hi, what a lovely surprise. I didn’t know you’d come to pick me up.”

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance: “I thought I’d surprise you.”

“Thanks, love.”, she smiled and leaned in for a quick kiss.

You smiled against her lips when suddenly a sharp whistling noise cut through the air.

Rolling your eyes, you didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Of course, Beth stood there, smirking as she winked at you.

“Shut it, Bethany!”, you yelled at your teammate which only made her grin widen.

Vivianne pulled her girlfriend along with her: “Yeah, let them live a little, Beth.”

Kim sighed, shaking her head at them: “We should go now.”

“Please.”, you chuckled, ready to escape the teasing.

Your teammates were happy for you and Kim, you knew that. And they just loved to poke fun. But sometimes, you wished you’d kept your relationship more private, like Kim had wanted in the beginning.

Beth gave you one last wink: “See you two lovebirds in training tomorrow.”

“And these people really want to be coaches?”, you joked as the other coupled left.

Kim slung her bag over her shoulder, ready to leave: “Yes, not very professional, right?”

“Not at all.”, you agreed as the two of you started walking side by side.

Comfortable silence stretched between you while you left the training grounds.

“So, do you want to grab dinner on the way home?”, Kim asked eventually.

You wanted to say yes but there was something else nagging at you: “Actually…”

Kim frowned, her eyebrows furrowing: “Actually?”, she repeated.

For a moment you hesitated.

“She hasn’t texted me today and she never does that. Which I think means we should stop by at her flat.”, you finally revealed.

Understanding flickered across Kim’s face instantly. She knew exactly who you were talking about. The young player you had more or less adopted when she joined Arsenal and that you both jokingly referred to as your child.

Kim didn’t look convinced: “Do you think so? Maybe she’s just busy at the moment.”

“And she’s been off the last few days.”, you pointed out, nervously biting your lip as you spoke.

Seeing your distress, your girlfriend looked at you and asked: “What do you suggest?”

“Maybe we should look after her?”

Kim hesitated for a moment, her longing for a quiet, romantic evening between the two of you evident in her eyes. But she understood the gravity of your concerns, and that meant everything to you.

“Alright.”, the Scottish woman agreed.

You decided to lighten the mood. “And then we’ll grab some food.”

Kim’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

Everyone was buzzing in Liv’s— or, as you lovingly called it, your adult child’s—apartment.

Excitedly, Lia clapped her hands together, while Mariona placed a calming hand on the Swiss player’s shoulder: “They’re coming, guys. Get ready.”

“We’re ready,” Leah confirmed, though she struggled to hide the eye roll at one of her best friends.

When the main door opened, you began: “Hi, we just-.”

But you couldn’t finish your sentence as Liv interrupted you with a cheerful shout:” Surprise!”

“What are you all doing here?!”, Kim questioned nervously, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of all the familiar faces and the red and white balloons hanging everywhere.

With a smile, Liv wrapped an arm around her and explained to both of you: “We’re throwing you a surprise party to celebrate your contract extension.”

A comforting warmth spread through your chest, filling you with a sense of peace and belonging. But then, the memory hit you, sharp and clear. “And I thought there was something wrong!”, you shook your head in amusement.

The young player shot you an apologetic look: “No, I was busy preparing the party.”

“You could’ve told me you were doing that,” you pouted.

Liv smirked, clearly amused: “No way! You would’ve told her immediately.”

“She’s got a point a point, love.”, your girlfriend agreed.

Instinctively, you crossed your arms over your chest: “Oh, please.”

“You know it’s true,” she teased, her gaze softening as she looked at you lovingly.

With a small sigh, you relented: “Fine, okay, you’re right.”

“Open the present!”, Lia urged merrily.

Kim, clearly touched by the gesture from her teammates and friends, took the gift into her hands. “You even got me a present?”

“We did.”, Steph affirmed, a smile spreading across her face as she saw the team’s captain so moved.

While holding the present, the Scottish woman whispered: “That’s so sweet of you.”

“Babe, go ahead and unwrap it.”, you murmured gently.

Expectantly, Leah looked at the older midfielder:” What do you think, Kimmy?”

“I love it. Thank you,” Kim replied, her voice full of warmth and gratitude. She pressed the photo book—packed with memories of her years with the team—close to her chest, as if holding onto the moments that had meant so much to her.

You watched her with a gentle smile on your lips, warmth spreading in your chest. It wasn’t often that Kim openly showed her emotions like she did in that moment.

Lia appeared at your side: “Are you two hungry?”

“I mean, we were just about to pick up some food.”, you replied innocently.

Liv grinned at you knowingly: “Don’t worry, we prepared something. We won’t let you two starve.”

“I love you.”, you smiled happily at her.

“Don’t let Kimmy hear that.”, Liv joked while your teammates brought out several boxes of pizza from the kitchen.

You laughed: “She gets that I meant it platonically.”

Kim, ever the composed one, rolled her eyes: “You two.”

“What?”, Liv protested, grabbing a slice of pizza. “You love us.”

To everyones surprise, the Scottish midfielder agreed without hesitation: “I do.”

Liv shrugged, unfazed. “See?”

“Was there ever a question?”, Kim smiled.

“No. Besides, you already said I do.”, you playfully winked at her.

Leahs jaw dropped open, her pizza slice hanging limply midair: “Wait! You two got married without us?”

Kim quickly shook her head: “No, we didn’t.”

“Just engaged.”, you added quietly.

Liv quickly reacted before an awkward silence settled over the football players. She nonchalantly shrugged: “I don’t know about you all but I was there.”

“And you kept quiet about that?”, Victoria asked, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Liv nodded, unimpressed: “Yep.”

“We had told her to keep quiet but now the timing seemed perfect.”, Kim admitted.

“You’re welcome.”, Liv smirked, clearly enjoying being in the know.

“That’s not why we’re celebrating tonight, though,” you reminded them gently. While you were relieved your team knew, you wanted this evening to remain about Kim.

Kim shot you an amused glance: “Can’t we celebrate both?”

“Of course we can.”

Lia slipped a glass into Kims hand and she raised it with a small smile: “So, cheers everyone.”

“To our team mums!”, Liv cheered excitedly.

“And our work wives!”, Beth added as she and Vivianne arrived, slightly out of breath. “Sorry, we’re late but we got the cake.”

Vivianne proudly unveiled a chocolate cake topped with cherries.

Kims face softened once again, taking in the whole team, current and former players that had gathered here to celebrate another season with Arsenal’s captain.

“You girls didn’t have to do all of that.”

“No, but you deserve it.”, Beth replied warmly.

You gently took Kims hand in yours, squeezing it lightly and shot Liv a grateful look. She looked smug but extremely proud of herself.

[inseobts]

Fool

law x reader

you meet your former captain again after months, after having walked away from that unrequited feeling, not knowing that, in reality, he loved you too (part 1 - if only she knew but you can read and enjoy this even without reading the other one)

inspired by the song: fool by winner

a/n: uhm idk if this sucks but I did it based on my fav group's music so be nice eheh (ฅ́ ˘ฅ̀)♡ also I firstly made it about zoro but then I got reminded of an old request (if only she knew) so I turned it into a sequel for law.

words count: 3.5k

tags: angst, argument, regrets from law

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The crowded port buzzes with life, laughter, and the scent of grilled seafood wafting through the air. You weren’t expecting to run into them, into him. But fate, it seems, has a cruel sense of humor.

The Heart Pirates.

You spot them before they see you, their familiar ship docked near the edge of the harbor. For a second, you consider turning around, walking away before anyone notices. But then a loud, familiar voice cuts through the air.

"Hey—! No way! It's you!" Penguin’s excited shout freezes you in place, and in an instant, all eyes are on you. The crew’s expressions shift from shock to joy, and before you know it, you’re being pulled into warm greetings, pats on the back, and teasing complaints about how long it’s been.

But one pair of eyes lingers on you longer than the rest. Law stands at the back, arms crossed, his usual unreadable expression in place. But there’s something there, a flicker of something in his golden gaze that you can’t quite place.

The tension is broken when Shachi grins "You gotta eat with us today! Just like old times. No excuses."

You hesitate, but your stomach betrays you, growling at the thought of a warm meal. And the truth is… you missed them. More than you’d like to admit.

"Fine," you sigh, rolling your eyes "But you’re paying."

The crew erupts in cheers, dragging you toward their ship, the warmth of old friendships making it impossible to say no.

Dinner is chaotic, loud, and full of laughter. The crew fills the space with stories of their latest misadventures, and for a while, it feels like nothing has changed. But beneath it all, you can feel the weight of his gaze on you, the space between you and him.

As the plates pile up and the drinks flow, the crew starts throwing casual questions your way.

“So, how have you been?” Bepo asks, his voice gentle, though his eyes are searching.

Shachi leans in with a knowing smirk “Yeah, how’s life been treating you?”

Their words are light, playful even, but you can hear the unspoken question beneath them. They all know. They knew before you left. They had seen the way you looked at your captain, the feelings you tried so hard to hide.

And they had seen the way he looked at you leaving, even if he never admitted it.

The room may be full of laughter, but there’s an undercurrent of tension, one that only grows when Law remains silent, nursing his drink and watching you from across the table.

Penguin nudges your arm, his grin teasing but his eyes soft “Bet you haven’t found anyone to boss you around like a certain captain of ours.”

You roll your eyes, playing along “Like I’d go looking for that.”

The table erupts in laughter, but there’s a knowing look exchanged between them all. They’re testing the waters, trying to see if your heart still beats for him, but careful not to push too far. And as much as you try to brush off their words, you know the answer. It never stopped.

From the other side of the table, Law exhales sharply, setting down his drink with just a little too much force.

The crew exchanges glances. They’ve been waiting for this. They had hoped that bringing you back, even if just for one night, would finally push the two of you to talk. But as they watch the tension build, they realize they can’t force this. Whatever needs to happen between you and Law can only happen if you’re alone.

Then something happens, maybe an accident, a spilled drink, or just the natural (or so they act like) shifting of the group, but suddenly, you and Law are alone. The noise of the crew fades into the background, leaving only the two of you there.

The setting sun paints the sky in shades of gold and pink as you stand outside the tavern, staring out at the ocean. The breeze tugs at your hair, but you don’t feel it. Your thoughts are elsewhere, tangled in the mess that the crew just made to leave you two alone.

And then Law.

He’s the only thing on your mind right now. He’s the reason your heart feels like it’s being torn in two for months, or even years at this point. You missed him like hell, but the words he said to you, before you left, will never leave your mind…

“Get lost from my sight.”

They echo in your ears, stinging with every memory of just one the moments he made you feel unwanted. He has always been distant, and you always tried to reach out. You tried so hard. But that night, everything in you snapped. You got tired of his anger, his harsh words, they cut deeper than anything you expected.

You turn away, unable to face him again. The tears threaten to spill at the memories, but you fight them back. His words hurt, but it’s more than that. It’s the feeling that something between you is broken now, something that can’t easily be fixed.

He doesn’t speak at first. Just stands there, close but not close enough. You can feel the space between you, thick with unspoken words and regret. Your back remains turned to him, but you don’t have to look to know he’s still standing there, his presence heavy in the air.

Finally, his voice breaks through the silence. It’s softer than you ever remembered, because now there’s something else... regret. You can hear it, and it twists something in your chest.

“Get lost from my sight.”

You don’t turn around. His words still feel like a slap in the face, even though the venom has faded from them. Law’s not speaking to you now. He’s speaking the truth of what he felt in the moment, the words he had let slip too many times in his anger.

“Those cruel words… I spat out without hesitation.” His voice trembles, a small crack breaking through his usual composure “Anyone can see… I was a fool.”

Your heart clenches at his words, but you don’t say anything. What’s there to say? He’s the one who pushed you away, and now, here he is, broken, admitting to it.

You take a deep breath, your throat tight, as you finally turn to face him. His gaze is on the floor, his fists clenched, but you can see the regret in his eyes. It’s raw. It’s real.

“Even if I’m sorry now, nothing changes. I know.” His voice is quieter now, the weight of what he’s said settling between you both “Nothing changes...” he repeats, more to himself than to you, as if trying to accept it.

Law steps closer, and you don’t move. You’re not sure if you want him to come closer. He’s the one who pushed you away, and yet, here he is, still reaching for you in his own way. His voice breaks the silence again.

“It’s okay to swear at me, even that’s not good enough. I just wanna hear your voice. I just wanna hear you talk to me...” His words feel fragile, like he’s hanging on by a thread, and you can feel his desperation in every syllable.

You open your mouth, but no words come out. What is there to say? What can you say after everything that’s happened?

“Fool, stupid. I now know it’s all my fault.” His voice cracks as he says it, the self-loathing dripping through every word “Dummy, idiot. I now know it’s all my fault.” He shakes his head, the weight of his mistakes crushing him “I pushed you away.”

You stand still, watching him, not knowing what to do. He’s broken, you can see that, but can you forgive him so easily? He hurt you so badly that part of you doesn’t know if you’re ready to let him back in.

Law takes another step toward you, this time closer than before, and you instinctively take a small step back. He notices but doesn’t say anything. He seems unsure of everything now.

“I said I was selfish. Only knew myself. I think I’m crazy.” His voice is barely above a whisper, the regret so deep it almost hurts to hear “It’s me who pushed you away.”

The words hit you like a punch. You know he’s not lying. He has been selfish. He’s pushed you away. But hearing him admit it… you want to believe that it’s enough, that his regret is real.

But still, you stay quiet, unsure of how to process the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

He steps even closer now, his eyes searching yours, like he’s begging you to say something, anything.

“I was a fool” His voice falters, and his gaze drops to the ground as he shakes his head “Even if I regret it now, nothing changes, and I know it.”

There it is again, the finality in his voice. He knows the damage is done. He knows you might never look at him the same way again. And that hurts. More than anything.

You feel your heart aching, but you don’t know what to do with it. His regret is clear, but is it enough? Is it enough to fix what he’s broken?

Law reaches out, but stops just short of touching you. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, and then he lets it fall, his shoulders slumping.

“I don’t care if it’s just a short moment. I'm glad I could see you once more… For the last time.”

His voice cracks, and you can feel the desperation in him. He wants something from you, but what? Forgiveness? Understanding?

“You used to dazzle, and now you’re far away. Going through the scattered memories, I long for you every day.” His words are soft now, almost pleading.

You take a shaky breath. His voice, his confession, it all makes you ache, but you still don’t know what to say. You want to reach out, to tell him that it’s okay, that you forgive him. But you’re not sure if you can just let it go that easily. The hurt is still there.

“Yes, I know I’m late. But please... I wish you could just come back as if nothing happened.” He speaks the words as if he’s begging the universe itself to let you come back to him. But you don’t know if you can.

You turn away, not because you want to, but because you don’t know how to respond. His words, his pain, they echo in your mind, but you’re not ready. Not yet.

The silence between you both is deafening. Law stands just a few feet away, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, his face still full of regret and confusion. He doesn’t know what else to say. You can see it in his eyes he’s waiting for something, anything from you. His gaze flickers over your face, searching for a sign that you’ll let him in again.

But you can’t bring yourself to speak. You’re not sure if you can.

The world around you feels distant, like everything is happening in a dream, and you’re not sure if you want to wake up.

Law shifts his weight, taking another small step forward. You hear him inhale deeply, the weight of his next words heavy in the air.

“I know I’m late,” he says, voice barely a whisper, but it’s enough to cut through the silence “I know I messed up, and it’s my fault. I was selfish. I only thought about myself. And now… now look at what I’ve done.”

His words are raw, stripped of all his usual bravado. This is the Law you’ve never seen before, vulnerable, lost, and so deeply ashamed.

You feel your chest tighten as his words settle into your bones. The storm inside you rages on. You’re angry. You’re hurt. But you’re also confused. You want to hate him. You want to shout, to tell him how much he’s hurt you. But every time you look at him, every time you hear the sincerity in his voice, it feels like something in you starts to crumble.

“I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean the things I said. I… I was stupid. I didn’t think.” his voice cracks, and you can hear the frustration in his tone “You didn’t deserve that. You didn’t deserve me being so… so careless.”

You stay silent. You can feel the anger rising in your chest, the hurt threatening to swallow you whole, but you can’t say it. Not yet. Not when he’s standing there, looking so torn apart.

Law takes another step closer, his voice trembling with the weight of his words.

“I know I was an idiot. A complete fool. I pushed you away, and now I’m the one who’s paying the price” He’s so close now you can almost feel the heat of his body, but the space between you both feels like a vast ocean. His eyes meet yours, and you can see the depth of his regret, the raw pain that he’s trying to hide “But I can’t stand this. I can’t stand being without you. I need to hear your voice. Please… just give me one more chance.”

His words hit you like a wave, crashing over you with all the force of the emotions you’ve been trying to bury. The storm inside you threatens to explode, and for a moment, you can’t hold it back anymore.

You turn to face him fully, your heart hammering in your chest. His gaze never wavers from yours, his expression pleading, desperate.

“Fool, stupid,” you hear him mutter again, almost to himself “I now know it’s all my fault.” He’s repeating it like some sort of mantra, the guilt weighing him down with every word.

You want to scream at him. You want to throw your anger in his face and tell him how much he’s hurt you, how much you’ve been suffering because of him. But instead, your voice cracks as you finally speak.

“Law…” Your voice is barely a whisper, but it’s enough to get his attention. His eyes lock onto yours, searching, hoping.

“I… I don’t know if I can just forgive you like that,” you say, your voice trembling “You hurt me. You pushed me away without thinking about how I felt. I gave you what you wanted before leaving for good. I gave you your space. All while I was hurting, thinking you hated me. And now you expect me to just forget it?”

Law flinches, the weight of your words hitting him harder than anything else. His face falls, guilt flashing across his features.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t even deserve it,” he says quietly, almost to himself “I just… I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I know it’s too late, but I needed to say it. I needed you to know that I was wrong. I’ve always been so focused on myself, on the crew, on work… but you were right there beside me, trying to help me and all I did was pushing you away because of my own pride.”

The sincerity in his words cuts through the tension like a knife. You can see it in his eyes now, the man you’ve known for so long, the captain who’s always carried himself with such confidence, now breaking down in front of you. He’s not just asking for your forgiveness. He’s asking for a chance.

You swallow hard, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. You’re torn. Part of you wants to forgive him, to reach out and pull him into your arms and tell him it’s okay, that everything will be fine. But another part of you feels like that would be too easy. Too quick.

Law’s head drops, his shoulders slumping in defeat. His hands fidget at his sides, unable to find comfort in anything. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it’s clear that he doesn’t know how to fix what’s broken.

“Please,” he whispers again, his voice barely audible “Just… just let me make it right.”

You stand there, torn between the feelings of anger, sadness, and the remnants of the love you’ve always had for him. His words are genuine, but is it enough? You don’t know. You don’t know if anything will be enough to undo the hurt he caused.

But as you look at him, really look at him, you see the pain in his eyes, and you feel the wall inside your heart start to crack.

You can’t undo the past. And maybe it’s too soon to forgive him fully. But you can’t let him keep carrying this weight by himself either.

You take a deep breath, your heart still racing in your chest.

“I don’t know, Law,” you say quietly “I’m not just going to pretend nothing happen.”

Law nods slowly, his expression a mix of regret and relief. He doesn’t speak, but you can see the understanding in his eyes. This is far from over. The road to healing, to forgiveness, will be long and difficult. But for now, this is a start.

“I know,” he whispers, stepping back, giving you space “I’m willing to wait. As long as it takes.”

You nod at him, because maybe that’s enough for now.

The silence between you and Law is thick, heavy with everything that has been said and everything that hasn’t. His eyes are still on you, searching, waiting, but you don’t know if you’re ready to give him a proper answer. Not yet. The emotions swirling inside you are too much, too tangled to sort through in just one moment.

Then, just as you open your mouth to say something the sound of hurried footsteps echoes from the shadows. Before either of you can react, the crew bursts into the room, their faces alight with mischief and unrestrained grins.

“Ahh, finally!” Penguin announces, throwing his arms up dramatically “Took you two long enough.”

Your stomach drops “Wait, what—”

Bepo nods sagely “We were listening the whole time... sorry.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief as you glance at Law, who pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply “Of course you were...” His voice is flat, but you can hear the underlying exasperation.

Shachi waves a hand dismissively “C’mon, Captain, don’t act like you’re mad. We did you a favor.”

“I didn’t ask for a favor” Law grumbles, crossing his arms.

The crew doesn’t care. Instead, they exchange knowing looks before turning their attention to you.

“So,” Ikkaku starts, leaning in with an eager expression, “does this mean you’re back?”

Your breath catches in your throat “I—”

“I mean, you missed us, right?” Shachi adds, wiggling his eyebrows “And you obviously missed our dear Captain here.”

You shoot him a glare, but the heat creeping up your face betrays you. Law, for his part, looks about two seconds away from kicking them all out, but the crew is relentless.

“Look,” Penguin says, his grin softening into something more genuine, “we just want you to be happy. Both of you.”

Bepo nods again “You belong with us. With him.”

Your heart twists at their words, and you glance at Law, who’s watching you carefully. His expression is unreadable, but there’s something there, hope, uncertainty, a silent question only you can answer.

The room feels impossibly small with all eyes on you, but deep down, you already know what you want. You’ve known all along. This is your family. And Law… Law is the person who has always held your heart, no matter how much pain the journey brought you.

Taking a deep breath, you meet Law’s gaze and finally speak “If you’ll have me… I’d like to stay.”

For the first time that night, Law’s lips twitch into the ghost of a smile “Idiot,” he mutters, but his voice is softer now, tinged with relief “You never had to ask.”

The crew erupts into cheers, celebrating your return like it’s the greatest victory of all. Shachi and Penguin slap Law on the back, while Bepo all but tackles you into a hug. The warmth of their acceptance, their excitement, is overwhelming, but it’s exactly what you needed.

Law doesn’t say anything else, the crew slaps his back more and he loses his balance and is now close enough that your shoulders brush.

Your eyes meet his, and for a moment, everything else fades away. A faint blush dusts both your cheeks as you get lost in the quiet intensity of his gaze, drawn into each other as if the rest of the world has ceased to exist.

The noise in the room gradually dies down as the crew starts noticing, nudging and elbowing each other with smirks and wide grins. One by one, they fall silent, watching as you and Law remain caught in each other’s stare, completely oblivious to everything around you.

Then, just as the moment stretches unbearably long, Shachi clears his throat loudly “Oi, oi, are you two gonna keep making heart eyes at each other or what?”

The spell shatters instantly. You and Law both snap back to reality, faces burning, while the crew bursts into laughter and cheers once more.

Despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment, you can’t stop the small, genuine smile that tugs at your lips. Because in this moment, with Law beside you and your family around you, everything feels right.

You’re home.

[wordsofwhimsy]

˚｡⋆ ೀ ༘˚ Out of My Mind ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Mohawk!Mark Grayson x f!Reader

Warnings: Death, mild gore, very mild 18+ topics

Tags: Obsession, reader matches his freak

Word Count: 1,723

Synopsis: Based on this anon request! Shout out to you anon really brightened my day with that message

a/n: i was going to wait until I finished the “Shattered Affections” series but that shit’s got my ass in a stranglehold right now, so i hope y’all enjoy this in the meantime :’-)

Mark Grayson sat on the rooftop of his childhood home, legs dangling over the edge as he stared up at the stars. His usual swagger was gone, replaced with an awkward, almost pouty expression. He didn't even notice the alien ships circling above the city yet. He wasn't thinking about that. No, he was thinking about you.

He had been obsessed with you for months. Ever since the first time he saw you — no, it wasn’t a "love at first sight" thing, but you were different. Cool. Not impressed by his superhero antics, which, let’s face it, was the kind of thing that made him weak in the knees. You didn’t swoon. You didn’t chase him around for autographs. And that, that was something he couldn’t get enough of.

But of course, like any tragic, brooding superhero, life had to throw a curveball. It came in the form of a full-on alien invasion. Mark was still getting the hang of his powers, and though his aim was getting better, he was still far from perfect. And just when he thought he was on top of things, the alien ships attacked your neighborhood. They weren’t here for small talk or to stroke his ego. No, they came to destroy, and in the chaos, you didn’t make it.

Dead. Gone. Kaput. No longer breathing. In a rather brutal way, really. And what’s worse, he didn’t even get a chance to actually do anything cool like saving you in a dramatic moment. He imagined himself swooping in and you looking at him like you had just realized you were both meant to be. Instead? Aliens ripped through the city, and by the time Mark had taken care of them, your lifeless body was all that remained.

He stared at your bloodstained hoodie and the smudged dirt on your face. His gut twisted in frustration. I never even got to talk to you. I never even asked for your number, he thought as he crushed the last alien's skull with a single punch, snapping the neck of the last invader like it was a cheap action figure. It was all over. But you were already gone.

“Yeah... I’m sure you’re really impressed now, huh?” he mumbled to himself, flying away in a huff, heart heavy with disappointment.

He stayed on the move, fighting crime, but there was a new hole in his chest that he couldn’t fill. Every time he saw someone who reminded him of you, it hurt. Even when it was just the way someone chewed gum or how they wore a jacket with that same red on it.

If Mark had to pinpoint when he started making the change of following in his father’s footsteps, it would’ve been that day.

If I want to keep people safe, I should control them. Make them listen. That’s what Dad did. He got it.

The lines between right and wrong blurred as Mark, once the hopeful and idealistic hero, slowly embraced the brutal, domineering approach of his father, Omni-Man. The streets, the cities — all of it felt like chaos, and the only way to fix it was with an iron fist. They need a leader, not a protector.

He went on a rampage, taking control of his world. Villains, heroes, civilians — all bent to his will. Any resistance was met with force. He became the tyrant he once hated, convinced that this was the only way to keep people safe.

But then, just as quickly as he'd risen through the ranks, Mark was pulled into an alternate universe by Angstrom Levy, given some directions he didn’t pay too close attention to wreak havoc in the name of destroying Invincible’s reputation.

Mark didn’t put up much of a protest outside of a few snide remarks. The promise of other universes to conquer wasn’t such a bad idea.

And even though he understood in theory that the universe he was being sent to would be nearly identical to his, it still struck him dumbly when arriving through the portal. The same skyline, the same vague something in the air that made him go, “Wait... no way.”

This is Earth, but it’s... not the same.

And then, like a gift from the universe, he saw you.

Except, well... you were different. Better. Way better.

You were standing there in a leather jacket with spikes on the shoulders, holding a bag of snacks and looking like you were about to turn up at some cosmic nightclub. Your hair? Perfectly messy in a way that made Mark wonder if you were secretly a rebellious antihero in this timeline. Maybe a vampire? Maybe some sort of badass alien yourself?

“Whoa,” Mark said, landing with a thud in front of you.

You blinked. “Can I help you?”

Mark grinned like a goofy schoolboy. “Yeah, actually... are you... are you... you?” he stammered, gesturing vaguely to the universe around him. “I mean, you’re alive, right?”

You raised an eyebrow, the corners of your mouth curling into a smile. “Pretty sure I’m breathing?” you responded sarcastically. “What’s your deal, man?”

"Deal? Oh, you know, I'm just Invincible,” he said, giving a quick flex of his arm as if that was supposed to clear everything up. "And I’m pretty sure you’re my type.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn't hide the smirk. “Uh, okay? And what’s your type? Young women in spandex?”

Mark rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean, technically, yeah. But more like... you. I mean, you are definitely passing the vibe check.”

You chuckled. “Okay weirdo.”

Mark smirked, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. He stepped closer, his voice dropping into a low, almost menacing tone. “Trust me, babe, if I really wanted to, I could make your wildest nightmares come true. But you might actually enjoy it.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unfazed. “Don't threaten me with a good time.”

Mark grinned, eyes twinkling with a mix of challenge and excitement. “Oh, I’m not threatening you. I’m offering you a chance to have a little fun.”

You crossed your arms and smirked back. “And what did you have in mind, Invincible?”

Mark took a final step forward, completely closing the distance between you with his gaze never leaving yours. He reached up and gently ran his fingers along the side of your face, the touch light, almost teasing. But then, in a flash, he gripped your hair tightly, giving it a sharp yank, pulling your head back slightly.

You froze, stunned for a moment, the suddenness catching you off guard. But then, he saw it — a flicker of excitement in your eyes, a thrill he had only dreamed of seeing on your face.

Mark leaned in, his breath warm against your skin. The weight of his grip on your hair made your pulse quicken, but the excitement building in your chest was undeniable.

"Trust me," he whispered, his voice hushed but intense, "I’ve got a long list of things I want to do with you."

You smirked, tilting your head slightly, your lips curling into a mischievous smile. "Well, what are you waiting for, then?" you taunted, your heart beating a little faster now. You were no stranger to danger — and something about Mark’s dark, chaotic energy was drawing you in like a moth to a flame.

He let out a low chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine. "Oh, I can’t wait to make you regret asking that," he murmured, before his lips suddenly crashed against yours. The kiss was rough, intense, and it caught you off guard at first, but the heat of it made your heart race. You hesitated for only a moment before responding, your body instinctively leaning into his.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling against the fabric of his suit – too tight to actually get any sort of grip on it – as you kissed him back with the same urgency. His lips moved against yours, hungry and insistent, and you matched him, your own passion igniting. Every brush of his lips, every soft tug at your hair, sent a thrill racing through you, and soon, you were lost in it, no longer thinking, just feeling.

The kiss deepened, becoming more desperate, as if neither of you wanted to pull away. His hands roamed to your back, pulling you even closer, while yours slid around his neck, fingers tangling in his streak of hair.

You hadn’t even realized at first that you were no longer standing on solid ground. The only thing that existed was the kiss, the feeling of his hands on you, the way your bodies fit together. But then, Mark broke away just slightly, his lips lingering above yours, and suddenly you noticed the change. The weightlessness of the air hit you all at once, your heart skipping a beat as you pulled away, blinking in confusion. You were floating high above the city, the skyline below now a mere speck of lights, the ground far out of reach.

Before you could even gather your thoughts, Mark’s hands shifted, guiding you as he gently laid himself horizontally in the air, positioning you to sit on his hips as he floated effortlessly. You gasped, a flicker of panic rising in your chest at the height, but the fear only seemed to heighten the thrill running through your veins.

Mark’s smirk widened as he glanced up at you, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. “What’s wrong?” he teased, his voice low and seductive. “I thought you were ready for this.”

You swallowed, the mix of fear and exhilaration twisting inside you. But you weren’t about to back down. “I am,” you said, your voice confident, a sly grin tugging at your lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

[sleepylittlestarwrites]

♡ ∩_∩ („• ֊ •„)♡ ￣U U￣ ⤷ precious bonfire ✰ pairing: xavier ⤷ fem!reader

✰ cw: mdni, graphic sexual content, based on xavier's precious bonfire card+spoilers to his shooting stars myth, fingering, marking (bites/hickeys/teensy bit of blood), inexperienced xavier (nothing is mentioned about whether or not reader is), dry humping/cumming in pants, squirting, use of evol, my angel/little star used like once

• wc: 5.6k 🌸

• tags: @kodaswrld & @issysh3ll - just plan for me to use these dividers for life I guess😅♡

The events of the camping trip replay in your mind as you lie awake in your tent, unable to relax despite your exhaustion. Memories of Xavier's helpfulness flood your thoughts—the way he smoothly took charge for you when tensions arose, how he ensured the cooking rotation ran efficiently, how his mere presence seemed to put the team at ease. With every recollection, an unfamiliar heat spreads through your body, overriding your weariness completely.

Your skin tingled every time his gaze met yours throughout the night… charged glances that made your pulse quicken inexplicably. In the close quarters of the campground's bathroom earlier, the comforting scent of his cologne hung in the air as you both washed up. When his hand accidentally brushed against yours while reaching for the same towel, you nearly gasped aloud at the electric contact.

Did he notice your reaction? Was there something more behind his usual stoic expression? Some hidden sentiment he too keeps locked away? The possibility sends a shiver down your spine straight to your core.

Throwing off your sweaty sleeping bag, you sit up abruptly, flushed and filled with restless energy. A full moon casts silvery beams through the mesh of your tent, illuminating dust motes swirling in the small space.

As your heart races and your body tingles with pent-up desire, a wave of guilt washes over you for not having proper camping gear prepared for Xavier. He managed to find a relatively soft patch of grass beneath an old oak tree... but the makeshift bed is far too meager for someone as giving as him.

An image swims in your mind—Xavier’s silhouette curled up under the star-dusted sky, his lovely face relaxed in sleep, moonlight bleaching his fair hair to the color of freshly fallen snow…

Your imagination starts drifting to a far more intimate scenario now, one where he isn't alone beneath the stars but lying right next to you, his muscular form pressed warmly against your curves. You picture his features softened in peaceful slumber, those beautiful blue eyes closed, long lashes fanning out on flushed cheekbones.

A hint of a smile plays at the corner of his lips, much different than the usual seriousness etched into his face. In sleep, the lines of responsibility melt away, revealing the younger man underneath.

Glancing out at the shadowy forms of the tents around the campsite, a daring idea takes shape—an impossible hope given wings. Your heart pounds wildly, palms going slick with nervous sweat. 

Swallowing hard past a suddenly dry throat, you crawl quietly towards the tent flap, trying not to make the zipper creak too loudly. Xavier comes into view sooner than expected, fast asleep beneath the ancient oak. Approaching slowly, silently, you stop mere feet from his makeshift bed. He lies exactly as imagined—sprawled artfully on the plaid blanket, one jean-clad leg kicked out casually and the other crooked at the knee.

Letting your eyes roam shamelessly over his resting form, you take a moment simply to appreciate—

His sleep-thickened murmur of your name catches you completely unaware, making you jolt violently. Embarrassment flushes hot beneath your skin as both of his piercing eyes snap open to lock onto yours.

A nervous tension crackles through the space separating you as a million thoughts race behind his furrowed brow.

"I-is everything alright…?" he murmurs, concern thick in every syllable. 

Your tongue darts out to wet your parched lips as you gather the nerve. Then, in a tumbling rush of words hardly louder than a whisper, you blurt:

"Wanna-share-my-tent”

An achingly long silence hangs in the air, broken only by the distant buzz of insects. Moonlight filters through the gnarled branches overhead, casting shadows across Xavier’s face—eyebrows rising fractionally, mouth parting in the faintest of gasps, his usually neutral gaze opening wide and vulnerable. The emotion flickering in those cerulean depths could almost be called...yearning.

For a seemingly endless moment he just stares at you, a muscle twitching along his jawline as realization sinks in, color rising high on his ears.

Then, as if he fears speaking will shatter the fragile dream...

"Sh-share?" 

His quiet repetition is accompanied by a barely noticeable tremor—could that be nerves? Or tentative joy blooming in a small smile playing the corners of his mouth? He studies your face, drinking in your features like a thirsty man stumbling into an oasis... yet uncertainty tempers the obvious desire kindling his gaze.  

You give a hesitant nod, managing to squeak out an airy "yes” on the exhale, barely above a breath.

Xavier inhales sharply, eyes fluttering shut briefly as if savoring the single syllable. When his lids lift again, they shine with heat, building rapidly behind the usual wall of cool control.

"I’d like that,” he breathes, so low you can feel it in your bones rather than hear it. 

Mouth cotton-candy dry, your palms go sweaty as you creep backwards, keeping your gaze fixed to his moonlit profile while he pushes gracefully to his feet. He follows closely, movements slow and deliberate as if navigating the short path blindfolded—so focused, like he’s terrified of breaking the spellbound atmosphere cloaking the two of you.

Silently, side-by-side, you navigate the uneven ground carefully, hyperaware of every rustle of clothing, every hitch in breath. As you approach your tent, nerves turn your blood molten and your vision hazy.

Ducking inside, you wait for him to join you in the cramped confines before fumbling with the zipper, nearly snapping the cord in your haste. 

The canvas ceiling swoops low above where you kneel awkwardly on top of the sleeping bags, bringing him closer until a scant foot of space remains. Suddenly struck by the sheer intimacy of the situation, an unexpected bubble of laughter escapes you, the quiet sound seeming to echo against the walls of the little enclosure.

It hangs in the air, suspended, until slowly, a low chuckle unfurls from Xavier's lips. Not his typical guarded smile but a genuine laugh, soft and melodious, pulled from the deepest parts of him to send a pleased shudder through your entire body. 

You can feel the knots in your shoulders unwind, the painful clench in your jaw easing as his amusement washes through space like golden sunlight. Widening your own smile in return, something in your chest goes warm and bright seeing this side of him—the relaxed, open version so rarely glimpsed.

Patting the fluffed patch beside you, you manage to squeak out: “You can-lay here!"

Your heart gallops like a wild mustang in your chest, the waiting stretching endlessly until gracefully, slowly, as if moving through honey, he lowers himself onto the spot indicated. 

As he gets situated, it's clear he's trying hard to maintain some semblance of personal space, of propriety. But maneuvering to avoid any accidental touches now feels like navigating an invisible minefield, every atom within reach…

The sleeping bags press into your backs as you mirror his posture perfectly—legs stretched out straight ahead, hands folded atop stomachs separated by mere centimeters.  

Side by side you rest, motionless save for the shallow rise and fall of your ribcages, struggling to sync your breathing with his slower cadence. The warmth bleeding into your side and the subtle scent of his soap lingering an arm's length away make you feel feverish, overwhelmed. 

As the minutes drag on in suffocating silence, your eyelids grow heavy, weighted down by the events of the day and the hypnotic in-and-out of Xavier's steady breaths. You fight to stay alert, terrified that if you allow yourself to drift off, you might lose this moment—this impossible dream made flesh and blood beside you... But no matter how hard you concentrate on memorizing every detail, your determined struggle gradually loses steam.

Sometime in the dark, inky hours of early morning, your eyes drift open, disoriented by the strange sensations cocooning your body. The first thing you register is the unfamiliar tightness coiling low in your belly… the delicious slide of your bare thighs tangled with a much larger, jean-clad pair. 

Heart slamming against your ribs hard enough to crack bone, you lie perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe in case the tiny movement shatters this fragile illusion.

Beneath your ear pressed to his chest, Xavier's pulse thunders frantically, his heartbeat as chaotic and racing as your own.

Shit… he’s awake.

The realization crashes over you like an icy wave, freezing the air in your lungs. He must've been lying here all night, suffering in silence as you splayed yourself shamelessly across him. Mortification burns hot and fierce before shameful arousal wells in its wake.

Slowly, oh-so-slowly, a large hand begins to move along the curve of your hip and waist. The touch is feather-light, almost reverent, as if he's savoring the feeling of your soft curves beneath his palm. He shifts slightly, adjusting his long legs until they're fully entwined with yours.

Xavier speaks then, his gentle voice a low rasp in the close confines of the tent, thick with emotion. "It's alright... I know it was only because you were cold." There's a profound sadness coloring those softly spoken words, tinged with resignation. But he tightens his arms around you, drawing you impossibly closer until your chest is flush against his, your breath mingling with his own. 

Hesitating for a moment, you can feel the warmth of his breath ghosting over your skin as you nestle deeper into his embrace. Then, summoning every ounce of courage you possess, you tilt your chin up until your mouths are mere centimeters apart.

In trembly voice, you breathe out, "That's...that's not why."

You feel the sharp intake of breath, sense the sudden stillness that overtakes him as your whispered confession hangs heavily between you. A heartbeat passes, then another, before a large hand comes up to cup your jaw with infinite gentleness.

"What...what did you say?" His thumb brushes below your bottom lip, the feather-light caress sending shivers racing down your spine. "Not… because of the cold?"

There's a desperate edge to his question, equal parts hopeful and disbelieving. Like it’s difficult even to consider the alternative meaning behind your mumbled words.

Swallowing hard, you watch as so many emotions war across his face—wonder, fear, cautious elation. The careful mask of neutrality slips further as he drinks in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

When he leans in, it's torturously slow, giving you every chance to pull away. His forehead comes to rest gently against yours, the bridge of his nose brushing your cheek.

"I...I'm not sure I understand..." he breathes, more to himself than to you. The confession sounds torn from the deepest part of his being, achingly raw and vulnerable.

A soft, almost inaudible whimper escapes your lips as you nuzzle into the warm palm cupping your cheek, savoring the feeling of his hand cradling your face like something precious.

"Always..." you whisper, the single word trembling with emotion as it slips free. "I've always wanted to be this close to you..."

As the shy admission leaves your lips, a visible shudder runs through Xavier's tall frame. His breathing grows heavier, more ragged, as he processes the weight of your confession. For a long moment, he simply holds you, thumb tracing delicate patterns on your skin while he grapples with this revelation.

Then, his grip on you tightens, one arm sliding down to splay across the small of your back so possessively it makes your heart ache with happiness. "do you have any idea what you do to me?" he whispers, the quietly spoken words sending vibrations through you. "How many nights I've lain awake imagining holding you like this..."

His face lowers until his lips hover above your ear, hot breath fanning across the shell. "Desperate for a single taste of your skin, your warmth..."

Your breath catches in your throat, desire spiking through you like lightning. Acting on pure instinct, you surge forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

Gods they mold so perfectly to yours… firm yet yielding, as he pours centuries worth of pent-up desire into the heated press of his mouth. One hand fists gently in your hair, angling your head to deepen the kiss while the other grips your hip, hauling you even closer until you're practically sprawled across his lap. 

Distantly, you register the growing evidence of his arousal pressing against your thigh, sending liquid heat pooling in your core. Whimpering into the kiss, your fingers scrabble for purchase, tangling helplessly in the silken strands of his own silvery hair.

The world narrows down to the slick slide of lips and tongue, the taste of him flooding your senses until you feel drunk on it.

Panting harshly, he finally breaks away, trailing kisses along the column of your throat instead. "Need you," he rasps against your jumping pulse point. "want to feel every inch of you…”

Calloused hands skim up your sides, pushing your sleep shirt up as they go, baring you to his hungry gaze. Hesitantly meeting your eyes, he swallows thickly, adam's apple bobbing. 

"This...this means..." He clears his throat, voice hoarse with emotion. "Does this mean you're mine now? Truly and completely?"

The question hangs between you, weighted with centuries of longing and barely contained hope. His ice-blue eyes search your face, pupils blown wide with desire but clouded by uncertainty. Like he's afraid to believe this is real, terrified that you might vanish again like smoke between his fingers if he even dares to hope.

Shyly, you nod, a shaky smile curving your kiss-swollen lips. "Yes...all yours. I've always been yours, Xavier. From the very beginning."

Xavier inhales sharply as your breathy words reach his ears, eyes darkening with raw adoration and overwhelming relief.

"Yes..." he echoes almost reverently, drinking in the sight of your bared skin like a man starved. Then he surges forward, capturing your lips in another searing kiss that steals the very air from your lungs.

“Look at you…” he breathes when he pulls back, voice choked with awe and wonder. 

Large, calloused hands skim over your ribs, mapping the dip of your waist and flare of your hips with worshipful touches. He drinks in the way your pulse flutters rapidly at the base of your throat, the perfect rosy tips of your breasts already pebbling under his gaze.

Leaning in, he places open-mouthed kisses along the slope of your neck, teeth grazing sensitive flesh. Your head falls back with a shuddering gasp as he works his way lower, leaving a trail of tingling marks in his wake.

“So pretty..." he breathes reverently against your skin as hands knead the soft globes of your breasts almost wonderingly. "Like petals unfurling for me alone…”

His thumbs circle the stiff peaks, coaxing them into aching points before he dips his head to take one into the wet heat of his mouth. 

A guttural moan of his name vibrates through you as he suckles deeply, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud. 

Instantly, a hand covers your mouth, muffling your impassioned cries. Pulling back just enough to meet your glazed eyes, Xavier fixes you with an affectionate smile.

'Shh... the others are sleeping', he mouths silently, thumb brushing soothingly over your kiss-bruised lips.

Then he presses a finger to his mouth in a 'quiet please' gesture before trailing it slowly, deliberately down the center of your body.

His heated gaze follows the path of that teasing touch, drinking in every tremor and goosebump rising in its wake. He’s enchanted by your responsiveness to him, a boyish wonder brightening his features as he watches you wiggle and whimper. Each hitched breath, every shiver passing through you seems to captivate him completely. 

"I could spend hours like this," he murmurs, words hushed with reverence. "Just touching you, tasting you... memorizing every beautiful inch of your skin until the image is burned into my mind forever…”

One large hand cups your face with infinite gentleness, thumb tracing the delicate line of your cheekbone. The other slides down to rest low on your belly, splayed fingers curling possessively.

"I've waited so long..." Xavier confesses, the admission barely above a breathless whisper. "To hold you like this, touch you without restraint…"

The air feels impossibly thick as the heated words trail off, heavy with unspoken emotions. You arch into him almost desperately, craving more contact, more friction, more everything. Soft little mewls spill from your lips unbidden as his fingertips continue tracing maddening patterns across your trembling form.

"Please… I need more..." you breathe, the pleading words tumbling out in a fevered rush. Distantly, you realize the others are sleeping right outside, but you can't bring yourself to care... all that matters is the feeling of Xavier’s hands on you, his eyes devouring you like you're the most exquisite creation he's ever laid eyes on.

In response to your begging, he surges forward to capture your lips in another fierce, consuming kiss. It's all teeth and tongue and pent-up passion… lifetimes of longing poured into the filthy slide of mouths. 

With extreme gentleness, he scoops you up into his arms, effortlessly lifting you as if you weigh nothing at all. Then, without hesitation, he arranges you between his parted legs, your back resting firmly against his chest.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, the warm gust of his breath ghosting over the nape of your neck.

You nod quickly, a soft, breathy "more than okay" falling from your lips as you settle back into his warmth. A full-body shudder ripples through you at the sheer rightness of this moment… of being held so securely in the arms of the man you've longed for since the very moment you met him. 

"Perfect," you correct yourself, reaching back to thread your fingers through the silky strands of his pale hair. Giving a gentle tug, you encourage him to bury his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling into your racing pulse.

He presses open-mouthed kisses along the side of your throat, teeth grazing delicately. Each nibble and suck sends jolts of electricity zinging straight to your core.

"The way you feel in my arms..." Xavier groans quietly, the affection in his voice vibrating through your entire being. "Like you were made just for me..."

Pulling back with a ragged gasp, he presses his forehead to your cheek, noses brushing as he pants softly. His blue eyes are molten with want as nimble fingers dance along the edge of your sleep shorts, teasing and taunting. The ghost of a touch sends electric shivers racing up your spine, igniting tiny fires beneath your skin.

"Please..." you whimper breathlessly, tilting your hips up in a shameless invitation.

With utmost tenderness, strong hands grasp the waistband of your thin cotton shorts, dragging the flimsy fabric slowly down the lines of your legs. 

A strangled groan, barely audible, rumbles deep in Xavier's chest as the action uncovers you completely. Realization dawns that you wore nothing underneath, a fact that clearly pleases and excites him judging by the sharp inhale he barely suppresses.

Fingertips graze lightly against your sensitive skin, but not quite touching where you crave him most.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, voice roughened with desire. Those incredible eyes, darkened to the color of storm-tossed seas, flick up to meet yours. Uncertainty ghosts across his handsome features as he hesitates. "May I... may I look at you properly?"

A deep blush stains your cheeks at his gentle request, a shy nod granting him the permission he seeks. "Y-yes, please..." 

Trembling slightly with excitement and nerves, you allow your legs to fall fully open, revealing your most intimate area. Instinctively, you reach for the hem of your shirt, tugging it higher to bare the swells of your breasts entirely. Pebbled nipples stand at attention, flushed a deep hue against the expanse of your skin.

With an endearing nervousness in his movements, Xavier tentatively raises a hand, palm facing upwards. After a brief moment, a small, pulsing orb of pale, shimmering light materializes above his fingertips.

Almost shyly, as if seeking silent permission for this too, he extends that little glowing sphere beneath the blanket. The ethereal light filters through the thin fabric, casting a soft, otherworldly luminescence across your bare skin.

"Is this alright?" he asks again softly, his voice so uncharacteristically uncertain. 

A soft sigh escapes your lips as the luminous orb bathes your skin in its pearlescent glow. The ambient light seems to make you appear even softer, more inviting somehow. It dances over the curves of your body, highlighting the slopes and valleys in a way that makes you seem almost ethereal.

"It's perfect," you assure him again, a shy smile playing about your lips despite the riot of nerves churning in your gut. "You can always use your evol like this, I don't mind. It's beautiful."

A relieved smile breaks across his face at your words, crinkling the corners of his eyes charmingly. Some of the tension visibly drains from his shoulders as he takes your reassurance to heart.

His gaze rakes hungrily over your form now, blue eyes gleaming with undisguised appreciation. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows hard, transfixed by the sight of you laid out so beautifully before him. 

"Like a goddess illuminated by starlight…” he breathes, the words emerging as little more than a husky whisper. 

Slowly, carefully, he allows the sphere of light to drift closer, its warmth enveloping you like a cocoon of pure sensation. You gasp softly at the foreign yet pleasant tingle that spreads across your skin, like the touch of sunbeams caressing your flesh.

"It suits you," Xavier murmurs, almost dreamily. "The way the glow highlights every graceful curve and plane... it's as if the light itself recognizes your beauty and wishes to cradle it too…”

Your breath catches at the feeling of his body wrapping tighter around yours, the plush softness of your ass nestling perfectly into the gap between his muscular legs, as if molded specifically for the purpose.

The position causes your legs to fall open just right now, exposing the glistening pink folds of your sex to his hungry gaze. In the ethereal glow of his magic, the evidence of your arousal is plain to see—dewy petals swollen and flushed, just begging to be touched…

A strangled noise escapes him, something between a groan and a prayer. Leaning forward, he drapes himself over your smaller frame, long limbs bracketing your body as he looms above you. 

He takes a moment to simply admire the view—your tight little slit glistening in the soft glow of his evol, practically weeping with want.

Then, with an almost hypnotic slowness, your slick folds are parted with a feather-light touch, both index fingers gently exposing your entrance. Your back arches involuntarily at the first touch against your overheated flesh, a breathy keen escaping your parted lips.

He releases a shuddering 'shh,’ against the shell of your ear, hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin and sending tingles down your spine. When he speaks, his voice is low and thick with awe and unbridled desire.

“So wet for me already..." The words are barely more than a whisper, roughened by want. "You really do want this don’t you…”

As if to punctuate his point, Xavier drags a single finger through your soaked slit, gathering the messy evidence of your arousal. With a trembling hand, he brings it to his mouth, baby blues meeting your wide-eyed gaze.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he parts his lips, tongue peeking out to lave a long, slow lick across the pad before he closes them around the digit.

A shuddering exhale leaves him as he savors your taste, eyelids fluttering shut for a brief moment as if lost in the experience... when they reopen, they blaze with an intensity you've never seen before, pupils blown wide with hunger as he withdraws his finger from his mouth with a audible pop.

“I’ve… I’ve indulged in the finest delicacies from across the stars," he murmurs, the words emerging ragged and strained. "But nothing, absolutely nothing compares to the taste of you. It's... overwhelming..."

The gentle pressure of his touch gradually intensifies as his curiosity propels him to explore further. Calloused fingertips skim down your stomach, leaving goosebumps in their wake until they reach the juncture of your thighs. 

"I... I haven't actually done this before," he admits quietly, almost hesitantly. "But I've read books, studied ancient texts... I want to make sure everything I do brings you pleasure…”

That adorably rare flush of color is on Xavier’s ears as he confesses this, a mixture of embarrassment and determination sparkling in those fathomless blue eyes. With the utmost delicacy, one long finger traces the seam of your sex again, mapping the slick folds with careful intent. The breathy whimpers and small gasps he elicits send a shiver of pride down his spine, spurring him on.

"And just like that," he breathes, almost wonderingly, "your body guides me... shows me exactly what it needs…”

Emboldened by your responsiveness and his own growing confidence, Xavier slowly, oh-so-slowly, sinks one long finger knuckle-deep into your welcoming heat. The thick digit curls inward, seeking that special bundle of nerves he's heard so much about.

"There it is..." he whispers, voice rough with satisfaction as your inner walls flutter around him. "That spot that makes you squirm so prettily for me..."

Pressing more insistently against that magical place deep within you, he sets a deliberate rhythm—slow at first, then building to a steady, pulsing pace.

White-hot pleasure explodes behind your eyelids at the targeted stimulation, and you nearly scream, fingers scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. Panting harshly now, you buck your hips against his skilled hand, desperate for more. Beads of sweat dot your forehead as the tension coils tighter in your lower belly with each precise thrust of his finger.

"Shh, easy…" His other hand comes up to cup your face tenderly. "We need to be quiet. Here..." He lifts his free hand, palm up and offering. "Bite down as hard as you need to. I can take it."

Your teeth dig into his palm, leaving crescent-shaped indents behind as muffled sounds of overwhelmed pleasure vibrate against his skin. Despite the pain, his only response is a deep groan that sends delicious vibrations through his chest pressed against your back.

"That's it... let go," Xavier urges, voice a soothing murmur. "Take what you need from me. It's always been yours to claim." His hand works more urgently between your thighs now, stroking and curling inside you. "So prettylike this," he murmurs reverently, drinking in the flush of your cheeks and the hazy bliss in your half-lidded eyes. "So responsive, so perfect..."

Removing his fingers from your mouth, he traces the bite marks left behind, a pleased gasp escaping him at the vivid colors blooming beneath the skin. “Souvenirs of my angel taking her pleasure…” Then he holds the reddened palm to your lips in clear invitation. "More. Please, mark me again… I- I need it."

He begins to grind his clothed erection against the curve of your ass, the hard ridge of his cock fitting snugly between the pretty globes. Each roll of his hips grinds the thick length along your crack, sending sparks of pleasure zinging up your spine.

Lost in a haze of sensation, you cry out sharply against his palm again, teeth sinking in with bruising force. Xavier groans low in his throat at the sweet sting, hips jerking reflexively to rut against you harder. His cock throbs almost painfully where it's trapped between your bodies, the damp patch on his pants expanding with each pass.

Your muffled warning of 'c-close, Xavier...' dissolves into a strangled scream as your release crashes over you, back arching nearly in half as ecstasy whites out your vision. 

He curses softly as he feels your inner walls clamp down around his fingers, rippling and fluttering wildly. The slick, velvety heat engulfing him is incredibly tight, as if trying to suck him in deeper. "F-fuckk... getting… so tight..."

As the last aftershocks wrack through your trembling body, you weakly tug at silvery locks, urging his head down to your shoulder. Mumbling against his palm still clamped over your mouth, you manage to convey your desperate request: "b-bite... please… use me too..."

Opening his mouth, you feel his teeth graze over the sensitive junction of neck and shoulder. With exquisite care, he nips suckles until a vibrant mark blooms beneath his lips. Your unique scent—warm and inviting—floods his senses, and he can't suppress the shudder that rolls through his entire frame.

"Nngh..." He grunts softly, hips rocking more insistently against the plush curves of your ass. Lost in the throes of passion, he bites down a bit harder than intended, the coppery tang of blood mingling with your flavor on his tongue. Xavier whimpers at the taste, forgetting himself as the sound rings high and needy in the morning air.

Pulling back slightly, he admires the dark hickey marring your pretty skin with a fierce surge of possessiveness. "Mine," he rasps, the word low and guttural. His hips grind harder, faster, cock weeping precum and staining the fabric covering it impossibly darker.

"Gonna... hah... gonna come," he pants harshly, each stuttered thrust bringing him closer to the edge.

The rhythmic push and pull of skilled fingers soon resumes inside your still-quivering walls, plunging deep and twisting just right. Combined with the erotic symphony of his strained grunts and heavy breathing filling your ears, it doesn't take long before your body winds itself back up towards that peak.

His teeth sink into the juncture of your neck and shoulder once more, biting down just shy of breaking the skin as his orgasm finally overtakes him. A low, guttural moan vibrates against your abused flesh as Xavier comes hard, hot spurts of seed pumping into his clothes. The rhythmic grinding of his hips, coupled with the feel of his release drenching your ass, proves too much…

Your cry is muffled against his hand as you hit your second climax even more intensely than the first, inner muscles clenching like a vice around his pistoning fingers. Clear essence gushes out around the invading digits, flooding his palm as you shake apart in his arms.

"My little star," he praises softly, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the column of your throat.  "Such a good girl, coming so hard for me..."

With extreme gentleness, he works you through the aftershocks, fingers slowing to shallow, dragging strokes through the drenched petals of your sex. Collecting your overflowing juices, he smears them up your slit and over your swollen, twitching clit.

"You... you're dripping," he marvels quietly, transfixed by the sheer amount of slick coating his hand. 

Bleary-eyed and utterly sated, you can't help but giggle at the adorable pout forming on Xavier's face. Even disheveled and sporting hickeys in various stages of fading, the man manages to look devastatingly handsome. You reach up to boop his nose playfully, coaxing a small smile to replace the suddenly sullen expression. It doesn’t take a genius to guess what’s bothering him. 

"Aww, is my big strong protector eager to get me all to himself?" you tease lightly, running your fingers through his tousled silver locks.

He leans into your touch with a contented hum, nuzzling your palm like an affectionate cat. "Can you blame me? Having to share you, even with the team, feels like torture," he confesses softly. 

You can't help but chuckle at his adorably petulant expression. He looks like a grumpy toddler denied his favorite treat, lower lip jutting out as he glowers at the tent flap mumbling, “when can we go home?”

"I mean, technically..." your fingers dance along the line of his jaw before tracing the elegant slope of his cheekbone. "If you woke everyone up right this second, dragged them out of their tents, and demanded we leave immediately… I'm sure they'd totally understand."

Blue eyes widen comically, zeroing in on your face as if searching for any hint of sincerity. Hope kindles in their cerulean depths, rapidly extinguished by the impish grin playing on your lips. A put-on sigh escapes him, shoulders slumping in mock defeat.

"So somewhere between now and whenever they decide to grace us with their presence?" Xavier’s voice takes on a playfully sinful timbre as he hooks his hands under your knees, effortlessly hitching your legs up and back. The cool air kisses your heated flesh, making you shiver. “Then the question is..." 

His calloused palms skim the smooth expanse of your inner thighs, thumbs grazing dangerously close to your core as he raises a single eyebrow, grinning wickedly. "How many times can I make you come before we have to play nice and join the group?”

[theotherrookie]

Willow noticed the moment of hesitation, but kept it to herself. Knowing she could still look menacing even while everybody was doing their best at it as well was enough.

In any case, she was more concerned about preparing the most appropriate accomodations for Ratchet, so that he wouldn't try to escape while they took some well deserved rest. She didn't like the look he had. It might have been worth it to do another background check later.

Willow waited patiently for Antonio to get through the video she had sent, glad to hear they could work with her suggestion.

"I'm glad to be of assistance." she replied with a small smile, "Now, shall we help our guest settle down for the night?"

This had been a fun group activity, but it was about time to go check on Cyberspace for her and bedtime for Erica.

"Well, it was fun at first! Too bad you didn't get to enjoy it as much as we did." Ratchet taunted back, "I had a great time with your little protege, that's for sure!"

Ratchet's rant was cut off by a fierce kick to the chest. Willow wasn't one to start swearing, but she and her combat boots knew how to get the point across.

"Don't mind me, I'm just polishing my boots real quick. Feel free to proceed at your earliest convenience."

"Of course. Thank you for the offer." Lucien replied, nodding.

"I think he does. Anyways, we should help wrap things up. It's been a long day for Smokey, it's about time I take him home."

The Twins nodded.

"You hear that?"

"It's time to go home." Tommy gently nudged Smokey towards Erica, before standing up as he watched the kitten run back to her.

"It is." Rook confirmed, "I haven't heard Lucien speak it in a long time. It sounds like he's loosening up a bit. That's something to think about."

Whether Russell would also want to do something with that information was up to him, but she was going to be nice for once and not press him on the topic.

"I guess that'd work. I could also look into sun resistance potions. Somebody has got to have thought about it."

If not, she would get creative. It couldn't be that hard.

"As long as it inconveniences him, I'm happy. I think we should make a few more of these– A couple for each one of us should do. I'll make the base, you fill them and wrap 'em. Then I'll make the smaller ones later."

Those would need some adjustments, thus were best left last.

"Good thing we don't need sleep like the others, uh?"

"Certainly." The threshold was also offensively low with Ratchet. He was such a disappointment.

Willow was about to offer the remainder of the ziplocks to tie Ratchet down, despite their proved ineffectiveness. Perhaps using a few more of his gadgets against him would have sufficed, though she wasn't about to set aside the possibility of a few of his joints accidentally being dislocated just yet.

But then her face lit up with the sort of enthusiasm that was known to unsettle even the most seasoned mercenary of her world.

"Oh, I might know of something that might just do to our case. Check your phone."

That prompted Ratchet to share his opinion on the matter. "…You're messing with the wrong guy."

"Thank you, but I wouldn't want to abuse of your time for what are, in the end, matters that a fae should deal with alone." Lucien replied. He could have used the alone time and even then, he didn't want to drag anyone in his scheming before he had the confirmation there would be a point to it at all.

He also wanted to get away from insolent elves. Erica looked way too content with herself there. She and Rook really were two of a kind.

"Well, my eyes aren't that good, but that's hard to miss." Erica replied.

Rook listened on for a moment longer, before shaking her head. "I just never realized how distinctively french Lucien sounds when he's speaking in fae."

She would treasure the knowledge to annoy him later. She proceeded to grab another piece of paper and wrapped it up around the shell, before retrieving some duct tape to tie down the loose ends.

"Camping would be cool. I haven't done that in a while, but it'd be nice to hang out in nature, maybe go home for a bit…" Rook replied, before pausing, "I mean, assuming we could even organize something like that."

Perhaps what she was hoping for was simply some time off from the supernatural shenanigans.

"You know, maybe we should find a way to add in salt to the injuries to really drill it in Five's skull how shitty it is to aim at open wounds to poison someone. He won't learn a damn thing, but screw him."

[g4rvez-r3id]

(Not) A Jinx

S7! Spencer Reid x Clumsy!Barista!Fem! Reader

Synopsis: Spencer has been going to a new coffee shop recently and that’s where he finds you — a clumsy barista who screws up orders and asks for help all of the time. After a confrontation with a customer, Spencer sees you and assures to you that you’re not a jinx like you seem to think you are.

Category: Fluff, with a hint of angst

Warnings: reader is a barista at a coffee shop (not a very good one) i love projecting, based on a semi-real situation, reader is overwhelmed/has a breakdown, spencer being a comforting softie, crying, cute nickname used (cutie), i think that’s it- otherwise fluffy

Author’s Note: i love projecting into all my fics hehehe/ divider belongs to bestie erika @esote-rika (as all cute dividers i use are) i hope you enjoy this, it’s based on a semi-real situation i go through at my new job lmao (i hate making drinks)

Spencer had just recently started frequenting this new coffee shop a few blocks from Quantico. It was quaint, the pastries were delicious, coffee was self-served and usually very busy around the time he’d go. And though it’d be busy, he still enjoyed it.

By now, all of the workers knew his name as well as his order. A large coffee with a lot of sugar and a blueberry muffin. He’d even indulge in a warm croissant for Garcia every now and again.

To say that he found his new favorite place was an understatement. A quiet place he even decided to gate-keep from the rest of the team so they wouldn’t hog all over what he’d created for himself. It was also the place where he’d met you.

Not that long ago, you’d started working at the coffee shop. You’d taken his order a few times and spoke shyly to him whenever he’d show up, he found it endearing about how timid you were, it reminded him of himself when he was in his early twenties.

The one thing he’d noticed whenever frequenting this coffee shop was how much you’d been on the registers as a cashier. Specifically on Mondays and Tuesdays, not that he was keeping track or anything. He’d never seen you in the kitchen, prepping food or even prepping the long list of ingredients for an iced latte. And when he did, your coworkers were quick to send you to the registers to take orders. He’d figured that maybe you were just always set to cashier whenever you’d come in or maybe you already had enough people handling drinks.

And then he’d come to the realization to why he didn’t see you working on drinks that often. He’d had gone in to get his regular coffee and blueberry muffin this morning during a rush hour. He was actually still waiting on the blueberry muffin when he saw you.

You’d been moving a million miles per hour anxiously as you looked on your screen, frantically muttering to yourself — “How the hell do I make an iced caramel macchiato again?” “What the hell is an americano?” “Wait, was that four or five pumps for the large cups?” People had been watching and waiting for their orders, staring hard— even glaring at you as you tried making four orders at a time.

There was then a point where you eventually gave up trying yourself and asked for help. You said sorry for bothering them and your co-worker had just given you a deep sigh and helped you anyways.

As you tried your best to help her without getting in her way, a man who obviously wasn’t patient enough to wait any longer quickly chided in, saying he’d been waiting for his iced coffee for nearly fifteen minutes now. You politely tell him you’re working on it and you’ll get it out in no time. The man rolls his eyes but nonetheless waits.

And then once you got him his order with shaky hands. Once he was gone, you’d returned to the other orders and within a minute, the man marched right back in towards your area and shouted something about how the drink was disgusting and how badly can you screw up a simple iced coffee?

He could see the defeat in your eyes as he called you ‘stupid’ and decided to chime in with a firm grip on his coffee cup. “Sir, I don’t mean to cut in but I happened to overhear and as much as I understand your frustration, she’s new and maybe you could… I don’t know, give her a break? She’s just learning.” Spencer was never one to speak up. He hated to, but for you? He’d felt the need to. Especially when he saw you working very hard and even shaking to the point where he worried he may need to call a doctor before you pass out on the floor.

“Listen, pipecleaner,” The man scoffs at Spencer. “Why don’t you just back off? This doesn’t concern you.”

Spencer ever rarely pulls this card, but again, for you — he pulls out his badge out from his pocket and flashes it towards the man. “Actually, sir, I’m with the FBI and since I am with law enforcement, I can report and say you’re causing a disturbance to the store and verbally harassing an employee to her face. That could get you banned from the store, maybe even the police will be involved. And you don’t want to risk that over a simple iced coffee incident, do you?” The man looks at him dumbfounded and slack-jawed and when Spencer turns to you, your cheeks turn a soft shade of pink as you stare back, a little frazzled at the fact that he’d stood up to a customer for you. Sure, you had disgruntled customers in your life every now and then, but rarely did anyone stand up for you.

The man grumbles something under his breath and inevitably decides to leave the store and you look at Spencer, grateful and eyes widened, “Thank you.” Spencer nods, with a tight-lipped smile. “Of course, he was being a jerk.”

And the conversation ends there, you go back to trying to make drinks and Spencer finally gets his muffin but before he can leave, there’s a large clatter heard and he turns over to see you looking at the ground at the three coffees you’d just made and you frown, almost as if you’re on the verge of tears.

Your co-worker, who looks like she’s ready to wring your neck out, speaks to you calmly and tells you that she will handle the drinks and to just go on your break. You figure that’s the best thing you can do at the moment, without screwing anything else up. So, you walk out from behind the counter with your head in your hands.

And Spencer watches the whole thing and decides to follow you outside. He doesn’t know what it is that draws him outside to you, he was ready to leave. He got what he needed and didn’t need to be there any longer. But he was willing to spare a moment or two when he saw how distressed you were.

Once he entered outside, he saw you kick a chair over and quickly flinch when you kicked the chair too far towards the table and the umbrella outside had fallen on the cement and you quickly picked up the umbrella before anyone else witnessed you kick it over and you shut your eyes as you squat down and Spencer frowns as you let out a heart-wrenching sob that aches inside him. And you cry and cry and cry.

He doesn’t really know what to do, but he knows you’re upset. He stands there awkwardly, contemplating on going to bother you when you clearly don’t want to be bothered. But he musters up enough courage to walk towards you and clears his throat as he simply says — “Hi.”

You gasp and look to him before quickly wiping away your tears that cascaded and stained your cheeks. You take a moment to calm yourself down before wiping your hands on your apron. “I’m fine. Sorry.” You say, still looking at the ground and avoiding his eyes as you stand from where you’re sitting.

“I didn’t mean to just… invade your—” Spencer pauses, not knowing exactly how to refer your current breakdown. Would it be offensive to you if he did call it a breakdown? “Are you okay?” He manages a more simple approach, a friendly approach.

You exhale, hands on hips as you look up at him— “I’m normally not this bad, I swear. I just… today’s just been really overwhelming and I hate making the drinks, which is very ironic considering I work in a coffee shop and literally all they have me do is just be on the registers since that is the only thing I can’t manage to screw up and I really need this job because I need the money and I’m just so so tired all of the time since I work two jobs and I’m just… ugh.” You cover your eyes with the palms of your hands and look at the man and sigh more, “I’m so sorry, I’m very prone to ramble and to drone on and on and on, feel free to tell me shut up any time.”

Never, Spencer wants to say. I, too, am prone to rambling. And it’s refreshing to be on the opposite end of a good ramble.

“It’s okay,” He tells. “I’m sorry you’re having a bad day.” You sigh, “It’s not your fault. I really do appreciate you sticking up for me, you really didn’t have to.” Spencer shrugs a bit, “It’s really no problem. And he was being a jerk.”

“I kinda deserved it, though,” You say and Spencer furrows his brows in confusion because why would you think that? “I’m not that good at my job, if you haven’t noticed.”

“That’s ridiculous—” Spencer tries but you shake your head, disregarding his input. “No, I’m not. Every time I’m alone on drinks, I always have to ask for help. I always ask for help when I shouldn’t have to. I’ve been here two months, I should know all of this stuff by now. Why do you think I’m always on the register? I’m just a big fat jinx. I get in the way.”

It then clicked to him now. Your co-workers decided to continuously put you on cashier because they didn’t want you in the way. And when you tried, it ended up going awry. Spencer frowned, he believed you’d tried. No matter what, you were still trying to do your job. He pitied you, you didn’t deserve to feel like this about yourself. Because as far as he was concerned, you were trying. And not a lot of people did that. They often admitted defeat before they even had the chance to try.

You turn away from him so as not to look him in the face. You’d just poured your whole heart out to the man about how you felt about your job and he was a complete stranger. Somehow, it’d felt a little embarrassing but it was easier opening up to a total stranger than to someone you already know, at least to you.

“I don’t think you’re a jinx,” Spencer spoke up. “You’re still learning. It’s not your fault. Everyone works in different ways. You know, working styles typically fall into four unique types — idea oriented, logical, detail oriented and supportive.”

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, “And what type do you think I fit?” You wonder with a cross of your arms, intrigued by the conversation. He gawks at you for a moment before thinking to himself. “I think you’re the supportive type. You’re empathetic and people oriented. At least from what I’ve seen when you take my order. You really do try, even if you don’t think you do. You are. At least you’re trying. That’s more than what other people do.”

You stare at the man interestingly, studying him almost. He was nice to you, you were just as much a stranger to him as he was to you. “Thanks.” You smile. You stare at each other for a minute before Spencer pauses — “So you said you’ve only been working here a few months?”

“Yeah, I can’t really afford living in this economy nowadays. Had to get two jobs to live.” You reply and Spencer nods, “Yeah, I’ve only seen you a handful of times, so I… I just happened to notice.”

He wasn’t going to add onto the fact that he watches every time that you do work, he notices when you scrunch up your nose when you’re focused, he notices that you sing to yourself every once in a while or that you walk around like you’re on a mission.

“Really?” You ask.

Spencer nods, “Yeah, trust me, you’re not an easy person to forget. That and I do have an eidetic memory, so it’s easy not to forget.”

“So, like… a photographic memory?” You ask and Spencer winces as he corrects— “It’s not quite the same, considering eidetic memory is a more short-term form of memory while photographic memory, on the other hand, is thought to be a more long-term form of memory.” You chuckle a bit, already admiring little quirks you’ve never seen before. Especially not in a man as delicious as him.

“S-Sorry, I… I tend to ramble.” Now, he was the one apologizing.

“Hey, I’m not judging. I just poured my heart out to you not that long ago.” You chuckle again and look around. “I should, uh, probably get back to work. I only get ten minutes.”

Spencer nods with wide eyes, “Yeah, uh, I should go, too. I… I work, too. At the BAU in Quantico, in fact.”

“Oh, really?” You ask, another interesting thing to mark down in your mental note. “FBI?” Spencer nods, “Yes, I, uh—” Before he can even go into detail about what he does for a living, someone calls your name and informs you to come back in since you’re ten minute break was now up.

Man, time flies when you’re speaking with a handsome stranger that doesn’t think you’re a jinx.

You turn back to Spencer with an awkward chuckle, “Well, I should get back. Maybe I’ll see you around again soon?” Spencer nods, “Yes, I hope to see you again soon, too.”

You wave at him goodbye and begin to walk back towards the doors. “Uh,” You hear Spencer and whip your head back around to see his gears turning in his head. “If you ever… want to, uh, go get coffee— at another place, that is… sometime, would-would you… be up for that? S-Sometime?”

You smirk at him and his attempt of asking you out. “Yeah, I’d like that.” You say and Spencer gives you a crooked smile. You go to push the door open, only then realizing it’s a fucking pull door and pull it open and walk back in without another word, leaving Spencer with a large smile on his face the rest of the day.

He’d gone back to the coffee shop the very next morning and ordered the usual. Only this time, he’d saw a little message written on the side of his cup. Your phone number etched with a heart and your name right next to it.

XXX-XXX-XXXX

ㅤ♡ Y/n

call me sometime, cutie!

Needless to say, Spencer kept going to the coffee shop. And it wasn’t just for the coffee anymore.

[fizzyapplecandy]

The one with the vampire royals and their doll Part 9

Series masterlist

Ateez Seonghwa x Hongjoong x reader

Genres and warnings: vampire Matz x human reader, poly relationship, fluff, mature language, some blood in this chapter, angst, eventual happy ending

Word count: 3.1k

You're finally going over to the men's house for a romantic dinner, but an accident in the kitchen reveals their true nature.

If somebody had told you your life would be filled with dinner dates and museum visits with two gorgeous men, you wouldn't have believed them.

It was entirely possible you were dreaming, but Hongjoong and Seonghwa made sure to remind you how happy they were about your new relationship.

The past two weeks since your first date were hectic - your shop was filled with customers, Yeosang finally came back to spend time with you after the debacle with Wooyoung, and you were taken care of by your new boyfriends.

Huh, you think to yourself. You don't know when you've accepted the fact that these men were yours, and you still haven't told them. It just came naturally, seeing how much time you spent together and how well you three compliment each other.

Hongjoong was there whenever you wanted to learn something new about history. He frequently visited museums and other antique shops with you, listening attentively to your rambles and praising you in your knowledge. Hongjoong always had a fun fact to add, and you were amazed by that. It sometimes felt like he was present when things were happening in the past.

Seonghwa was different. He loved doing the most mundane things with you, like food shopping or drinking coffee in rustic cafes. The library was a place you visited together, and he recommended books based on how much he liked the authors. Just like with Hongjoong, he spoke about them like he'd met and got to know their personalities.

All in all, the time you spent with them was just what you needed for a confidence boost. You started paying attention to your clothing, wanting to impress them with your fashion sense. Seonghwa noticed, and the next day your hands were full of bags, each containing pieces you never imagined you'd own. You tried refusing, but he insisted he was there to spoil you on all levels.

Hongjoong gave you jewelry, and he told you it wasn't possible to return because it was handmade by him. That made the earrings and necklaces even more special, so you cherished them dearly.

At the three week mark since you started being more serious about each other, the boys made a suggestion while the three of you were drinking tea in your shop. The routine of picking you up from work and driving you back home was still the same, but they sometimes came by together just because they missed you.

"So, doll, what do you say about a cozy dinner with two handsome men?" Hongjoong asked, relaxing on the sofa.

"Hmm..." You pretend to think about it, and Seognhwa chuckled from his position by the window.

"I'd have to think about it. You know, I have two very jealous men by my side almost every day. I don't know what they'd say." You replied, coming over and sitting opposite.

Hongjoong raised an eyebrow.

"Jealous? When were we ever-"

"This morning when that lovely gentleman picked up my bag from the ground." You cut him off quickly, smiling into your cup.

Seonghwa walked over to your sofa, sitting down on the arm of it. He placed his hand on your hair, ruffling it up.

"He was looking at you too long for my liking." The grumpy man said, hiding his face behind his tea.

"Hongjoong, my love, what about that poor mailman yesterday? He was just trying to deliver her package."

You looked up at Seonghwa, amused by his decision to partake in the teasing.

Hongjoong stood up. "Yeah, well, he... Oh give me a break! You're the one who shooed away that waiter from yesterday!"

Seonghwa gasped. "Ah! That guy was clearly waiting for a chance to slip her his number! It was totally reasonable."

"Boys. And I say boys because grown men don't bicker like this, please, calm down. Don't you think I would be sitting here enjoying my afternoon with the two of you if I wanted another person?"

Hongjoong sat back down, reaching over to caress your hand.

"My doll is right, as usual. We do sound like idiots, my star."

Seonghwa smiled at his husband. "That she is."

"So, dinner?" You asked, looking at both of them.

"Yes, yes. Dinner at our mansion, if our lovely girl is interested." The man sitting above you said.

"Well, I'd love to. Should I dress in fancy clothes?"

"No need, doll. Just be as comfortable as you want." Hongjoong replied.

"Well then, I'm sold. When did you plan on it?"

"Tonight, actually. If you don't have any plans with your little friend."

"Oh, no. Yeosang is too preoccupied with Wooyoung. He had a misshap at work, so he's sporting a broken finger. He needs to nurse him back to health."

The men snickered. Somehow, you had a sense that they didn't particularly like Wooyoung, but you may be wrong.

"Typical. What do you recon he was doing, Seonghwa?"

His husband smirked, hand running through your hair again.

"Probably stirring up trouble, but let's not talk about him. My sweet, what would you like to eat? Any preference for tonight?"

You pretended to think about it, but a nice idea dawned on you right then.

"How about we cook together? Hongjoong can be there for support, of course, but I want to make a meal with you."

"Hey, I can cook!"

You and Seonghwa glanced at each other, trying not to laugh in the poor man's face.

"My love, I say this with my whole heart. You can't."

Seognhwa made his way to Hongjoong, placing a kiss on his pouting husband's head. He turned towards you, extending his arm for you to take. The two of you now crowded Hongjoong, who still had a sour expression. Wanting to make him feel better, you bent down to give him a peck on the cheek.

He lit up instantly, grabbing you by the waist and placing you in his lap.

Ever since that night you shared a kiss with both of them, you were too afraid to do it again. Yes, they made clear just how much they wanted you, but you didn't want to throw yourself at them. They were patient, and admired your politeness.

That didn't mean there were no kisses at all. Oh, no, that would be a tragedy, wouldn't it? Hongjoong regularly pecked you on the lips first thing in the morning, and Seonghwa left a feather like kiss whenever you said your goodbyes in the evening.

Even now, as you sat on Hongjoong's lap, he couldn't help but place his hands in your cheeks and lightly kiss your glossy lips.

"Well that's not fair, I want one too."

You looked up at Seonghwa's pout and motioned for him to lean down. You weren't the most confident in your moves, but you kissed him as well, pulling away with red cheeks. Your eyes widened as you realised something.

"Oh, maybe you meant Hongjoong, I'm so sorry."

The men laughed, looking at you with eyes full of adoration.

"No, darling, I wanted one from you. I get plenty of kisses from my husband, don't worry."

"You could as well, if you wanted." Hongjoong added, lightly playing with your hair.

"Well, I... I do. I really do, but... You know."

Seognhwa urged you to continue.

You took a deep breath. "Well, you're married, and I still don't know how this works between us. I wouldn't want to impose or anything like that."

"Y/N, my doll, you don't know how much we want you. Every day, every minute. From dusk till dawn. Don't be shy if you want us too. We would be more than happy to receive your affection." Hongjoong said, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"If that's the case, then..."

You pulled him away from you, and smashed your lips onto his. He was stunned for a second, but recovered pretty quickly. Your lips moved like they knew each other for ages, and you were afraid you'd never get over the feeling of them.

Before you could get to carried away, you stood, leaving Hongjoong frozen on the sofa. His eyes were closed, and his breathing was irregular. It seemed like he wasn't kidding when he said what an effect you had on them.

A light touch to your shoulder made you turn aroud and look at Seognhwa. His gaze was darker, his lips pulled into a smirk. You knew he was waiting, so you threw yourself into his arms and your lips found their way to each other.

Their kisses were different, and you loved it. While Hongjoong was more aggressive, Seognhwa had a lighter, more sensual approach. He ran his fingers through your hair, placing them at the base of your neck. You noticed his fascination with your bare neck quickly, so you purposely wore clothing that exposed it. If it made him admire you so much, you'd do it every day.

Seonghwa pulled away first, looking into your eyes. You noticed how the colour of his irises sometimes changed to a darker shade of brown, but you assumed it was due to the lighting.

"Doll... We should do this all the time." He whispered, placing his hands around your waist.

"We should? How are we going to do anything else if we just kiss?" You asked, pretending to think about it.

"We'll figure something out."

Movement from behind you made you turn around to see Hongjoong standing up. He looked like he got himself together, and he motioned towards Seognhwa.

"My star, I think we should go and leave Y/N to do her business. We'll pick you up tonight for our dinner. Sorry, doll, we have some work we need to get done."

His statement was curt, and you could see there was no room for discussion. Seonghwa nodded, smiling at you before detangling himself.

You waved as they were pulling away from you shop, heart beating a bit faster after what you did. You couldn't wait for tonight.

.

.

"Hello, again, darling." Seognhwa smiled from the enterance, motioning for you to come along. He made sure you were buckled up in your seat before going over to the driver's side.

"So, is everything prepped and ready?"

"Yes, Hongjoong even chopped some onions. He really wanted to be included, you know?"

You smirked. "Let me guess, you chopped some too in case his ended up on the floor or were mostly thrown away?"

The man next to you laughed. "Silly girl, you know us so well already. But yes, there was another bowl in case of emergency."

The two of you chatted along as he drove away from your town. They already told you their mansion was in the outskirts, for better privacy. They were surrouuby greenery, and by the time you got to the front gate, you managed to explore the whole forest.

"Oh wow..." You gasped as you exited the car. They really lived in a gothic, castle-like house? For some reason, you felt like it fit them perfectly.

The front door opened and Hongjoong went to grab your hand.

"Come on, come on, don't be a slowpoke."

"Hey, hey, careful with our girl." Seonghwa chastised him, following along as you entered their front room. Just like you thought, the place was lavish. Old paintings were the walls, a crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling in the living room, and there was also a fireplace. The flame was crackling, giving the home a cozy feel.

"This way to the kitchen, darling."

Seognhwa guided you further until you stood in a kitchen so beautiful, you understood why he spent so much time in it.

"Do you like it? Hongjoong designed everything, and all of the woodwork is handmade."

You took another look around, nodding your head.

"It's lovely. I can't wait to cook in here."

"From now on, you can cook in here whenever you want." Smiling at Seonghwa, you skipped away to the counter and looked at all the ingredients.

"Are we making lasagne?" You asked.

"Ah, yes. I wanted to keep it simple, but tasty."

Hongjoong sat on a stool by the counter and watched as you and his husband went around each other to gather everything you need, except the onions he so expertly chopped. Those were ready to be used.

"Okay, do you want me to grate the cheese for the sauce?" You looked at Seonghwa, holding up a grater.

"Yeah, you do that while I make the meat sauce."

The moment couldn't be any better. You were having fun with the two men, laughing at their stories while telling your own, preparing dinner you'd share in front of the fireplace. There wasn't anything you'd change about them, and yourself, right now. However, life has its strange ways of messing with you, and your carelessness only aided in that.

One moment, you were using the grater and laughing at Hongjoong's joke. In the next, your back was pressed hard against the fridge, Seonghwa's grip holding onto your hand and watching the cut on your finger.

"Ouch! Seonghwa, what are you doing?" You paniced, trying to get out under his tight grip.

"You cut your finger." He said, voice void of emotion.

"I-I did. I scrapped it on the g-grater."

"Seonghwa, let go of Y/N." Hongjoong said from behind the man holding you captive.

"She cut her finger. She's bleeding."

"I know she is, Seonghwa, but you've got to let her go."

Hongjoong tried coming closer to you, but his husband growled almost animalisticly. You watched in shock as his eyes went from a deep brown, to a fiery red in a second.

"You're bleeding, Y/N. It smells so, so delicious."

You're heart was now about to pop out if your chest. Seonghwa's hands tightened around you, his face now dangerously close to your finger. You watched in horror as he licked the blood dripping from it.

"Oh my..." He closed his eyes, and you tried to look for Hongjoong. The other man was rooted in his spot, eyes glazed over in a deeper shade of red. They were the same as Seonghwa's, albeit not so frantic.

"H-Hongjoong, help me, please."

It was like someone slapped him. He managed to keep himself together long enough to pull his husband away. Seognhwa started trashing in his grip, trying to free himself.

"No! Let me go! I want to taste her! I won't hurt her, please!"

Your back was still pressed against the fridge, paralized from shock and fear.

Fear of the two creatures now standing in front of you.

"Calm the fuck down Seonghwa. This is Y/N! Our Y/N! We promised not to drink from her. Do you want to cause her pain?"

You watched as Seonghwa slowly calmed down in his husband's arms, turning his head towards you once he got himself together. The men watched your frightened expression, knowing everything would change now.

"Y/N, my darling, I didn't..."

"No! Please, stay away from me! I want to go, please, let me go!"

Your tears were unstoppable, and Seonghwa's cold heart was breaking into pieces. Hongjoong tried to step closer, but you slid down to the floor and put your hands up to cover yourself.

"Please, I beg you. Whatever you are, just please don't hurt me."

Seonghwa kneeled to be at your height, slowly crawling closer. Hongjoong did the same, and now you were at an arm's length from them.

"Can you hear us out? We never planned to tell you like this, doll. Please, just look at us. We're still the same people you met." Hongjoong pleaded.

You shook your head, unwilling to put your hands down.

The spouses shared a look before Seonghwa stood up and went to look for your phone. He knew he'd be violating your privacy, but he had to call for back up in the form of your best friend, and Wooyoung.

Hongjoong started explaining everything, not knowing if it would freak you out even more.

"Seonghwa and I, we're... We're vampires, Y/N. I can't tell you how old we are because I don't want you to freak out even more, but we've been through a lot. You... You bring us immense joy, doll. We can't imagine going forward without you by our side."

He glanced at his husband returning into the kitchen, nodding his head at you phone.

"Y/N, darling... I can't say how sorry I am for my behaviour. I still have problems with my self control when it comes to blood. And yours... Oh it smelled better than anything I've ever had." Seognhwa said, coming to sit down in front of you.

Your hands slowly went to wrap around your knees, but you didn't want to stand up yet. You looked between them, seeing their eyes back to their normal colour.

"V-Vampires?"

Hongjoong nodded. "Yes, doll. We're incredibly sorry for this little misshap."

"I can't tell you how bad I feel right now, darling. I never wanted to frighten you. You're... You're so important to us, you can't even imagine." Seonghwa continued.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm down. You couldn't stay with them tonight, not like this. There was too much to think about, and you had to do it alone.

"C-Can I go home now? Please, we'll talk, but I have to go."

"That won't be a problem now, will it?" The three of you turned your heads in the direction of the voice, and you saw Yeosang standing at the doorway with Wooyoung. He looked shaken up, but he wasn't in a panic.

"Yeosang?" You questioned, surprised to see him here. He quickly walked over to you, helping you get off the floor.

"Come, Y/N, we're taking you home."

"But how did you..."

He pointed at Seonghwa. "One of your boyfriends called me."

You were still confused. "How did you get here so fast?"

"That would be all me! He's lucky to have a warlock as a boyfriend." Wooyoung chipped in from his position at the entrance of the kitchen.

"A wa... What on earth is going on tonight?" You hissed, not believing the situation you were in.

"Take care of her for tonight, please." Hongjoong said to Yeosang before pointing a finger at Wooyoung.

"And you. Oh, just wait until everything's back to normal. We still need to have a word."

"Roger that, excuse us for now."

Before you knew it, Wooyoung crowded around you and Yeosang, and black smoke started drifting in the air.

The last thing you saw were the faces of the two men you were deeply falling for, the hurt so clearly visible it almost made you break into tears.

.

.

Thank you to everybody who follows along with this fic! I appreciate your love for my work, and also the patience you give. I will try to upload once a week if work and life aren't super busy.

Enjoy this chapter, and be ready for the next.

Lots of love, and happy reading X

[inloveinsickness]

❝ CLICK LIKE ❞ — itoshi sae

tags. mostly written with smau elements, f!reader, model!reader, fluff, ignore timestamps and that the texts still say yogurtkags LOL i made it before the url change → wc: 1.4k

your first meeting with sae comes with a change of heart on the side

masterlist

it's uncharacteristic for you to be this jittery at a gig but all the telltale signs are there, your knee bouncing like it has a built-in spring, you're fiddling with your rings and picking at your nails. if you didnt already have your makeup done you'd be chewing at your lip but your stylist would rip you a new one and that's not something you want to handle on top of your heightened senses right now.

you play it off well, looking more impatient than anything, but to say that you’re nervous going into this shoot is an understatement. it's not that you aren’t confident you can do a good job, far from it, but rather how working with someone like itoshi sae will be like.

he’s good at what he does, don’t get it twisted, but let’s just say that based on word of mouth, he doesn’t seem like the nicest person around.

you’re not one for sports, at most just a casual viewer knowing as little about soccer as the next person, just eleven on a side kicking a ball across a field of grass, but you know him. everyone does, he’s itoshi sae, japan’s national treasure and world class soccer player.

but this isn't your first rodeo, and having years of experience under your belt yourself, you're highly sought after in your own right. you've modelled with countless other athletes in the past for other brand campaigns, but this is different. it's more editorial, less athleisure, more your scene than his and you're not sure how it's going to go, much less with someone who seems totally disinterested and a potential nightmare to work with. it’s not like you to judge a book by its cover, but something about him makes you a little weary, it’s like you can’t get a read on him, and that leaves you slightly unsettled.

as you look at him in your peripheral vision, you can't deny that the way he carries himself commands attention in a busy room. even in his quiet disposition and seemingly being out of his own territory, there's an air of confidence that surrounds him. the very thing that you can't put a pin on, it's reeling you in and you can't bring yourself to look away.

until you see him start walking up to you.

if he noticed the way your gaze lingered on his figure as he made his way over, he doesn’t mention it, but the slightest upward quirk to his lips is more than enough to imply it, and there’s nothing more that you wish for right now than for the ground beneath you to swallow you whole.

there's a subtle hint of recognition in his sharp teal eyes as he stops before you, reaching a hand out for a polite handshake, "hi, nice to meet you."

you knew he was already dolled up in his outfit from afar but now up close, he looks good, and you try not to let that distract you.

you return a smile in kind, calm and composed, tailored and professional, hand stretching out to meet his, “likewise, itoshi-san.”

things fall into plan pretty smoothly once the shoot begins, sae surprisingly keeping up with the pace and taking it in stride considering his inexperience, save for some poses where he needs a little more guidance. it's light work for you seeing how you're in your element, picking up what the photographer is putting down effortlessly, your initial nerves now simmered down as you get into the zone, but you see his stiff maneuvers and unsure eyes, understanding how this may be a little tricky for him, unnatural.

you find yourself taking the lead and helping him make subtle adjustments to his posture, slipping into a position of guidance naturally. it's what you would've wanted if you were in his shoes and as much as the tabloids have clouded your first impressions of him, his cluelessness and uncertainty on set is oddly endearing.

"here, lean a little bit more to this side? yeah, and relax your shoulders. that's it!"

he comes up to you during short breaks, and the veil covering your eyes slowly tears as you realise that he's asking for advice. the usual nonchalant expression on his face is replaced with a slight bashfulness, tinted with the faintest shade of pink. it's a far cry from the self-assuredness that you're used to seeing on his face on pictures online, and it warms your heart that he's allowing himself to be humble and taking the first step to reach out for help.

it soothes your weariness that as time passes, you find that he's not what you expected at all. he's polite, kind even, and unbelievably professional. his resilience persists in a field that's not his own and he adapts quickly, you feel the tension slowly easing in his movements as the shoot progresses, the hand on your arm sure in it's placement.

"am i doing this right?" he breathes out, voice barely above a whisper as he reclines beneath your frame leaning over him.

you nod to affirm him, shooting a glance to the photographer who signals you to lean in closer. bringing your eyes back to sae, you're taken aback to see him looking at you with an intensity that wasn't there before, all-seeing and almost soul-questioning. with the distance between you just mere inches, his features are much more apparent, drawn to the way his lower eyelashes brush against his under eyes beautifully.

no, this can't do. a pose of this likeness should be executed like second nature for you, but this feels almost too personal. your eyes fall shut in an attempt to refocus and reset your state of mind, pretending that the image of his stare doesn't burn into the back of your eyelids, only to fly open when you hear the photographer exclaim.

"perfect! hold that pose— no no keep your eyes closed!”

it’s safe to say that the rest of the shoot goes without a hitch. between outfit changes and small talk during hair and makeup touchups, you find yourself engaging in mindless chatter with sae, talking about little things from his favourite team jersey kit to what flowers you like. it’s surreal how the one person you were almost dreading to see ended up being one of your more enjoyable co-models, finding it easy to slip into conversation once you dropped your projected misgivings about him.

he’s reserved, yes, but not obnoxious and flirty like some of the others you’ve worked with and it’s a pleasant change of pace. he’s an attentive listener on topics he doesn’t quite understand on a personal level, but quick to explain more of his world in a simplified way for you to digest. it makes you wonder why the media has him portrayed in such a way, it’s nothing like what you’re experiencing firsthand, perhaps they just didn’t take the time to get to know him. you don’t entertain thoughts that just maybe, he chooses to show these sides to you.

in the middle of your shy recount of your very first gig, his manager politely interrupts to inform sae that he needs to stop by the association before this evening’s practice, much to your disappointment and what looks like his too, seeing the furrow of his eyebrow for the first time today.

“it was nice meeting you itoshi-san—”

“please, call me sae.”

the gesture paints a wide-eyed surprise on your face that brings a small smile to his lips, and you bid him goodbye with a wave and warmed cheeks you’re hoping to god the powdered blush can mask.

sae.

your shared chemistry continues to linger in your mind for the following days, and weeks later on a quiet day, your ears latch onto his name on the news program you have playing in the background while you’re doing laundry at home.

your phone chimes twice in quick succession with a like notification from said man on the shot you chose to post from the shoot, and a text from your agent. you can’t help but smile at the former, knowing simply how rare it is to get acknowledgment from the most chronically-not-online person you have the pleasure of knowing.

what intrigues you more is the string of messages from your agent.

your mind wanders and the cogs click, gears turning as you ponder about who this could possibly be. it can’t be, right? the timing has to be purely coincidental, but a small voice in your mind hopes it’s who you’re thinking of.

and true enough, your suspicions are confirmed with a fast-beating heart the next day when a bouquet of beautiful flowers are placed in your arms, bearing blooming blossoms you recognise as ones you distinctly recall mentioning to a certain someone were your favourite.

that sweet, sly bastard.

taglist. open (link to form) @saucejar @somniosu @returntothefae @daisy-room @stellar-headquarters

@whatisnureotypical @haruhi269 @ayatakanosstuff @cyxjz @irethepotato

notes. @shouyuus and i spent one fine day absolutely spiralling over this man and that conversation solidified that he deserved a place in the mansion smh WHATEVER WHATEVER WHATEVER he has taken over my mind in an absolutely diabolical way

© inloveinsickness. please do not repost, plagiarise, or translate my work.