#Friends to Enemies to lovers

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 145

I'm gonna be real with y'all, I have not seen the netflix show. I do not wish to see the netflix show. I don't like how it handles the characters, and changes things around. However I do know that Jaskier gets tortured by a man named Rience ("Firefucker") and then Yen saves him and whatnot, and I cannot for the life of me find fics where it's Geralt that saves him instead. He wants to make up for what he said on the mountain and tracks down his bard only to find him being tortured. So this is your calling, my darling writers, feed me, won't you? Go.. Off into the wind... write me my hurt/comfort... write me my rescue missions......

Geralt slams the door open, splinters of the wooden door flinging through the air. The first thing to hit him is the smell of burned flesh. He stomps in, and glances around, seeing a man looming over another man, the second is tied to a chair. A single inhale of the air, and more of that burned smell, but Geralt also smells- .. Jaskier. He knew he was here. His tracking hadn't failed him. "Look, songbird, the man of the hour is here." Firefucker practically coos, locking eyes with Geralt.

[unequivocallyreid]

Why Didn’t You Tell Me?

it has been SO long... i was suffering from serious writers block but it think i'm finally out of it :)

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

summary: Spencer Reid used to be your best friend, but things changed. How long can you pretend that you don't love him before it ruins you?

warnings: angst! (with a happy ending), smut (unprotected piv), character loss, mention of Maeve, very sad Spencer, mental health struggles, drinking/bar scene, light choking, fighting, slight praise kink

wc: 8.8k 🤗

i’m very proud of this one! i hope you love it!

Every morning when you wake up, you feel a familiar and creeping sort of dread in the pit of your stomach.

Don’t get the wrong idea; you love your job. You love helping people and stopping horrible people from ruining any more lives, but the creeping feeling and desire to get out is always in the corner of your mind. Anyone working in this field would tell you that. There’s no absolute separation between you and the victims and their families. You take all of them home with you, and you just have to learn how to deal with that and not let it eat at you.

It doesn’t help that it’s an isolating job as well. The last time you were in a serious relationship was in college. Now, every date you have ends in disappointment. Not only do you lack interest in most of the men and women, but it couldn’t go anywhere even if you did. 75% of your time is spent in the office, on a jet, or hundreds of miles away from your home.

All of this contributes to the feeling, but the worst part of your job is Dr. Spencer Reid.

He’s secretive and dismissive and just about the most attractive person you’d ever seen. You honestly don’t know what is worse: his constant physical presence in your life or the fact that you can’t stop thinking about him no matter what you do. You’ve tried to get over it; you’ve buried yourself in work, lamented to your friends, and gone out on dates (all with guys that looked vaguely similar), but nothing has worked. All his worst traits grate your nerves and light you up at the same time.

The worst part of it all is that it wasn’t always like this. When you first joined the BAU nearly two years ago, you and Spencer got along well. You were friends, he talked to you about his life, he understood you, and you really severely fell for him. He became your best friend.

Everything changed around six months ago. Spencer started to develop migraines, and as those developed, he started distancing himself from you. He became snippy and closed off, he started hiding things from you, and he stopped talking to you about life outside of Quantico. It was like overnight, you became nothing to him, and you really didn’t understand. Everyone else on the team got the same old Spencer, but you went from his right-hand man to someone he only spoke to when it was necessary.

Maybe he didn’t deserve to be vilified. You know, realistically, he can and should be able to decide who he wants to be close to, but working with a man who unknowingly broke your heart was close to the hardest thing you’d ever done. So, you decided hating him was easier. The real emotions you feel toward him sit somewhere inside you, but they have been covered by manufactured distaste. Addressing the actual feeling would hurt too bad, so you pretend to hate the things you used to love.

Nothing, however, could have prepared you for the last case you worked on: helping Spencer save a girl he met about six months ago, a girl he loved. You tried to stay collected, you said nothing when Spencer assisted when he shouldn’t have, and goddamn, did you do everything in your power to find that girl. Maeve. She was perfect for Spencer, and you saw that immediately. Everyone did. The sight of him sobbing in front of her body is one that will never leave your mind.

Now, two weeks later, no one has heard from Reid. The only indication that he hasn’t abandoned his life altogether is the absence of the gift baskets on his doorstep that Pen leaves daily.

Nearly everyone has been to his apartment, but they are met with a closed door and have yet to receive a response. Everyone but you.

Penelope is the first to bring up your lack of appearance at the end of a long day of paperwork.

“Y/n, please, you just have to try. No one is getting anything from him.”

“I really don’t think my presence would do any good,” you pause for a moment, trying to collect the thoughts running through your head like a freight train. “Me and him haven’t been close in a long time, Pen.”

Before you can continue, she cuts in, “Everyone has tried, Y/n. Hell, I’ve even considered tracking down Gideon, and I really, really do not want to do that.”

She pauses for a moment before looking up at you with a pout on her face, “Please, Y/n, for me. I can’t bear the thought of him in there all alone, just wasting away in grief.”

For someone who claims not to be a profiler, Penelope knew exactly what to say to get you to agree. She’s the only person in your life who you told about how you felt, though you’re sure everyone else (aside from Spencer) knew: you’re shit at keeping secrets.

“Okay, okay, I’ll try.”

She nearly bursts with excitement, “Thank God-“

You cut her off before she can finish, “But I’m telling you, I’m not the person he wants to hear from right now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Yes, yes. I just want him to know we all want him to be okay.”

Before you can hurry out of the office to follow Pen’s instructions, she stops you and hands you a basket full of assorted snacks and fruits.

“Make sure he eats!”

The walk up to Spencer’s apartment is a hard one to take. The smell of his building hits you as soon as you step into the lobby. From there, everything rushes back at once. Memories of nights you spent watching reruns of Doctor Who or listening to him prattle off about whatever he last read assault you with every step. As you slowly make your way up, you start to question why you agreed to do this in the first place.

You feel a lot toward Reid. More than you should and less than you could. But all that care and feelings that are so close to love aren’t enough to make you forget why you’ve been trying to hate him for so long. He deserted you without an explanation and cut you off without a warning. You spent weeks (three months) crying over him like a love-struck teen. So, as much as you want to hold him and comfort him, you know it’ll hurt you to do so. Penelope sent you, with the whole team’s approval, you’re sure, to try to patch up a broken heart he got loving someone else. There’s a sickness in your gut, but it’s not enough to stop you from rapping your knuckles against his door.

“Spencer? It’s Y/n.”

There’s no response.

“I know you probably don’t want to hear from me right now, but I want to make sure you’re alright. Can you tell me you’re alright?”

Again, nothing.

You know he’s there. Despite your lack of communication, you know Spencer well enough to know that he would never leave his life behind entirely. That being said, your next few attempts at garnering a response are unsuccessful.

You decide to try one final time before just leaving the basket alone on his doorstep and texting Pen it was a bust.

“There’s a lot I don’t know about you now, and I won’t pretend to know what you’re feeling.”

You don’t exactly know where this is headed, but you continue on regardless.

“I know you’re in there, and I know you can hear me, and I know you’re hurting. You shouldn’t- I don’t want you to be alone right now, Spence. You can either unlock your door, or I can pick it, but I’m coming in one way or the other. You know I will.”

You wouldn’t, actually. It’s a last-ditch effort, and it’s met with the same silence you’ve heard on the other side for the past ten minutes. You’re about to turn to head back down the stairs when you hear the very faint sound of a deadbolt turning.

There’s no other sound or movement, and for a moment, you think you might’ve imagined the sound, but you try the handle anyway. It turns, and the door slides open. You take a step in.

“Spencer,” you call out to him.

You don’t see him at first in the mess of his apartment, but when you do, you feel a crack form in your heart.

Beyond the clutter of his entryway, you see his back on the couch. His frame looks smaller than you’ve ever seen it, and you can see his legs curled into his chest. You set down the gift basket by a collection of others on the entry table and walk over to him. Slowly, like you’re trying not to spook a lost dog, you creep in front of him.

His head is down, and his gaze stays trained on his knees.

You reach out your hand and lay it over his. He flinches but doesn’t pull away.

“Spence, I’m so glad you opened the door.”

You didn’t plan out what you would say, but ‘sorry’ feels redundant and useless.

You go on, “I’m here. I- I don’t know what to do or say, and I’m sorry that I don’t. I can get someone else for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

You wait for him to say he wants Penelope or JJ, but it doesn’t come. Nothing comes. You start to move to get up, figuring you could clean up a bit and try to make him something to eat, then go, but he grasps your arm before you can.

He looks up at you, and his eyes hit you right in the gut. They’re bloodshot and sunken but still beautiful.

“Stay. Please. I just- I need to know I’m not dreaming. I keep thinking I’m dreaming.”

His voice is croaky from disuse and breaks at the end, but it’s so heartbreakingly earnest that you feel your breath catch. You move from your crouch and sit beside him on the couch; your hand is still in his.

You stay like that for a long time. His breathing is shakey and uneven, and every so often, his body shakes with what you can only assume are sobs. You stay pressed to his side the whole time, thumb rubbing back and forth over his hand.

Eventually, you speak again, “I’m gonna get you some food, Spence. You should eat.”

He says nothing back, but he does loosen his grip. You push yourself up from the coach with a promise you’ll be as fast as possible.

His kitchen is nearly empty, and you hope he’s been eating from the baskets. Still, you find enough to make noodles and butter, and you figure the carbs should help his energy some.

You return with the bowl. Spencer hasn’t moved, but his head follows you as you walk back over to him.

“It’s not fine dining.”

He studied you for a second, and you catch a glimpse of the old him in his eye.

“You did the same thing when I was sick on a case a year ago.”

You smile at his recollection.

“It helped you then.”

The rest of the night is spent mostly in silence. Occasionally, you tell him something to try to remind him that you’re there and that you won’t leave as long as he wants you there. Eventually, you get up from the couch again.

“Spencer, it’s too late to still be awake.”

He nods and still says nothing, but he is far more receptive than before. You reach your hand out to him to help him up from the couch, and he takes it.

He leads you to his room at a slow pace. His head stays down as you both take a seat on his bed, hands still interlocked. Being in his bedroom is odd for you. You’ve been to his apartment quite a few times before he disappeared from your life, but you never breached this space. It’s all very him. Almost surprisingly cozy, with books scattered around nearly everywhere there’s space.

You take in the moment for a beat before saying, “I’m gonna head home, Spencer, but please call me if you need anything at all. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

This makes his head snap up, and his eyes lock with yours.

“Please stay.”

That’s all he says, but every part of him is pleading with you. It’s not a good idea, and you know it. You’re the only person he’s seen in days, you aren’t close anymore, and you don’t particularly want to sleep on a couch tonight.

“Spencer, I don’t want to sleep in your living room tonight. I’ll come back.”

He pauses for a moment, “You can stay here with me. I don’t want to be alone.”

Your heart cracks again. There was a time when this was all you wanted. It’s still, deep down, all you want, just not like this. You know he doesn’t really want you there and he’s not himself. But you aren’t strong enough to say no, so you don’t.

He gets you clothes to wear, and you change in his bathroom. You come out and find him in his bed, laying with his back to you. You have no fucking idea what you’re doing, but you get into bed next to him anyways. There are a thousand thoughts racing through your head, but the prevailing one is how badly you want to touch him, to hold him, to make him forget, just for the night. You stay still, though, confined to the edge of the bed and start to count to drown out the noise.

Though, you can’t drown out his voice, saying, “Can- Could you hold me? I think that everything feels better when you touch me.”

Another crack. By the end of this, you know Spencer Reid is going to break your heart all over again.

~

When you wake up the next morning, Spencer is still asleep. You sneak out of his room and call Hotch. When he answers, you tell him Spencer has let you in, and you ask for time off to try to help. You can tell from his voice that he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, but he grants you it anyway.

Much of your day is spent like the night before. You stay next to Spencer, and you cook for him after leaving to pick up clothes and groceries. Then, you get him to shower and wash his hair. He sleeps with his head in your lap, and you feel like a fucking idiot at first, but as long as it’s helping him in some way, you let it happen.

That’s the thing: you don’t really know how to help him. You know he isn’t the type to talk about something until he is entirely ready, so all you can do is add something domestic and bright to his life while he grieves. It’s all you can think about in the moments of silence. Hell, you even read to him to try and get your mind off of it, but it barely helps.

The night is the same. You change in different rooms and slip into his bed at different times. You feel dirty for imagining what it would be like if the circumstances were different: if he wanted you like you have wanted him for the past two years. You hold him against you, and you pray for sign that you should be there.

The sign comes the following morning when Derek calls you.

“Y/n…”

You can hear his teasing tone over the phone.

“Hi, Derek.”

“What are you doing, mamas?”

You sigh, “What do you mean?”

You’re playing coy. You know he’s wondering why you’re at Spencer’s house, picking up the pieces, but you won’t be the one to bring it up.

“Why’d you ask Hotch for the week off, Y/n?”

Another sigh, “You know why, Derek. I just, I want to help him.”

“I know you do, Y/n, I know.”

He pauses for a moment, and you let the moment fill with silence.

“I know you care about him. We all care about him. But who is taking care of you?”

“I am. I can take care of him, and I can take care of me.”

“I know you can, but I don’t want you to get hurt, Y/n. Don’t let this be something that hurts you.”

“It won’t. I- You have to- Fuck, I’ll be fine. He’s not fine. I don’t care about me or any feelings that may get hurt right now. I’ll be fine.”

There’s another bear of silence, “Okay, Y/n. Just know you’re allowed to tap out.”

You try to think of anything else to say, but nothing comes, so you say your goodbyes.

You won’t need to tap out. You can take care of him and be good to him and ignore the other feelings you have. You can be good.

The call does make you think it’s time to push, to try harder, to help him get better. So, you approach him that day before bed, before he tucks himself into your arms and falls into a fretful sleep.

“Spencer?”

He takes a moment and then responds, “Yes?”

“You have to talk about it. I think that you need to talk about it. It doesn’t have to be to me but to someone.”

He’s quiet for a long time, and your breath is caught in your throat, waiting for him to say anything.

“I- I don’t want to,” his voice cracks while he says it.

“Spence, you can’t come back if you don’t. You can’t move forward if you don’t.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

A ringing echos in your ears.

“You don’t mean that. She- she would want you to keep going.”

Wrong thing to say.

“You don’t know anything about what she would want.”

He’s seething now, below the surface, but smoke has started to plume from his ears. Still, you don’t stop.

“Spencer, everyone knows that. No one would want you to put your life on hold.”

He speaks his next line through his teeth, “You don’t know anything, Y/n.”

You’ve never heard him sound so angry.

“Spencer-“

“No, just stop. You don’t know her. You don’t know me half as well as you think you do. You don’t know anything. I don’t even know why you’re here. I don’t want you here. You can't be what I need.”

The ringing in your ears is louder.

“Spencer, please. Just-“

“No!” His voice is raised now, bordering on a yell, “I don’t want you here. I want you out, Y/n.”

This has to be what shell shock feels like. The ringing, the tingle in your limbs, and the heat in your face. You don’t know how you are moving, but you are.

His voice is echoing in your head, or maybe he’s still talking, but you can’t tell either way. The only thing you can focus on is how Spencer sounded like he hates you and that Morgan was right about the hurt.

~

You spend the next day trying desperately to shut down the noise in your head. It doesn’t work. The day after is the same. And the days following that. You ignore calls when they come, you ignore the texts, but you can’t stop looking at your phone for a message from the man who fills your thoughts.

Spencer doesn’t call, obviously, and you have to sit with a pit in your stomach while you beg yourself to just get the fuck over it. Two years of reckoning with the severity of your love, months of watching him live happily without you, and it’s the three days you spent trying to help him feel incrementally better that floor you.

You feel like a dumb teenage girl with so much love and nothing to do with it. On top of everything, you feel selfish. Spencer lost the love of his life forever, and you’re nursing the worst heartbreak of your life because a boy will never want you and never has. Still, you send out prayers for him over and over. You hope you’ll see him in the BAU again, even if his eyes glaze over you. Hell, even if they look at you with hate the way they did two days ago. You just want him to function. You want him to be good and eventually be happy. You try to go to bed with soothing thoughts, but you end up with a mantra of his name.

You wake to your alarm and dress for work before you realize you aren’t actually supposed to go back yet. You never set a date to return. You wanted to be open as long as Spencer needed you. You’re supposed to be with him. You’re supposed to be helping and not tapping out. But you aren’t.

You have no reason not to return to the bullpen, so you do. You walk in and feel eyes on you. You wait for Morgan to call out to you, but he doesn’t, so you follow the feeling.

Your breath catches in your throat; it’s Spencer. He’s sitting at his desk, paperwork spread out, and he doesn’t look away from your gaze; he just holds it. His face is unreadable, and yours is definitely not, so you look away first. You don’t look up again until you reach Hotch’s office. You knock and hear him call out to come in.

“I’m back if that’s okay.”

He looks up at you, and you want to cry. You know he can read you. He has always been the best at it.

“Are you okay with that, Y/l/n?”

You lock eyes with him, “Yes, sir.”

It’s no use; he knows your tells and you aren’t being honest.

“Alright, conference room in five.”

Whatever he sees in your face, he ignores and takes you at your word, but there’s a warning in his tone. He knows when to let things go and when to push. More than that, though, he knows you’d never let something like this affect your work.

~

The first case back is in Maryland, and the one after is in Austin, and the next is in Philadelphia with The Replicator. The job takes you all over the country, and the cases blend together. You don’t speak to Spencer through all of it. You’re never partnered, never work together, you sit on opposite ends of the jet. You don’t even speak at Strauss’ funeral. It’s radio silent, and everyone notices it, but no one brings it up.

In that time, you allow yourself to slip away slightly. You don’t go out with the team, you see Pen at nearly half frequency, and basically, the only time you speak is on cases. It’s stupid and melodramatic, but you call it healing. Derek tries to reason with you, JJ sticks to you a bit more than usual, and Penelope calls you virtually whenever she can, but their efforts are mostly in vain. This is your way of protecting yourself. You feel like you have to isolate in order to improve, and you know, given time, you will come back to yourself.

Penelope’s insistence that you go to her Day of the Dead celebration breaks your distance.

“Y/n, please come. I know you aren’t going out, but you have to. I know you have people to honor, and I need you there.”

You sigh, “Whose going, Pen?”

“The team, which you are a part of, so you must be there.”

“I don’t think I can do that. I promise you I will celebrate with you. I’ll help you set up, just please don’t make me go.”

Penelope pauses, but the glint in her eye keys you into the fact that she is not interested in giving up.

“We miss you, Y/n. Everyone loves you and misses you. You’ve been living this stupid, isolated life, and it’s time for you to come back. You are not this person. I refuse to believe it. You’re coming, and that’s final.”

Maybe you don’t have the energy to argue, or maybe you know she’s right, but you agree to go.

~

The thought of seeing him makes your heart race, and the clock you keep glancing at makes it worse. Just a few more hours before you're trapped in a confined space (Pen’s beautiful home) with a man you haven’t spoken to in weeks.

You busy yourself with preparing. Lights are hung, food is made, and you make a trip to the store while Pen sets up her remembrance table. When everything is said and done, you can’t help but feel this is the most beautiful thing you’ve been a part of in a long time.

The first knock comes at 7:30 exactly, and it’s Hotch and Rossi. They are followed closely by Blake, then Derek and JJ. By 7:00, the atmosphere is light and loving, and you feel a bit of your anxiety let up as the minutes go by without Reid. But, eventually, the knock comes, of course it does, and you move into a corner as Spencer walks in. You feel a shift in energy, though you doubt it’s palpable for anyone else. Rossi is the first to make his way over to you, and his presence comforts you nearly immediately.

“How you doing, kid?” His voice is soft like he’s speaking to a scared rabbit.

“I’m better,” you say, and it’s about as honest as you can get. As much as you’d like to think he knows nothing about what’s gone on, you’re smarter than that. He’s the best profiler on the team, and he’s always known when someone was off with you. Even so, you are better than you were, even if you aren’t quite good, and you know he believes you.

There’s some idle conversation between you before he asks, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not tonight. I don’t know when, but I will. Eventually, I will.”

It’s good enough for him, and you move on easily, which surprises you.

Right before Pen gathers you all to present your photos, he says, “Sometimes we think we’ve seen the whole picture, but we miss a big part. People do things because they don’t want to be hurt, but those things hurt them more. Just, be open.”

You don’t quite understand what he means, but you hope you will.

Penelope presents the first picture, which shows her parents. JJ honors her sister, Derek, his dad, Hotch Haley, and Rossi, Hernandez; then it’s your turn. You place down a photo of your best friend. You hadn’t talked much about her, but you think of her daily. She passed a few years before you joined the BAU.

“I was lucky to have someone that hurt that much to lose.”

That’s all you say, but it’s enough for you, and it would be enough for her.

Spencer is last. He places down a picture of Tesla and a picture of Maeve. Your heart is heavy for everyone.

The night dwindles from there. Hotch and Rossi say their goodbyes, and Rossi gives you a knowing look as he leaves. You just smile. You stay for a few minutes after, but eventually, you move to leave as well.

You make it down Garcia’s porch before you feel a hand grab your arm. You turn, and it’s Spencer’s face you see.

“Would you- Do you think you could come over? Do you think we could talk?”

~

The feeling you have walking up to Spencer's apartment is similar to what you felt the last time. You’re incredibly anxious, but at least you know you’ll be let in this time.

The drive over was silent. Spencer had taken the metro to Penelope’s, so he rode with you. It wasn’t necessarily awkward. There was just an understanding that the car wasn’t the place to begin your conversation.

Now, as Spencer unlocked his door, it’s one of those rare moments you felt starved for words, and you know it’s because you’re scared you’ll say the wrong thing and face the same reaction that you did the last time you were in his home.

He leads you to his living room and motions for you to sit, and you do. The two of you are on opposite ends of his couch while you wait for him to say something.

His first words are airy and light, “Thank you for letting me talk to you.”

You look at him but remain silent, waiting for him to go on. All you can think about is why he wants to speak to you at all. The last time you spoke, he made it incredibly clear he did not want you in his life or around him at all.

Before you can think about it more and let your anger and sadness build, he speaks again, “I feel really stupid right now. I kind of feel stupid whenever I’m around you recently.”

He pauses momentarily before going on, “I’m so, so sorry, Y/n. About the last time we spoke. I’ve been thinking about it pretty constantly for the past few weeks.”

You open your mouth, unsure of what exactly to say, but you can’t get there before he’s off again.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you anymore. I don’t think I’ve known how to for a long time. I just, I need you to know how sorry I am for speaking to you like that.”

He takes a shakey breath but keeps going, “That wasn’t me, and that isn’t how I feel. I’m just unbelievably sorry, Y/n.”

He stops there, and you work to collect your thoughts.

“I know. A part of me knows, at least, that you didn’t mean it. I just wanted to be there for you, and hearing that made me- I just- I think it made me hate myself for wanting to be there.”

“I’m so sorry. I’m unbelievably sorry.”

“You didn’t talk to me for months, Spencer. I just don’t understand. I don’t understand why you let me in in the first place. I thought you hated me.”

He’s silent for a long minute.

“I never hated you, Y/n. I just stopped knowing how to act around you, and then I met Maeve. I fell so deep into it that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I- And I just started to feel like you didn’t want me to speak to you, so I didn’t. But, when you came here, after everything, I guess I just felt like you were the only person who would get it. You never, no one on the team ever treated me or talked to me how you did. I just wanted that.”

Tears had begun to well in your eyes now. A part of you gets what he means, at least about letting you in, but the other part is so confused as to why he stopped being comfortable around you.

“I don’t understand, Spencer. Why did you stop knowing how to be around me?”

There’s desperation in your voice that makes you sound like a stranger to yourself. Maybe you’re a stranger to everyone right now.

“I uh, I don’t really know.”

“That's not fair, Spence.”

You’re crying now. Just a little bit, but you can feel the wetness on your cheeks. You can see that you are by the look on his face. He looks broken, and you know it's a reflection of your own image.

You wipe your face, “Thank you for apologizing, Spencer. I just, there are parts of this all that I don’t understand, and if you can't explain them to me, I don’t think I ever will.”

“Y/n-,” he calls out your name like a prayer.

“It’s okay, Spence. You don’t have to say anything more. We talked, and things will go back to how they were eventually.”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.”

You smile sadly as you get up to leave.

“I am, too, for what it's worth. For whatever I did to make things change in the first place.”

You leave it at that, and it takes everything in you not to look back as you leave his apartment.

~

Things do get easier after that. Not completely. You still love him, and it hurts, but it helps to know he doesn’t hate you. He talks to you some, cordial things, and you do the same. You're sure your teammates still sense something is off, but this works for you. Right now, it works. Getting over him, not loving him anymore, is going to take work, but eventually, you know that you won’t hurt anymore.

Shortly after you and him talked, you started going back out with your friends. Spencer joined periodically, but that was normal. Bars were never really his scene.

Tonight, everyone gathers at your local pub. Your last case was particularly grueling, and you all need a way to blow off some steam. It's fun, and you feel good, even with Spencer sitting across from you. You feel proud of yourself for getting to this point.

JJ and Penelope feed you drinks to try and get you to dance, and you let them. Tonight feels as good of a night as any to ‘get back out there’ as Pen says. So, you do. You dance with them, and you ward off the other cops and agents around you who try to pull you away from your group. You aren’t interested in that. Right now, you're just having an appropriate amount of fun for a woman 15 feet from her boss.

Time goes by quickly, and by the time you get back to the table, you, Derek, Penelope, and JJ remain. He tells you that Hotch, Rossi, Reid, and Alex left a few minutes before. The conversation between you flows for a while, up until the drinks loosen Penelope up enough to bring up what you were pretty sure the team designated a no-no topic.

“Y/n, you have to talk about it.”

You’re still laughing as something Derek said when you reply, “What?”

“You know what. You and Boy-Genius. What on Earth happened? You went from ice-cold to semi-friendly. None of us saw it coming.”

“Babygirl-,” Derek tries to stop her, but you cut him off.

“No, it’s okay. I have to talk about it at some point, and I think right now is the only time I’ll be tipsy enough to let you get it out of me.”

You're still laughing slightly, but the pit that's lived in your stomach for the past few months starts to rear its head.

“After your Day of the Dead party, he asked to talk to me. I went to his place, and he apologized. I don’t really understand what he said or what he meant, but I can’t be sad about him forever.”

Pen perks up a bit at that, “I knew that party would bring good things!”

You giggle a bit at her outburst, but then JJ asks, “What did he say?”

The faces around you all tune in at that. You know they don’t see this as gossip. They care about you both too much to trivialize it like that.

“He just said that he stopped knowing how to act around me, and he didn’t know why, but then he met Maeve, and I guess it didn’t matter so much after that. He was my best friend, and then he was nothing.”

JJ shares a glance with Derek and then speaks, “Oh, Y/n.”

“What?”

After a beat, Derek says, “He didn’t just not know how to act around you.”

Now you're confused, “What do you mean? I talked to him, that's what he said. He didn’t know why. I mean, he knows everything and didn’t know why he didn’t want to be around me anymore. How fucking stupid is that.”

You laugh again, but it does come off as genuine in the slightest.

“Y/n, he probably doesn’t really know why. At least not fully. For someone as smart as he is, the kid can be really stupid.”

“Stop being cryptic.”

Derek sighs but goes on, “Pretty girl, pretty boy was in love with you. Probably still is. He just didn’t think you’d ever feel the same.”

“No. That's not true.”

You look at the others around you, but their faces are serious.

“He loved Maeve. He loves Maeve. That, that doesn’t make any sense.”

It's JJ’s turn to talk now.

“He definitely did love Maeve, no one is denying that, but we all saw how he was around you. His whole relationship with her was safe. He couldn’t be hurt by her rejection every day because he had no way of seeing her. With you, he could.”

Your mind is moving a mile a minute, “Did he tell you guys this?”

Penelope puts her hand over yours and says, “He didn’t have to, love. We all say the way he looked at you and acted around you. The way he talked about you. That boy was head over heels.”

“Guys, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do, but this isn’t real. Spencer doesn’t- this is not real.”

“Y/n, pause. Think about the way he acted around you, the things he said. Think about how Reid is.”

You hear what Derek said, but it all sounds faint like someone stuffed your ears with cotton while you weren't paying attention. All you can focus on are the different scenes running through your head, the scenes of your life with Spencer in it. How he memorized your coffee order and brought it for you every day, how he never shied away from your touch despite his aversion to contact, how he consistently went out of his way to protect you on the field. At his house after everything, the way he clung to you and wanted to be held. How he said in his own words, “You can't be what I need”; not “you aren’t,” but “you can’t.”

Your whole world is crashing down in this bar, and you can’t do anything to stop it.

“Y/n?”

JJ’s voice snaps you out of your spiral.

“Just go talk to him.”

You nod mutely, and you get up.

~

Everything in the last ten months of your life has led you to the exact spot you were when everything blew up in the first place: Spencer’s door.

This time, you aren't too worried about him not letting you in. If anything, it's the opposite. Him opening this door could open a hundred others, and you don’t quite know if you are ready for any of them. You sit there and sit there and sit there, trying to work up the courage to knock, though you aren’t sure it's there to begin with. Right as you're about to walk away and decide you’ll come back another day, his door swings open.

“Y/n?”

His face is lit up with shock, and you notice his hand that is not on the door is holding his pistol.

“What are you doing here?”

You don’t answer, “Why did you open the door?”

He sets his piece down on the entry table before responding, “I heard footsteps in the hall and saw they stopped here. I was anxious. 50.3% of home invasions happen between 8:00 pm and 7:00 am.” He cuts himself off there, “Y/n, why are you here?”

You didn’t pay attention to anything he said. All you could think about was the way his lips were moving and the way his eyes locked onto yours as he talked.

“Do you love me?”

That is not what you wanted to say.

His lips fall open as he takes in a sharp breath, “What?”

“Or I guess did you love me? Before everything? Because Derek and JJ and Pen, they all said that you loved me, and now I can’t think about anything else, Spencer.”

He doesn’t speak, but you don't really give him a chance to.

“I just, I know I sound crazy right now, but I feel fucking crazy. I keep going over everything in my head, and I have been, for the past year I have been, but now it’s all different. It's all different because they said that you loved me, but you didn’t think I’d feel the same way.”

Here, you do pause, but he still doesn’t say anything, so you go on before you can stop yourself.

“Because if that's true, Spencer, it's just- I did. I do. And if it's not, then please just tell me so I can stop feeling this way.”

He sounds resigned when he says, “Y/n,” and you feel like you know what that means.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I'm doing this. You don’t have to say anything. Actually, please don’t say anything. I don't think I can hear it. Just pretend I never-”

He cuts off your ramble, “Y/n, stop.”

You draw your eyes from the floor, look up at him, and find something in his gaze you have never seen before. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you, and it takes everything you have not to look away. His hand raises to cup your jaw, and your skin lights on fire. Before you can process what he’s doing, you feel his lips press against yours, and something clicks. At first, his touch is light, like he’s giving you the chance to pull away. But, when he grasps that you won’t, he presses himself to you harder, and all you can think about is how nothing has ever felt so right.

His lips move against yours, and you don’t know how you're managing to reciprocate because it feels like everything in your body has gone fuzzy. The kiss is by no means long, but it feels like it lasts forever, and by the time he pulls away, you’re breathless.

His forehead stays connected to yours, and he whispers, “I do, Y/n, love you. I have.”

You don’t feel the tears on your cheeks until he’s wiping them away.

“Oh, Y/n.”

“Did you know? That you did? Is that why…”

You trail off, hoping he’ll pick up on what you're asking, and he does.

“I didn’t at first, or I didn’t realize I was falling in love with you until it happened. I got scared, so I ran. I just never thought that you could feel the same or that I was hurting you. I didn’t realize that. I just thought I was doing what was best for us. I felt guilty for being in love with my best friend.”

“And Maeve?”

“I loved Maeve. I’ll always have love for her. I was trying to move on, and I thought I could eventually be with her and be around you without it hurting. I wish I would have told you this before.”

“You’re telling me now. That's enough.”

This time, it's you who pushes your lips to meet his. Your arms snake around his neck, and his fall to your waist. You follow when he pulls you into his apartment and closes the door. There is still pain on both sides, but you can feel it dissipating as you cling to each other. You’re just two broken people who have finally found a way to each other.

This kiss is different, hungrier. Neither of you pulls away for longer than a few seconds as you navigate your way from his entryway to his couch. Every touch is desperate like you're searching for something you never knew existed until now. His hands pull you closer and closer until he's pulling you on top of him, and each of your legs rests on opposite sides of his hips.

Your lips break from his for a moment, “What do you want, Spence?”

His reply is instant, “You.”

From there, things move faster. Your hands unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders while he undoes your pants. There are moments of awkwardness that come with exploring another for the first time, but it feels good. His hands trace over your hips and push further until you're left on top of him in only your underwear and bra. He takes you in like you are something to be marveled at, and you know your eyes reflect the same adoration.

You raise yourself off of him and work to get him in the same state of undress as you, and when you position yourself on top of him, you feel his length press against your center. The two thin layers of fabric do little to hinder the intensity as you rock into him. He lets out quiet moans at the action as his lips trace down your neck and over your collarbone.

His breath ghosts over you and makes you shiver when he asks, “Can I touch you?”

“Please.”

His hand moves between the two of you, and his fingers find your clit easily, rubbing circles over the fabric of your panties. You pant his name against his lips at the action. You feel like your whole body is lit up, and under any other circumstance, you'd feel embarrassed at how worked up you are, but you can’t seem to care.

After a few moments, he lifts you up and carries you to his bedroom. From there, he positions you below him on the bed, removing your remaining clothes in the same motion. The new setup lets you grip him, and he feels big in your hand. His fingers resume their previous assault before dipping down into you. You cry out at the feeling of him inside you, slowly pushing in and out, finding a spot that makes your legs start to shake. He’s relentless in his pursuit and all you can muster up the energy to say is his name.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

It's somewhere between a whimper and a whisper, but the sound of his voice causes you to clench around his fingers.

He picks up on this, of course he does, and quickens his pace as he coos at you.

“So pretty like this. I’m so lucky.”

You’re embarrassingly close already, so when he moves his thumb over your clit to rub circles as he fucks into you with his fingers, you come undone almost instantly with a warning and cry of his name. He works you through your orgasm, all while whispering praise in your ear. Once you come down from your high, you start to push his boxers down his legs, but he stops you before you can fully.

“We don’t have to do anything more, Y/n. I liked just making you feel good.”

“I want more. I want to feel you if you want that too.”

“Of course I do. I just don’t want you to regret anything.”

“I couldn’t regret this, Spencer. I love you. I want all of you.”

It's the first time you’ve actually said those three words to him, and it feels so fucking good to say.

“I love you, too. God, so much.”

With that, he positions himself back on top of you, running his fingers over your slit gently before gripping himself.

“Do you have a condom?”

“I might somewhere, but I have an IUD, and I’m clean. I can try to find one if you’re more comfortable with that?”

“IUDs have a failure rate of around .05% and are largely considered the most effective form of birth control, so uh, as long as you're okay with it, I am.”

You smile to yourself at his statistic but nod, “I want to feel you, Spencer.”

He returns your smile before rubbing his length over your entrance a few times and slowly pushing himself into you just slightly. He teases you, or maybe himself, for a moment before fully entering you. You push your hips up to meet his, and feeling him in his entirety makes your jaw fall open. He’s big, and you feel unbelievably full.

He waits a moment for you to adjust before he starts to develop a rhythm. His hands are everywhere, but his eyes are focused solely on your face like he doesn’t want to miss a moment of your reaction to him inside of you. To be fair, you are probably putting on a good show. Every movement he makes hits you in exactly the right spot, and you don’t think you could be louder if you tried. You can feel the leg he’s not holding up against his shoulder shake against the bed. Your first orgasm has made way for your second to be incredibly close.

“Spencer, please.”

You’re crying out, desperate for a little more to push you over the edge.

“What do you need, baby?” His voice is tight like he’s not far himself, and it sounds better than anything you’ve ever heard.

“Harder. Please, harder.”

He takes your direction immediately, rubbing circles on your clit with one hand while he thrusts into you with a bruising force. He’s fucking you like he wants you to remember the feeling long after he stops, and you know that you will. Everything about it is overwhelming: his smell, his pace, his eyes. You are covered in him, and he is covered in you.

After a moment, the hand he had on your stomach trails up to grasp lightly at your throat, and you fall into feeling. You can’t warn him that you're about to come before you do. The feeling is white hot. Bigger than your first, and the fact that you're coming on him sends you into overdrive. You can feel his hips falter for a moment, but you're lost in a daze, crying out his name.

He pumps into you a few more times before he follows suit. He pulls out, and you feel stripes of his come paint your cunt and lower stomach as he finishes with a moan of your name.

He falls next to you on the bed, and it takes you both a few moments to collect yourselves and catch your breath.

Once you do, the only thing you can think to say is, “I love you.”

It feels like those are the only words circling around in your head at the moment. Some mixture of his name and that declaration. While you know you each said it before, that your profession was the exigence of the sex you just had, it feels uniquely vulnerable to say now. It’s like the moment you just had together could have changed things or made him realize that he doesn’t actually love you after all.

That shoe doesn’t drop, though. Instead, you hear the three words echoed back to you by a man who, 6 hours ago, you thought would never, ever say them.

You turn to face him, and the love on his face feels like it could knock you out. He’s looking at you and smiling in a way you haven't seen in a long time.

“Will you let me clean you up?”

You know that part of the reason he’s asking has something to do with the likelihood of bacteria growth or something like that, but you think it's mainly that he wants to take care of you. Him wetting a rag and running it over you feels intimate in a different way, in an excruciatingly gentle way. Personal in a way that makes you feel like nothing between you could ever be wrong again, and maybe that's naive to think, but you feel hopeful regardless.

Once he finishes, he takes his space back next to you in the bed. This time, he pulls you into his arms, and it's different than it was all those months ago. This time, you know that he won’t push you away and that you won't hurt yourself by being next to him. This time, you just tuck yourself into him, and you let him whisper sweet nothings into your ear as you begin to drift off. This time, it feels like peace.

~

The following day, you wake up to Spencer still next to you, looking incredibly soft in the early morning light. You search for a moment to find your phone in the piles of clothes and are greeted with a text from Pen.

How did it go????

You smile before turning your phone off and climbing back into bed next to the man you love. It couldn’t have gone better.

-

all done! yay!!!

i hope you guys love it!! i’m not 100% happy with the ending but i’ve been writing this for so long and just needed to be done.

this is my first time writing angst on here and my longest fic, so PLEASE tell me what you think! all (nice) feedback is welcome and i love to hear from you guys!! :)

[primalsharkman]

Ce n'est pas censé être.

Kim Minjeong x M Reader | 🔞 Smut

[idol x fan, childhood friends, best friends, falling out, farewells, reconciliation]

Word Count: 2,854

You woke up on a rainy morning, gathering your thoughts as you stare into the ceiling. You start doing your routine, getting up from bed, going to the bathroom to freshen up just enough for your morning jog, and wave at your neighbors along the way.

It was the quiet moment back at home that broke the standard practice that you've cultivated for years ever since you graduated. It was your phone, ringing.

"What could it be?" you thought to yourself as you picked up the phone to check. The message that you read was not something you'd ever expect in a million years. It was your old best friend, Aespa member, Kim "Winter" Minjeong.

Minjeong was someone very near and dear to you. You grew up together, living at the same street from each other, you'd always come to her so you two could walk to school together. She would always greet you with a smile, and even share her biscuits and lunch whenever you would forget to buy some.

It is a distant memory now, but she was the closest person in your life at one point. You shared many moments with her, like falling off an old rusty swing, her just laughing at you while you writhed in pain, the time she got dumped by a boyfriend, and you brought tissues and ice cream to her room to comfort her, you two almost did everything together. Inseparable, as many uncles and aunts would say about the two of you.

You continued reminiscing through your memories, like going to high school together drunk after a karaoke room date the night before, being each others' prom dates because you two were dorks and didn't care about looking for dates, and even the time you shared a kiss in the back of your car after she dared you to do it. It put a smile on your face while thinking about those memories, staring blankly at your phone, seeing her name pop up on the screen.

"Hey, are you in town?" That was what her text read, and you clutched your phone tight, thinking about what to say, since you already had mixed feelings ever the fight you two had, that basically never repaired your once tight-knit friendship.

It was a surprise, the day you told your mom you and Minjeong were no longer speaking, she was beyond devastated to hear it, and even made you cookies to cheer you up. You never told her the reason for it, and mostly kept that to yourself throughout college. You tried dating other girls to keep your mind occupied from thinking about her, but to no use.

"I am." That was the only sentence you could come up with before hitting send, and leaving your phone at the nightstand so you could get a shower in and change clothes.

That day was burned into your memory. It was a weekend, you two were at the park, and she was right there, next to you, looking nervous.

"What did you call me out for? I have exams tomorrow Minjeong." You say as you sit on the swing beside hers.

"It's important that you hear it directly from me." She said, not looking at your direction.

"Go on then?" Staring at her direction, while she still looked away.

"I'm going to leave town. I finally got the letter to become a trainee."

"That's great! I'm proud of you!"

" ... You don't understand, I'm leaving, for good. I can't come back to you, I cannot risk having my image tainted when people know we're very close, they're going to think we dated." She said, tears running down her cheek, but never making eye-contact with you.

"What? That's not going to happen." You try reaching out to her, but she stood up, away from you.

"I know nothing ever really happened between us, but I can't stay. I'm sorry, goodbye." Those were the last words you have heard from her before her debut, when you found out through your old schoolmates that Minjeong had debuted in a girl group under the stage name Winter.

It snapped you back to reality when you suddenly realized how she still remembers your phone number, you never changed it, but you never got another text from her from years ago.

"Okay, can you meet me at that ramen place we used to go to? I need to talk to you." She texted back.

You were unsure, but you replied back anyway, "Alright, what time do you need me there?"

"6pm, please."

"I'll see you there then." You left it at that and put your phone down to go about your day.

It was a weekday, so you were at work. Attempts to concentrate on your tasks were futile as you kept seeing Minjeong in your head, on your screen, and even in the reports you printed. It was staring to get really annoying, but you pushed through it.

You got off at exactly 5pm, and walked through the streets going straight to that ramen place you used to love to go with her to. Sure, it has changed over the years, but the overall flair and feeling of the place never changed, it was just that you grew up.

You got there early, and found a table in the corner of the room for two people, exactly like the spot you and Minjeong used to love to hang out on. Dropping your bag beside you, you took out your phone and waited for her.

As Minjeong went through town, she thankfully wasn't bothered by the locals. She is indeed famous, but she had immense respect from her hometown, and they mostly smiled and waved at her while giving her the space she needed to operate freely.

She was walking slowly, walking around to check the surroundings and admire how everything was better from when she was a kid. She bid hello to her old neighbors, and even the old shopkeepers that she knew from her time there, as she got closer and closer to that ramen shop, her heart starts sinking as she still feels the sting of what she did to you all those years ago.

At this point, you got bored, and asked the owner to make you two bowls of ramen, one for you, and one for Minjeong, customized the way she liked it every single time.

When she arrived, you were there, fiddling on your phone, and the way she looked at you was with both relief, and regret. Her footsteps got heavier the closer she started to get to you, and you didn't even bother to turn to greet her.

She sat down, put her bag down, and put her hands together. "Hello, Y/N. It's been a very long time, huh..."

As soon as she says that, the ramen arrives, and she saw her bowl, made exactly the way she wanted, indicating that you still know her, even after all this time apart. "Oh wow, you still remember."

"I never forgot, Minjeong. You also remembered my phone number." You say nonchalantly as you picked up your chopsticks.

" I never forgot, Y/N." She kept staring at you.

You finally look up to meet her eyes, and immediately, you knew that look. It was of sadness, pain, fear, and regret. The only thing missing was her tears, and it already started flowing. You reached out to her, and wiped it away with your thumb.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." As you shushing her.

"Don't say that, Minjeong. Don't you dare, say it."

"B-but I really am! I regret... everything..." Tears kept flowing down her cheek.

"Eat your ramen first, okay?" You say as you dig in to yours.

Minjeong just nodded while wiping away her tears as she enjoys a warm meal. The taste still felt the same to her, and she breathed in to feel all of it.

It wasn't long that you two finished your meal in silence, and you finally spoke up, "Is that all you came here for, Minjeong?"

"No, I got you something." She starts fiddling in her bag as she pulls out a tiny box.

"What's that?"

"Think of it as a reminder that, I'm not afraid anymore. I miss my best friend, and damn, am I a big fool for not seeing it earlier." She bows her head and hands it to you on both hands.

You take the small box, and open it to see a bracelet, custom-made with her initials and yours together. "This seems like something for couples Minjeong. What are you trying to say?"

"I want to make up for lost time. I want you to take the one thing you never took from me."

"Which is?" You raised a brow.

"Me. Take my first time. I've always wanted you to take it, and I've never looked for anyone else." She reaches out and holds your wrist.

"How are you sure I haven't lost mine?" You ask.

"It doesn't matter to me. I just... I just want the man who kissed me first, danced with me, sang with me, to fulfill his destiny of making me whole." Minjeong says genuinely.

It all ran by too quickly. You hailed a taxi, told the driver to head to your place, and sat quietly with Minjeong. It was the longest 15 minute drive of your life. The tension was high, you could tell Minjeong was blushing red, you were not showing it, but he is a little excited, and the traffic was excruciatingly slow for your own good.

You held her hand as you took the elevator up to your unit, making sure she had a cap and a mask on to protect her identity, and punched in the code to your place.

As soon as that door opened, you dragged Minjeong inside, closed the door, opened the lights, and tossed her cap and mask across the room.

In that same motion, Minjeong pressed her lips against yours, without hesitation, kissing you passionately. It was a long and sensual kiss, with her yearning for your touches, and grabbing your hair in the process.

You grabbed her ass, earning a small yelp from her, as you got to work undressing her. Starting with her top, which you carelessly removed and tossed across the room, her pants, which she unbuckled and kicked off, and your shirt, removed and tossed as well.

She was absolutely ready, wearing a red lingerie with barely anything to hide. Her panties was absolutely soaked, and you could tell by the darker shade of red where her pussy is waiting.

She bit her lips and unbuckled your pants, kneeling down along with it as she took it down to your ankles. You stared down at her, with her looking back up at you as she slowly admired the growing sensation inside your underwear.

Minjeong doesn't say anything, just grabbing the hem of your boxers and pulling it down, your length hitting her in the cheek.

Blushes formed across her face, but she composed herself and held it in her hand, as she stroked it softly and dry.

Small moans and groans escaped your lips, and you find yourself brushing her hair as she continued working your cock dry.

Her lips came close, and her tongue lashed out, hitting the head of your cock, which was a wonderful sensation, so you asked her to do it again. She nodded and complied, licking the tip of your cock and stroking your length.

"Stop teasing me, suck it." You commanded, and she complied, giving you a nod as she envelops those thick, soft lips around the head of your cock and humming to herself.

It was a wonderful sensation, sure, you are getting a blowjob from Winter of all people, but to you, this was your best friend, someone that you had feelings for, someone that broke your heart, and someone that will always have a place in its debris.

Having her slowly suck your cock is more than just a horny feeling, but a symbol of her apology to you, mending those broken bridges that she once destroyed herself by letting you have a very important aspect of both of your lives.

She slowly started taking in more of your length, getting even deeper as she continued to bob her head slowly up and down your cock, and damn, it felt good.

"Don't forget the balls." You say.

Minjeong deepthroated you, without any problem, and used her free hand to use the dripping saliva from her lips to lubricate your balls and fondle them softly.

It felt heavenly having her play with you like this, and it feels like you're about to bust from just her inexperienced mouth working on you.

"Okay, that's enough." You say sternly as you removed her from your cock and wipe her saliva off her chin.

"Was I good? You didn't cum yet." She says as you guide her towards your bed and helping her lie down.

"Yes, you're good. But I am not going to waste my time on your mouth when I can just have the best part." You say that as you grab her pussy and rub her clit through her panties.

Minjeong moans, " Yes... okay... please..." she pleads as you continue rubbing and stimulating her clit.

You climbed back on top, and slid her panties to the side. The glowing sheen her wet pussy gave is absolutely salivating. Your mind went blank just staring at the beautiful masterpiece that is her wet pussy.

"Hey.. stop staring.. I'll get shy." Minjeong reminded you after you started spacing out.

"Right, sorry." You grabbed the base of your well-lubricated cock and tapped it on her, garnering small whimpers.

She bit her fingers in anticipation of you finally taking her virginity once and for all. You kept rubbing the head of your cock along the slit of her entire pussy and Minjeong just can't stop moaning. She absolutely loves the feeling and it doesn't matter to her how you approach in taking her.

Your cock finally slides in her wet pussy, without any effort, like she's done it before. You know she hasn't, since her reactions say otherwise. She's shaking, blushing, and moaning at the same time.

Her face kept turning side ways as her body starts to adjust to the feeling of having you inside her, and you take her cheek to make her look at you as you slowly kept burying inch after inch deeper and deeper into the caverns of her wet pussy.

She's absolutely ecstatic, not helped by the way you're making her look directly at you, the only boy she ever liked, and the boy she left years ago in fear of her dream being crushed.

The only thing that is being crushed now is her pussy, and you're the number one suspect in making sure it gets used properly.

The feeling throws you off, it was very good, you start to doubt whether you're gonna make it long, but you persevere, and start thrusting deep.

Minjeong couldn't stop herself, moaning louder with each thrust and with each inch she feels withing herself.

"Y-yes! Just like that... Oh yes...!" She is absolutely losing control and she couldn't compose herself.

Minjeong was drowning in pleasure, and so were you. You picked up the pace, and started fucking her faster like your life depended on it.

Your thrusts banged on her again, and again, and again, creating skin to skin sounds that both you and Minjeong loved.

"Minjeong? Promise me something." You say as you're drilling her in balls deep.

"W-what is iT?! Oh! Ah!" Minjeong says with each thrust hitting her spot.

"This pussy is mine. Mine only."

"Yes! only yours! Yes!" She says as she moans and hisses with every strong thrust.

"Good girl."

Those words sent her over the edge, screaming and groaning as she came hard. "Yes! I'm cumming! I'm cumming!"

You slow down and come completely to a stop while rubbing her clit to let her ride out the orgasm, and pull out to let her breathe.

"No... give me that." She reaches and grabs your cock to jerk it off.

"I'm close anyway... I'm going to fucking cum Minjeong."

"On me." She points it at her face while she gives your cock long strokes.

You couldn't hold onto it anymore and release streak after streak of cum on her face.

"Yes... that's warm..." She says with her eyes closed as she catches some of your cum with her mouth.

After cumming, you lied down and gathered a minute or two to compose yourself. She cleaned herself up with a tissue and a towel before wrapping her arms around you.

"Thank you." She said as she slowly closed her eyes.

"You're welcome, Minjeong."

"I'll stay this time. Come with me to Seoul soon?" She asks.

"Okay Minjeong, let's make this work."

"I love you, Y/N. I always have."

"I love you too, my Minjeong. I forgive you."

She smiles as she allows herself to sleep in your arms.

-FIN-

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

A/N: Hey, I know it's been a long time, it's kind of been a rollercoaster year for me. And I've been struggling recently so, I hope whatever I cooked here can help me out. Thanks again for reading and uh, yeah, I hope everyone can get the happiness they need.

[hadesisqueer]

'I want more enemies to lovers in media' a lot of you guys couldn't even handle CATRADORA

[catras-breakup-song]

[heavenlyraindrops]

The Devil Made Me Do It | Arcane | Silco x Reader | Chapter One

also on AO3 and Quotev | visit the first tag to find other chapters | warnings: pre- s1 (for now), profanity, mentions of death, addiction, and prostitution

summary:

In the midst of an unfortunate run-in with the enforcers, you meet the young revolutionary Silco, and by extension, his friends Vander and Felicia. Growing close friends, you get through life in the undercity together, determined to make Zaun a better place. Until tragedy strikes, and betrayal and carelessness stabs hard enough to turn you bitter. Years later as time solidifies the scars, Silco proves to be a thorn in your side. You, in his. Hatred festers. And your world cracks further open.

Chapter One:

The undercity was certainly something.

Especially at night, when shadows extended their smoky tendrils to allow those dabbling in unsavoury business to lurk, gloomy buildings hiding things you’d be safer off not knowing within. People milling about, going about their private, dangerous business.

Water splashed across the street as your foot landed in a puddle, ankle twisting the wrong way as you tore through the filthy streets, enforcers hot on your heels. All this for heckling an officer? You clutched your shawl around you as the wind almost buffered it away.

It was ridiculous.

After bumping into a large man, a mother and her child, and knocking over a crate of sludge-y creatures, shouts trailing after you, you found an alleyway to disappear into. You scrambled up some wooden beams, eventually emerging onto the flat roof of the low, squatting building. You watched the idiotic Pilties run straight ahead, missing your small detour entirely, and scoffed, stepping away from the edge.

You turned, and made your way across the rooftops of Zaun. 

You’d reached an impasse. Well, not really- nothing a simple jump couldn’t fix. You squinted down into the dusty darkness of the narrow alley below your feet. This part of the undercity was silent- but you could hear the lapping water, and knew you were close to the river.

Vaulting over a concrete bar and pushing off with your feet, you landed on the other side of the gap with a thud. The roof shook, and you yelped as a tile slid off the edge, and crashed into the darkness.

Holding your breath, you heard nothing. The water continued to rumble. You turned to leave.

Until- 

“Fuck.”

You froze in horror. 

Creeping back towards the piped edge of the roof, weight on the backs of your feet, you peered into the darkness. The glowing end of a cigarette burned orange. You gulped.

A man emerged, stepping into your view. His brow was furrowed. Your hands were shaking. “I-I’m sorry!” You called out, and he scowled. 

“You nearly hit me!” He almost-yelled back. But taking a look at your face his expression softened. Against better judgement, you slid down the pipe, feet landing on the ground with an oof.

He looked at you, eyebrows raised. Someone in the undercity coming down to personally apologise for something like that instead of laughing in one’s face and running away was rare. He looked at the apologetic look on your face, and watched as you opened your mouth to speak while also stretching out your hand.

“I’m sorry…”

He reached for your hand too, ready to dismissively accept your apology and move on with his night.

“…But can I have a cigarette?”

His expression dropped.

You lazily took the cigarette from his hands and took a long, deep drag, tendrils of smoke curling from your mouth. At his frown, you moved it from your lips to speak.

“What? You don’t have herpes, do you? I’m not going to get it, am I?”

Wordlessly, he shook his head. You studied his face. Strong features, blue-green eyes. He wasn’t half bad looking.

I wouldn’t mind getting an STD from him.

Without a single reaction to your rather graphic thought you took another drag on the cigarette, before handing it back to him. “Thanks. Not everyone here knows that sharing is caring.”

He laughs, guarded, and then stops himself, surprised such a sound even came out at your words. You smiled at him sweetly. “And sorry for almost hitting your head and bashing it in with a tile. Though it wasn’t my fault, was it?”

“I suppose it was an accident,” he said stiffly, a strand of hair falling in front of his face. He dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his heel. “Miss…”

“[name]. Janna, I really needed to calm my nerves.” You stretched, arching your back like a cat, feeling the bones pop and muscles stretch deliciously. The man wet his lips, looking out at the street through the alley.

“And why would that be?” His voice was smooth. You readjusted your shawl. 

“Some enforcers were chasing me. The usual.” You let out a slow sigh, going to leave the alley without as much as a goodbye. He didn’t say anything, just watched you leave.

You planted a foot out into the street.

“That’s her!” 

You whipped your head around, watching a gaggle enforcers charging towards you. A scream tore from your lips you rushed back into the alleyway. The man grabbed you as you almost crashed into his chest.

“Fucking run!”

Shimmying up the pipe, you were back on the roof. You didn’t spare a turn to look back as your heavy lunges rattled the roofs, leaping over bars and gaps. You turned and saw an enforcer slip through a gap in the roofs, crashing into the street below. The man from the alley was just at your shoulder. Without a sparing a second you turned and left.

Once you were certain you’d lost the enforcers you stopped, chest heaving, and slumped onto the ground- roof- beneath you. The man stayed standing, eyeing you with an unreadable expression.

“Okay,” you gasped, turning over. “Now I’m actually sorry.” Coughing while trying to catch your breath you extended a hand. “Do you have water or something? I’m sorry.”

He let out a heavy sigh, not knowing how to behave in this situation as he took out a flask, crouching down and holding it out to you as you continuously mumbled apologies. You gulped down the water inside. “It isn’t poisoned, is it?” You sighed, wiping your mouth as you handed it back. He sat down as he took it, joining you on the slanted roof. 

“You only think to ask that after you’ve downed half the thing?” His voice was filled with amusement. You ignored him.

“I’m sorry, mister…”

“Silco.”

You stared at him as he took out another cigarette, patting his pockets for a lighter. Without a word you took one out, flicking it open and pushing down to activate the flame. You held it in front of his face. “I’m sorry, Silco.”

The cigarette lit up. You studied his profile, mainly the line of his sharp nose as he inhaled deeply.

“It’s fine. Why do you keep apologizing?”

“I got you involved in a chase with enforcers after almost dropping a tile on your head and taking your cigarette.”

“You didn’t have to take the cigarette,” he muttered, miffed. You ignored him, the lighter snapping shut. “And my plans for the night have been ruined…”

“I’m sorry,” you repeated. He looked at you, chuckling. “I’ll make it up to you somehow, if you want.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Such generosity is rare.”

“Not generosity. Justice.”

He laughed again, at your dramatics this time as he rolled the cigarette in between his long fingers. “Right. Justice.”

“So, one favour.”

“That’s a dangerous offer, [name].” A thought struck him, and he furrowed his brow. “Don’t tell me you’re from topside.”

You stared at him for a minute, then scoffed. “Of course I’m not. What makes you think that?”

“Your naivety.” He blew smoke from his lungs, and you watched as it curled over the rooftops. “It’s not a good idea to go around offering favours to strangers.”

“I’m as much of a trencher as you are, Silco,” you scoffed.

At this, he suddenly grabbed your wrist. You stared at him in shock as his lip curled, expression furious. You blinked, unmoving. 

“Zaunite.”

“Wh-what?”

“Use Zaunite. Not the name they gave us.” His grip on your wrist loosened before falling away completely. You nodded.

“Right.”

It fell silent.

“And I’ll never cash in that favour.”

You tilted your head. “Why not?”

“Because, it’s a stupid idea. If anything, I’m doing you a favour.” Another drag. You turned over to look at the sky.

“Thanks… I guess?”

He chuckled again, smoke curling from in between his teeth. Your face felt warm. “You’re strange.”

“So I’ve been told. What exactly were the plans for your night that I so rudely ruined?”

He didn’t say anything.

“I hope you weren’t visiting a cathouse.”

He groaned, and you laughed, snatching the cigarette off of him. He didn’t stop you. “Certainly not. Not for the cats, at least.”

“The cats?”

“The women, [name].”

“Well, what else would you go there for?”

“You’d be surprised.”

You frown. “Right… so no prostitutes.”

“Definitely not. It’s an immoral practice.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “A trencher with morals. I see.”

“Zaunite,” he said through gritted teeth.

You shrugged, sucking on the cigarette. “Well, I don’t care. They’re just making a living.”

“And what would you consider immoral?”

You blew out a cloud of smoke, and for a moment you considered saying something that he’d agree with, racking your brains for an appropriate answer. He clearly hated topside…

“What those Pilties are doing. Their prejudice against us,” you said proudly. He gave a small laugh.

“Right. Everyone thinks that. Something unique, please.”

You stayed silent. “Well… I do believe capitalising on addiction is quite immoral.”

“Ironic, considering that cigarette you’re holding.”

“There are extremes.” Your voice was low, and it was clear there was a story behind the subject. He didn’t press you, simply watching you put out the cigarette on the tin roof, your appetite for nicotine crushed.

After a quiet moment you spoke. “My sister was pregnant. Some… drug lord got her hooked onto something.” You rested your head down. “It was dangerous. They don’t make it anymore.” He hummed silently. “I lost both her and the baby. And she was all I had left, so…”

“The father?”

You scoffed, and that told him more than he needed to know.

“That… drug… business owner… whatever he was- he didn’t need money. He was filthy rich,” you spat. “A-“ your eyes slid to Silco- “A Zaunite, hoarding money, sucking life out of his own people, and not sharing a single drop. I hate that bastard.”

“What became of him?”

“Business crushed, killed by enforcers.” Your response was curt.

He hummed. “Well, in that case, I certainly won’t go down that path.”

“…I suppose I won’t work in a brothel either.”

“Or own one,” he added. You laughed.

“Or own one.”

You sighed gently, standing up. “Well, I hope whatever business you missed gets resolved. Goodbye, Silco.” You made to climb down to the street.

“Wait-“

You looked up.

“You said you don’t have anyone. If you’re ever… looking for company, go to the Last Drop. Tell the bartender you’re looking for Silco.”

Your eyes enlarged as you stowed the name in your memory. “The Last Drop,” you repeated, then nodded.

“Goodbye, [name].” 

You smiled again, and dropped down into the crowd.

When you looked back up to the sky, to the roof, he was gone.

-

[za-vandal]

So I'm back from the dead, yippee! Now here's a word dump of how I wanna bang a big bad evil guy.

Sub! Villain X Hero Reader (male aligned, but no gendered terms used)

Not grammar checked, Smut at the end<3

Mean Villain, who was a monster of the hero's own creation. Perhaps the hero was a friend he fought with, an ex lover, or just rivals that went too far. But they both know there's no turning back when they meet again at a battle field.

Mean Villain who enjoys annoying and pissing off the hero. A habit that carried over the years from whatever past they had. He just loved seeing the hero so riled up, so mean and angry and how the hero's muscles would tense from the taunts.

Mean Villain, who tried to get the upper hand every time he fought the hero by doing surprise attacks, usually ending up getting thrown and pushed against the wall because the hero literally just swings them to the nearest surface they can and pins them down.

Mean Villain who enjoyed it a little too much, having to bite the hero so he could squirm away, hoping to whatever god that exists the hero didn't see how red his face was. He spent an embarrassing amount of time to spend that energy on his hard-on and accidentally moaned the Hero's name, accidentally moaning it too much.

Mean Villain not noticing that the hero had bugged him, a voice recorder was on his villain outfit just laying on the floor

Mean Villain, hiding his emotions as best as he could, wondering why the hero looked so flustered when they met again.

Confused villain who doesn't understand why this is happening. He has never had thoughts this horrendous about the hero. How the hero's hand could slide against his pecs so nicely, and squeeze his chest while the hero's fingers plunged deep inside.

Confused villain who wakes up hard like a freaking teen and gets so embarrassed that whatever evil plan of the day gets cancelled. His lackeys were so confused why their boss was throwing darts at a picture of the hero while mumbling how about how hot he was.

"Think boss lost it." "No shit Sherlock, but at least we have an off day".

*cues to unholy screeching and shouting, where the villain complains about the hero's body being too big and stuttering once he thinks about what else would be big*

Confused villain who found the hero ending patrol one day, and the hero looked so pissed while getting ready to fight. The villain accidentally complements the hero, leaving the two of them absolutely mortified. The villain ran with the hero chasing after him, trying to get answers.

Confused villain, who accidentally entered a rival villain's territory. Taken by surprise and captured, locked in a warehouse without his suit, wearing whatever rags were prepared by the henchman. Terrified about the fact that the territory he was in was of a hostile competitor, someone who would kill the villain if given the chance.

Confused villain who blacked out. Tied to a chair and beaten all over, they might be strong but this was on another level... He could hear a loud crash as his vision faded and his mind went numb, he pleads to whatever higher power that existed that we would be saved.

Recovering Villain, sleeping so prettily on the hero's bed.. he woke himself up when he fell onto the floor, the hero was quick to check on him, leaning down so close that their lips were almost touching.

Recovering villain who said "fuck it, we ball" and kisses the hero first, while the hero deepens the kiss to the surprise of the villain, who whimpered as the hero started squeezing his body like how he would in his dreams.

Pretty villain thrown back onto the bed, wearing an oversized sweater of the hero and looking so cute~ He writhes his body as the hero touches him so delicately, kissing all the little places where his healed injuries were, worshipping this tattered, broken body so softly.

Pretty villain who cries as the hero picked up the pace, he could feel the hero's fingers so deep inside him, cute little huffs coming from his mouth as he tries to hide his place with the hero's pillow.

Pretty villain, whose body gets folded into a mating press as the hero slipped into him. His pretty little hole was squeezing down so nicely, his face with tears streaming down was just angelic. The hero's constant murmurs of encouragement makes the villain cry even more. It was so gentle, so deep, so good~

Pretty villain who moans so loud, moving his hips just so the hero could reach deeper, getting off to the fact that he likes being pampered and praised. His eyes rolling up as he could feel the hero's hand on his dick, preventing him from coming over and over.

Pretty villain who lost count how many times he's come, how many positions they were in, just laying on the bed with his thighs on the hero's shoulder. The villain couldn't mumble out a single coherent sentence, but he fills the air with short breaths and pleads. Blurting out about how big and deep the hero was, how he wanted to get filled up so nicely.

Pretty villain who wakes up next to the hero cuddling him, as he starts to annoy the hero again, asking to be pampered. Something's just never change.

[kinda-super-hot]

I Want More. (3)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, more coming soon

Pairing: Harvey Specter x F!Lawyer!Reader - friends to enemies to lovers <3

Part 3 Summary: Y/n joins Mike and Harvey when they go to see a client. The client flirts with Y/n, and she makes the best of it, hopefully landing some clients. Harvey is not happy.

Warnings: Reflecting on past relationship, some yelling

Word Count: 2570

A/N: Thank ya'll so much for the support! The more you comment and like, the faster I write. Love ya'll enjoy!

I’m typing away an email when my intercom goes off. “(Y/n), Harvey needs you in his office.” Donna’s voice rings out and I feel nauseous.

               “Ok, thanks, Donna.” Wait. “Donna?”

               “What’s up?” She asks in a sing-song voice, and I can hear her fingers click-clacking against her keyboard.

               “How long has the intercom been on?” The click-clacking stops. I let out an incredulous laugh, “Have you been listening this whole time?” The intercom beeps and I know it’s been shut off, probably for the first time since I’ve been here.

               I smile and stand from my desk, throwing on the black blazer that was previously sitting on the back of my chair. There’s a pastel pink handkerchief tucked in the breast pocket that matches my blouse.. that also matches Harvey’s tie. What a weird coincidence.

               I walk the short distance from my office to Donna’s desk. “Good morning!” She hums all too happily at me. I give her a raised brow and cross my arms. “It’s nothing personal, I hear all around here. That’s why I’m so good at what I do. I’m Donna.” She flicks her hands in the air with flair.

               “Of course.” I smile at her mischievously. “If you hear all around here, Donna, what have people been saying about me?” I’ve been wondering, but had no way of finding out, until now.

               “Well, obviously I’ve heard the she’s smoking comment more times than I can count.” She laughs. “Louis thinks your one joke away from going to dinner with him.”

               “Shoot, I don’t want to give him the wrong impression.” I scold myself and bite my lip.

               “What, you don’t date anyone in the office?” She questions, but it’s off. Her tone, something about it… I lift my eyes to meet hers and she has a devious smile.

               “You know.” I exhale and lean on the desk. “God, does everyone know?!” I whisper yell at her. I do a quick scan of my surroundings, and I don’t see anyone looking. I hesitantly take a quick peek into Harvey’s office.

I pause my frantic behavior when I see him. He’s sitting at his desk on the phone and Mike is on the couch. I can tell he’s charming whoever is on the other side of the phone, because even though they can’t see him, he has his prince-like smile on him. My heart swells for him.

“That’s how I know,” Donna whispers in my ear. I jump, I didn’t even see her get up. She gives me a pointed look. “Yesterday, I saw you look at him when you two were first ‘meeting’” she gives air quotes, “and I could see the way you look at him. You couldn’t keep your eyes off-”

“His puppy dog eyes.” I cut her off, but my eyes are still strained on him. I have to tear my eyes away from him to bashfully look at Donna.

She nods with a smile, “The rest I’ve put together from bits and pieces of everyone’s conversations.” She shrugs cockily. “You know,” She stops herself; I can tell she’s debating whether or not to say what she’s about to say, “This isn’t my first time hearing about you.”

My heart flips. I want to question her further, and I’m about to until I smell expensive cologne and a familiar musk. I turn my head to see Harvey just leaving his office with Mike in tow. He sees me and smiles, trying to charm me. Oh god, he’s trying to play me!

Back in the day, I knew Harvey better than I knew myself. So now I know he’s trying to get back in my good graces, what I don’t know is his end goal.

“G’morning, Donna,” He greets Donna and then his eyes slowly trail to mine. “(Y/n).” He has a close-lipped smirk on his face, one he knew made my knees weak in law school. This may be harder than I thought.

I give him a polite nod but don’t give him any more attention. He may still give me butterflies, but I’m still pissed. I turn my attention to the younger man beside him. “Mike.” I greet him with a smile but there’s some tension exuding from me. I haven’t forgotten what he said to me the other day. “Y’know, our conversation the other day inspired me,” I put my hand on his shoulder and squeeze it. “I think my next vacation might be in Paris…France.” I say bluntly and drop the smile I was faking as I side-eyed Harvey.

His eyes dart from my face to Mike accusingly. “Yeah, ha-ha,” Mike laughs nervously. “It’s a beautiful place. The architecture, the landscape-“

“The people?” I question in a demeaning way with a smile on my face. I see Harvey tense and he licks his lips. He’s uncomfortable. Good. Harvey’s hand goes to Mike’s back, and I can tell he’s probably giving him a hidden pinch. Ooh, I know that hurts.

There’s an awkward beat of silence. “Well.” Donna clears her throat, “You all should probably get going. Marshall is expecting you.” She urges.

“Ok, thank you, Donna.” I answer chipperly and turn in the direction of the elevators. In the reflection of one of the associate's monitors, I see Donna mouthing something demanding at Harvey. He mouths back something along the lines of ‘I know, I know!’.

I walk briskly to the elevators and press the button; I don’t even check if the boys are behind me. “So, where are we headed?” I ask, but I keep my head straight, facing the closed elevator doors.

They say nothing until I hear what I’m assuming is Mike giving Harvey a little arm shove. “Downtown-” Harvey starts, then clears his throat. I hear Mike stifle a chuckle. “-we’re meeting Donald Marshall. He’s the company lead for Shilton Suites.”

There’s a ding as the elevator doors open. I step onto the lift and stand close to the buttons. Both boys hesitate to enter. “Are you guys… coming?” They are being so awkward, ugh, boys.

Harvey shoves Mike into the elevator before him, he gets pushed into the wall. Harvey stands shoulder to shoulder with me. “How did you like your coffee?”

I think I’ve imagined his voice; he doesn’t move his torso to face me or even glance my way. I don’t answer right away, trying to process that Harvey is actually talking to me-not just a good morning. “It’s the best around.” He hums in a positive tone, and I see a small smile creep onto his face.

I hope he doesn’t think we’re going to be besties after apology coffee, but I might as well throw him a bone. “Louis wanted to go buy me one from Roaster Roos.”

“Roaster Roos?” Harvey finally turns his body to me and has an offended look on his face. My heart flutters and I wish I could beat it down with a hammer. “God, he has no idea what good coffee is.” He turns back to face the elevator doors, and I crave his gaze on me again.

I feel like I’m running out of time to talk to him away from prying eyes. The dinging of the elevator as we steadily drop feels like a doomsday clock. “He wants to take me to dinner.” I don’t know why I said that.

Harvey stops next to me, and I hear Mike’s strained breathing behind me. I forgot he was here. Once again, it’s quiet until he asks, “How would your boyfriend feel about that?” He’s playing the game- he wants to know if I’m seeing anybody. Touche Mr. Douchebag.

How do I tell him I’m single without being pathetic? “Let’s just say, Louis might have a fighting chance.” I shrug. “Why? Did Louis not ask you to dinner when you first came to the firm?” I tease with a smirk.

His demeanor changes and he has a playful smile on his face, just like the good old days. “Oh, please, Louis wishes he could handle all this.” He motions to himself. He still won’t look at me. I need him to look at me.

I smirk and eye him up and down till my gaze catches on his tie. It’s crooked, I notice. A quick fit of confidence comes over me and I reach for it. At first, both hands are on the knot, but then the other lays flat on his chest while the other straightens the tie out.

It’s just like it was in law school when I would get him ready for mock trials. Something so normal, so domestic, about fixing his tie. Finally, finally, he looks down at me. We’re all but inches apart. I look up into his dark eyes and I feel… odd. His warm breath fans my face and I have to force myself away.

Harvey’s eyes stay on me this time. I can sense Mike looking between the two of us and there’s another layer of awkwardness added to the lift again. “Sorry, I-”

“-Hate a crooked tie.” He finishes my sentence. Of course, he does. I can’t stop myself from looking up, and I know it’s a dumb thing to do before I even do it. Harvey is already looking down at me calmly with half-lidded eyes. I take a brisk look over the rest of his face (pause a little too long on his lips) and back up.

I move just a tad further away from him than I was when we first got in. What is wrong with me? I look towards the elevator buttons and keep my eyes strained there. My chest is rising up and down as I think about what I’ve done.

There’s a ding and the elevator doors open. I wait for him to step out so that I can collect myself, but he doesn’t budge. I side-eye him and motion towards the door, “Go ahead.”

I can feel him looking at me, “Ladies first.” He says and his voice makes my heart flutter. I look at him and he’s looking at me like I’m a sick dog on the side of the street that he feels bad for. I bite my cheek and step out.

The whole way to the meeting spot for the client, I’m a pace or two behind Harvey and Mike. Not just because they’re tall and have long legs, either. At one point, I could tell Harvey had slowed his walking pace so I wouldn’t be so far behind, but I resisted being any closer to him by slowing my pace as well.

I need to think. I’ve detested Harvey since we ‘broke up’, but I’m within his vicinity for TWO DAYS, and I can’t keep it in my pants! I watch his back as he walks and can picture the smooth skin beneath. That gets me thinking about his chest… the scratches I left on both… I shake my head, there is something seriously wrong with me.

We arrive at a parking garage and elevator up to the fifth floor. Luckily, this time I keep my mouth shut and my eyes far from his. The client is waiting for us on a fancy, cherry-red car.

“Harvey!” He shouts joyously. The guy is older with white hair, but he seems active and in good spirits. His gaze slides over to me and I feel like an object. My pace slows and I try to fade into the background despite his hungry eyes. “And who is this?” He looks his lips and I pray that it’s an unconscious habit.

“I’m Mike Ross.” Mike steps in the man’s line of sight. “I’m Harvey’s personal associate.” Thank God for Mike Ross.

But this guy’s determined. He nods boredly at Mike before motioning him to step to the side. Mike moves in stuttered motions and his eyes flicker between me and the client. I give him a face that says ‘What the fuck?’, and he gives me one back that says, ‘I don’t know!’

“You.” I look at the man and freeze. He smiles at me and goes back to leaning on his car, “What are you doing with this guy?” He nods his head to Harvey. I see his jaw clench out of the corner of my eye but otherwise doesn’t move a muscle. “With a face like yours, you could be on anyone’s arm.” The implication is clear.

Just as Harvey opens his mouth, I say, “He’s my boss.” I nod with a tight smile.

An idea floods into my brain and my previously uncomfortable posture straightens until it becomes arched. “Yep!” I pop my lips and sway my hips as I get closer to the car. “Until I get a client of my own, I’m gonna be stuck with this guy.” I point with my thumb to Harvey. “You wouldn’t know a guy who’d want to be my client… would you?” I bat my lashes down at him.

He's quiet for a second and I can feel him about to say something, but I want to make sure my answer is a yes. I slide onto the shiny hood of the car and partially lay on my hip. “Cool car by the way.” I bat my lashes once more, but now I’m looking up at him and I can tell he’s hooked.

“Love, I’m sure people would get in legal trouble just to work with you.” He flirts and scoots closer to me on the car. Play it cool.

“Y/n.” I hear Harvey’s stern voice behind me and slide off of the car.

The rest of the meeting goes without a hitch. The client, Donald Marshall, would occasionally throw in the flirty comment or look but Harvey would quickly interject. As soon as we got what we needed we headed out of the lot… Not fast enough to prevent Mr. Marshall from kissing my hand on the way out.

“What the hell was that?” Harvey asks as soon as we’re on the sidewalk. He puts his hands on his hips and appears to be fuming. “You’re gonna flirt with my client- in front of me? I should write you up.”

“Call it what you want, I’m going to have clients begging to have me represent them by the end of the week.” I pull out my cell to look up the nearest Ikea. I try to look unbothered, but my heart is racing.

“You can’t just flaunt yourself to get clients-“

I get in his face and shove my finger into his chest. “I can and I will do whatever I want to get me as far away from you as possible!” My words are laced with venom.

I hate him. Just because he still has those puppy dog eyes and sugary words doesn’t mean he didn’t lead me on and then tell me I was stupid to think there was something between us.

I breathe heavily and he does in return. There is fire in his eyes, and I don’t want him to look at me like that- but I know I’m looking at him the exact same way. “As soon as I get my first client I won’t have to look at your sorry face and I can pretend you’re not even there.” I turn on my heels to the street and raise my hand to signal a cab.

I am so over Harvey Specter.

Taglist: @technicallykawaiisoul @malfoys-demigod @notarobotipromise

If you want to be added, just let me know!

[allyricas]

there's just something so delicious about friends-to enemies-to lovers

barely teenage steve and eddie who have a devastating end to what they both thought would be a forever friendship. maybe it's a misunderstanding or maybe it's just teenage angst that felt impossible to fix in the moment.

but i am feral over the idea that the only reason steve ever became 'king steve' strutting around with tommy and carol with his aloof, semi-mean girl attitude was because of the falling out with eddie. that he did it so he didn't feel so much hurt over it. still has no idea what he did to make eddie suddenly hate him.

same with eddie. he definitely liked metal and nerdy shit all along, but maybe he only leaned into the whole 'forced conformity, it's what's killing the kids' freak persona to guard himself. as armor. because he fucking misses steve as much as he hates him. so he glares and makes snarky comments. finds his solace in DnD and his band.

they fight with words and shoulder shoves in the hallway. each of them too proud to ever talk it out and fix things. to the point that their peers don't remember that steve and eddie used to be inseparable. everyone but steve and eddie forget the obvious affection and closeness they once shared.

it takes a bunch of freshmen to put them back into each other's orbit.

it takes the upside down, a dead cheerleader and an evil wizard for them to actually get along again.

because steve is meant to hate eddie but the moment he sees the trailer and hears the word 'murder' he feels like he might throw up.

Please, god, not eddie.

only to find out he supposedly murdered chrissy cunningham. despite all the animosity between the two of them, steve knows in his soul that eddie would never kill anyone.

even when he's against a wall with sharp glass pressed to his neck, heart racing as he looks into the eyes he tries not to think about, steve knows that eddie won't actually hurt him.

steve has the urge to stay with eddie at the lake house and make sure nothing else happens to him. instead, he stops forcing himself to be an asshole towards eddie. it's exhausting and he's never truly meant it anyways. the upside-down shit is threatening the one person he hoped would never be a part of it.

it takes eddie watching steve get pulled under lover's lake and attacked by demon bats to realize that the biggest misunderstanding was of his own thirteen year old self's feelings. that he could've lost steve and he'd have never even told him the truth of why he let their friendship implode over such a ridiculous misunderstanding.

that he wanted more than friendship and that scared the hell out of him at thirteen.

he sees steve bleeding and throwing himself into danger over and over. realizes that yeah, steve harrington is a good guy. his own personal munson doctrine is fundamentally flawed and untrustworthy and he's in love with this stupidly brave man, maybe since forever.

make him pay means i'm sorry, i love you, please be safe, come back.

it takes eddie nearly dying and his steve carrying him out of hell for eddie to realize that steve never hated him either. that what eddie always views as aloofness and superiority was hurt and steve trying to deal. regardless of whatever lays in the past, steve holds him together with his hands and begs eddie to stay. whispers that he loves him, always has loved him, always will love him.

eddie thinks about all the years they lost due to teenage angst and fear. fights to keep his eyes open and stay, because steve his sobbing and begging him not to go.

and when eddie finally wakes up in the hospital, it's steve and uncle wayne next to him. steve won't leave his side, maybe ever again. neither of them with any desire to ever look at each other with anything but love.

[sexifart]

[kamyru]

Love me, love me not, love me (not)? (Bakugou Katsuki x Reader)

Summary: You get into the hospital and wake up to pretty shocking Breaking News that can make even your usually calm blood boil. It gets you back to your first relationship that ended in half a day. But it also helps you open your eyes to the changes a person you have tried to avoid for the past ten years went through.

Words counting: 3912

BREAKING NEWS!: Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight saved the fellow pro-hero OvershO2t! Dynamight went out of an already collapsed building caring OvershO2t bridal-style. The fans can’t stop talking about their interaction and some of the most searched words have been “Dynamight x Overshoot moments”. The heroes have a long history together, being classmates in elementary and middle school. Unfortunately, in high school they were separated, only to reunite as pro-heroes, working at agencies that are less than a bus station away from each other. Since their school years, they have been shipped because of their similar quirks: Dynamight produces nitroglycerin in his sweat which helps him create explosions. While Overshoot can control the concentration of oxygen within a radius max ten meters around her, helping her create fires and explosions. Our reporters are at the hospital where the pro-heroes have been admitted, waiting for a confirmation of their relationship from their PR managers.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you mumbled to your secretary which made the young woman gasp in shock and take a step back. It was one of the few times she heard you cursing. Immediately, she came back to her senses and came closer to you, to make sure you weren’t injuring yourself even more. “I bet this is his PR-team’s move. Can’t believe he hasn't changed one bit since middle school.”

The secretary looked at you softly, nearly motherly, even if she was a little younger than you. She and her boyfriend had been high school sweethearts, so your secretary was also full of compassion every time you had to interact with Dynamight, considering that your only relationship has been with him, more than ten years ago and didn't even last a day. The drawbacks of hero life: being too busy to date. She was even sure that you had been suffering from the lack of love all these years, ignoring how dedicated you had always been to your job and how bright your smile was every time a mission was successful. 

“I didn’t get any information from Dynamight’s PR managers,” the young woman explained to you. If she said it, it was most probably true, considering her boyfriend was one of Bakugo’s PR managers. You weren't naive enough to think this couple of high school sweethearts weren't talking about everything going on at their workplaces.

“HEY! Lame-name!” you heard from behind the door, one second before it opened. You looked at your secretary and fell back in the bed dangerously fast, faking sleep. The shock on her face was the reason Bakugo understood that you weren’t sleeping at all. But even if you were, you highly doubted that he cared enough not to make a scene. “How are you feeling? You’re alive?”

You opened one eye and looked at the messy blonde. 

“No. I’m dead. Please, go away. I want to decompose in silence.”

But instead of listening to your desire, your former classmate ran towards you and knelt in front of your bed, taking your hand in his. 

“I thought you were dead. There was so much blood everywhere,” but before you could get soft even for a second, he continued: “Couldn’t you choose a day to die when we weren’t working on the same case?”

Fuck you, Bakugo! Fuck you! You screamed internally but didn't say a word because you were the calm explosion hero, not the mad one, whose own neurons weren't capable of cooperating. 

“Sorry. On the other days I tried to get myself killed, I was paired with people I do actually respect,” you answered and turned your back to him. However, as you put more pressure on your shoulder, a striking pain hit you and made you jolt. It made you also remember that the throbbing head pain that was bothering you all this time wasn't caused by the news, but by an actual trauma. 

You looked at the person who saved you: a cast around his ankle that you had no idea how he ignored when he threw himself on his knees, an adhesive dressing on his cheek on the same side he had his other scar from his first year of high school, and another dressing around his scarred forearm. You didn't know if he got this while saving you or before. His fingers seemed bruised and it made you think that he probably tried to move the cement block that fell on you with his bare hands, too afraid to hurt you with his explosions. You weren't that close with Bakugo, but you worked with him enough to know that when he was very stressed, it was hard for him to calculate the force of his explosions. That was why he was way better at combat than at rescuing the wounded – another reason why you were paired with him so often. Having the agencies in the same neighborhood, Dynamight often called Overshoot to help in missions with lots of victims. Gentle, good with kids, very good at mental math, and hypnotizingly soft-spoken: these were the adjectives most often used by victims who described you in interviews after you saved their life. In comparison with Bakugo, you lacked in speed, be it decision making or physical – which he never forgot to remind you and rub it in your face – but your serenity worked as a spell on scared kids and panicked adults. Even Bakugo used to tell you this in school, before your failed relationship.

You hated to remember that day, but it appeared in front of your eyes every time Bakugo did something kind towards you – and since you became a pro, it had happened a lot of times. In the last year of middle school, both you and Bakugo were fourteen-year-olds. While some of your colleagues were either afraid of him, or were following him blindly, you were one of the few in a neutral-to-good relationship with him. It was good enough for you to consider him a friend, but weak enough to be afraid of losing contact after graduating, especially because your family wanted to move to the other side of the country and you were supposed to join Ketsubutsu Academy, not U.A. Bakugo had always been smart, talented, and organised, which made you see him as an example and a person to lean on. Moreover, you had similar quirks. From time to time, you were even trying to suppress a crush on him from forming. But soon, you understood that all those troubles were meaningless and would solve on their own. 

And everything was because Bakugo was a heartless idiot. There was no other explanation. The fact that he was always making fun and bullying Izuku should have made you understand it. However, due to your age-corresponding naivety, you needed a lesson for yourself. You got it, and Oh! How it hurt! It hurt enough to understand that people that were bad towards others around them would most probably be the same to you. 

How could you be that naive, even at fourteen, to think that Bakugo Katsuki – the same Bakugo Katsuki that had an entire army of boys marching behind him while he was telling them how everyone sucked and only he was fantastic – had a crush on you? Yes, he wrote in his hand-write – you recognised it because you sat near him enough times to do it – a love letter in which he said that he had always seen you as a “partner in crime” and hold lots of respect for you, how your quirk didn’t influence your soft and kind personality even a little bit, and he looked up to you. But it wasn’t the reason behind his letter, he wanted you to be his girlfriend and conquer the hero world together. 

When he gave you this letter, he asked you to read it in front of him and give him an answer right away. It was early in the morning – you always came earlier to have some time to prepare for the lessons and he knew it – so you had time to read and answer. The letter made you smile and you could feel your cheeks getting red. The classmate with the best quirk in the school and probably one of the best in the entire country, admired you too, in both personal and “professional” ways. Maybe you could convince your parents to let you study at U.A. or have a long distance relationship with Bakugo? You could study together, train together, go to internships together. There were so many things you could enjoy with Bakugo, or could you call him Katsuki already? You looked up at him and he wasn’t looking at you, he was staring out of the window and you found it very cute, as if he was embarrassed. Bakugo Katsuki actually had a heart and feelings! But, Oops! You didn’t answer him yet.

“I also hold a lot of respect for you Bakugo, and I would like us to continue growing together as partners in crime and in love,” your smile was so big, some of your words were barely recognizable, but it was enough to make a tint of pink appear on Bakugo’s cheeks. 

“Then let’s go home together today,” your now boyfriend whispered while looking at the door and ran away. 

All the time to the last period went too slow and you couldn’t help but space out and always smile, which your classmates sensed immediately and started asking you about it. Your closest friends at that time knew you enough to suspect you got a boyfriend and you told them you did, but couldn’t say yet who he was. You wanted to go on a date first and then tell them everything about how Katsuki was when he was in love. He had to be super cute, with those strong arms that were probably giving the best, comfiest hugs full of reassurement, with the way he turned a little bit of pink when talking about his feelings, with the way he looked so boyish when embarrassed. 

And the last five minutes of school finally passed and you got ready as fast as possible, telling your friends to wait for updates from you. When you left the school, your boyfriend was talking with his friends, the boys that were always following him around. 

“Bakugo, are you ready to go home?” you asked with the sweetest voice possible, shifting your weight from one leg to another. And everyone stopped talking. In your memories, even the birds stopped chirping. 

“Give me your lunch money, boys. I told you I can make the most popular girl in the school believe I have a crush on her!” was what Bakugo hissed without even looking at you. 

You didn’t know for sure, but you had a gut feeling that if he looked at you, he would have understood what he had done. All the boys around him were his loyal “friends” following him everywhere and doing everything he asked them to, but no one moved that time. Your backpack fell on the ground and everything started to get foggy. Some voices you couldn’t recognize at that moment were asking if you were okay. It took you some time to get enough force to take your bag back and move away from there. But unfortunately, you didn’t know the school yard well enough not to stumble while seeing nothing. Soon, you were on the ground with all the things from your backpack falling again. At home, you saw that a few pens and one notebook disappeared and that your long socks had holes around the knee, while your knees were bleeding. But you were numb. Good thing it happened a few weeks before graduating, because you started to ignore everyone except your closest friends, afraid they were pranking their friendliness and interest in you too. 

It stopped in high school, where you could start anew. And you were sure you grew out of it until you found out that your new-founded agency was a few blocks away from Dynamight’s new agency. From then on, on nearly all the big missions you were together. No one, not even his former high school classmates, spent so many working hours with him. Was it pissing you off? Not that much. There was one single problem: you were searching for hidden meaning in everything Bakugo did. And even if he now was kneeling in front of you, after he risked his life saving you, you couldn’t take him seriously. 

“I know what you did, Dynamight,” after middle school you never called him anything else except his hero name. Deep down, you wanted him to think you forgot his name. “I saw how you dropped drastically in the rating last week after one of the victims you saved accused you of being heartless for yelling at her. You were called a misogynist, and heartless forever-alone that was obvious for everyone why he didn’t have a girlfriend. Of course, now you need someone to fit into your fans’ fantasies about how good of a boyfriend you actually were. No, how good of a man. And the only reason you carried me bridal-style out of the building is probably to feed in their shipping obsession, so that next news about you won’t be about you being an incel.”

When you looked at the faces of the two people present in your ward, you saw your secretary slowly walking backwards to the exit. She was so busy doing it silently that she didn’t even close her mouth after the shock you caused her. She stopped right under the door frame and stared at you. Bakugo took the handle on your bed to support himself while getting up. Upon seeing it, you stood on your butt and held onto his forearm to give him support on his other side. After he got on his feet, he looked at your hands that were still holding him. You retrieved them and looked at your “ex” directly in his eyes.

“That’s what I don’t understand about you, Y/N,” he started. It was one of the rare times he was addressing you with your real name. It was always taking you aback, because you sometimes thought he forgot you knew each other since before. “I send you flowers to your office, and you post photos of them on your social media account. I ask you as my plus-one at events, and you accept. I send you bento boxes nearly daily at your agency and you always tell the delivery guy to thank the sender. And now you accuse me of using you for media play?”

You weren’t friends with Bakugo. You weren’t even enemies. He was simply pissing you off every now and then, making you question everything that seemed rational. You had always been on edge when Overshoot and Dynamight had to work together. But you thought you grew to somehow understand him. And now, he sounded genuinely hurt. However, it couldn’t stop you from: What the fuck, Bakugo Katsuki?! What the actual fuck! at him inside your head. 

“I once helped the owner of the flower shop from which you buy the flowers that you give me, so I was sure he was simply giving me thank-you gifts. Asking me if I go to an event and telling me the time you are going to be there is not asking me to be your plus one, Bakugo. And I was sure the bentos were sent by your PR manager to my secretary, because they had little cute drawings on them every time. I didn’t even know you could draw! I have never eaten them whole, always giving them to her. And, of course, I thank the delivery guy and the sender. I do have manners!”

You wanted to add Unlike you, but after everything he said, it didn’t seem right to attack him even more. Bakugo didn’t answer anything to your explanation, nor did he laugh or get mad. His face just looked deep in thoughts. He limped to the exit, making your secretary nearly stumble, trying to think where to go to let him pass. In the end, your former classmate turned to you before exiting the room: “I do really regret everything I did in the past, Overshoot. But I have actually had a crush on you since forever.”

You looked as he disappeared, trying to understand the reason behind his actions. You thought you already knew, at least at surface level, how Bakugo Katsuki worked, but now you knew you had no idea what was behind Dynamight’s mask. And then, your eyes fell on your secretary.

“Did you know?” you made yourself mumble. 

She shook her head. 

“I knew it wasn’t my boyfriend who made the bentos, but the first time I tried to explain it to you, you were too busy. Which meant, I also had to be busy, so I didn’t have enough time to order or go to the market. I ate the bento and it turned out to be the best food I have ever had in my entire life. I couldn’t tell you afterwards. I’m sorry. I am a gluttony and I will accept any form of punishment.”

You sighed and let yourself be buried into the hospital pillows, hoping they would open into the underworld and let you isekai directly there. But it didn’t happen. And a few days after, you were already home when another flashing of Breaking News appeared on the screen of your TV. 

BREAKING NEWS! Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight admits in an interview that he has never had a girlfriend. You’ll never guess the reason behind it! It’s not because he is too busy, as all of us probably think. No. From his words, it’s because he is bad with words. We wish Dynamight will soon find someone to understand him telepathically. 

You knew that after this all the people – pro-heros or not, minors or adults – with a telepathy quirk would send him their profiles and letters about how they could change him. As always, you wanted to ignore the news about your colleague. But something in your mind didn’t let you do it. It was probably the fiery enumeration of all the “kind” actions Bakugo did to win you over. So, you called the owner of the flower-shop you once helped. You asked him to deliver the flowers as fast as possible and gave him twice the price of the bouquet. If it was too late, it would lose the shock effect. And you were right! For the first time since you saw him at the hospital, you were sure you were right about something regarding Bakugo.

“What the fuck, Y/N? What the actual fuck?” You smiled, thankful that he used your real name again. But you had to cough to hide the smile from your voice.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to celebrate the two-weeks longevity of your high rank, or the funeral of your most-seeked-bad-boy career. So, I sent you chrysanthemums.”

“Soft-spoken hero my ass,” he mumbled on the phone. You laughed this time loud enough to let him hear it. 

“That’s because you unlock the deepest, most hidden parts of my soft persona, Bakugo.”

You called his name intentionally for the first time. You wanted him to know you remembered him. No one said a word after this and you were ready to end the call. There was enough friendliness between you two for now. It was the first friendly interaction you had since middle school. 

“Y/N. I want to ask you something,” he started. “At first, I wanted to ask Deku, but he is too busy with his shitty office job. But I need your help with something that will propulse me up in the highest ranks.”

You raised your brow and for a second you could see where the shippers for Bakugo and Midoriya were coming from. Did he really try to drag Midoriya in a dating scandal to get upper in the ranks?

“Can you teach me how to give interviews that won’t jeopardize my whole career?”

Oh. So it wasn’t an invitation to a date. Not that you would have accepted it. You weren’t even sure you wanted to accept being Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s public-speech professor. It didn’t matter that you could mess around with him from time to time now. His persona still made you question everything around you.

“I really look up to you, Overshoot. I will never be as serene and calm as you, but I can at least use the interviews in my favor instead of thinking I will destroy my career every time an idiot… a journalist crosses my path.”

Not calling the journalists idiots was a good start, you thought and accepted. But only if the lessons were conducted during your patrols, the ones that you did together in any case. Or, at least, that was at first. Because Bakugo’s shenanigans were so funny, you were ready to listen to them even in your free time. So, every now and then, you would go to his house during lunch or dinner, to eat and teach him how to behave. Or just talk about everything that came into your mind. He stopped sending bento boxes and flowers at your office. So, these pseudo-lessons were the only way of eating his food – and your secretary was right about it being the best thing you had ever tried. 

During one of these dinners, you got an email from the Hero Society, inviting you to yet another gala. You understood that Bakugo saw the mail on his smart watch, because he stopped stirring the vegetables to look at something on his wrist. For a second, he turned to you, but said nothing. You moved in your seat, changing three positions in the last minute. Finally, you rehearsed the sentence you wished to say out loud enough times in your mind and mumbled: “Do you want to go to the gala with me?”

Damn, you definitely thought of it as a date. But after telling Bakugo going on galas with him wasn’t equal to going as his plus-one, you had to stop yourself from raising your hopes too high. However, you completely forgot that both of you were as experienced in love and, in this case, shared the same two neurons that weren’t even forming a synapse. 

After the gala, you heard your secretary answering her phone with only four words: “Yes, they are dating.” You had no idea what she was talking about, maybe some common acquaintances she had with the caller. And then, you saw it.

BREAKING NEWS! Pro-Hero Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight’s PR department and Pro-Hero OvershO2t’s secretary confirmed that the hand-holding at yesterday's gala between them wasn’t a platonic one. The two explosion heroes – the hot-headed one and the always calm one – are actually dating!

Your phone rang and you answered without even looking at the ID. You knew who it was.

“We are?” two voices morphed into one. 

The news continued: “Pro-Hero Red Riot, known to be one of the closest friends of Dynamight confirmed the rumors too by saying <<Yes, they are. But please, blur my face. I don’t want to die tonight.>>”

“Want to go on a date after you finish with your job?” a soft whisper reached your ears. 

[light-yaers]

tangerine. | part two [carmen berzatto x reader]

Fic Masterpost | AO3

Carmen shows up at your diner after five years, and everything comes flooding back like it was only yesterday.

Warnings: swearing, angst, mature themes [discussions about drugs, workplace abuse, family problems]

Word count: 6k+

PART TWO

You lit your cigarette before the back door even fully shut. You leaned against the wall as you inhaled, and exhaled slowly when you could feel the smoke in your lungs expand. It was a nasty habit, you knew, but it was the only time where you got an ounce of peace at the diner. Two minutes to yourself, not in the cold walk-in, but outside where no one could yell for you, or grab at you, or need you. When you were out here, the chefs and staff alike knew not to bother you. It was just for you. 

Carmen knew that rule well, but that didn’t stop him from following you out the door. He burst through the back door like he was an employee under the diner roof, and found you immediately. You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, not wanting anything to start today. 

You inhaled again, and let out the smoke quickly. “You know you’re not allowed back here–”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he boomed. Sydney’s words from before had completely dissipated in his mind.

You turned back to him, eyes wide, utterly gobsmacked. “With me? Are you fucking joking?”

“What, it’s been five years and not even a fucking hello or a how you doing?–”

“Oh, sorry, Carm,” you said sarcastically. You stepped towards him in anger. “I was under the impression you never wanted to fucking see me again, huh? Isn’t that what you said last time at USC, or did I just make that shit up or something?”

Carmen shut his mouth. You both breathed heavily as the silence descended over you, only broken up by him pulling a pack of cigs from his pocket and plucking a stick from the foil. He slotted the cigarette between his lips, and lit it without a word. As he inhaled, he leaned against the wall next to you. You smoked together, not making a sound, as smoke coiled around your heads and disappeared into the air without a trace. 

You flicked ash on the floor. “What are you doing here, Carm?” you asked. 

He sighed, trying to calm himself down. “Getting ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” you asked, and glanced at the side of his face for just a second. He still looked the same, just a bit older. He had more tattoos on his arms, and a stronger jaw, but he was definitely the same Carmen you’d known once. 

“A restaurant. In Chicago.” 

You finally met his eyes, awestruck. He looked down at you to his left, and all the years came flooding back. Behind your eyes, behind the pain and the shit he’d said last time, was someone who still cared about his endeavours. It was almost too much to bear. 

“You found a place?” you asked. 

Carmen nodded. “The Beef. My brother’s old place,” he said, and scratched his head almost painfully. “He, uh… died, and left it to me. We’re doing it up.”

“We?”

“Me and Syd,” he said, and pointed back at the door. Sydney was still inside, at the table alone. “And, uh, Nat and Richie.”

You exhaled a shaking breath, smoke free. Your fingers started to buzz. You were torn between wanting to congratulate him, and wanting to walk away. This was immense for him, and something you knew he’d been wanting from the very beginning. He’d done it, was doing it, but despite all the time you couldn’t help but think– 

Weren’t we supposed to do this together? 

It didn’t matter now. It had been too long and you’d missed each other, passed by, lost the opportunity. Even so, after all this time, would you even want to go back?

You swallowed away all the words that wanted to pour from your mouth. “Wow,” you said, and it sounded stale. “That’s… that’s big.”

“Yeah,” Carm said.

“When do you open?” you asked. You tried to keep things light. 

“Couple of months. We need to open fast. Faster than we wanted to, so, yeah. It’s a lot.” 

As his words fizzled away, you looked at the ground. The air between you felt thick, heavy, with all of the words that you both wanted to say to the other, but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Now wasn’t the time to think about what could have been. Maybe, if what happened at USC hadn’t happened, things would have been different. You’d still be friends, have any semblance of a relationship, compared to being almost strangers. 

In fact, you’d pick being strangers with Carm over this. Inside, you still harboured the hurt from those years previous. He’d been so horrible. He’d been so cruel. You wondered if he still remembered all he’d said, or if he had no memory of the way he’d cut you to your core. 

It’d been too long. It didn’t matter. Nothing would change from this. 

“Well.” You sucked in a final pull from your cig, before you flicked it on the ground. You looked him in the eyes as you stood up straight. “Good luck with it all,” you said, before you started towards the door. 

Carm shot up from the wall. “You should come to the opening, in July.”

“Yeah, maybe.” You grabbed the door handle, and Carmen tensed immediately. 

“We’re looking for a front of house manager,” he blurted out. You froze. All the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you clamped your eyes shut. “I don’t know– if you wanted a change, or something new.”

Your fingers hurt from how hard you held onto the door handle. Your knuckles had turned white. Quickly, you inhaled a sharp breath, turning back to him. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Carm realised his mistake as soon as you spoke. “Fuck– I just–”

“No, Carm. Think about it. You think that you can come back here after five fucking years, and offer me this like it’s nothing?” You were seething, you were upset. It only cemented that he didn’t realise how bad he’d hurt you, and if he did, then that was even worse. 

He looked around the back of the building, anywhere but at you, trying to find the right words. “I was shitty, I get that.”

“Do you?” You stepped forward once. “Tell me how shitty you were, Carmen.”

“I was– fuck– I shouldn’t have–” he stumbled over his words. 

“You shouldn’t have treated someone– who only fucking cared about you– like that, is that what you were gonna say?” you said over him, and the look on his face told you everything. You knew Carmen well, and you thought that was why he struggled. You could see right through him, especially back then. “You have a habit of pushing away people that give a shit about you.”

He frowned at you in understanding. “Yeah,” he whispered. 

“I hope you grow out of it one day, and realise your worth,” you said, and felt the familiar sting of tears welling in your eyes. 

“That’s what I’m trying to fucking do,” he said, finding his voice. He took a strong step forward, taking you by surprise. “Come and work at the restaurant. You need to give yourself a fucking chance too, not just other people.”

You scoffed at his change of character. “You’re really flipping it this way?”

“Yeah, I am,” he said plainly. “You’ve been here, what, seven years? You know you’re qualified to work in places ten times the level of the diner–”

“God– fuck you!” you burst, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed and your chest stuttered. “You can’t just come back here after all this time and tell me that you give a shit, that you’re living your dream and you finally want me to be a fucking part of it–”

Carmen cut over you. “So only you’re allowed to say I need to know my fucking worth, huh? I can’t say it back to you?”

“I know my worth!” you exclaimed. Carmen sucked in a breath and shut his mouth after, holding his breath. “I’ve known my worth all along, and sure, maybe I’m too good for this fucking place, but it’s my home.” Carmen’s face softened as the words tipped from your mouth. “What worth would I have if I went back to someone who treated me like shit?”

Carmen placed his hands on his hips and looked at the floor. His shoulders were tense as he hung his head in subtle shame. You knew Carmen. You knew he wasn’t like this, not always, which is what made it even harder to say no. 

“This was our dream,” he said gently. 

“It was your dream, Carm,” you said. He caught your eye strongly.

“You were always part of it.” The breath hitched in your throat. “It was always gonna be you and me–”

“Until it wasn’t,” you said over him. There was a finality to your words that Carmen understood wholeheartedly. He’d been too late, left it too long, for you to drop everything and come back now. 

He inhaled deeply, and let his breath out slowly, surely. “I’m sorry,” he said, hitting your eye. “For all of it. The way I acted. Cutting you all out of my life. I’m trying… not to do that anymore.”

You nodded gently, softening your expression. “I’m happy for you,” you said, and you meant it. “I just can’t do it.”

“Okay,” Carmen said. “Okay,” he repeated, trying to get it all to stick.  

You placed your hand on the door handle, and tugged it open. “It was good to see you,” you said. Maybe it was a lie, or maybe it had been nice to see his face after all these years. You just didn’t know yet. 

Carmen nodded. “You too,” he said. You shut the door behind you as you went inside, leaving him out the back with his half smoked cigarette. 

Sydney was amongst the last customers in the restaurant after lunch, and you sighed as you saw her alone. You strolled towards her table, and started picking up empty plates when you approached. “Nice meal?” you asked. 

“Amazing,” Sydney perked up awkwardly. “You were right. Those tangerines are good.”

You smiled. “They’re my favourite, too,” you revealed. 

Sydney rang her hands on the table. “Um, where’s Carmen?”

You kept your face flat, not wanting to show just how erratically your heart was beating after the entire ordeal. “Having a smoke, out the back. You can head out that way, I’ll clear this all up,” you suggested. 

Sydney got up and nodded. “Thank you. It was really nice to meet you,” she said. When you looked at her face, you could tell she was being genuine. “Carmen knows a lot of people in this industry, and most of the places and people aren’t like this, or, uh– like you. It’s a refreshing change.” She smiled. 

You felt bashful at her words, but ignored the warmth that spread to your cheeks. In that moment, you knew that Carmen had found himself a great partner. You just hoped he wouldn’t fuck it all up for her sake. 

Sydney quickly shuffled in her bag, and brought out her wallet. “How much do we owe you?”

“Oh,” you stuttered, before you shook your head. “On the house. How do they say it? No checks.” 

“Oh, no, I insist–”

“So do I. Didn’t you hear Paulie?” you said, stacking a final plate on your arm, as you balanced the rest with ease. “I’m the big boss around here.” 

Sydney smiled marvellously. Her eyes shone when she did. “Okay, okay,” she said, backing off. “Whatever the big boss says, goes, right?”

“Too right,” you said, as you stood up straight and looked at her face-on. “I… I hope everything with the restaurant goes great.”

Sydney nodded, understanding that Carmen must have told you about it outside. “Yeah, me too. You should come by.”

You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, so you simply nodded. You stepped back and headed towards the kitchen, but stopped halfway there. “Good luck, Sydney. You’re gonna need it with him,” you said, gesturing towards the back door. Carmen. 

Sydney scoffed, amused. The way her face dropped softly, and her eyes widened gently, made you feel properly seen. Like you were sharing words through looks alone, and absolutely knew what position the other was in, or had been in. “Uh, if you’re ever in Chicago– don’t be a stranger,” she added awkwardly, but you found it incredibly endearing.

You smiled, before you continued to the kitchen. As you did, you hoped it wouldn’t be like what happened to you, for her. 

It was always like this with Carmen. He somehow always found himself next to people like you and Sydney, strong-willed, capable, caring, but almost always fucked it up in some capacity. He’d done it before with you, and others, and neither you–nor Sydney– wanted it to happen again. Not when their restaurant would be on the line.

You dropped off the plates at the sink, and found yourself looking around the empty kitchen. The chefs were out the back, taking their after-lunch break. Sydney had already left through the door at the back of the restaurant, so they’d no doubt all bump into each other before Carmen fully left. 

Gently, you opened the walk-in and pulled the door closed behind you. You ducked down to the lower shelves, at the back, until you found what you were looking for– tangerines. There was a crate of them, some of them fresher than others, but you liked the ones that were almost over-ripe. You grabbed a couple and held them in your hands, before you headed back to the kitchen. 

Grabbing Paulie’s knife, you sliced them into quarters. The insides were the most neon of oranges. Unlike the peels on big oranges, tangerine peels were thinner. You liked it when the colour of the juice was so vibrant that it got stuck behind your eyelids for a moment. You liked it when you picked up a quarter and it almost fell apart. 

You were reminded of a memory then, of the last time you’d seen Carmen before today. Five years ago, when your reservation at Union Square Cafe had finally arrived, Carmen was in the kitchen just like you’d known he would be. 

You arrived on time, dressed in something fancy and upper-class, just to fit in. It’d been ten months since you’d seen him, since he’d left Lucky Strike Diner, and he’d been far too busy to come by. You didn’t blame him. He was finally doing what he’d meant to, and, just as before, you’d been absolutely right– within five months at USC, Carmen Berzatto won the James Beard award. 

You weren’t at the restaurant to tell him I told you so, but you couldn’t deny that you felt powerful about it. You knew Carmen better than he knew himself. But maybe that was more of a curse, than a blessing. 

The hostess sat you down at your table for one, as the restaurant emitted a gentle lull of mutters and chatter. You’d booked a later reservation, nearer to the end of dinner service, and everything was serene as you perused the menu and chose a wine. A few moments later, a waitress brought over your glass, and you sipped at it gently.

This was nice. You could get used to this. Fine dining, putting on a show of excellence. This was so far removed from the world of the diner that you almost felt like a different person. Someone elegant, someone important. Not that you didn’t feel loved or supported at Lucky Strike, but you knew that standards in a place like Union Square Cafe were above and beyond. That’s how they got their stars, and kept them. 

In the kitchen, Carmen worked on an order. He positioned micro basil and other delicate ingredients on the plates, working with immense precision alongside the rest of the kitchen. When he was done, he let out a strong “Hands!” and within moments all the plates had been picked up and whisked from the kitchen. 

He made his way to the expo, banked a few more tickets, before his eye caught something. He stopped– froze, almost– as his gaze fell over your name on the reservations list. 

“Chef,” he said, turning to his front of house manager, who was responsible for calling out orders, and ensuring everything ran smoothly. “This booking, table thirty two– has she ordered yet?” 

“No, Chef. She was still looking the last time a server went to her table.”

Carmen had a thought, and he was going to put it into motion. “Take her menu away. I’ll be cooking for her tonight. Chef’s pick.”

“Yes, Chef,” the manager said, before she quickly fled the kitchen. 

Carmen took in a breath. “I need two veal, four salmon and one beef!”

“Yes, Chef!” the crew boomed in unison. 

You thought you’d decided. The salmon looked appealing, and as soon as you’d picked it was as if a server came over from being summoned. You turned to her, and smiled. “I’m ready to order,” you said. 

“That won’t be necessary, ma’am,” she said softly, as she gently plucked the menu from your hands. “Chef Berzatto is taking care of it for you.”

Chef Berzatto. 

Hearing Carmy’s name in such a way had you downright giddy. You wondered how he’d known, or if he’d been told, or whatever. You knew that top restaurants had a habit of being attentive to the max, so maybe they’d background checked you. Either way, you were excited. 

“Looking forward to it,” you said, accepting the fate of your meal as being in Carmen’s hands. You simply sat back, swilled your wine, and felt at peace. 

As you waited, you peered around the restaurant. Everything was laid out perfectly, had a system that worked, and every couple and group and business party looked catered for. It was an utterly different vibe than the diner. This was a place for another species, not like the locals you knew by name. You’d always assumed that intense and fanciful restaurants like this lacked character, in a way. They chose excellence over warmth, or stars over honest food, but you’d been wrong. 

Already, despite being on your own, you felt like you belonged. Carmen knew you were here, his servers knew you were here, and you knew why you were here. For him. 

A few parties finished up as you waited for your meal. All the while, you were generously topped up on wine from the servers, and positioned right by the kitchen. You could hear the methodical way they spoke to each other, sometimes, and the whoosh of the door every time someone stepped from within back into the restaurant, and vice versa. 

In the kitchen, Carmen finished up preparing your dish. He’d been transported away as he worked, reminded of you with every garnish that he placed and ru that he drizzled. Whenever he saw the colour orange, he thought of you. It was impossible not to, when he’d cut up an uncountable number of tangerines for you during his time at the diner. As he placed the final piece of your dish, he readied himself to yell for hands, but stopped himself.

Instead, he grabbed your plate and approached his front of house manager. “How are we for time?”

“Fine, Chef. We’re in the after dinner lull, only desserts are left. Table thirty-two is the final main of the evening.”

Carmen nodded. “Right.”

“Do you want to take it to her?” she asked knowingly, and Carmen swallowed. “You know her, don’t you? An old friend?”

“Something like that,” he said, not knowing how to even begin to explain you. An ex-work colleague just sounded wrong, but an old friend sounded wrong, too. You’d been so much more than either of those, and still were. You supported his endeavours, and cared beyond belief. 

The kitchen at USC was vastly different from the atmosphere at Lucky Strike. It was robotic, and static, and everyone had their purpose and place. Carmen’s purpose was that of importance, being chef de cuisine, but his superior– the head chef– was not like Paulie used to be. 

Not in the slightest. 

“I’ll take it,” Carmen finally replied. He placed your plate down and straightened out his chef whites. “How do I look?” he asked her. 

She smiled. “Smart,” she said. That was enough. 

As you sipped the last of your glass of red, you tensed when the door to the kitchen burst open. You turned your gaze towards it, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Walking towards you with the speed of a freight train, chef whites donned and clean, hair slicked back, was Carmy. He powered through the restaurant and gained glances of respect from other guests, triggering a small hubbub of chatter from other tables. 

You relaxed even further into your chair, knowing that you didn’t need to perform. You didn’t need to sit up straight, or lean in, or do anything other than smile at him with as much warmth as you could possibly muster. He’d made it, and this was exactly what you’d wanted to witness– you just hadn’t expected him to leave the seclusion of the kitchen just for you. 

Carmen reached your table, and set down your surprise meal. He gently drifted the plate towards you, and leaned down intimately. 

“Your meal this evening is our classic fillet of salmon, with a twist,” he said. You had to stop yourself from laughing. You felt overwhelmed in the best way. 

“A twist, Chef?” you asked. 

“I took the liberty of adding fresh tangerine juice to the jus.” 

Your eyes sparkled as he revealed all. It was very easy to feel special when you were alone with Carm at the diner before, to understand the gravity of his actions when he got past his shyness and opened up more, but this hit it out of the park. Your chest compressed as your heart lurched. Your lungs spluttered as you sucked in a shaking breath. 

The sides of Carmen’s mouth curled almost imperceptibly, but you knew that look from a mile away. That small smile, that warmth, that affection, that he reserved solely for those people that he knew deserved it. That fact you were here, and everything else from before, was reason enough for you to deserve it. Innately, he felt good when he looked at you this way. It made everything clear, wiped the slate clean, made his crumbling chest settle just that tiny bit more. 

Carmen stood up straight, hands behind his back. “I wanted to mention that there’ll be no checks tonight.”

You finally sat up straight, and immediately went to protest. “I–”

“We insist. I insist,” Carm cut you off softly. 

You looked at the perfectly cooked salmon on the table, the bright orange jus, the drops of red wine on the sides of your glass. “Okay,” you said, peering back up at him. 

“Okay,” he repeated, and his smile grew. 

The cogs whirred in his brain, as he became hyper-aware of the other guests around him. He still had dessert orders to fill, and an entire kitchen to break down and clean. As much as he wanted to stay, to sit opposite you, to throw a kitchen towel at your face when you looked at him so deeply and warmly and lovingly, he simply couldn’t. 

He leaned in once more, so much that your hairs stood on edge as he whispered. “I finish just before midnight,” he whispered gently, before pulling away. “Stay.” He swallowed. “Please.” 

“Okay,” you whispered.

You stayed until the restaurant was empty. The hostess at the front folded napkins in the dim light of the deserted bar, but stopped ever so often to fill up your wine glass. She smiled at you every time she did. 

It was a comfortable silence in the empty restaurant, a silence that you knew very well from being at the diner after hours. Inside the kitchen, you knew Carm would be breaking down after service. Cleaning every single surface in sight, scrubbing the floors until they shined, labelling produce with tape that was cut; not ripped. 

Close to midnight, the kitchen door slammed open once more. Carm had stripped off his chef whites, opting for jeans and an old tee. He spotted you from across the restaurant and smiled smally. “Wanna see?” he asked. 

He held the door open for you as you stepped into the kitchen. The sleekness of it all practically took your breath away. Every surface shone, every plate and bowl and mug glimmered. This was such a step up from the diner, one that you’d been expecting, but seeing it in person was far more incredible.

“Fucking hell,” you muttered under your breath. 

Carmen huffed in amusement. “I know.”

“This is… this is insane.” 

He nodded slowly, coming up to stand beside you as the door swayed on its hinges, before settling shut. “It feels like a dream, somedays,” he said, admiring the workspace with you. “And some days, it doesn’t.” 

“I’m so proud of you, Carm.” You smiled. He smiled back, and for just a moment it was as if no time had passed. It was like you were back in the diner, talking about your dreams together. A place to call your own, and all that jazz. Perhaps, those dreams were still there somewhere.

“I’m not sure I deserve that,” he replied, but not quite jokingly enough for your liking.

You sent him a side-eyed stare and caught the look on his face– fear, or perhaps, damage. When he hit your eyes a second later, that look melted away. All you saw then was warmth. Carmen didn’t often show much on his face, but you could see it all. The years you’d spent alongside him had taught you more than how to run a restaurant; you were one of a handful of people that could seamlessly read Carmen like a book. 

That’s why your gut coiled innately. That look wasn’t one that you’d take lightly. 

“How’s it all going?” you asked. 

He let out another huff and shrugged his shoulders, before opting to move away and roam the clean kitchen. “I can’t complain.” He swiped his hand across the stainless steel workbench. 

“And that chef, David or whatever his name is, how is he?”

Carmen froze for a fraction of a second, but it was enough to make your hairs stand on end. His arms tensed, until you saw the strength within his veins rise to the surface. He looked up at you sternly, clenching his jaw. “He’s an excellent chef.” 

“Okay,” you said. “That’s great. What about how he manages this place, manages you?”

“What is this, twenty fucking questions?” Carmen let out defensively.

It only cemented that you knew something was wrong. 

“Okay– I’ll pretend you didn’t just snap at me for being interested,” you let out belligerently. “What the hell is it, Carm?”

“Drop it,” he said sternly, moving away from you and over to the enormous shelves of shimmering white plates. “I got a James Beard award, didn’t I? I got everything I fucking wanted here, so just drop it.”

“Listen,” you started, fast walking your way around the central island and closer to him. “I get it, I’m not part of this world– your world– anymore. But I still know a thing or two about chefs and their giant fucking egos. What’s going on?”

Carmen closed his eyes and let out a subtly shaking breath. You were taken aback by this whole conversation, the drastic shift in his mood as soon you’d started asking questions. 

“Carm,” you said softly, dialling things down a little. “Just look at me for a second.” 

His shoulders relaxed, dipping into more of a tired hunch than his previous disposition of a deer in headlights. When his eyes hit yours, your heart lurched in your chest. Those eyes, god– the blue was etched in the corners of your brain. Like a clear sky in summer, or a glittering pool, or a calm ocean. Carmen was many things, but clear, glittering and calm were not traits that most people would pin onto him. 

Not you, though. This was the Carm that dreamt with you. This was the Carm that cut up tangerines into quarters for you whenever you asked, or even when you didn’t. Blue and orange, swirling together like the patterns on peppermint hard-candy or gingham squares on the Lucky Strike tablecloths. Ingrained. Permanent. 

“He’s taught me a lot,” Carmen whispered. 

You knew it wasn’t your place, but red flags popped up in your mind and billowed in the breeze immediately. He looked stripped back, a shell of himself, just for those fleeting seconds, and you fucking hated it. 

“You’ve been here for almost a year,” you said, swallowing away the butterflies that had started crawling up your throat. “Maybe now is a good shot to find something else.” 

Carm’s eyes widened brightly, and you saw all his plans from before; his restaurant, his staff, his food and the like. And then, as if a gust of wind uprooted the largest tree within his mind, that was gone. Replaced by something seething, something angry and not at all kind, Carmen rose. 

“You’re telling me to quit?” 

You took a small step back. “Of course, I’m not–”

“No, no, you fucking are.” He bit down on his tongue, you heard it. “You think being here for a few hours and one meal is enough for you to tell me what the fuck to do?”

“Carmen, what are you talking ab–”

“Fuck!” His shoulders squared off, and suddenly he was a corrugated iron board before you. Immovable, stuck in place. “You came here to tell me I’m strong enough, right? What, you want me to go back to the diner with Paulie and everyone else who’s never had a real fucking goal in their lives?”

“Wow,” you breathed out, laughing a little as a lack of what else to respond. 

You stood your ground, as much as you wanted to scream and yell like a petulant child. The look on his face, the brick wall he’d built so high around himself, was something you’d seen before– self-sabotage, tugging away from everything and everyone that was there to help. A level of acceptance and denial alike was testament alongside situations such as this; abusive situations. 

This Chef David was abusing the shit out of him. And Carmen was deep, way down to the core of it, just trying to get through his days, shift by shift, in any way possible. Even if that meant cutting off those dreams, cutting off people from his past– you. 

“You really think I’d do that?” you said bluntly. “You really think I booked this solo reservation a fucking year ago because I wanted to come and drag you back to the diner?”

Carm’s eyes brightened momentarily. “A year ago?”

You took another step back, careful not to immediately fall into him from the childish bewilderment on his face. It was like he’d never had someone care, but you knew that wasn’t true. He just didn’t know how to spot when someone did, misconstrued it as someone trying to harm him, hurt him, ruin him. 

“I booked to come here a year ago, Carmen,” you started. “I fucking knew you’d make it here. I knew that when I came today, you’d be the one cooking my damn meal. I was fucking right.”

It was his turn to take a step back now, just a little. Perhaps he was overwhelmed because he wasn’t expecting this. Wasn’t expecting you to still stay supporting him after he left, or didn’t even want to think about what the guys at the diner might be saying about him after he’d gone. Little did he know, everyone still talked about him with smiles and bright eyes. 

Carmen Berzatto was the only motherfucker out there that didn’t know people supported him wholeheartedly. 

“I’m not telling you to leave, or quit, or whatever else you fucking think I was about to say,” you began again. Carm swallowed nervously. “You can think what the hell you want to think about us at Lucky Strike, but we’re still the same people we’ve always been. I guess that can’t be said about you now, huh?”

Carmen’s anxiety turned to anger in a heartbeat. “What, ‘cause I actually made a name for myself instead of you all staying in the fucking box you planted yourselves in years ago? If that’s why I’ve changed, then I’m fucking glad about it.”

“Fuck– there you go again!” you exclaimed. “You’re talking down to us like we’re pieces of fucking shit on your brand-spanking new shoes!” 

“And you’re looking at me with those fucking baby-eyes like I’m gonna crumble any fucking second!” Carmen screamed. “I can’t fucking stand it.”

You placed your hands on your hips and held your ground again. “He really got to you, didn’t he?” 

Carmen saw red immediately. “If you bring up Chef David one more fucking time, then I’m done.”

“You’re done? Huh, what the hell does that mean?”

“Done with you.” 

Your eyes widened. Bile started to crawl up your oesophagus. In that moment, you’d never felt more like your mother. You knew if you were to talk, you’d adopt her stern accent instantly. You popped your hip out and bent your knee, tired of fucking standing. 

“So, you made it to the big leagues, and now you’re throwing out all your trash. Is that what it is, huh?” You stepped forward once. Carmen stayed where he was. “Look at me right here, Carm.” You pointed to your eyes, not wavering once. “Look at me right here and tell me that you hate me. Do it right now. If you do it right now then I’ll know you fucking mean it. If you do it right now then me, and Paulie, and everyone from the fucking diner will call it quits with you like that.” You snapped your fingers on that. It cemented that you meant it. 

Carmen raised his chin, so close that your noses almost touched. In any other circumstance, maybe you’d have kissed him by now. Maybe you’d have realised that you both liked each other as more, loved each other once, still fucking did. 

But, that wasn’t this reality. 

When he didn’t say anything, you knew you’d won. He stayed as still as he could as adrenaline rushed through his blood. His fingers shook at the end of his arms. His chest thumped incessantly as oxygen tried to tear through his lungs. 

“No?” you asked, almost as a final warning. 

Carm breathed in. “I hate what you represent.”

“And what exactly is it that I represent?” you whispered. 

Suddenly, Carmen dropped his forehead on yours. His hands deposited themselves on either side of your neck warmly, gently. His fingertips set your skin alight. “The one thing I can never fucking have.” 

As much as you wanted tell him to get the fuck off, to stop touching you, your heart melted as soon as your skin felt his. You clamped your eyes shut, leaning into him. Carm let out a pent up breath. His breath was warm as it skimmed your skin. 

“Carmen.” You swallowed. “Please.” You paused. “I– love you,” you stuttered. 

“I know,” he replied. “I know you do.” 

For just a second, you thought he was going to kiss you. It’d be easy to drop his lips onto yours, you were right in front of him. Heads touching, breath mingling, sharing each other’s air like it was the most normal fucking thing to do. 

You wanted him back, it was true. But not like this. Not broken, or bruised, or damaged beyond repair. It wasn’t his fault, you knew that. He’d been moulded this way. But, it was his responsibility to do good for himself. One deep dive into this entire conversation and you knew that it was impossible for him to do that, at least right now. Carmen Berzatto was stuck, and you didn’t want to get yourself stuck in the process of trying to free him. 

He sucked in a sharp breath. “Leave,” was all he said. 

You shook your head slowly, tears welling behind your eyes. “Don’t push me away.”

“Leave,” he repeated, as his hands dropped from your neck to your shoulders. Gently, he started physically pushing you off him. 

“Carmen,” you spluttered. Your eyes opened to see him in pain. God, you fucking hated it. “I won’t come back if you do this. I really fucking won’t.”

He stepped back once, twice, three times. Eyes glued on yours, blue and glassy like a glacier, his heart as cold as one, too. “Good,” he said softly, headed for the door to the kitchen.

“You don’t mean that.” You urged him to stay. 

He only nodded. “I never want to fucking see you again.” 

Carmen left unceremoniously, without another word or glance or care. The kitchen door swung shut, bobbing on its hinges. The only sound you could hear was the buzzing of the refrigerators, and the breaking of your heart strings. 

PART THREE

[anitalenia]

hii!! i love your works! could you do some prompts with friends to enemies to lovers? like they were childhood best friends but became enemies because of a misunderstanding but then their feelings start to change??

also LOVE UR BLOG <333

friends to enemies to lovers prompts . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⋆˙⟡♡ thank you so much for the request ! I love when people request things I haven’t done in a while. Thank you for supporting and liking my blog, it’s much appreciated and I’m very grateful 🫶🏻✨🩷🖤 I hope these prompts are to your liking 🧚🏻‍♀️

⋆˙⟡♡ not gonna lie I had a hard time with this because I wasn’t sure what kind of prompts to write 😭 so if I did it wrong I deeply apologize 🫶🏻✨

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can never be in the same room without arguing — A is still hurt because of what B did and refuses to listen to them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A has never stopped thinking about person B even though B hates them now

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Don’t act like you never loved me.”

“I don’t… I can’t.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B found it easy to love each other despite their brief quarrel — they used to be best friends after all

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A struggles to admit they love B after all the hurt and betrayal they suffered from because of them in the past, afraid it will happen again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They both are enemies yet as A goes to kill B memories of their childhood together flash before their eyes and they don’t have the courage to do it… B forgives them and holds a crying A in their arms

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “You were just a friend… you meant nothing to me.”

“You can’t expect me to believe that after everything we did together.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and person B have long since ruined their friendship but can’t seem to stop remembering the other… staring at a picture they took as children or a withering flower they picked together in the garden all those years ago. It was much simpler times then… times when they didn’t know they were destined to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B share long, lingering stares as they soak in the grown up appearance of their childhood friend… no longer a child and no longer a friend yet it seemed love still lingered somewhere in the familiarity of their gazes. It would appear that love was not all lost, just carefully hidden

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They can’t stop reminiscing about their brief hatred towards each other as they laugh about how silly it was years later

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “How can you forgive me? After everything I’ve done?”

“Because I know who you are better than anyone. I knew you before… this. I know this isn’t who you really are and I’ll be damned if I let anyone try and say otherwise.”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once A realizes they love B they can’t seem to hide it very well, so they’re unintentionally rude towards B — B is very confused and now thinks A hates them all over again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A has a chest of all the artifacts from their childhood, including photographs and mementos of B. A can never stop thinking about what went wrong with B and regrets everything, wanting B back more than anything

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B always finds themselves talking about A to their minions even when they’re not around + minions are entirely aware their boss still harbors feelings for their enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ “Why?! Why did you save me?!”

“Because I love you… because… ever since we were kids you always needed saving. So, who better to do it than me?”

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Once their feelings start to change for each other A refuses to acknowledge them and becomes more grumpy / cruel to B, their used to be friend now enemy

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced into close proximity and all those memories of their shared childhood (they were each others first kiss) start flashing through their mind as the heat thickens

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A wears a necklace or bracelet that B gave to them as children and can never seem to take it off even after the hate they now carry between them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A can’t help but defend B knowing better then anyone that B weren’t always evil. B looks at them grateful (confused, love struck that A would actually stand up for them after all this time)

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are lying in bed together and talk about the scars littering their bodies from their reckless adventures as children, even the fresh marks riddling their skin from when they tried to kill each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B is now evil but keeps having dreams of their childhood best friend now enemy. A is also having dreams of B, remembering what it was like when they still liked each other

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Yes, they are enemies now, but they didn’t used to be. Which is why A can’t help but bandage B wounds after a fight. B wakes up with bandages all over with A nowhere to be found

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A finds it difficult to do any real damage towards B even though they are enemies. A still holds too much love for them

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are forced to work together again on a mission even though they hate each other for something that happened years ago when they were kids. They start to get wrapped up in the familiarity and comfort the other provides as their defenses gradually start to drop and they find themselves laughing together once again

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Although they are enemies, once best friends, A can’t help but bring their prisoner (B) their favorite food and a warm blanket to sleep with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A grows up with B and gradually falls in love with B. B ends up dating other people while A is forced to watch it all. A has started to give up that B would ever see them as anything more than a friend. A starts to date a bad guy (C) in hopes of getting over B until B realizes that this guy is no good for A and that they actually love A themselves. A gets mad and only accuses B of doing this because B was jealous of them yada yada. Eventually A realizes C is no good and finally gets with B

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B have been friends since they were children and have done everything together. They end up losing their virginity to each other and A overhears B bragging about it to his friends. A now hates B and cuts off their friendship. B must apologize and make up for their wrongs

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ B and A have the same eye color, so every time they look in a mirror they can’t help but think of each other and wish for this silly fighting to stop already

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are enemies yet in the midst of the final battle A remembers their blood oath as children to never hurt one another, to always love each other. It convinces B to throw their weapon to the ground

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is being questioned by their evil boss on whether or not they are capable of killing B despite the history they have. A insists they can do the job, that B no longer matters to them. Until the time comes, and A realizes they can’t kill the love of their life and B whisks them away to safety away from the evil corp. they worked for

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ C tells A that B is doing shady things behind A’s back. A believes C even though C was lying about it all just to ruin their friendship and have A to themselves. A starts to hate B and cuts off their friendship. Later A realizes it was all lies and gets back together with B, realizing it was B who they loved all along

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A and Person B are children of two rivaling kingdoms. They were friends as children but due to parent manipulation & royal obligation they started to share that same loathing for each other as they grew up (brainwashed to believe the other was bad). Once they both grow up they realize that history doesn’t have to repeat itself and try to get over their differences. Love ensues as they start to reconnect and deconstruct past traumas together

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Person A = good. Person B = bad. B is bullied in school / as a child because of (1) who their parents are or (2) their powers or (3) really whatever reason, but A treats them nicely anyway when no one ever has and befriends them. Eventually B “submits” to the darkness inside them and is now against A. A must try and bring them back from the darkness with the love they shared since they were kids

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ They’re in the same friend group and can never be left alone together + always trying to make the friends pick sides to whose in the right. The friends can clearly tell they love each other just refuse to acknowledge it

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A was a noble princess and B a lowly servant — she was not allowed to socialize with him any longer. When she became queen, B still hated her for abandoning him as a child

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A is a powerful masked figure that is set on destroying B. It wasn’t until later that B realizes A is their childhood friend they believed had died and is now fighting against. B can’t kill A no matter how vengeful and persistent A is

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are on opposing sides of the same war yet when B gets kidnapped by A’s team A can’t seem to forget everything they once shared. A must save B and B must get over their stubbornness if they want to make it out alive

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B are two different species and their families hate each other. They became friends despite the physical and cultural differences but eventually B falls prey to their families beliefs, believing they must kill A. A has to try and reason with their childhood best friend they’ve always been in love with

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A and B were inseparable as kids, but B ended up getting popular in school and left A behind. They stop being friends due to social pressures and differences until B realizes they miss A. Will they ever go back to the way things were?

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A goes off to college out of state and leaves B behind. B has harbored bad feelings towards A for this even when A suddenly returns to town years later with a fiancé. B realizes they love A despite the hostility and must break off the wedding between A and C

₊ ⊹.𖥔 ݁ ˖ A believes their best friend B is dating people they don’t actually like just to feel validated / important. A confronts B about it but they start arguing instead because B doesn’t like being confronted by A and denies the accusations. A is frustrated that B has only seen them as a friend when A knows who B truly is and would never ask them to change who they are just to be loved *hope this made sense*

“How can you not see that the person who’s really right for you has been standing right in front of you your whole life? Are you that blind?!”

“… What are you talking about?”

“Me!… I’m that person. I’ve loved you since we were kids and I see you dating these people who don’t even appreciate you or even want you! I’ve always wanted you, I’ve loved you since the day we met. I’d treat you better than any of those jerks you choose to date.” (Something to this effect ykyk)

[cak3art]

[thebookanaconda]

Guess what I saw on reddit today!!!

[trash-in-training]

Enemies to lovers is good, but friends to enemies to lovers is unmatched