#GOD it’s so haunting in the best way possible

[helenofsparta2]

This sentence haunts me a bit.

Because after everything that Sally has sacrificed to ensure Percy’s safety, after suffering physical, emotional and psychological abuse from Gabe for years, sending Percy to probably very expensive private schools, and still managing to remain kind, baking him cookies, and giving him blue candies whenever he felt bad, and never raising her voice at him, she was still doomed to fail at fully protecting him.

Because to save Percy from getting killed by gods, and monsters, she had to invite a monster into their very home. She had to “condemn” Percy to receive physical and emotional abuse during crucial stages of his life, resulting in dangerously low self-esteem, self-hatred and even suicidal tendencies; issues which follow him throughout every single book.

By the time he was twelve, his self-esteem was so low that Percy even believed Sally didn’t want him around at the start of The Lightning Thief.

Sally, whom he thought the world of. Sally, who is, in his eyes, the kindest, most loving person in the world.

I can’t even begin to imagine how much that thought would mess with a twelve-year-old boy’s mind.

Like, I know we as a fandom see them as the most healthy and best possible mother-son bond ever, and I’m not denying that they absolutely love one another, would do anything for each other or that Sally did not do her absolute best to protect him, but their relationship is in actuality way more nuanced and heartbreaking than we tend to acknowledge most of the time.

[nemaliwrites]

girl help i’m trying to write but i can’t stop thinking about that scene from goth where that guy’s trying to kill that girl but it’s the most romantic thing you’ve ever read in your life

[unproduciblesmackdown]

also if only the physical copy of how to disappear completely & never be found i first encountered & read a few years ago (sort of [roughly avg age ten] reader book, not any similarly titled How To) hadn't disappeared completely & not been found since, probably b/c i put it somewhere i intended to be For Safekeeping, which is also how my binder vanished....b/c it's one of those like. those book for late elementary/middle school readers when they just weave in this unrealism which makes for a delightful range & unpredicability? and with a cynical protagonist girl like off to the races like wow her mom is depressed asf & smoking? and it's about A Family History Secrets Mystery so blatantly a haunting that the inciting incident is basically introducing a haunted [family history secrets mystery] house. and spoilers don't matter like it's stemming from there being this missing uncle who grew up so in contrast to the Winsome Winning Sibling Who Does It All Right while seeing his own affiliation with rats that he tried to disappear completely & never be found which led to this Tragedy which led to this more unintended disappearance of his & he haunts this house & wants to be left alone & only goes out at night with this [ambiguous Is That A Giant Rat Or Weird Small Dog (protagonist affected by these family situations who expresses her preoccupation with an awareness of how fate can Strike and Get you with this interest with roving packs of killer chihuahuas. people think she's weird though she spontaneously befriends this other girl struck with this bolt from the blue & a bit weird / outcast & then Insightful who i wish was in it more)] & plays into the hauntedness danger like playing into the [something's Wrong with you then] until having to take yet more action where the urge to express the truth comes out more both b/c living that hidden is more threatened but also b/c now the niece children are more threatened as well. ft. a sort of preternatural blurring of time b/c of only being communicated with through this uncle via his comic pages (that he paints?) of dubiously accurate translations of irl events that are created so quickly it seems to verge on foresight, imagine like "hmm what's this painting. it's me standing in this room looking at this painting??? as someone ominous lurks in the shadows right behind me?" in both [now how could you know this & paint it really fast ahead of time] and [horror]

[reidmarieprentiss]

Always You

Summary: Spencer is in love with his best friend, you already have a boyfriend.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: being called a bitch (not by spencer), sharing hotel rooms, pining, love confessions, break ups, (un)requited feelings, HAPPY ending

Word count: 4.6k

a/n: if your partner of multiple years does not know your basic likes and dislikes ..............

main masterlist

For two years, seven months, two weeks, and six days, you have been a dedicated member of the BAU. For two years, five months, two weeks, and four days, Spencer Reid has been hopelessly in love with you. But for two years and four months, and one week, you’ve been in a relationship with Duncan Cody, the Counter-Terrorism agent who everyone not-so-secretly despises. Spencer was just too late to tell you how he felt, and for two years and four months, that regret has gnawed at him, leaving him haunted by what could have been. 

—

The team was on a case in a small, dusty town in New Mexico, and the accommodations were limited, forcing everyone to double up on rooms. Naturally, you chose to bunk with your best friend, Spencer. But he was unusually tense about the arrangement.

“Hey, JJ, can we switch?” Spencer asked, his voice carrying a hint of nervousness.

JJ looked up from her phone, puzzled. “Huh? Why? I thought you liked rooming with Y/N.”

Spencer swallowed, trying to keep his voice low and steady. Usually, he did love sharing a room with you—it was comfortable, familiar. But the oppressive heat of New Mexico had driven you to wear lighter, more revealing clothes, and Spencer had been struggling with the sight of you all day. The thought of what you might wear to bed, or worse, the possibility that you might wear nothing at all, had his mind spinning and his temperature rising.

“Yeah, no, I do. It’s just… I thought you might want a chance to room with her instead of Hotch,” he stammered, attempting to sound casual.

JJ smiled warmly, shaking her head. “Aww, thanks, Spence, but I don’t mind. Hotch and I usually just talk about the boys until we pass out. It’s actually been pretty nice.”

Spencer forced a tight smile, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten as JJ cheerfully dismissed his suggestion. He could hardly blame her; in fact, he would normally jump at the chance to room with you. But the idea of spending the night so close to you, especially in the sweltering New Mexico heat, had his nerves frayed.

Back in the room, you were already making yourself comfortable, tossing your bag onto the bed with a carefree smile. "It's like a sauna out there," you groaned, fanning yourself with your hand. "I might just sleep in my underwear tonight."

Spencer’s breath caught in his throat, his mind racing at the mental image that followed your innocent comment. He cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him. "Y-yeah, it's definitely... warm."

You flashed him a grin, completely unaware of the effect you had on him. "At least the AC is working, right?"

"Right," Spencer echoed, swallowing hard. This was going to be a long night.

“Do you mind if I take the first shower? I’ll be quick, I want to get right to bed; I’m beat,” you asked, glancing up from your go-bag as you rummaged through it for your toiletries.

Spencer, trying to keep his cool, nodded quickly. “Ye–yeah, that’s fine.”

You smiled, seemingly unaware of the effect you had on him. “Oh, and which bed do you want?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Um, whichever is fine.”

“Thank god, I want the one by the window. Thanks, Spence!” You flashed him a grateful grin before grabbing your things and heading off to the bathroom.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Spencer exhaled a breath he’d been holding. It was wrong to fantasize about his best friend, especially in the very not-safe-for-work way that he often did, and especially when you had a serious partner. But he couldn’t help it. You were the kindest, most genuine person he knew, and the fact that you were also the most stunning person, inside and out, only made it that much harder for him to keep his feelings in check.

Minutes later, you emerged from the bathroom, keeping your promise to be quick. However, Spencer’s pulse skyrocketed when he saw you—dressed in nothing but your underwear and a thin tank top that left little to the imagination. He could feel his face flush as he quickly averted his gaze.

“I’m all done, Spence. Shower’s all yours,” you said cheerfully, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil.

“Uh, thanks!” Spencer blurted out, nearly tripping over his own feet as he shot up from the bed, making a beeline for the bathroom. He knew there was only one solution to his current predicament—a long, cold shower.

Once both of you were settled in bed with the lights off, you couldn’t resist starting a conversation. Sharing a room with Spencer always reminded you of those childhood sleepovers—giggly, fun, and safe. The quiet darkness seemed to invite whispered secrets, the kind that felt easier to share when you couldn’t see each other’s faces.

“I think Duncan is going to break up with me,” you whispered, your voice just loud enough for Spencer to hear, but soft enough that it felt protected by the shadows.

Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”

You hesitated for a moment, as if hearing the words out loud made them more real. “I hadn’t said it out loud yet. It sounds crazy now that I have.”

“Why do you think he’s going to break up with you?” Spencer asked, his voice gentle, though he could feel a tightness in his chest.

You sighed deeply, the weight of your thoughts evident. “He’s been pulling away recently. Fewer date nights, less texting during the day… I haven’t spoken to him on the phone once since we got here.” You paused, gathering the courage to continue. “We haven’t had sex in weeks.”

Spencer felt a sharp pang of something unpleasant in his stomach at that comment—jealousy, frustration, regret—he wasn’t sure. “Oh, I’m sorry, Y/N,” he murmured, struggling to keep his voice steady.

“Thanks, Reid,” you replied, your tone quiet and resigned.

For a long moment, silence hung between you, thick and heavy, as if neither of you knew what to say next. Just when you began to drift off, almost convinced that sleep was pulling you under, you heard Spencer’s voice, low and tender, almost as if he was speaking to himself.

“If he lets you go, he is the single biggest imbecile on this planet.”

You blinked in the darkness, half-convinced you were imagining things. Did Spencer really just say that? But before you could ask, the silence returned, leaving you to wonder if it was just a dream after all.

—

No more confessions were made during the case, and within a few days, the team was back home. But for Spencer, the case hadn’t been the only thing on his mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you might be single soon. The possibility gnawed at him—would he have a chance? Could he ever muster the courage to tell you how he really felt? Who knows?

What he did know, however, was that you had been using him as a frequent escape from your shared apartment with Duncan. Spencer didn’t mind; in fact, he cherished every moment with you.

“Hey, Spence, do you want to order pizza and watch a movie tonight?” you asked casually as the workday began to wind down.

“Yeah, sounds great,” Spencer replied, his smile brightening his features.

As soon as you walked away, Derek strolled over to Spencer’s desk, a look of mild concern on his face. “Uh, Reid?”

“Yeah?” Spencer responded, glancing up at him.

“I thought you had a date tonight?”

Spencer blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“With that girl from the post office?”

“Oh.” Spencer’s eyes widened as he realized he had completely forgotten about the date. “I completely forgot.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, surprised. Spencer never forgot anything. “Listen, Reid. I know we all have our feelings about Duncan… but be careful, okay?”

Spencer frowned slightly, unsure what Derek was getting at. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just—she’s hurting right now, but what happens when they make up? I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”

Spencer’s mind began to race as he processed Derek’s words. “We’re just friends, Derek. I’m just supporting her in her time of need.”

Derek gave him a look that was equal parts sympathetic and skeptical. “I hope you’re right, Pretty Boy.”

As Derek walked away, Spencer found himself caught in a whirlwind of thoughts. Was Derek right? Was he setting himself up for heartache? He didn’t know the answers, but one thing was certain—he was in too deep to turn back now.

—

You were sitting on Spencer's couch, enjoying a slice of pizza, when his phone started ringing on the coffee table. Since Spencer was in the bathroom, you reached over to grab it, assuming it might be work-related. But the screen flashed a name you didn't recognize: Amanda. Who's Amanda? you wondered, feeling a twinge in your stomach that you quickly tried to dismiss.

When Spencer came back from the bathroom, you waved his phone with a teasing smile, trying to mask the discomfort you felt. "Who's Amanda, Spence?" you asked, your voice light but edged with curiosity.

His face dropped instantly, a look of confusion and then realization washing over him. "What?"

"You got a call from someone named Amanda," you repeated, watching his reaction closely.

Spencer's shoulders sagged as he took the phone from you. "Oh shoot, I forgot to cancel our date tonight. She probably thinks I stood her up."

Your heart sank a little. "Wait, Reid, you had a date tonight? Why didn't you tell me? I could have gone home!"

The mix of surprise and a slight sense of betrayal hung in the air. Spencer looked genuinely apologetic, his eyes wide with concern. "I... I just forgot. With everything going on, it slipped my mind. I'm sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you here if you had other plans."

You forced a smile, shaking your head slightly. "It's okay, I just... didn't realize." Inside, you were conflicted, feeling foolish for how comfortable you’d become in his space, reminding yourself once again that you were just friends, despite the years of ignoring that pit in your stomach.

—

The entire team had taken note of the significant amount of time you and Spencer had been spending together, and they were all too aware of his long-standing crush on you. Their concern for their friend was palpable, which made the next rooming arrangement all the more telling. When the opportunity arose again for team members to share rooms, JJ immediately claimed you as her roommate. You caught the unmistakable look of relief that Spencer sent her way. What the hell?

That night, as you settled into the room with JJ, the question that had been nagging at you finally spilled out. "Why did Spencer seem relieved not to room with me? Did I do something wrong?"

JJ looked at you with her soft, comforting eyes, shaking her head gently. "Oh, I don’t think so," she reassured you in her calming tone. "Last time he asked me to switch, I think he just wanted a break," she added, her words kind but straightforward.

"Got it." The words felt like a punch to your gut. Your best friend didn’t want to room with you? The thought made you feel nauseous, or maybe it was the urge to cry that was overwhelming you.

"Is everything okay?" JJ noticed the tears brimming in your eyes.

"Yeah," you waved her off with a forced chuckle. "I’m on my period, just overly emotional," you laughed it off, masking the true turmoil you felt.

JJ immediately responded with a warm smile. "Aw, honey, I have pain killers and tampons if you need anything!"

"Thanks, JJ," you muttered, grateful for her kindness but still reeling from the emotional sting of the evening's revelations.

—

After the case, you found yourself withdrawing from Spencer, the sting of feeling like an imposition too sharp to ignore. Instead, you poured your energy into mending the fraying edges of your relationship with Duncan. Spencer, on the other hand, was left puzzled by your sudden distance, unable to pinpoint the cause of this shift in your dynamic. It wasn’t until he caught a glimpse of a faint hickey peeking out from under your collar that he understood—or thought he did.

“So you fixed things with Duncan?” he asked one day, trying to sound casual as he joined you for coffee in the breakroom.

“Yup. I’ll be out of your hair now, don’t worry,” you replied with a tight smile, and without waiting for his response, you walked out, leaving Spencer bewildered in your wake.

“What was that about?” JJ inquired, having witnessed the interaction from her spot by the vending machine.

“Not sure, she’s been giving me the cold shoulder since the last case,” Spencer murmured, frowning deeply as he stirred his coffee absentmindedly.

“Oh, I might know why,” JJ said, her voice lowering slightly.

“Why?” Spencer looked up, his interest piqued.

“Well, she knows you didn’t want to room with her,” JJ revealed, her expression sympathetic.

“What? You told her?” Spencer’s voice was a mix of surprise and slight irritation.

“She asked, Spence. She was really upset about the whole thing too. You should talk to her,” JJ advised, her tone earnest.

Spencer nodded slowly, the weight of the situation settling on his shoulders. “Yeah, okay. I will,” he agreed, his mind already racing with what he would say to you, hoping to mend the unintentional hurt he had caused.

—

"Y/N, can we talk?" Spencer caught up with you just as you were about to step into the elevator on a quiet Friday evening. The office had already emptied, leaving you both as the last on the floor.

"Sure, what's up?" you asked, pausing to face him, noting the serious look on his face.

Spencer opened his mouth to explain the hotel room situation, his mind racing for the right words that wouldn't betray his deeper feelings. "Well, you see, it's about the hotel room situation on the last case, and I just—uh, I mean, when we were assigned to room together, I found myself in a bit of a predicament, or rather, a series of considerations that perhaps aren't usual, or rather aren't typically problematic in ordinary circumstances, but given the nature of—"

"Spencer, it's fine. You don't have to room with me on every case. I'm sorry I never asked first," you interjected, misreading his hesitation.

"No, no, I want to room with you," he blurted out, more forcefully than he intended.

"Then why did you ask JJ to switch?" you asked, your confusion evident.

Spencer felt trapped between his desire to comfort you and his fear of making things awkward. "Um...it was just really warm on that case, and I—I didn't want to see you in your underwear," he admitted, his cheeks coloring slightly.

"What? Spencer, you could have just told me. Oh my god! I was walking around in my underwear!" you exclaimed, half-amused and half-mortified.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, looking genuinely apologetic.

"No, Reid, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Is it because I have a boyfriend?" you asked, your tone laced with concern.

Spencer scoffed at the mention of Duncan. "No."

"Then what is it?" you pressed, your gaze steady on his.

Caught with no more excuses, Spencer knew he was cornered. His heart raced with the realization that there was no turning back. "Because I'm in love with you," he confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush.

—

Spencer Reid's confession echoed in your mind, each word reverberating through your thoughts like a bell that couldn’t be unrung. Spencer Reid is in love with me? The realization sent your thoughts into a tumultuous spiral as you drove home, the familiar streets blurring past. You considered pulling over, needing a moment to process the swirling chaos in your head, but you pushed on, driven by a need to just get home.

When you finally walked through the door of your apartment, the atmosphere struck you immediately. It was dimmer than usual, the air filled with a scent that was distinctly not yours. The smell of soy candles—a scent you distinctly disliked—mingled with the scent of red roses, another thing you didn't care for.

"Duncan?" Your voice was hesitant, almost wary as you set your things by the door and walked deeper into the dimly lit space.

"In here, babe," Duncan called out from the living room.

Following his voice, you found him standing in the center of a meticulously staged scene, surrounded by the roses and candles. The setup was so unlike what you would have wanted, so disconnected from who you were.

"Uhhh, what’s going on here?" you asked, your tone a mix of confusion and a growing sense of disconnect.

Duncan turned to you with a smile that didn’t feel genuine, the ambiance around him feeling more like a set piece than a gesture of genuine affection. "Y/N," he began, his voice taking on a rehearsed quality that made your heart sink even further. "I’ve been thinking a lot about us, and I just really think it’s time we take the next step together. What do you say?"

The words, meant to be romantic, felt hollow and oddly generic, as if they were pulled from a script rather than from his heart. Standing there, with Spencer's heartfelt confession still burning bright in your mind, Duncan’s display felt even more jarring.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows as Duncan's unexpected question hung in the air. “What?” you asked, your voice shaking.

“Y/N, will you marry me?”

The word slipped out before you could even think, a reflex born of surprise and clarity. “No.” It was firm, decisive, echoing slightly in the quiet room.

Duncan’s face crumbled, his brow furrowing in confusion and hurt. “What?” he echoed again, his voice a blend of disbelief and dismay.

You sighed, feeling the weight of the moment heavy on your shoulders. “Uh, this is just so out of left field. I mean, we have never once talked about marriage.”

Duncan’s response was quick, a desperate attempt to salvage the situation. “But, babe, we live together,” he reasoned, as if cohabitation alone was a precursor to marriage.

“So? You basically ignored me for a whole month,” you countered, your voice steady despite the turmoil swirling inside you.

“Right, but then we fixed things, so we know we work together,” he argued, trying to paint a picture of a resolved partnership.

You couldn’t help but let out a short, incredulous laugh. “Solid logic,” you replied sarcastically, the absurdity of the conversation becoming more apparent.

Duncan's frustration was palpable. “Are you really being sarcastic right now?”

“Yeah, and I wish you were too,” you shot back, wishing the whole scenario was just a bad joke.

Duncan’s next words were sharp, cutting through the tension like a knife. “Fuck you, bitch.”

You froze for a moment, the harshness of his words striking deep. “What did you just call me?” Your voice was calm, almost eerily so, as you fixed your gaze on him.

“A bitch,” he repeated, his voice cold and hard.

“Get out,” you said, your tone final. You stood up, your posture rigid with resolve.

“No, I live here too,” he protested, but there was a waver in his voice now.

“Whose name is on the lease? Get out before I call my team. Do you want Derek and Emily to escort you out?” Your words were a clear threat, backed by the certainty that you would follow through if needed.

Duncan hesitated, his anger giving way to a flicker of fear as he considered your words. Then, in a sudden burst of spite, he hurled the ring box at you. “Keep it, I don’t want your bad juju.”

With that, he stormed out, the door slamming behind him with a force that seemed to shake the apartment. Silence descended, heavy and absolute, as you stood there, the ring box at your feet, a stark reminder of the relationship that had just disintegrated before your eyes.

—

Spencer Reid had cried more times in his life than he cared to count. He cried when he was bullied as a child, when his father walked out on him and his mother, when he made the heartbreaking decision to place his mom in a care facility. He cried when he was kidnapped, when Emily died—or so he thought. The list of tears was long, but today, he added another entry: the day he told his best friend he was in love with her, only for her to stand there as still as a statue, silent and unmoving, until his heart shattered so completely that he had to leave before she saw him break down.

Now, he lay in bed, the lights off, his eyes puffy and wet, replaying every scenario he wished had happened instead of the painful reality he’d experienced. He sniffled, whimpered, and curled into himself, desperate for a do-over, a second chance to make it right. But life wasn’t that kind.

A knock sounded at his door, pulling him from his misery. He ignored it, too consumed by his sorrow to entertain company. The knocking persisted, three more times, before it finally ceased. Relief was short-lived, however, as his phone began to ring. Without checking the caller ID, Spencer answered, his voice sharp and uncharacteristically harsh. “What?”

“Spence, it’s me. Please open the door.”

He’d never moved so fast in his life. Leaping out of bed in such a hurry, he promptly tripped over his own feet and crashed to the floor with a thud. “Ouch,” he muttered, pushing himself up with a wince. Ignoring the ache, he scrambled to the door, swinging it open with such force that it nearly bounced back. His heart clenched at the sight of you standing there, your expression filled with concern as you took in his tear-streaked face.

“Hi, Spence,” you greeted softly, your voice gentle as if trying not to scare him away.

“Hi,” he croaked out, barely holding himself together.

“Can I come in?” you asked, your tone tentative.

He nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for you to enter. Once inside, you turned to face him, clearly gathering your thoughts.

“So, uh, I’m just going to talk. You can listen or interrupt, whatever you want,” you offered, trying to ease the tension.

Spencer nodded again, still too emotionally raw to form coherent words.

You took a deep breath. “Duncan proposed to me.” The words hung in the air, a bombshell that detonated in Spencer’s chest. His heart broke all over again, shattering into a billion pieces. “I said no.”

His head shot up so fast he thought he might have given himself whiplash. “What?”

“Yeah, it was bad. He had red roses and soy candles set up in the living room.” Spencer’s nose scrunched in distaste; he knew how much you hated those things. “And when he left, he called me a bitch and threw the ring at me.”

Spencer’s fists clenched, a protective anger surging through him. “I’ll kill him.”

“Nah, someone else will. I’m sure of it,” you replied with a small, rueful smile.

His anger softened, replaced by confusion. “So…what are you doing here?”

You looked at him with determination and vulnerability. “What ring would you buy me?”

“Huh?” Spencer blinked, taken aback by the sudden question.

“If you were to propose to me, say tomorrow. What kind of ring would you buy for me?” you asked, your eyes searching his.

“A round cut diamond with a thin silver band,” he answered without hesitation, the words spilling out before he could stop them.

“I’m in love with you too,” you confessed, your voice steady, but your eyes shimmering with emotion.

“Wait, what?” Spencer was incredulous, his mind racing to process what you’d just said. But even as his heart tried to catch up, a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“Duncan got me a thick gold ring with a pear-cut lab-grown pink diamond,” you explained, shaking your head at the mismatch.

“Did he know you at all?” Spencer asked, the smile growing despite the shock still coursing through him.

“Apparently not. I’m going to kiss you now,” you declared, stepping closer, leaving Spencer no time to overthink, no time to doubt—just enough time to feel the world tilt as your lips met his.

It was gentle at first, a tentative brush of lips, as if testing the waters. But then something shifted, a dam breaking as all the unspoken feelings, the years of longing and missed chances, came rushing to the surface. Spencer responded in kind, his hands lifting to cradle your face with a tenderness that belied the storm inside him. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped in the heat of the moment.

He poured everything he couldn’t say into that kiss—all the love, all the fear, all the hope. The kiss deepened, growing in intensity, but it remained sweet, a quiet revelation of the love that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly trembling, your foreheads rested against each other’s, both of you taking a moment to simply exist in the aftermath of the kiss. Spencer’s eyes fluttered open, meeting yours with wonder and relief.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion.

“Me too,” you replied, your voice equally soft. “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“Better late than never,” he said, a small, genuine smile spreading across his face.

You laughed softly, the sound breaking the last of the tension between you. With your hand still resting on his chest, you could feel the rapid beat of his heart, mirroring your own.

Spencer’s hand slipped from your cheek to your hand, fingers intertwining with yours as if afraid to let go. “So, where do we go from here?” he asked, his voice carrying a note of hopefulness.

“Wherever you want, Spence,” you replied, your smile reassuring. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Spencer’s eyes twinkled with affection and mischief, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I never want to room with Hotch again.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and full of warmth. “Just me?”

Spencer’s expression softened, his gaze unwavering as he responded with quiet sincerity. “It’s always been you.”

The words hung in the air, filled with all the meaning and truth he had held back for so long. Before you could fully process the weight of his confession, he leaned in again, capturing your lips in another kiss. This time, it was slower, more deliberate, as if savoring every second, every sensation.

The world outside seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in the warmth of each other’s embrace. This kiss wasn’t just an expression of love—it was a promise, a confirmation of everything that had been unspoken until now.

When you finally parted, both of you breathless but smiling, it was clear that nothing would ever be the same. And that was perfectly okay.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece @dreamsarebig

[anika-ann]

The (Un)Expected - S.R.

Type: one-shot, soulmate AU, good ol' meet-cute (soulmates meeting for the first time prompt)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word Count: 8k

Summary: 

A soulmark shows the first words your soulmate will speak to you. A soulmark tells you there is the person for you out there. A soulmark tells you what to expect.

For that, Steve’s is a source of comfort and anxiety to him. You always had a complicated relationship with yours.

But maybe they will teach you a lesson in the end – that the only thing one should really expect, is the unexpected.

Warnings: brief angst, mention of cancer (not reader), canon-typical violence, mention of death (no major character), blood and injuries, language, FLUFF so take it easy on sugar before reading

A/N: written for the Community Revival Extravaganza hosted by the wonderful @stargazingfangirl18 and @labella420 . Thank you both so much for hosting and stirring life in the fandom! I loved seeing the traffic and positivity on my dash - you're doing god's work 💕

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰

Steve Rogers was a sickly child.

He spent too much time to his liking in his bed – and even more time outside of it despite feeling sick for he couldn’t bear resting anymore, craving to explore the world instead – and was sneaked into a doctor’s office by his mother quite often as well. She only got him in as a favour, courtesy of her own good name – a nurse working double shifts and lending a helping hand wherever she could, a single mother working herself to a bone to take care of and set example to her only son.

A single mother, a nurse, a good person – a beautiful soul. She left this world too soon, but she left an imprint on Steve’s heart larger than any other person, perhaps besides Bucky, ever could.

All that told him, even as indirectly, that his soulmate would be one special dame. She would be kind, she would be brilliant and for that alone, he knew she would be beautiful.

Steve knew that as soon as he could read, as soon as he could decipher the words on his skinny forearm.

In a world where first words your soulmate would tell you were laced into your skin for you and your soulmate’s eyes to see only, his words told him his soulmate was a little miracle.

'I’m not a doctor yet.'

Steve had spent a fair amount of time around nurses and doctors to know that all nurses were women and the overwhelming majority of doctors were men – by the time he was ten, barely a few women were allowed to attend medical schools, let alone graduate. But you, you would be on your way to reach that. Brilliant. Driven. Desiring to help people, to heal.

It was only when other children, other guys and girls alike, began laughing at him for being too little, too weak, too bony, when his heart began to ache for a different reason than illness. If you were to be all these amazing things he had dreamed of, what were you to do with a sickly fella like him? With your words to him being these, it was a fair assumption to make that you would meet due to his health issues, perhaps a smart dame taken under a more experienced doctor’s wing during your studies. How disappointed you would be when your soulmate, the one person meant for you and chosen by destiny itself, would be… that?

That upsetting idea haunted him, hurting more than the bruises that had formed under fists of bullies Steve kept trying to save those even weaker than him from, more than stick and stones and words alike.

Then again… there was a little silver of hope in his heart, a little shy voice in his head. If you were to be his true love, then certainly you’d accept him, yes? If he tried, if he tried hard enough to be a good man, the best possible version of himself, if he worked hard to protect and feed his future family, set a good example for your future children as his mother had, worked towards making a better world, you’d accept him? If he could live with not being as great as others but never stopped trying, you would respect him and perhaps even loved him for what he was?

Then, of course, war came and those thoughts were pushed aside.

Then, he grabbed at his chance to fight that war, to do his part, to help – and incidentally, he also earned his chance to literally grow. Healthy. Strong. More worthy; but remaining good, because that was the one part of him he wanted to hold on to no matter what, that one part he would wish his love, wherever she was, would love him for, even if he suddenly shrank back into the back of skin and bones he used to be.

Then, he lost his best friend Turned into a failure.

And then… then he died.

One of his last thoughts were of you, a beautiful woman with vague appearance but strikingly kind heart and sharp mind. He prayed you’d get a new soulmate somehow, even as those cases weren’t heard of. He prayed you’d live a happy healthy life without him, at least as good as he would have tried his best to give you, to build with you, even as his own heart was breaking to pieces, regret veiling his body as water and snow and icy wind would, regret for missing his chance to meet the most special person in his world.

When he closed his eyes and still saw the white of ice and the blue of the deep sea, he’d swear he saw your face, crystal clear, for the first time – and the last time – in his life.

Seeing you, a stunning mirage, his last thought was that you were an angel gently leading him into afterlife.

When he woke up to a new millennium, one of the first things he did was checking his forearm; he words still sat there, taunting, mocking and heartbreaking, another screaming reminder of him not belonging here.

As years passed by, the sense of alienation subdued. Steve Rogers learned to belong, even as a piece of his heart was missing, longing for the past life – and the life he had never got to have – always humming in his chest quietly.

The mark on his forearm remained, a sad memento to a soulmate he had never met, turning him into a martyr.

But many people had rejected the idea of soulmates in this time, rebelling against their so-called fate, taking off on a path of searching love on their own. Steve learned they did so for various reasons – a sense of adventure before they’d truly find their one true love, a quest to choose the fortune and love on their own terms, a fuck-you to the universe when their soulmate turned out to be less than they imagined and hoped.

His own reasons, as he reluctantly started to look for a person to share his life with, were rather unique, but no one looked at him through their fingers for that. If anything, those who cared about him encouraged him, wishing for his happiness.

It was only when he got Bucky back – one of his greatest regrets not erased, not lessened since Bucky had endured unimaginable pain, but transformed, a piece of Steve’s past brought back to life – that he began to wonder about the almost blasphemous thought he had forbid himself from entertaining when he had been first brought back to life from ice.

Were you still there somewhere?

And then, a shier thought:

Is there still a chance for me to find my true soulmate?

And then, the shiest one of them all:

Is there a chance for me to find happiness with you?

When he had thought of that before, he was certain that since you were still alive – he had read reports of people claiming their soulmark changed colours if their loved one died – he had thought of you as an old lady who had hopefully lived her life as he had genuinely wished for her.

But what if fate, that little minx who had taken his best friend for life from him only to give him back, had somehow blessed Steve with a soulmark decades before you were even born? What he hadn’t lost his chance, what if you were still young enough to build a life with him? Was that even possible? There were aliens, flying suits of armour, other realms, downright magical weapons… he had been given a second chance at life. There were things happening Steve would have never thought possible before. So was there a chance…?

The idea of you being a doctor became much more plausible too – in this century, female doctors were a much more common occurrence. That, naturally, did not diminish your brilliance whatsoever, the fundamental idea of who you’d be never changing in Steve’s mind. The image only became less surreal in one way and a whole lot more surreal in another.

For his own sake, he didn’t give in into that hope fully; at least he told himself that despite lying awake at night, a ghost of a woman he had never met lying next to him, radiating non-existent warmth he wished with his whole being he could touch.

He wasn’t chasing after the ghost, didn’t allow himself that – there was no way to do so to his knowledge anyway – for the chances of success were rather slim.

But there was always hope, wasn’t there?

And the longing for love, whether it was in the hands of fate or in his own to find it, remained, built into his very body; etched into his bones, flowing through his veins, laced into his skin beyond the words on his forearm, always humming quietly in his heart.

In the age of information and science, the concept of having your ideal partner for life chosen by some mysterious abstract entity called Fate was literally otherworldly. Alien. Absurd even.

And yet, it still ruled the lives of many.

Which, in all honesty, was almost even more fascinating than the existence of soulmarks itself – the belief people had for them despite being no logic to them at all.

Perhaps it was the little piece of human soul, an inner child people so desperately wanted to cling to for its own beauty and purity, a child who never wanted to stop believing in magic, fate, dragons, mighty knights and kind-hearted ladies, in all things of fairytales and happy-endings the most. Because to a point, that was what soulmarks were – and little fairytale-like book of destiny.

One that not even science seemed capable of beating.

And you should know; you were somewhat of a scientist yourself. And despite how unfathomable the nature of soulmates was, you could not say that you rejected the idea of them, of someone who was born to belong with you, someone you could share your life with, the right partner in the crime of life. Basic bodily needs aside, wasn’t that the most fundamental need of all? To love and be loved; to belong?

Who wouldn’t wish for that reassurance that they could have that, that some strange force of universe itself created a person like that for them? They were the god’s strongest soldiers you supposed; because you were certainly not immune to that tempting comfort.

But you weren’t obsessed – and you prided yourself in the fact. Mostly because the sheer fanaticism of the world over soulmarks, the one thing that kept defying science – besides alien portals, magical blue cubes, demigods walking the Earth and things alike – was dialled up ad absurdum.

There could be billions of dollars poured into research of curing cancer. Cure autoimmune diseases. Helping the homeless. Slowing down global warming. Erasing poverty and famine. Protecting nature, endangered species. Discovering new worlds, exploring space.

But no. Governments poured billions of dollars into researching soulmarks. How was it they existed? How was it you could cut through skin, you could cut off skin and the mark would reappear somewhere else? What was the grand scheme of them? Why was it that only two people who belonged together could see them and the person speaking the words could only see it on their soulmate’s skin after they spoke the words, almost like a fail-safe that couldn’t seem to be broken with any tricks?

It wasn’t a question of physics as far as people knew; they had tried to build sets-up of various optics, thermovision cameras and complex sets of lenses and mirrors, and none of the reports you had ever heard of claimed success. It wasn’t genetic markers either; no one had discovered a sequence of DNA responsible for soulmarks, let alone turned whatever discovery they would have made into a tool of reading anyone’s but their own and their soulmate’s mark. It didn’t seem to be chemistry either; no one had made a groundbreaking discovery or at least they hadn’t informed the scientific or any other community so far.

But by gods, forget the space race. Attempting to be the first one to somehow read everyone’s soulmark and then create an algorithm to monetize it as the one and only soulmate dating app, now that was a competition overflowing with cutthroat madmen. Not to mention the crowds looking to temper with soulmarks, to make another one appear on someone’s body; or worse, to erase the original soulmark and instead design one capable of manipulating the outcome of a soulmate match.

You found the force of that obsession insane – and frankly, all the attempts morally wrong. While dedicated to science and loyal to discovery, you found soulmarks to be something sacred, one of the things that should not be touched by filthy human hands; god knew humanity, while doing a lot of good, had mucked up about just as much.

You were not alone in that belief. There were, in fact, numerous demonstrations against scientists experimenting with soulmarks, people protesting against anyone creating such tool and using it to temper with natural course of things no one fully understood, not for the lack of trying. However – as expected everywhere where politics and money were involved – these protests were in vain.

They were as vain and futile as the research of the marks itself.

As for your own soulmark, you had a rather complicated relationship with it.

On one hand, it gave you a sense of peace – there was someone for you, even as sometimes it did not feel plausible at all. You had time too – because based on those words, you would not meet your soulmate until in your twenties at least. You had plenty of time to become who you were meant to be before a man could turn your life upside down, even as that was not supposed to be what soulmates did, at least not in a bad sense of the word.  

On the other hand, it was a ball and chain. You would not find you soulmate sooner than in your twenties and sometimes, you missed them despite not having met yet. When imagining what your meeting could be like based on their first words etched into your skin, you feared they might be a little disappointed – even as you did not let that stop you from pursuing the life you wanted. And despite you wanting to choose the career either way, it felt like someone – be it god, fate or another cosmic entity humanity was yet to discover – had chosen the path for you the moment you had been born if not before.

'Doctor, are you alright?'

Four simple words that couldn’t be more ordinary and yet extraordinary for they represented one of the most meaningful encounters of your life. The source of as much comfort as anxiety.

You couldn’t stand hospitals ever since you were a child. The cold environment reminded you of the strange icy feeling that had settled in your chest over the months you had been visiting your dying father, your naïve eyes watching cancer bite off his energy and smiles first, before it swallowed his whole body and soul. He had been a ghost long before he passed; and in your mind, despite all rationality even years after, that ghost haunted any hospital you visited.

Learning what your soulmark was as a child, you had spent countless nights crying, soul torn into pieces, pushed and pulled between the visceral desire to live up to your soulmark and the crippling nausea at the mere thought of dealing with people drowned in misery caused by any illness in the cold institution they called a hospital.

However, the curious kid you had been, you had fallen in love with science itself.

And that one day at school, when a classmate of yours had brought their father to the class to talk about his job as a doctor, you had burst into tears. You began to sob in the middle of him explaining to third-graders that he was not a medical doctor, but a physicist with a doctorate earning him the degree of a doctor as well. You remembered your teacher leading you outside of class, concerned and absolutely baffled, trying to sooth you helplessly even as you were completely inconsolable – because you did not need consolation.

You were crying the happiest, most relieved tears of your life.

You could still be a ‘doctor’. And you genuinely wanted to be one, not just because of what your soulmark read. You had always wished to help people indirectly, even as you looked back at your life now. Sure, your soulmark could have been adding fuel to your drive when your motivation had been running low, but this was who you desired and was meant to become.

A molecular biologist. A doctor in making. Researching the effects of medicinal drugs with hopes to improve them.

A scientist not researching soulmarks, thank you very much.

And yes, there was the lingering feeling of missing a person you hadn’t even met yet – especially when Doctor Simmons’ face lit up like fluorodeoxyglucose in PET scans whenever she saw Doctor Fitz – but you had other things to focus on. And you had time. There was no pressure.

You were not a doctor yet, after all.

Naturally, just because you dodged the joys and sorrows of being a medical student and later on, a medical doctor, it did not mean that you had it easy. No one working on their doctorate did. But when you decided to pursue your degree and work in research, you signed up for that.

You signed up for a lot of things.

It was a little peculiar for you to be on the SHIELD campus in the science division without a doctorate. It was a known fact that SHIELD only recruited best of the best, this Science ad Technology in particular: you needed at least one doctorate to even walk through the door, which was something you were reminded a lot because you did not meet that requirement and here you were.

But SHELD owned the best equipment and you were fortunate enough to get in by the lovely game of fate, being good and driven enough and having met the right people at the right time. SHIELD Academy’s Science & Tech division had the unique equipment you often needed for your research. Your research was interesting enough for people who had perhaps more power over your little life than fate itself. Stars aligned.

It was no walk in a parc, but you were no fool; jumping after that opportunity after having one too many doors shut into your face was a no-brainer. Even though it meant signing up for a whole extra load of shit.

You signed up to be the weird girl. The privileged girl. Hell, even the stupider than local average girl, because you were only an engineer at this point.

You signed up for being the young girl, even as you had met a few people there who had started younger, having actually earned their first PhD at age 17 or less.

You signed up for mockery and misogyny, for as you were aware the level was blissfully low here compared to other workplaces, especially where science was concerned; in exact science, you observed, more than anywhere you ever heard of, it was customary to keep that one insufferable employee, because they were simply that good at their job, no matter that they had cost the department a few other employees.

You signed up for living on campus with other SHIELD recruits, which meant living in close quarters with other divisions; as a result, some days the whole area seemed to swim in testosterone emitted by the hulking special agents in making from Operations.  

But that was okay. You could do it.

There were bright sides too, many of them. Like pursuing your dream career. Being among like-minded people whose brain, to a large point, ran on the same wavelength. Hooking up with a handsome but notbrainless recruit from Operations or Communication here and there, some flings, some relationships, because if you were to wait for the love of your life, you might as well not wither completely. You were only human and you had needs along with your lifegoals.

You more than willingly signed up for working with Agent slash Doctor Jemma Simmons.  With her two PhDs and rich experience from the field, she had left the action behind in order to work on her third PhD and help humanity without having her life on the line every day. She was hard-working, with no-nonsense approach and lovely sense of humour with plenty of stories to back it up; she was overall pleasant person to work and be friends with and despite having been through amazing and terrifying experiences other people couldn’t even imagine, she remained surprisingly down-to-Earth.

Sure, she had her quirks like insisting on having a gun at hand at all times and stashing a few small vials of altered Molotov cocktail, a mixture of chemicals which would ignite upon the vial breaking, in one of the nearby cabinets – but you supposed there were worst things to get used to than that in a coworker or a friend. She used to be an active agent after all; in fact, unofficially, she remained one. Much like anyone, you knew that certain habits died hard and being through what she had been – she confessed to you that she once spent months on a nearly deserted ancient planet, among other things – left a mark. If this made her feel safer, you’d take it.

Another great thing about Jemma, Doctor Simmons, was that she was adorably English and was in dedicated relationship with Doctor Fitz who was a Scotsman, so that was the spice of long workdays at times; especially if you agreed to play Scrabble with them and a few friends in the evening.

But there were things you had not signed up for when following the alluring promise of a prestigious spot and unique equipment.

And one of them was a damn Nazi revival group in the form of fucking HYDRA attacking the lab while you were in the peaceful process of waiting for your PCR to finally be finished.

Influx of men in full tactical gear interrupting Jemma updating you the vacation plans, Fiji and all the rare species of fishes that could be observed there when scuba diving.

When you heard the first shouts, breaking of glass and dull echoes of gunshots from afar, your immediate thought was that you had been having a good day and that the experiment had been coming along nicely – and that whatever mess was happening was for sure about to ruin all your progress.

By the time panic settled in, Jemma was practically tackling you down, hand over your mouth to muffle your startled squeak at the sudden movement, her eyes alert and serious, screaming at you to keep quiet.

The sickening shouts of HAIL HYDRA, COOPERATE AND YOU’LL GET HURT LESS was what sent your brain crashing into reality; that and the distant agonized cries of people, coworkers and recruits you knew and met in the hallways every day, following the sounds of gunshots growing in volume and frequency.

You could hear Jemma shuffling next to you further.

You yourself were unable to move beyond stifling a cry behind your suddenly sweaty palm as another female voice wailed in pain.

Blood seemed to freeze in your veins despite your heart thundering in your ribcage and your temples and it helped you shit at all that you were aware that was such thing was literally impossible. By the time Jemma’s hand grabbed yours again and squeezed hard, you realized you were shaking – half in anger, half in paralyzing fear, half in utter shock. It didn’t matter it didn’t add up.

What mattered was the gun in Jemma’s hand. She was holding a gun, ready to shoot, because there were enemy agents, fucking HYDRA burst through the door, guns blazing. And killing people.

You were whispering with exasperation worth of a shout before you knew what you were doing.

“Why?! Why the fuck-“

“Probably the samples they brought in today, precious cargo,” Jemma whispered back frantically, loading the gun and reaching into another cabinet behind her. You only stared at her in utter confusion and mute horror, rapid heavy footsteps approaching and sending your already racing heart into a madness. “Gun or cocktails?”

“I can’t shoot a-!”

Before you could finish, the familiar sound of the sliding door opening and a horrifying echo of tactical boots reached your ears, a set of vials pressed into your palm.

You gulped, pulse thundering in your temples.

Those goddamn Simmons’ cocktails as you named them since she had insisted on keeping around.

You couldn’t believe the moment was here that you were actually grateful for them, even as they seemed to burn in your hand even with the vials themselves intact.

Your eyes snapped to Jemma’s face to question it wordlessly at least, but she wasn’t looking at you; she was listening intently, lying in wake as if she was the predator and not the prey you felt like.

Your own breathing seemed too loud as you allowed yourself to squeeze your eyes shut for but a moment, a desperate attempt to wake up from the nightmare; but the morning didn’t come.

Instead, a gunshot rang in the room, glass shattering somewhere above your head to your right, sending a waterfall of shards flying next to you.

And causing you to cry out in fright.

Which revealed your position to the agents flowing into the lab.

Without a thought you snapped your eyes opened, jumped to your feet and threw two vials in the direction of a black blur with a shockingly clear red patch of the mythical Hydra monster in the middle; peripherally, you saw Jemma attacking as well, deafening noise of gunshot nearly blowing your eardrum.

You crouched back behind the counter so fast you felt vertigo swing you to the left, sharp pain erupting from your palm. It was pure miracle your right hand didn’t clench in instinct and shatter the two remaining vials, setting yourself on fire as well.

As well.

Someone was screaming – a man, you realized – the acid smell of burned flesh and plastic and various chemicals punching your nose and your stomach hard. You had hit someone with the vial. They screamed because of what you had done. You had-

You had no time to feel sorry. You had no time to properly think fucking serves them right.

More steps, more gunshots, movements you weren’t sure how happened or came to you in the first place, flashes of light and crimson and noise and godawful smell--- and pain erupting in the back of your head and suddenly you were barely catching yourself on the counter with your slippery palm--- your fingers brushed metal, knees weak but hands grabbing with all your might, lifting and swinging, a sickening crack on your right before you were falling, landing on your wrist, back hitting the cabinet door and making even more noise as you sent equipment clattering around.

However, the loudest sound was another gunshot; but the strangest sound was unfamiliar whizzing and metal hitting metal and someone most definitely shouting “clear!” that sounded as distant as a whisper over the ringing in your ears.

Instinctively, your head snapped to the voice as you tried to prop up on your hands to see; the world swam in front of your eyes, dizziness forcing you to fall back on your ass and squeeze your eyes shut in hopes to stop the world from spinning, a sting in your palm drawing a hiss from your lips.

You could hear Jemma’s talking to someone, her words blurred into a mumble despite her voice sounding firm and methodical; footsteps, quick and heavy but somewhat soft, accompanied by a brush of air against your skin, making you open your eyes again just as navy blue with speckles of silvery grey glinting in a flickering light filled your vision.

Then, a face; an extremely handsome face even as a helmet made of blue similar to the rest of his suit covered the upper half of it, framing a pair of the dreamiest blue eyes you had ever seen, as beautiful as blurry as a dream indeed.

Somewhere in the back of your brain it started clicking into place – that the man in front of you looked a whole lot like Captain America and he was there to kick HYDRA’s ass; he was hunk and looked righteous and unfairly pretty, the cut of his jaw sharp enough to appear as if sculpted by ancient masters of art and it might be softened by the leather strap holding his helmet in place but that only brought out the sheer beauty of his lips even with a small bloody split on them.

And he was talking to you, his leather-clad hand gently grasping your arm as you involuntarily swayed to side when moving your head to take in the entirety of his large figure.

“Doctor, are you alright?” he asked slowly, velvety voice sweet and heavy with concern at once, the gentle but firm hold on your arm growing stronger when you blinked owlishly, the connection between the meaning of his words and his apparent intention to talk to you slow and fragile.

Your tongue felt as if made of lead even as it tasted of bitterness of adrenalin, but you willed yourself to answer, a knee-jerk reaction more than anything else.

“’mm… not a doctor yet.”

As you responded, you brain began to clear; and it occurred to you that it was a fair assumption for him to make.

You had grown used to clarifying, but hadn’t done so in months, because everyone already knew. However, he was an outsider to this lab and he couldn’t know you were the exception to the local rule. And you were wearing a lab coat, one that now had to be covered in mixture of chemicals you did not wish to identify, but perhaps you should try, because your forearm was beginning to burn.

The beautiful man kneeling in front of you silently observed you for what seemed like an eternity and half, surprise written all over his face. You couldn’t blame him; you were the weirdo of the lab. The fact the person who had purposely stacked explosives at hand was less of an anomaly than that was a thing to consider, but your head hurt too much to think about that and your heart was still beating unhealthily fast and his error seemed so insignificant in the grand scheme of things of HYDRA having attacked your lab and Captain America being right in front of you, holding onto your arm.

His soft baffled smile as he hung his head and shook it a bit with a breathless chuckle, and then lifted his downright shining gaze back to you, well that certainly made for a spectacular distraction from such unimportant thoughts.

Did his thumb just brush your arm as he still held you up a bit?

And had anyone ever told him he had a stunning smile that could melt hearts even if it was barely there and it was certainly melting yours?

“Apologies, miss. I’m going to help you get to medical, alright?” he suggested, those damn gorgeous eyes roaming your face with what almost seemed like wonder, even as his voice sounded all kinds of reassuring. “You’re safe now, I promise.”

Safe. You were safe. Because there had been HYDRA agents, but Captain America and actual SHIELD operatives had come to the rescue. And because Jemma was-

Jemma. Your straightened, dull ache pounding in your back as you did so, vision clearing a fraction with the sudden realization that you couldn’t hear your friend anymore. Your friend whom you owed your life very likely, but even if you didn’t, you would have-

You craned your neck over Captain America’s impressive frame, head snapping from left to right, nausea rising with the movement, but that didn’t matter, you had to-

You turned your alarmed gaze back to the man who was still holding you, an urgent question on your lips.

“Jemma? Is she--- Doctor Simmons, brunet, lab coat-“ you paused, realizing bitterly that you had just described half of the Science and Technology. “Female. She’s a doctor and an agent too, she was with me had a gu-“

A warm squeeze on your arm, the concern which had grown even more evident on Captain’s face melting away and giving way to a soothing smile.

“She’s alright. She’s already left to be checked up and to give her statement.”

Your shoulders sagged, your head dropping a bit; the violent vertigo that seized your body at that was not pleasant and you tried to blink it away, gaze catching the reflection of the still-blinking fluorescent lamp on the Captain’s shield.

Oh. That was probably what had made the whizzing sound before. As your brain conjured an image of that, a spinning shield flying through the air, you cursed yourself mentally for letting your mind even go there since you had already felt like you were the flying piece of metal and the thing you’d hit eventually would be the floor.

“My head is spinning,” you muttered absently as you attempted to refocus your gaze, praying to gods of religion and science alike you wouldn’t throw up on the poor caring man.

Why was he still sitting here with you? Surely there were much more important things to tend to than one little post-grad? How was he so kind and gentle? Wasn’t he known for inspiring speeches in a deep serious voice and for beating up villains with both his physical strength and brains?

So many questions and no answer in those pretty blue eyes.

In fact, the number of your questions grew exponentially when the hand on your arm released the pressure and gently rubbed your elbow instead; his free hand carefully cradled the back of your other hand, the contrast of leather and his warm skin surprisingly sensual, suddenly making you understand why so many regency era literature spoke of hand-holding as indecent even as it was barely Fifty Shades of Grey level of filth.  

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Captain Rogers said, snapping you from your thoughts. “Let me help you up and they’ll check you up too, including this nasty cut, okay?”

Huh?

Purposely slowly as not to make the vertigo worse, you glanced at your hand in his, feeling a fresh sting just by looking at your palm, your gaze instantly snapping away.

And falling straight onto two intact vials full of liquid of a distinct colour, lying carelessly about two feet away from Steve Rogers’ tactical boots. Your heart jumped in your chest, your hazy mind finally growing aware of your surroundings.

“Shoot! Careful around those, they’re highly flammable!” you warned him swiftly, his gaze snapping to the vials in question, while ours slowly trailed over the utter, utter messthe lab had become.

The sheer amount of broken glass, spilled chemicals, broken pipettes, torn papers and unidentifiable piles of junk was staggering and it was actually a miracle nothing had exploded yet – and as a cherry on top, a few feet away, a relatively small portable PCR machine, the very equipment you had been using, downright murdered along with your experiment and a smudge of blood around it. Jesus.

“Okay, that’s good to know. More the reason to get out,” Captain Rogers remarked, slight amusement lacing his voice, only growing stronger as he continued. “Keep a lot of these around?”

You could have scoffed, but you didn’t. You have no idea, pal.

“My friend is paranoid…” you explained, still staring at them, even as you mentally added ‘or not’, since those little things might have very well saved your life. As your gaze returned to Captain Rogers, your eyes caught on something else, having you sit up straighter in sheer horror. “Is that a stab wound?!”

You gulped at the sight, even as your uninjured hand instinctively reached out towards it – as if you could fix it. The already dark suit, a lovely navy blue, appeared downright black at left his side, right where it seemed to be singed by a flame.

Had that injury been there the whole damn time he had been sitting here with you, eternally patient with your slowed brain, Simmons’ cocktails lying around in one huge chemical dump in risk of exploding any damn minute?

You logically knew the answer had to be yes, but it made zero sense – and his answer made even less sense.

“Bullet, actually. Some sort of chemical damaged the Kevlar lining and they got a lucky hit. It’s just a graze.”

“A gra-“ you choked on the word, spit stuck in your throat causing you to cough and a groan escape past your lips as the sudden rapid movement sent your head pounding again.

“Hey, you-“

“You’ve been shot and you called my cut nasty?” you questioned through the tears, earning a smile worth giving up a career for – painfully warm, kind and… almost fond.

You truly must have hit your head hard.

…as if it hadn’t been evident before.

“I heal fast. You don’t need to worry about me. I’ll be alright, doc.”

A knee-jerk reaction – again. What was it with him? Had he hit his head, forgetting you had already explained – you had, you hadn’t imagined that, right? – and now he called you a doctor again, turned into a familiar nickname, no less.

“I’m not a doct---- holy shit.”

It slammed into you like a train, struck you like a lightning, even as neither of those things had ever happened to you – yet, you imagined it had to feel like this.

A massive force, a force of nature, realization as bright and as unexpected as a lightning from a clear sky.

Doctor, are you alright?

He had asked that. He had asked that. He had said your words. He had said your goddamn soulmate’s first words to you, what must have been minutes ago, and only now it hit you.

You were left staring at him with wide eyes, myriad of emotions written all over his face, including  slight amusement and what you had earlier inexplicably identified as fondness, because the reason why he was still sitting here with you – though perhaps that was what he always did when rescuing, what did you know, you didn’t, this was your first meeting, that was why he had said the words – was that unlike you, he had realized you were his soulmate right away.

He kept watching you, silently letting you process the crucial revelation, a tight but no less kind smile on his lips.

“You said my words,” you said oh so intelligently. “You--- what… what did I—say?”

It was perhaps the stupidest question of all you could have come up on the spot, but you genuinely couldn’t remember – and wanted to know what words he had been looking at his whole life.

…this part of life? Or before the ice too? How did he feel about that? How did he feel about you? Was he disappointed? He didn’t look like he was, but didn’t even know what you had said—

What you did know and remember was that you were supposed to be smart and yet it had taken you an eternity to even notice you were facing your soulmate you had been probably spewing complete nonsense, you were now stammering like an idiot and for someone who had been worried, always, even if in the back of their mind, if their soulmate would find them good enough, you were generally making a bloody awful first impression.

But seriously, what had been your first words-

“You said you weren’t a doctor yet,” Captain Rogers reminded you, voice soft with affection of someone who had imagined hearing those words at least as many times as you had wondered about yours, hoping they would be pronounced by someone who’d respect you and cared about what kind of person you were, and would hopefully, eventually care for you. Loved you even. The tender way the syllables rolled of his tongue, spoken as if they tasted of honey, nearly chased fresh tears to your eyes. Alright, perhaps your first impression hadn’t been as bad as it appeared in your – albeit injured – head.  “But if you really don’t remember saying that, that’s not a good sign. We need to get you medical attention. Come on. Hold on.”

Blinking slowly, still processing the light and yet suffocating feeling that found residence in your chest as it was starting to truly settle that this man, this painfully beautiful and criminally gentle man, was your soulmate, he was leaning closer to you, his hands guiding yours to wrap around his neck, a wordless order you had obediently followed, and then one of his arms was sliding under your knees and his other wrapping around the middle of your back.

And then your vertigo hit you anew because you were suddenly up in the air, hands gripping hard at anything you could reach – conveniently, the only thing was him, because he had lifted you upin his arms, some of your weight resting against his chest – despite the pain that shot up your left hand.

“Whoa-“ And then, because your memory did serve you at least a little: “You--- have been stabbed.”

“Shot,” he repeated patiently, fondly almost, and you did recall he had said that.

You recalled despite the scent of pleasant aftershave and peak man suddenly enveloping you as much as his arms and the firm armour – or perhaps that was the muscles underneath? And those pretty blue eyes were watching you with a glint of amusement and a surprising amount of affection for a guy saying he had been hit by a bullet, while effortlessly carrying the girl he had just met in his-- very, very strong, muscly arms and perhaps your head was not only spinning because of the sudden height you found yourself at.

…amusement? How was he amused? Was that-- was that a joke? Was he making fun of his bullet wound, playing it down? 

“That’s… really not better.”

He grinned down at you as he made his way to the exit.

Walking. Watching you. Grinning and not even really looking where he was stepping.

Oh no.

Oh no, he was one of those people. You had met men like him at Operations, except for some reason – perhaps some sort of a soulmate telepathy – you had a feeling in him, that the peculiar recklessness many people from suffered, the disregard for their safety, because they could handle it, was dialled up to eleven in him. On a one to five scale. Because scaling mattered; you were a scientist. You’d know.

However, he did make it out of the laboratory without blowing anything up – perhaps at least that recklessness was balanced up by enhanced senses of a supersoldier and indeed, healing fast. And you hoped with your whole heart that walking out unscathed was a conscious effort, be it for him (somehow you doubted that) or for the cargo he was carrying (you had no doubt about that, not when he was looking at you like that). At least he had kept the helmet on; you were thankful for that, even as you’d love to see him without it.

See your soulmate.

You knew what he looked like everyone knew what he looked like. If they had missed the WW II. ed, they could barely miss the news about an alien invasion he had had a hand in stopping, the fall of majority of SHIELD, and other exciting horrifying news.

“I’ll be fine, doc. Now let’s get you away from exploding vials and lab equipment you could knock me out with. I’d rather be safe when I ask you out for dinner.”

You gulped, gripping him a bit tighter as a memory hit you – literally.

The PCR machine. You had done that. You had grabbed it and used it to smash into a HYDRA agent’s face, using the nearest improvised tool of defence. Jesus.

I really did that?

“You… saw that?” was what you asked instead, a few second ticking by as the rest of his words registered in your brain – and god, you really hoped your cognitive abilities would restore soon and the head injury had not caused permanent damage. “Oh.”

As much as your heart started pounding at that, a pleasant somersault in your stomach for a change, it was a little unfair to sort-of ask you when you were in your current predicament. Being carried like that, so close to him, so gentlemanly and tenderly handled despite your weight no doubt straining him, especially since he had been shot – grazed –, yoursenses wrapped in everything that was him and pulling you in, you were fairly certain you might say yes to just about anything he’d ask.

And not just because he was your soulmate.

Your soulmate carrying you in his arms, while wearing a very flattering suit of armour.

“If you’d like, of course,” he added with slight hesitance that only made your heart race further, because he was laying out his own heart for you already, expressive, genuine, and maybe sweetly handsy but not pushy despite his title and rank technically giving him every right to do whatever the hell he wanted. “But either way, I’ll save the real question for when I know you’re not suffering from a concussion. That sounds good?”

“Yes, Captain,” you replied dutifully. It did sound good, his consideration warming you from inside out. His voice sounded good too. “Sounds good to me.”

His smile was bright as the sun itself and basking in its light and warmth felt just as precious. Except he was to be your private sun forever shared with other to a point, but yours. Chosen by fate itself, defying all you had ever believed, beating time by decades, only so you could find each other.

“Looking forward to it, doc. Maybe I’ll get to know your name too while we’ll be at it,” he teased lightly, but without malice. “My name is Steve.”

Steve.

You knew that. You liked that.

Hand trembling a little, but not because you worried he’d drop you as you partly let go of his shoulders, you reached for the clasp on his helmet, a fluttery feeling in your chest eager to indeed see Steve rather than the Captain.

You felt your lips curl up and mirror his when he gave a tiny nod at your brief hesitation, your fingers finally undoing the strap and revealing his face with his help.

His hair was adorably ruffled, a slight shade of dust on his cheeks whispering of where the protective gear had been; but scientifically speaking, as well as speaking directly from heart, he was absolutely beautiful, his tender smile telling you he thought the very same about you.

He was meant to be yours; as you were meant to be his.

And you couldn’t wait to get to know him.

You could tell there were people around you and they were probably staring; but for the moment, you didn’t care at all. You had just met your soulmate.

And you weren’t even a doctor yet.

“It’s really nice to meet you, Steve. But I have to admit…” you said, teasing him with a pause, rewarded by his eyes earning a curious glint, “that the Doc nickname is kinda growing on me.”

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

Oh this feels like coming back to my roots 🤭 but hey, this challenge is a revival of all thigs good of the past, so why not go with the good old-fashioned soulmate meet-cute with a little angst beforehand, right?

AND BEHOLD I WROTE SOMETHING SHORTER THAN 10K. SHORTER THAN 8K ACTUALLY! It’s an extravaganza miracle 😂

Also. There might be some unrelated smut in the works, but I will not finish that today so... won't be part of the cum together extravaganza... ah well 🤭

Thank you for reading and potential feedback 💕

May the Fourth be with you and the rest of May be kind ✨

[willsdreamgirl]

“morning mr. shelby.” — tommy shelby x reader ⋆｡˚

tommy shelby x fem!reader

you meet tommy as a nurse during the war, but happens when he realizes that he’s known you all along? (loosely based around some s1 plot points, but all set before the war)

18+ minors dni please! angst, fluff and smut

cw: mentions of war, shooting, stabbing, suturing, ptsd, friends to lovers, eventual smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), slight breeding kink

word count: 5.4k+ (sorry lmao)

a/n: ahh first fic alert!! i’m so excited for you guys to read this! don’t be a ghost reader and lmk if you want to be added to my tag list for future tommy/cillian stuff!! 💌

you met tommy shelby during the war. he was a soldier, you were a wartime nurse. before the war, you had obviously heard of him. tommy shelby, leader of the fucking peaky blinders. arrogant bastards.

you lived in small heath, and everyday you’d pass him on the street. and everyday, you’d smile and say, “morning, mr. shelby.” and everyday, he would barely look up at you. you were sure he wasn’t even aware of your existence. prick.

your parents had always told you to stay away from the shelby boys. your dad would say that “they’re dangerous and make whores out of innocent girls” and your mum would make some comment about “the shelby men and their stupid cocks and their stupid judgements”.

they were the most intimidating people in all of small heath, possibly in all of birmingham. truth be told, there was a certain charm to them that you couldn’t shake off. well, to one of them. tommy shelby. you couldn’t tell if it was because he was your age, or because he was powerful and strong, or simply because he was strictly off limits. or because of his piercing blue eyes.

everyone in small heath knew tommy. but you knew tommy. he didn’t know you, though. you could tell if was him by the way he exhaled or by the sound of his footsteps or by the way he held a cigarette in his hand, the peaked cap on his head, a hand in his coat pocket. you despised tommy shelby, but god, was he fucking irresistible.

when men were drafted for the war in france, it was common sense that they’d need someone to tend to their cuts and bruises. you’d decided to volunteer, and after a couple weeks of training, you were right there, in the field. practicing on dolls and bags of rice and flour was nothing compared to what you saw. what you heard.

your first day in france was… eventful, to say the least. some commander had led you to the medical tent, and you were welcomed by the screams of hurt soldiers, blood and panic. you were immediately assigned to a patient, who’d been shot in the chest. you tried your best, did everything you could have, but ultimately, he had just lost too much blood. you didn’t sleep that night, haunted by the bloodshed, by the pleas of the soldier to keep him alive, by the feeling of someone else’s blood on your hands. over time, however, you grew accustomed to having your pristine white uniform soiled with blood and mud.

a month or so after you’d started, you heard shouts outside the tent. “help! someone HELP, for FUCK’s SAKE!” this was a regular occurrence, but the voice the shouts came from didn’t sound wounded. you felt an instinctual need to go see what it was.

what you saw, though, was something you never expected to see. tommy shelby, with a comrade’s head in his lap, putting pressure on a wound in his shoulder. without hesitating, you helped tommy drag the soldier to a vacant bed in the tent. “what happened?” you asked, hurriedly. tommy was visibly panicked. “i- he- um, he got st-stabbed by… one of the germans… his name’s danny- daniel.” you looked in tommy’s eyes, trying to give him some semblance of comfort. “he’ll be okay.” you applied pressure on the wound, and luckily, the blood stopped flowing soon. you cleaned the wound up and looked to tommy. “i’m gonna have to disinfect the wound with alcohol, you might want to hold daniel down for this.” daniel was still delirious from the blood loss, but the pain would be excruciating. tommy braced himself. his hands firmly holding down daniel’s. you nodded before tipping the bottle over on the wound. danny thrashed around on the bed, screaming and cursing, struggling against tommy’s hold. you heard his voice over danny’s. “you’re alright, lad! y’er gonna be fine!”

tommy sat by his friend’s bedside as he came to. you tended to other patients in the meantime but eventually went over to talk to him. “i want to keep him here for the night, mr. shelby. make sure there’s no infection.” he looked at you, surprised you knew him. “you know who i am?” “of course i do, all of small heath knows you. what i didn’t expect was to have a run-in with you, here in france.” he scoffed at his own misery and spoke. “you don’t belong here. you should be home.” you rolled your eyes, even in his state, he managed to be cocky. “if i wasn’t here today, mr. shelby, who would save danny?” that seemed to shut him up. he was about to speak, before you heard your name from the other side of the tent. “y/n, we need you!” after having helped a soldier who looked like he had been mauled, you looked out to see it was nightfall, and tommy had left.

a couple days later, at about noon, john shelby, the youngest of the shelby brothers walked in, clutching his arm tightly. “do you need help, mr. shelby?” you called out. “yes, i-i’ve been shot.” he all but whispered. you rushed over with a tray of distilled alcohol, forceps and bandages. after an afternoon of agony and pain, you had finally managed to pull out the bullet form his arm, john’s face a clear representation of his relief. “oh my god love, if we were home, i’d marry you right now.” you laughed at the proposition. “mr. shelby, i think you’re still a bit delirious from the anaesthesia. besides, i’m your brother’s age.” he looked shocked. “what, you’re arthur’s age? really?? you look nothing like that old prick.” you couldn’t help but laugh yet again. “i’m not that old, jesus. i’m tommy’s age.” he sighed. “marry him then. lord knows he needs a girl.” you giggled as you gathered your things and walked away. “you amuse me far too much, mr. shelby.”

it felt like ages had passed before you saw tommy again. your back was towards the tent entrance but you knew who had walked in. his breath trembled and his footsteps felt a bit unsteady, but it was undoubtedly him. you waited to turn until he called out your name. “y/n, is it?” you turned around, to find his face and shirt covered in blood. “mr. shelby! what happened?” you rushed over to him, taking his hand and sitting his down on a bed. “i- i… killed a man today, y/n.” he looked down, he couldn’t bring himself to look at you. you didn’t respond, simply got up and grabbed a stitching kit and a bowl of warm water. “is all this blood yours?” was your first question. “no. most of it is his.” you sighed and searched his face to find a cut on his cheekbone, the source of his own bleeding. “i’m wiping away the blood now, okay?” tommy gulped and nodded, his eyes still trained on the ground. “mr. shelby, i want you to look at me.” it was as if he didn’t hear you. you spoke again, softer yet more authoritative this time. “tommy. look at me.” he finally brought himself to look into your eyes. in his eyes, you saw guilt, regret and fear. in yours, he saw compassion, love and a warmth that could engulf all his pain. “good.” you whispered. you wrung out a washcloth and began wiping the blood away from his face, using your other hand to hold his chin in place. his arms found themselves wrapped around your waist, in an attempt to ground himself. you didn’t say anything, but your eyes told him that you didn’t mind. in that moment, you saw a different version of tommy shelby. you didn’t see ‘tommy, the criminal’, ‘tommy, the gangster’ or ‘tommy, the womanizer’. you saw tommy, a good man, an honest man. you felt his arms tighten around your waist as you pulled your hands away from his face, as if he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air. “tommy.” you whispered. “i’m gonna have to stich that wound up. it might hurt.” but he didn’t mind pain, not if you were the one inflicting it. “okay.” he spoke, his voice deep. he rubbed circles into your skin with his thumbs, the pain making him hum. “sorry, almost done.” you finished the last stitch. “there. you’re all fixed.” tommy held you like that, his hands around your waist, icy blue eyes staring into yours. your arms rested on his shoulders and you leaned down to whisper to him. “tommy. people are staring.” “so? let them.” eventually, he reluctantly pulled away from you. “it’s time for dinner, and then lights out.” he smiled as he spoke, and slowly exited the tent, catching a glimpse of you as he left.

needless to say, you only grew closer over the next few weeks. you were inseparable. whenever tommy had free time, he’d make his way to the familiar tent, and talk to you. it was wartime. you were left hurt and traumatized and so was he, but you both found solace in each other’s company. you told him how you knew him, and how you’d wish him good morning every day, only to receive complete silence from him each time. he chuckled and apologized. he told you about the peaky blinders, what they did, how they ran their business. you bonded over your shared hunger for knowledge and stories. you told him everything you knew about art, history and literature; and he told you stories of fighting gangs in the streets and stealing contraband. his stories were always more thrilling than yours. you’d try to set each other up with people for fun. you’d introduce him to every nurse, telling them how he was fighting for his country, and of course, they fell prey to his charming eyes and dashing smile. they’d ask what he did back home, and as soon as you said the words ‘gangster’, they’d run in the opposite direction. he’d done the same for you. introduced you to other soldiers, and when you spoke to them, about art and literature, they’d call you ‘unladylike’ or ‘too ambitious for a man’. you both secretly liked it this way, it was like you were his and he was yours.

when he became sergeant major, you both celebrated together. he’d brought you a bottle of whiskey, and you spent the night, talking and giggling drunkenly. but soon, he was assigned to be a sapper and dig tunnels. you both knew that the germans were going to dig their own tunnels, and at some unfortunate point, the tunnels would converge. both of you realized the danger it held, but he had to do it. you tried to talk him out of it, though. “tommy, please!” “y/n, calm down.” “goddamn it tommy, think! you’re gonna get yourself killed! what the fuck are you doing?” “i’ll be alright.” “no, you won’t! what if you get hurt? what if they shoot at you, huh? i won’t be there underground to make sure you’re okay!” “y/n, i have to serve my country. i have to do this.” “tommy. i’m begging you, don’t do this.” he simply sighed and kissed your forehead and held your face in his hands. you held tightly onto his wrists as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. “shhh, i’ll be alright. in fact, i’ll write you.” you seemed to calm down at the idea of him writing you. at least you’d be updated on his condition.

the morning he went down to the tunnels, he came to see you. you were sorting gauze and bandages when you felt his presence near you. you turned around and ran to hug him. he buried his face in your neck and breathed you in. you could feel tears brimming your eyes. neither of you knew why you felt like this. you were just friends, right? “tommy michael shelby, i swear to god if you die, i’ll kill you myself.” you heard him chuckle. he took a step back and caressed your cheek. “you take care, darling.” you wished he wouldn’t leave, but in your heart, you knew he had to. a few hours after, you found a letter tucked under a book on your desk. you curiously pulled it out and opened it.

dearest y/n,

i know how much you hate that i’m going to be a sapper now. i want you to know, no matter what happens down there, i care for you, and i love you, unconditionally. i’ve loved you since the day i first met you. i can’t believe i was looking for love in whores and prostitutes when the love of my fucking life was saying the sweetest good morning to me every morning. i’ll protect myself, and i want you to protect yourself too since i can’t do that for the time being. if we survive this wretched war, i want to take you home, ask your father for your hand and marry you, sweetheart. you take care of yourself, alright?

all my love,

tommy shelby.

you couldn’t help but gasp at what you read. he loved you. tommy shelby loved you. the same tommy shelby that was too arrogant to say a word to you, the same tommy shelby that your parents told you to stay away from, the same tommy shelby was head over heels for you. you immediately looked for a piece of paper, a pen and some ink. you wrote a letter back and sent it with one of the workers heading down to the tunnels. you didn’t know what it was like down there, but you hoped your letters would keep him sane. meanwhile, tommy received your letter and opened it with the same enthusiasm you showed his letter. however, he was also filled with nervous energy. he had confessed his love for you, which was so incredibly out of character for him, but with shaky hands, he proceeded to open the letter.

dearest tommy,

to say that your letter was shocking would be an understatement. i never knew you felt this way for me. like i’ve told you on several occasions, my parents always told me to stay away from ‘your kind’ and as a good catholic girl, i obeyed them. but tommy, in these few months, i’ve seen a side of you i can’t ever forget. i love you too tommy, the real you. the honest, raw, genuine tommy that i get to see on late nights and in random moments on busy days. i’d love to marry you, just make it out alive of that damn tunnel, you prick.

only yours,

y/n.

tommy felt his eyes welling up as he read the words you had penned on the paper. it had been so long since he’d seen you, or heard your voice. he wanted you. he needed you. to keep him stable and sane. as the days passed, your and tommy’s letter exchange became more and more frequent, and you felt like even if you were in this goddamned lawless land of blood and chaos, you had tommy. and he was all you needed.

that was, until the letters slowed down. you kept writing him, but to no avail. he hadn’t sent you a letter in days, or weeks, you weren’t sure anymore. you’d almost lost hope, and spent entire nights grieving him. trying to remember the sound of his voice, the feeling of his hands on your waist, the smell of his cologne. you hadn’t heard his breath or felt his footsteps in a long time. the pain was almost unbearable, and some days felt like decades. but the only thought that kept you going was that you saw tommy in all the wounded soldiers you treated. they were someone’s tommy. and they needed to get home alive.

4 months. 4 whole months since you heard from tommy. you were convinced he was dead now. you spent your days bandaging and stitching wounds, yet you could never fix the wound tommy left in your heart. it was one of the hottest afternoons, the french sun blazing unmercifully. you were insanely busy with patients today, the war was almost ending, and the soldiers needed to be fixed up before they could go home. yet, no sign of tommy. you sighed, cursing yourself for holding out hope now for someone who would not return.

“can i have a nurse here?” you could recognize that damn voice anywhere. the deep voice that filled your ears, smooth like honey, you’d recognize that voice at the end of the world. you turned around. tommy. “hi, love.” he smiled. but his smile quickly changed into a frown when he saw your sobs. you took him to a quieter corner of the tent. you stepped closer to him. he went to put his arms around you. you slapped him across the face. “where. the FUCK were you, thomas michael shelby?!” he was incredibly confused. “l- love, what?” “i thought YOU DIED, YOU BASTARD. where were you?” the time you spent apart had changed you, and from his response, you could tell it clearly changed him. “i was TRYING to fucking STAY ALIVE for YOU.” he raised his voice at you. he never raised his voice. neither of you spoke for a while and tension filled the air between the two of you. “i should leave.” he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. he left, and you let him.

after a few weeks, news broke that britain had won the war, and everyone went home. five years had passed since you last saw the familiar streets of small heath, and you were no longer a girl, but a woman. a woman who needed to get a job to survive in this city. you walked around and saw a flyer on the doors of the garrison. ‘BARMAID NEEDED.’ you walked in to find harry. he looked up pleasantly surprised. “y/n! haven’t seen you in a while, eh? what can i do you for?” “i’m here to get the barmaid job, harry.” he sighed.” y/n, this job isn’t suitable for a girl like you. these men, they’ve just come back from war, they haven’t seen a girl, let alone a pretty one like yourself, in ages. they’ll have you up against a wall within the first hour of your shift.” you looked at him desperately. “harry, please. i need this job, otherwise i’ll be out on the streets, which are surely worse than this pub. i was a nurse in france, i’ve dealt with these men. please?” he sighed again before nodding. “alright then, you start tomorrow.”

your first shift consisted of the usual alcoholics, men with ptsd, everything that was to be expected after a war. you hear the bells at the door ring as the familiar footsteps walk closer to the bar. without turning around, you ask, “what do you want?” he replies, “whiskey, scotc- y/n?” you finally turn around at the sound of your name falling from his lips. “yes, mr. shelby. so, scotch? on the house right?” he leans over so that just the two of you can hear. “don’t mr. shelby me. come on, love, talk to me.” “i have nothing to talk to you about.” as you poured him a glass of whiskey, he held your wrist assertively. “y/n. come.” you rolled your eyes and went to the shelby’s private booth. “what is it that you want, tommy?” “what the fuck do you mean ‘what do i want’? you, i want YOU. i need you. did ya lose your fucking mind in france like danny whiz-bang?” you felt your bottom lip trembling and your throat choking up. “i… i thought y- you were fucking dead. i mourned you. for MONTHS. i grieved over the death of the love of my life. of my future husband. of my future children that i’d have with him. and then, just as i’m making my peace with it, YOU have the fucking audacity to show up? you have some bloody nerve, tommy shelby.” the look in his eyes softened as he took a step closer to you. “no. don’t you dare come any closer to me, tommy, i’ll kill you.” you said, holding up the bottle of whiskey as a weapon. he embraced you, holding you tightly, his fingers stroking your hair. you resisted the hug and tried to push him away, only to find his grip on you getting tighter. “g- get away… from me, p- please… i- just” your voice came out muffled between sobs. tommy felt hot tears rolling down his own cheeks. “shhh, sweetheart. i’m okay, eh? i’m fine. i’m here, with you.” you dropped the bottle you were holding and it shattered into a million pieces on the ground. you stood there in his arms, crying for what felt like an eternity. you finally pulled away from him, and he wiped your tears with his thumbs. you laughed, but then lightly slapped his arm. “you scare me like that again, tommy, i swear i’ll kill ya.” “i’ll hold you to it, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead, and you rested your forehead against his. he tentatively closed the gap between your lips and his, and you pulled him by the collar and kissed him with enough force to make him trip and fall. he managed to stay steady and kissed you back with equal fervour. he spoke between kisses. “i *kiss* spent *kiss* every *kiss* second *kiss* thinking *kiss* of you.” you giggled. “i missed you too, tommy.”

he told harry that you’d be leaving the bar early that day, and dragged you out the bar while holding your hand, a smile on his face for the first time in a long time. “the great thomas shelby isn’t embarrassed to have a barmaid as his girlfriend?” you giggled. “never. and those who think i should be embarrassed can suck me cock.” he spoke proudly. he opened the car door for you, and you sat inside and waited for him to turn the ignition on. “where are we going, tommy?” “i want you to meet my family, love.” during the countless hours you spent together chatting, he told you about his family’s idiosyncrasies and stories about them. how arthur needed to be protected the most during fights because he was just as likely to hurt himself as he was to hurt someone else, how aunty pol’s instincts about love were never wrong, how john once fell in love with a prostitute and everyone laughed at him, how ada was the most rebellious and married a communist (who happened to be in of his best mates), and how finn always pretended to act like tommy, doing whatever his big brother did. you were excited to meet them of course, but anxious. they would be your family one day too.

he held your hand as he brought you in, everyone sitting around a table waiting for him. “does everyone just sit together like this?” you asked. “uh, no i called a family meeting for 3 pm.” tommy replied simply. “how did you know you’d be able to have me here by 3?” he winked at you. “i have my ways. and i know how much you love me.” he spoke in a singsong voice. you rolled your eyes at his schoolboy behaviour and waited for him to speak. “shelby’s, this is my girlfriend and soon to be fiancé, y/n.” he held his arm around your waist proudly, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek. you recognized arthur and john immediately from your time in the war. you assumed that the older woman was aunt polly, and the younger with the baby in her arms would be ada, leaving the youngest member of the family, finn. john came up to talk to you first, while tommy spoke with polly. “you know i didn’t really mean the ‘marry tommy’ thing?” you laughed as you replied, “i didn’t either, but fate works in weird ways, eh?” he agreed with you before talking to tommy. arthur was the next one to see you. “you and tommy, eh? if it wasn’t for the war, you two would probably never have met. i s’pose war isn’t all bad then.” “perhaps you’re right. i did find your brother to be arrogant before the war.” “that he is, y/n. that he is.” both of you looked over at him, engaged in conversation with everyone else. you fussed over the baby in ada’s arms. “awww, he’s precious! what’s his name?” “karl, after karl marx.” you shot her a look. “it’s unconventional, i know. but freddie really wanted it.” “it’s lovely.” finn rushed over to you and kissed your hand. you gushed exaggeratedly. “what a gentleman you are, finn!” “if tommy wasn’t here, you’d be my girlfriend, miss y/n.” you laughed at his childishness and ruffled his hair. “sure i would, finn.” the only person you hadn’t spoken to yet was aunt polly, arguably the most intimidating person of the family. “i have one question for you, y/n. how you answer it will determine if you’re fit for being a shelby. how do you think i kept this business up and running during the war?” you felt put on the spot but tried your best to answer. “um, well, to be quite frank, i’ve believed that women are better at business anyway. we know how to settle deals with whiskey and not fists or guns. and you seem like twice the man than most men i know anyway.” her lips twitched up into a smile as she looked to tommy. “oh, i like her already.” he held your hand in hers, and addressed tommy. “she seems like a lovely girl, do not fuck this up tommy.” tommy shook his head and laughed. “i’ll try, pol. i’ll try.”

you ate dinner with the shelby’s before you headed up to his house. “you sure you don’t want me to walk you home?” he asked for the hundredth time that night. “no tommy, i’m perfectly content spending the night with you. unless you’d like me to leave?” you questioned. “no no, stay, please!” he said, almost pleadingly. you looked around his bedroom when you reached his home. it was obviously a house, but it didn’t feel like a home. you frowned at your observation. “what’s wrong, y/n?” “this house isn’t a home yet, tommy.” “that’s because i want my first home to be with you. with our children. and as far as i’m concerned, you are my home.”

“care to dance?” he asked, holding out his hand. you looked at the gramophone in the corner. “that doesn’t look like it works, love.” you placed your hand in his. “so what? we can dance without music.” he said, holding your waist close to him, your hand on his shoulder. you leaned your head on his shoulder, both of you dancing in the silence, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing. “kiss me, tommy.” you whispered. he obeyed probably for the first time in his life and kissed your soft lips.

things escalated and you were now on tommy’s bed, tracing the sun tattoo on his chest, with him on top of you. “fuck me, tommy, please.” “your cunt wants this cock?” he growled. you moaned in his ear. “fuck, yes tommy, make me yours.” he stretched you out in the most blissful way. of course, you had used your fingers before, but nothing could replace the feeling of his cock. “god, please!” you moaned out, words slowly turning into incoherent sounds. tommy chuckled. “god can’t hear you now, sweetheart. not here.” he pistoned his hips into you just right and it wasn’t long before he found the spot inside you that made you scream. “t- tommy fuck! right there, please don’t stop!” “i wouldn’t dream of stopping, darling. my girl, so pretty all spread out for me. take it, love. take that cock.” the feeling of your impending orgasm coursed through your entire body, making you writhe in pleasure. “god, i’m so close tommy!” “good fucking girl.” his hand reached down to rub circles on your clit while he fucked you so good. “oh god, tommy, i’m not gonna be able to walk tomorrow…” “that’s the plan, sweetheart.” he spoke as he kissed hickeys on your neck, matching the ones you’d given him earlier. “come on love, make a mess on my cock.” as soon as he said that, you felt yourself falling apart, the tight band in your stomach snapping, uncontrollable moans of his name falling from your lips. “thank you tommy, thank you so much.” you moaned, drunk on the feeling of his cock inside you. “such an angel. who do you belong to, sweets?” he said, still pounding your cunt. “y- you, tommy. i belong to you!” “that’s right, sweetheart.” he whispered in your ear, “i love you, darling.” you moaned as you felt your second orgasm approaching. “tommy, fuck! i- i love you too!” “god i’m gonna cum inside you! you’d like that, eh? me getting you pregnant, all nice and round with my baby?” you felt your orgasm pulsing through you at his words. “yes, tommy! fill my womb up, please! i need it!” you heard tommy’s loud moans as he came inside you. “oh, such a good girl. took my cock so well, love.” tommy stayed on top of you for a while, his cock still inside you. “i’ve wanted to do that for five fucking years.” he spoke, voice muffled since his head was buried between your tits. you laughed, but the laughs quickly turned to moans as your sensitive cunt felt friction from tommy’s cock rubbing up against its walls. he pulled out of you slowly, watching his seed spill out of you. he eventually got up to get a warm washcloth and a glass of water for you. you drank the water as he cleaned you and himself up and pulled you into his chest. you pulled the covers over both of you, feeling your body flush against his. “that was amazing tommy, thank you.” “the pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” he kissed your forehead.

ever since tommy came back from france, he had these recurring nightmares every night. of his time in the tunnels. the germans. his comrades. how he had to kill people with his bare hands. he could still hear the shovels digging the tunnels when he closed his eyes. when he was with you though, he could finally fall asleep. or so he thought.

you were awoken in the middle of the night by the sounds of a gasping tommy, suddenly sitting up. you felt groggy for a moment, having just woken up, but quickly sprung into action. you sat next to him, rubbing his back. “tommy, what’s wrong?” he didn’t speak. but he didn’t need to. you’d seen enough cases of ptsd from your time in the war to know what was happening to him. “you still see it, eh?” he only nodded. you laid back down and pulled him into your chest. he protested. “what are y-” “shut up.” you could tell, he was still a bit frantic, his breath still heavy. you spoke to him in a soft tone and you played with his fingers, his head on your chest. “listen to me. listen to the sound of my voice. feel my body against yours. you are home. you are safe. the war is over. the nightmares are just parts of your mind trying to scare you. but you’re stronger than that, eh? i’m here with you, and you don’t need to be scared. alright? i’m here with you, always.” he hummed, heavy eyelids slowly closing shut. being able to smell the scent of your perfume helped ground him. “good job, tommy. now sleep. i’ll be here with you when you wake up.” you managed to get him to go to sleep, but somehow convinced your mind to let you sleep light enough that if tommy were to have another nightmare, you’d be up immediately. fortunately, he didn’t wake up during the night.

he woke up to the sight of a sleeping you, the sun rays hitting you just right. he swore he could look at you forever. you felt his gaze on you and slowly opened your eyes. “how’d you sleep?” you asked. “like i hadn’t slept in years.” he replied.

“morning, mr. shelby.” you wished him, as you did, every day before the war. except this time, you were in his arms, in his bed. you kissed his lips softly. except this time, he finally wished you back.

“mornin’, sweetheart.”

[h3nr31ds]

op youre going to make me cry

do you think chick hicks is scared of having kids because he feels like hed unknowingly turn out just like his father

[chuluoyi]

everything, but not anything

- gojo satoru x reader

you were his last remainder of the happiest blue spring in his life, until your untimely demise. and on the death's door, he finally found you again.

genre/warnings: angsty wangsty, consolation towards the end

notes: i said i can't create gojo fics without feeling depressed, so here i present to you, angst. it's inspired from a thread in twitter i read about how gojo was given everything but he couldn't do anything and my heart just incredibly hurts and―this happened. it's unedited because the idea popped into my mind at 1 in the morning

i wrote this while listening to this wonderful song. consider it the theme song for this piece. i highly recommend you to read this and listen to it!

[update] sequel -> found you

general masterlist

You were so pretty. So really pretty, in fact. And he likes pretty things. Perhaps that was what spurred him to spontaneously ask you out.

You declined him at first―after all, he was a special grade weirdo. And you half-expected him to give up soon enough, only that he didn't. He persisted like a cockroach, smothering you with his very being. Then like a sweet romance novel, you too finally fell for him, melting at his clumsy attempts to woo you.

And by God, you were happy together. To Satoru, it was the brightest, most vibrant page in his life. And with his very being, he would do everything he could to protect you. After all, he was blessed with the best, he had all means to protect you.

He should've known better.

It started with his failed star plasma vessel mission. Riko was dead, and at that time he was just numb. Later, he made excuses. He couldn't have foreseen that a sorcerer killer would join the fray and made a mess of things.

But then his best friend, Suguru, left. Satoru couldn't make excuses any longer. For that, he was wholly responsible. From then, he realized that just being strong wasn't enough. And throughout those dark days, you were with him, consoling him as you brought his head to your chest, letting him sleep in your arms.

"Don't ever leave me, okay?" he whispered at the dead of the night with hoarse voice. It made your heart sting. You nodded and ran your fingers throughout his hair, mumbling a soft "of course."

And you never did. You were always by his side.

Satoru was really grateful for that. To have the last years of your life by his side. Looking back, it was like a beautiful mirage.

He had hidden himself behind the facade of the strongest. The unreachable. Untouchable. It felt nice, still is. Before he had known it, he had drawn this line between himself and other people. Between him and you. He wasn't lonely, but he was at the very same time.

And perhaps he had gotten way too arrogant, and thus the heavens decided to humble him.

He couldn't prevent the Shibuya Incident from happening. Worse, he fell into the enemy's hand and got sealed, and just before he was trapped inside that accursed box, he saw you die. And even after the most excruciating 19 days of his life afterwards, he couldn't do anything about it.

Your face haunted him. The tears you shed for him still lingered at the tips of his fingertips. The blood from your mouth still soaked his vision.

"Satoru..." you croaked. You were afraid. Afraid of dying, but most of all, afraid of leaving him. You had promised him once, on the bunkbed of your dorms back in Jujutsu High, that you wouldn't leave him. Tears wouldn't stop falling from your beautiful eyes.

Satoru burned that image on his mind. He wanted to hate himself with every fiber of his being, but then you said the most damnable thing possible.

"Thank you... for everything..."

And you had a smile on your face. In your last moments, you decided to convey how much he meant to you in this life. How much you cherished him. You prayed with all your heart that it would reach him.

And once again, just like the first day he saw you at the training grounds of Jujutsu High, Satoru found you to be really breathtaking. You were beautiful even as you laid dying. Even as his visions were obscured as he fell into the darkness.

Inside the prison realm where time passed long and uncertain, he made himself numb once again.

You were his most cherished figment of the most precious memory held in his heart―the three years of his youth. He wouldn't have changed anything about it. He was devastated, severely so, but so did the sweetness aftertaste he felt.

Your feelings reached him, and because of that, even if the road ahead was long and hard and painful, he would stay on that road.

If it meant he could meet you again on the other side of this dream... he'd stay and move towards tomorrow, no matter how bleak it was.

When his comrades freed him from the prison realm, he gained knowledge that most people he knew were also dead during his absence. Nanami. Yaga. The students.

Perhaps it was his curse. To be blessed with everything, but not being able to do anything about it.

He had nothing more to lose when he fought against Sukuna. He gave it his all. Everything his life had led him to―he put it all on the line.

And suddenly―suddenly, he was back to the happiest chapter of his youth. Everyone was there. Suguru was there. Nanami, Haibara, even Riko.

And you.

On the other side of that dream, you were once again standing before him, in your old uniform, just like when you’d get ready for a class so many years ago, and with the smile he fell in love with. The smile he would gladly fight the world for.

"Satoru," you called, breathless, but just like before you left him the first time, you frowned and your eyes suddenly glistened with tears. "Why... are you here? How did you―"

But you choked back your tears when he ran to you and pulled you into his arms so tightly. You heard him grunt, and then to your surprise, slightly sob.

Now he is no longer Gojo Satoru, the strongest. He is back to a young sorcerer wanting so badly to live his youth to the fullest, happiest.

"You lied to me," he reprimanded you amidst his weeping. "You left. You freaking left―"

Your vision blurred. "I'm sorry..."

Satoru let you go to have a good look at you. You were no longer bleeding. Your insides were intact. Just a little crying because you couldn't help it.

"I love you, you know that right?" he blurted with the most sullen expression he could muster. He turned back into the child-boy you somehow fell in love with.

"Satoru," you breathed out, anxious. "You shouldn't be here―"

"I should," he cut you with a firm tone. "I have no regrets. I have done what I can, and now―"

"But the others―they need you! They need you, Satoru."

He drooped his head. He had thought it over too, but he had come to a final conclusion. "No. They don't."

Maybe it was finally the time to let go of it. It was time to just... pass it over. No more interventions. No more tipping the balance of the world itself.

Immediately, you understand what he means. Gojo Satoru has served his purpose. There was nothing left that he must and could do.

"You waited long, huh?" you whispered with tears, yet a smile bloomed on your face.

"I did."

"Then... now that you're here," you offered your hand towards him, and then looked at the faces of your friends. They were all beaming at you and him, waiting for this exact moment.

You stared at him fondly, lovingly.

"Would you... walk this road with me once again?"

Satoru snapped his head. He nodded at you with pure certainty, zero hesitation. "Yes."

He took your hand, grasping it tightly in his.

"Even when there's a possibility that you have to walk to the other side of a nightmare again?”

"I would," Satoru resolutely replied.

Because it's you, he would. He'd willingly and gladly cross the throes of hell and set out on this lonely yet hopeful journey, just to meet you.

You chuckled at him heartily, and Satoru felt the immense love he held for you as the two of you walked towards tomorrow, without regrets.

It may be his curse, to have everything yet nothing at the same time. But each time he would be faced with this decision, he'd remember that feeling and let go of everything just for this very chance to live a life with you again.

[holybibly]

More food play, bunnies? You wanted it, now you get it. Unholy thoughts of the day, bunnies: The idea of serving a luxurious dinner on a naked, hot body has never sounded so appealing, especially when the main course comes with sweet, wet pussy for dessert. Or dirty, perverted idols Ateez discover the exciting, sexy experience of Nyotaimori during their schedule in Japan.

Nyotaimori - often referred to as "body sushi", is the Japanese practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the naked body of a woman. 

Yunho first heard about it from his friend the last time he was in Japan during a break between comebacks. His friend described it as the most vivid, hot, and incredibly sexual experience of his life. And incredibly expensive too. But as Minhyuk assured him, it was worth every damn penny, and he would definitely go back to this special restaurant again to get supplements. And Yunho thought about it seriously. He even did some research and watched some porn on the subject and some hentai videos, and he has to say that it turned him on so much so that he had to jerk off several times in a row to completely empty his balls and quench his need to fuck.

His dick was so hard and pulsating rhythmically as he watched several guys on the screen eating sushi and sashimi from the naked body of a pretty busty girl with a tiny, slime-stained pussy and then fucking her hard in all the tight, wet holes. They were pulling her onto their big cocks, after which they cum all over her body, covering her completely with their sperm. And fuck, now this sweet, haunting image is permanently lodged in his head. 

Of course, his friends weren't left out of Yunho's new dirty hobby. At first he only told Mingi about it, and, as usual, his best friend supported him enthusiastically, and soon they were both greedily glued to porn videos of this style. Gradually, it spread beyond the two of them, and soon the whole group was somehow drawn into Yunho's hot, perverse fantasy of nyotaimori and dirty gangbang.

It got to the point where all the boys unanimously decided that on their next trip to Japan, they would definitely visit this special restaurant that Minhyuk had recommended. And so Yunho found himself in the dark reception area of Deep Dive, one of the most modern and hyped places in Tokyo. And for good reason, as this restaurant offered not only a deep culinary immersion into a variety of exquisite tastes but also into the depths of various sexual practices.

"So, Mr. Jeong, do you have a preference for a host for your dinner?" The woman in front of him looks stunning, but so does the shark looking for its prey.

Yunho clutches the list of preferences that the other members have written down regarding the type of girl they would like to see on the table.

"Ahem..." He clears his throat before he speaks. His cheeks are slightly flushed, but the thought that he is about to make his dirty dream come true makes his dick tense. "We'd like someone juicy..." God, it sounds so stupid, and judging by the way the woman in front of him raises a questioning eyebrow, he is not the only one who thinks the same. So Yunho quickly corrects himself. "I mean with curves, big and heavy breasts, a fat ass, hips, but petite."

"Okay, I get it; continue." The lady encourages him, making notes in her notebook.

"If possible, we want a more submissive girl, maybe into pet play and daddy kink."

"We can give you exactly what you want. What about sexual practices? Do you have any preferences?"

Such a frank, dirty question should embarrass him even more, but instead Yunho's eyes darken and his voice becomes confident and hoarse.

"Voyeurism, size perversion, deep throat, spanking, spitting, objectification, possibly double penetration and squirt, plus of course fingering, cunnilingus, and other classic practices."

"Yes, I understand." She writes something on the notebook again and looks up at him. "Do you want to role play with coercion or are you more attracted to enthusiastic consent?"

"Enthusiastic consent, please. We want her to want it too. Maybe even too much." Yunho bites his lip and drums his fingers on his knee, either from nerves or excitement.

"You're in luck, Mr. Jung; one of our new girls is really into group sex; you'll love her." A dazzling smile appears on her lips, and she looks straight into Yunho's eyes as she begins to repeat his order loudly and clearly. "So, Friday night at eight o'clock, we're expecting Mr. Jeong Yunho, Park Seonghwa, Song Mingi, and Jung Wooyoung at private booth number 8 for a tasting dinner. On our part, we guarantee complete safety and anonymity of your data. The NDA file was sent to you in advance by email.

The menu consists of twelve starters and one main course, which will be served by Miss Y/N, who will also be your host for the evening. Dessert is included. You have chosen the full immersion experience with special services (which implies a full-fledged sex scene). The cost of your dinner is one hundred million yen. Will you confirm your order?" The lady pushed the ATM towards Yunho and batted her eyelashes cutely, waiting for the beep to inform her of a successful transaction.

Yunho nonchalantly swiped Hongjoong's black bank card at the terminal and pressed the confirm button. As soon as the machine made a cute "ding," the receptionist extended her hand across the table for Yunho to shake.

"I hope your Deep Dive experience is truly memorable, Mr. Jeong. See you on Friday."

[straylightdream]

…ready for it?

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: kwon soonyoung x curvy!f.reader

In the middle of the night, in my dreams. You should see the things we do, baby. In the middle of the night in my dreams

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: non-idol au, friends to lovers

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut warning below.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.3k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name Let me know if you’re interested in any other boys stories mentioned in this. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys. here. Vernon might have a connecting story this one. Please let me know what you guys think about his role. The rest or the boys stories will be in my svt m.list.

here is my SVT taglist if you’re interested being add please fill out this form.

𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: intercourse (p in v) oral (fem rec), soft dom soonyoung, so much dirty talk, sex dreams, rough and passionate sex, a little hair pulling, spanking, soonyoung is boob obsessed like this man is obsessed, body worship, body insecurities, the mc is soft and has curve, the mc and Soonyoung are down bad.

Kwan Soonyoung the man that haunted you in the best way possible. From the moment you met him you had a feeling deep down inside that he would turn your world upside down.

Your first time you saw him was at a friend's birthday party. Watching from across the club you watched a pretty girl with red hair fall at his feet, clinging to every word he said. All your encounters that followed went the same way. Each night another girl would fall for his charm. Who could blame them? He was beautiful and had a body that looked like it had been sculpted by the gods.

The fifth encounter was when you were properly introduced to him. The moment he shook your hand as you were introduced you knew instantly you were going to fall head over hills for this man.

Things took an unexpected turn when your dinner plans you had one night with Vernon were interrupted but Soonyoung and another one of their friends Seokmin tagging along. That was the night that your friendship with Soonyoung started to bloom. From that night on your grew closer and even found yourself hanging out with him one on one. The problem was the closer you got to him, the more you started to fall for him.

Your new friendship did nothing to detour his “playboy” ways. You would often find yourself out with your group of friends and it wouldn’t take long before you watched him leave with a different woman each time. The closer you got the more it hurt to see him with new women each night.

There has been a new problem in your life since you’ve grown close to Soonyoung. He just doesn’t take up your waking thoughts, he now even haunts your dreams. Many nights you’ve found yourself having vivid sexual fantasies about him.

-

He has you on your hands and knees as his rough hands grip your soft hips. He thrusts into you at a quick pace. Glancing over your shoulder you see his lust filled eyes focused on watching his length disappearing in and out of you over and over again.

“Fuck-“ you moan.

“You’re so tight-“

You’re so close to falling apart you can practically taste your release on your tongue.

“I wanna- I wanna,” he’s fucking you so good you can’t even form proper sentences. “Cum.”

“But you can’t,” he laughs.

Before you can even respond everything fades away. Your eyes snap open and you look at the dark ceiling above. Once again you're dreaming about your friend.

Sighing your roll onto your side. Looking at the clock to see it’s only three in the morning.

-

Sitting in a crowded bar Vernon is rambling on about some girl he’s crushing on that has a boyfriend and you can’t help but lose focus as he’s speaking to you. Your eyes keep wandering across the bar when Soonyoung is attempting to “teach” some skinny girl with quite large breast how to play pool. The feeling of someone kicking your shin instantly brings you back to reality.

“Do you ever listen to me?” Vernon glares at you.

“I was listening,” you lie.

“What was I saying?” He gives you a look letting you know he doesn’t believe you.

“You were talking about your neighbor who you have a crush on.” That was about the only part of his story you were fully listening to.

“What about her?” He rolls his eyes, leaning back. Your best friend is tired of your bullshit and you honestly don’t blame him. You haven’t been the best friend to him right now. You often find yourself distracted whenever Soonyoung is around.“Do you think if you finally fucked Soonyoung you be able to focus around him?” You practically choke on your beer you had just taken a sip of.

“Excuse me?” Your eyes must be huge. You’re completely caught off guard by his statement.

“Whenever he is around you barely pay attention. You seem like you're wrapped up in Soonyoung. It’s clear you want to fuck, so please just get it over with so I can have an actual conversation with you when he’s around.”

Silently you stare at him not even sure what to say. You can’t even deny what your best friend just said to you. He’s right, you can barely focus when Soonyoung is around.

“I’m not his type,” you sigh before taking another sip of your beer.

Vernon looks over at Soonyoung who is leaning over the table still playing pool with the same girl. “Soonyoung’s type is pretty girls with tits. You check off both those boxes.” You instantly glance down at your own quite large boobs. They go with your soft curvy body. You aren’t skinny like all the girls you’ve seen him leave with.

“I’m not a twig last time I checked,” you sigh.

“God you’re dumb sometimes,” Vernon is once again rolling his eyes at you. “Princess, I'm gonna say this nicely. You’re hot, men like women with soft bodies. If you want to hook up with Soonyoung you need to make it obvious to him you’re interested. He’s not gonna make the first move because he thinks I have dibs on you.”

Your eyes once again go wide. “Excuse me, you have dibs?”

“It’s a long story but once upon a time I had a big crush on you and Seokmin told Soonyoung.” You’ve known Vernon since you were a teenager and you were absolutely clueless to the fact that he had a crush on you.

“When?”

“Back when we were in college and you were dating Sunwoo.” He left you in complete shock. You weren’t in love with him but you had no clue at one point he liked you. You absolutely would have dated your best friend in college. “I don’t want you to freak out or let that stop you from trying something with Soonyoung. I’m just letting you know the reason he hasn’t made a move.”

“When did you stop liking me like that?” You feel like you definitely need some answers.

“Before our senior year. I started dating Liz and fell in love with her. Listen before you overthink this. You didn’t break my heart and you clearly didn’t return my feelings.” He seems completely unfazed by the fact he let out the fact he had a crush on you in college.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because you were in love with someone else the whole time. Listen stop asking questions and try to hook up with Soonyoung before he takes that girl home,” Vernon once again kicks your shin.

“Stop that!”

“No. Now go,” he waves you off.

Sliding out of the booth you adjust your skirt. You aren’t normally the type to pursue a man like this. But you now know nothing will ever happen with Soonyoung unless you make the first move. The moment he sees you as walking toward him he stares at you. Something tell you that Soonyoung might have known your intentions suddenly.

“Soonyoung,” say confidentially.

“Hey?” He gives you a crooked smile.

“Can I talk to you?” The pretty girl sets the pool stick down and instantly looks annoyed.

Of course.” He smiles.

“He’s helping me,” the girl says.

“Sorry I need to talk to my friend.” Soonyoung responds to her. “It was nice meeting you.”

You lead him away from the girl. Walking towards the bar. You know you’re gonna need something a little stronger than beer to maintain your confidence. You order a cranberry and vodka as Soonyoung leans against the counter studying you. “So princess, what did you want to talk about?” You almost lost your train or thought of him calling you the nickname Vernon gave you in college.

“I was curious what a girl has to do to get an evening with you?”

Biting his bottom lip he holds back a smile. “What do you mean?”

“I always see you leaving with different girls and I’ve always been dying to know what the Soonyoung experience is,” you aren’t used to being this bold but there is something about it that’s so exciting.

“Oh I see.”

“Are you not interested in showing me?” You aren’t sure you can take the rejection if he says no to you. Especially after Vernon told you that you’re his type, and made a big deal about encouraging you to pursue him.

Placing his hand under your chin he gently tilts your head back. “Princess, I’m very interested in showing you.” The way he’s speaking to you turns you on more than you ever thought it would. “When did you suddenly get interested in me?”

“Since the moment I saw you the first time.”

A cocky smile crossed his lips. “Do you think about me often?” You blink slowly. You aren’t sure if you should lie and say no or let him know about fantasies with him that invade your dreams. “Your silence says a lot.”

“I dream about you often.”

His eyebrow raises as he studies your face, “are these innocent dreams?” You shake your head. “Do I take good care of you in your dreams?”

“Yes,” you step back from him and take a sip of your drink.

“Something tells me I’ve been fucking you really good at night. I’ve been noticing for a while you can barely look me in the eyes when we’re together. Is that because I do the dirtiest things to you while you sleep?”

“Yes.” Your body feels like it’s been lit on fire. He’s turning you on in public with very little effort.

“Should I bring some of those fantasies alive tonight?”

“Please,” you practically sigh.

“Finish your drink I’ll tell Vernon I’m taking you home.”

-

Walking into Soonyoung’s apartment you realize you’ve never been here before. He’s been to your place before for a wine and game night but you’ve never been here. You look around noticing his minimalist style. Stepping out of your shoes you step more into the living area. He must notice you're a little nervous now. He walks behind you placing his hand on your lower back leading you away from the front door.

“Your place is nice,” you feel awkward attempting to make small talk.

“Thanks. Did you want anything to drink?”

“Why does this feel awkward?”

He sighs, “I’m trying to be respectful and not strip you right now and fuck you on my living room floor.”

Your cheeks burn feeling embarrassed. You weren’t expecting him to be that blunt. You know right now is your chance to be confident. “What if I want you to fuck me on your living room floor?”

“I was hoping to make it a little more romantic and do it in my bed,” he chuckles stepping towards you.

His hand rest on your cheek. He drags his thumb just below your bottom lip. “What if I don’t want romance our first time? I want to know what all those other girls experienced.”

“Our first time?” He tilts his head.

“Is this supposed to be a one night stand?” You don’t want this to be a one time thing but you don't want Soonyoung to know right away you’re practically in love with him.

“Absolutely not. I promise Vernon if I have sex with you it has to be because I truly like you.” It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes at the mention of your best friend.

“Of course Vernon talked to you.”

“He did it when I told him I was taking you home. Don’t be mad at him.”

“He’s the one who encouraged me to talk to you.” You sigh.

“I guess I’ll have to thank him later.” He gives you a cheesy wink that instantly makes you smile.

“He doesn’t need the ego boost so please don’t.”

Without saying another word you crashed your lips into his for another searing kiss. Both his hands hold your face as your lips move together.

“So you like me?” You ask with your lips ghosting his. There is no way you can let it slip that he said he likes you.

“Was that not obvious?”

You shake your head, “could have fooled me.”

“Let me show you how much I like you.”

His lips press to yours for another searing kiss. The way he’s kissing you it’s like he’s undressing you with his lips. There is this thought that won’t leave your mind. Is this what the other woman experiences when he takes them home?

One of your hands grip his hip pulling him closer to you. You’re instantly met with his growing erection nudging your stomach.

“I know how much you want me to fuck you on the living room floor. I’m gonna be honest I want you on the bed so you’re comfortable while I fuck you from behind,” if you weren’t wet before you definitely are now.

“Take me to bed then.”

Walking into his room he wastes no time swiftly removing your clothes. You’re standing in front of him bare except for your tiny cheeky underwear. You want to feel insecure in your body, but you know you need to be confident. Soonyoung had made it clear that he’s into you and how your body looks.

“Are you going to get naked too?”

He just smirks and pulls off his sweater. The rest of his clothes soon follow. He’s standing there in front of you completely naked. His body looks like it was carved by the gods.

He drops to his knees and pulls your panties down you legs. Sitting back on his hunches he looks at you like a man starved. A first kiss starts on your knee and he makes his way up to your most sensitive area.

“Spread your legs.” Blindly you listen. He kisses the top of your mound before spreading your lips. He laps at your sensitive clit earning sweet moans from you. He clearly knows his way around a woman’s body. He brings his fingers into the mix first starting with one finger. He continues to practically make out with your clit while pumping two fingers into you. Your fingers tangle in his hair holding him close to your core.

“I’m gonna come-“ you whimper. He glances up at you, watching as you fall apart. You practically see stars at the orgasm that washes over you.

Pulling back from your core he sticks fingers soaked with your release in his mouth. “Amazing,” is all he says.

“Get on the bed.” Pulling away from you he walks over to his night stand and grabs a condom from the top drawer. He rolls it down his hardened length before joint you on the bed.

He has you on your hands and knees. He runs his length through your wet folds. “Are you ready for it?”

“Absolutely.”

He pushes into you slowly earning a gasp from you. He doesn’t give you a moment to even process what is happening. He starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You practically see stars each time grazes that perfect little spot inside you.

With each of your whiny moans, he bullies you with each thrust. He is not gentle by any means, and you love that. Your first time together you didn’t want roses on the bed and candles. You wanted him fuck you until you can’t think straight. You wanted to live out one of your dirty fantasies you have about him. His hand tangles in your hair instantly pulling your head back. Another whiny moan leaves your lips.

“Fuck-“ he groans.

He thrust into you a firm pace splitting you in half. Biting your bottom lip you try not to scream his name. Your body trembles as his large hand slaps your ass. This is the roughest anyone has ever been with you before and you can’t get enough of it. He leans over you, taking your large breast in his hand. His fingers instantly find your sensitive nipple.

“Fuck next time I’m going to need you to ride me. I have been thinking about sucking on these since I met you,” he tweaks your nipple earning another moan. “Princess is so responses.” He helps guide you back so he sitting on his knees with you pressed up firmly against him with his dick firmly inside you. “Princess, I need you to help me here for a minute. Keep bouncing on me while I play with your tits.”

You try your hardest to keep the pace he set, but the way he’s playing with your nipples leaves your mind feeling fuzzy. Soonyoung must have grown tired at your sloppy attempt to keep the pace. He guides you back down to your hands and knees.

You couldn’t even say anything in response to him changing the position. Reduced to nothing more than a mess of whines and moans.

Your wildest dreams couldn’t live up to the experience Soonyoung was giving you.

“Can I come?” You beg on the edge of falling apart. You don’t think you can handle it if he tells you no.

“Princess is so polite,” he snaps his hips into yours again

“Please-“

“You’re such a good girl,” he groans.

The white hot wave that washes over you, makes you feel like you’re about to black out. Dropping to your elbows your face rests on his bed while continuing a brutal pace chasing his own release.

The moment he find his own release he moans your name like a prayer. He continues at a slowly pace riding out his high.

A gentle hand slaps your ass as he removes himself from you. Instantly you fully lay down on the bed fully exhausted.

Rolling into the bed next to you he removes the used condom tossing into the bin next to his nightstand. Leaning over he presses his lips to your cheek for a soft kiss. “Let me clean you up. Can you lay on your back for me?”

“Yeah,” you mumble.

Crawling off the bed he disappears to the bathroom before coming back with a washcloth. He finds you laying on your back with your legs spread. “If I didn’t wear you out so badly I would fuck you again right now.” You give him a sleepy smile. He gently wiped down your used pussy, cleaning up your release. He tosses the cloth in the hamper before reaching up and squeezing each of your breasts. “I’m gonna have to find time just to worship theses.”

“Vernon wasn’t lying when he said you’re obsessed with boobs.”

He just rolls his eyes before crawling in bed next to you. “You won’t be complaining once I get to full play with them.”

“Have fun. They’re all yours to play with,” you take your breast in your hand giving it a squeeze while you stare at him.

“Do me a favor and if you can avoid wearing a bra please do.”

This man clearly doesn’t understand the struggles of being a woman with heavy boobs. He doesn’t realize bras help prevent back pain. “I need to wear one when we go out. But we’re in private. I'll take it off.”

“I can deal with that.”

Laying close to him you glance up at him to find him smiling. “You seem happy.”

“I think we have a good connection,” he responds.

“Is that because you just blew my back out?”

He laughs. “Yes, but I think we should also try going on dates.”

“I would like that.”

[97linelover]

Shielding her heart - Jeon Wonwoo

summary: When Jeon Wonwoo becomes embroiled in a scandal that threatens to expose the love of his life, to a ruthless public, he makes the heartbreaking decision to leave her. For Y/N, being with Wonwoo has always meant living in the shadows of his fame, but when the paparazzi uncover her identity, the stakes become dangerously high.

Determined to shield her from the relentless scrutiny and vicious backlash, wonwoo ends their relationship, believing it's the only way to keep her safe. As he navigates the fallout from the scandal alone, Wonwoo is haunted by the love he sacrificed and the woman he left behind.

content: Idol Wonwoo x non Idol reader, fight,angst, happy end,fluff, smut

wc: 3.4 k

a/n: I had a talk with my best friend, we were thinking how hard it must be for idols to keep any kind of relationship a secret. It must be tiring for both parts, not being able to show your love freely.

Standing in the spotlight comes with many negative aspects, but what if the person you love gets hurt in the process?

You and Wonwoo have been dating for about two years. You met during one of his nights out with close friends. Both of you were pretty drunk, and it ended with the two of you making out in the back of a cab.

Normally, Wonwoo would not have called or reached out to you, but as you made breakfast the next morning, dancing through your kitchen in an oversized shirt with some lace panties peeking out, he knew he was hooked.

From then on, the two of you started dating. He wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

He took you out on dates, always delivered flowers to your office, and made sure to spoil you with affection. Wonwoo seemed pretty distant at first, but as you got to know him, you noticed how loving he was.

Jeon Wonwoo made sure to give you all that he had.

At first, you weren’t sure if you could date an idol or if you wanted a secret relationship, but you were so in love with him that you wanted to try. It wasn’t always easy, but it became easier with time. You both knew your little tricks to hide in public.

But today was not like the other days. As you woke up to your phone ringing, you stretched your limbs and yawned while answering the call.

“They found out,” your best friend’s voice said, and your blood ran cold. “Well, good morning to you too,” you tried to lighten the mood. “Y/N, you went to the drive-in movies, and now you’re all over the news. You two are the top news,” you sat up straight.

You suddenly felt sick. “Please tell me this is a joke,” you whispered. “No, love, I think Pledis is trying to remove it, but it’s nearly impossible,” she said with sorrow in her voice.

“I need to call Wonwoo,” you said, panicking, and she agreed.

But you couldn’t reach Wonwoo. The time difference was a problem; they were currently in Glastonbury for their first festival, and he was probably fast asleep by now.

Y/N: Nonu, please call me as soon as possible. Y/N: God, shit is about to go down... they know me now... they know my name... Y/N: I think I’m going to freak out...

You put your phone away, trying to catch your breath, but you felt the panic attack coming like a truck. You made it to the window, and the fresh air helped you calm down, but you also felt panic tears running down your cheek.

Luckily, you could work remotely, so today you stayed at home.

You went on Twitter, and there were two pictures everywhere: one where you two were getting snacks, giggling with each other, and the other clearly showed him kissing you softly. How could you not have noticed?

The day went by in a blur. You could barely focus and were relieved when work was over. You felt your phone vibrating, and when Wonwoo’s name appeared, you didn’t hesitate.

“Nonu,” you breathed, and his voice was raspy; he had been asleep but woke up seeing your messages. “Baby,” he breathed. “Nonu, I’m so confused. I really don’t know what’s happening,” your voice was quiet. “I didn’t see them; I wasn’t careful,” he sighed. “I talked to Jinyoung. He said they’re currently removing it everywhere, but it’s impossible; the fans know,” he tried to be strong.

“What am I supposed to do? Just wait and watch while they rip my life apart until they know everything?” you whined, feeling exhausted.

“You can’t do anything right now, baby. I’ll handle it. Fuck, you don’t know how sorry I am that I’m not by your side right now,” his voice was weak.

“It’s not your fault, love, you know that…” you meant it, but you knew that Wonwoo would blame himself. He always does.

“I need to go, baby. Please be careful. I’ll handle it,” he tried to sound positive. “I love you, Nonu,” you said with a soft smile. “I love you too, baby, more than you can imagine.”

You were excited for Wonwoo to finally be back home again. The situation got out of control at work today; paparazzi were standing in front of the office building, and you got called in for a meeting.

Everything would have been fine if they hadn’t live-streamed everything. Your boss said that under those circumstances, he couldn’t let you work at the moment, so you were now on paid holidays.

Wonwoo was supposed to be home already, but his car wasn’t in his spot. You still decided to cook something simple, just some Kimchi Jjigae.

But even when the clock showed 11 PM, Wonwoo was nowhere to be seen.

You fell asleep in his bed, worry written all over your face.

When the next morning came, you woke up to a text from Wonwoo telling you to come to the Hybe building.

Now you were sure that something was going on. You wasted no time, hurrying towards the Hybe building. You were directly guided to the right floor.

You could see Wonwoo’s red hair that he had freshly dyed, through the glass window. He had his black glasses on and an oversized hoodie. He looked so tired that you just wanted to hug him.

Next to him were Cheol and Gyu, and they all looked exhausted.

You knocked carefully and then entered the room. All eyes were on you except your boyfriend's, who just looked down like he was ashamed.

“Morning,” you said quietly, and Jinyoung looked at you. “Good morning, Y/N. Sit down, please,” he gestured towards the empty seat opposite Wonwoo.

You sat down with Joshua next to you.

“I want to keep it quick and simple, Y/N. After those pictures came out, Wonwoo lost about 1M followers, and the new single with Jeonghan was found thrown away. This entire thing was the worst that could have happened,” you gasped because you didn’t know about that. “Wonwoo tried to help us, but the fans want a statement. This statement will go live in about 15 minutes, so we wanted you to know that the decision is final.”

“What decision?” you whispered, looking for help between the members. “That Wonwoo wants to break up, that there will no longer be a relationship, and that we will post that this was the first and only meeting the two of you ever had,” Jinyoung said. You felt your heart stand still.

“This is not true, right?” you asked, fiddling with the pen in front of you.

“This is for your and his safety,” he said, and you scoffed. “What do you know about my safety? Do you know that I was crowded at my workplace? That they found my parents’ restaurant? That they even stabbed the tires of my car?” you looked at Wonwoo, hoping for a response.

He looked up, his eyes filled with worry. “Are you okay?” his voice was raspy, but you just shrugged. “I don’t know if you really care,” you looked at Jinyoung, feeling fragile and small. “So that means, I’ll leave this room and never talk to him again?”

“That would be better. I know this will be hard, but if they spot you again, they won’t believe in Wonwoo’s honesty ever again,” he sighed, and you felt the tears. “Because he is not honest. This wasn’t just one time; it’s two years he will throw away, two years of love, of sharing important moments,” you sobbed, looking back at Wonwoo. “You will still lie to your fans. You will break me and yourself. But if this is what you want, we can do that,” you whispered.

“I already signed, Y/N,” he said, looking at the papers. “And you need to sign these NDAs.” A choked sob escaped you. “You really make sure nobody knows about us,” you felt like this was a sick joke.

“Y/N, I do this for you, for your safety,” he pleaded, and you shook your head. “You do this for yourself, Wonwoo, for your image. You’re not thinking about me right now!” you raised your voice. “You promised me to handle this, and this was the easiest way, pretending we never happened.”

The other members just watched. Joshua took your hand, trying to calm you down. “Maybe we should’ve never happened in the first place, Y/N,” Wonwoo said, and your eyes widened. You gasped, feeling yourself begin to shake.

“Don’t say something you’ll regret later,” Cheol said to Wonwoo.

You took the pen, signed the NDA, and got up. “I thought we were endgame, Wonwoo. I thought I found the man who would burn for me. But after all, you’re just running along the easy path.”

You must have looked like a madwoman, sobbing like that. “From now on, I’ll pretend you never owned my heart.” You handed Jinyoung the paper and rushed out of the door. “Y/N,” Wonwoo’s voice followed you towards the elevator.

“You need to believe me. I did this for you,” he said behind you, and you stepped into the elevator. “I wish I could, but this meeting changed my view on you. After all, you’re just an idol who would do anything for the perfect image,” he gulped at that.

You were right, that´s exactly how this seems.

I’ll pack your things and place them in the garden. I will never enter your apartment again. I left some things there yesterday; you can just throw them away. I didn’t think today would end like this,” you said as the door closed.

The journey home was a blur. You felt like throwing up the entire time. Your heart felt so heavy that you just wanted to scream.

You could only lay in your bed and cry. And as you saw the new Pledis update, you knew that this was not a fever dream:

‘Hello, this is Pledis Entertainment, We would like to inform you of some updates regarding the recent scandal involving our member, Wonwoo. He was recently spotted having a night out with a woman, leading to rumors that the two are dating. Wir möchten diese Gerüchte dementieren. Wonwoo ist im Moment mit niemandem zusammen; Dieses Treffen war ein einmaliges Ereignis. We ask for respect and privacy for the individuals involved. If we receive any reports of stalking or violence, we will not tolerate it. Thank you.’

You deleted the Weverse app in an instant, along with all your social media accounts, including Instagram.

You wanted to end this chapter of your life with a clean cut. Even if it hurt, maybe one day this wound would close again.

Two days later, when you saw a message from Wonwoo telling you that he had packed your things and you could collect them anytime, followed by an “I miss you,” you hovered over the block button. You hesitated for a moment but then pressed it.

You slumped down in your chair, sobbing once again.

This chapter was over.

The days that followed were a haze of sorrow and confusion. Each morning felt heavier than the last as you grappled with the aftermath of what had transpired. You avoided any mention of Wonwoo, refusing to engage with news or social media that might remind you of him. Every corner of your apartment seemed haunted by memories, making it difficult to find peace even in your own space.

Work became your hiding spot—a place where you could bury yourself in tasks and momentarily forget the pain. Yet, the public scrutiny persisted, with curious glances and whispered conversations following you wherever you went. Colleagues offered sympathetic smiles, unsure of what to say or how to comfort you.

After all they were just happy that they were not getting crowded anymore.

One evening, as you sat at your kitchen table drinking a lukewarm cup of tea, a knock on the door startled you. It was an unexpected visitor at this hour, and your heart skipped a beat, hoping it wasn't who you feared it might be. You cautiously approached the door, peering through the peephole before cautiously opening it.

Standing before you was not Wonwoo, but your best friend, who had been your rock through all the highs and lows of your relationship. She enveloped you in a warm embrace, her presence offering a small measure of comfort amidst the chaos.

"I brought ice cream," she said softly, holding up a tub of your favorite flavor. "Thought we could have a girls' night in. Thought you could need it right now"

You managed a weak smile, grateful for her understanding without needing to explain. Together, you walked to the couch, sharing memories and laughter that momentarily lifted the weight from your shoulders. She was what you needed right now.

As the hours passed, she gently broached the subject that weighed heavily on both your minds.

"Have you thought about what's next?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

You sighed, staring at the television screen playing a mindless show in the background. "I don't know. I can't even think about it without feeling... empty. Like something is missing."

She nodded in understanding, placing a comforting hand on your knee. "You don't have to decide now. Just focus on taking care of yourself. You´re well being is the priority here right now."

You hugged her, telling her how grateful you are for her.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly, you began to piece together a new routine—a life that didn't revolve around Wonwoo or the whirlwind romance that had captivated and ultimately shattered your heart. You leaned on friends and family for support, finding peace in their unwavering presence.

One afternoon, while browsing through a local bookstore, a familiar voice called out your name. Startled, you turned to find Jake, a Colleague from your past—someone you hadn't seen since before Wonwoo entered your life.

"Y/N, right?" he asked with a warm smile. "It's been ages. How have you been?"

The conversation flowed effortlessly, filled with ,memories of old times and updates on each other's lives. It was refreshing to connect with someone outside the tumultuous world you had left behind. Jake was also pretty funny and you liked talking to him.

As you parted ways, he handed you a slip of paper with his number scribbled on it. "If you ever want to grab coffee or just talk, give me a call," he said kindly.

You tucked the paper into your pocket, a glimmer of hope flickering in your heart. Perhaps there was life beyond the shadows of your past—a future waiting to be discovered, one step at a time. Maybe a love after Wonwoo was possible.

But you felt Idiotic, you graved Wonwoo.

Weeks had passed since you had last seen or heard from Wonwoo. The pain had dulled into a persistent ache, but you were slowly regaining your footing in a life that no longer included him. You had started to believe that perhaps this was the closure you needed to move forward.

One evening, as you returned home from work, you found a bouquet of flowers at your doorstep. Your heart skipped a beat as you recognized the handwriting on the card—a familiar one that had once brought you joy and comfort.

The card simply read, "Can we talk? - Wonwoo."

Conflicted emotions surged within you. Part of you wanted to ignore it, to continue healing and moving on. But another part—the part that still held onto love and hope—wanted closure, wanted to hear him out.

Against your better judgment, you found yourself dialing his number. The one you first needed do unblock. He picked up on the second ring, his voice tentative yet filled with longing.

"Y/N," he breathed. "I didn't think you'd call." his voice was so familiar to you, that you felt like screaming.

"Why did you send me flowers, Wonwoo?" you asked, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. You were everything but calm at the moment.

"I... I needed to see you," he admitted, his voice cracking with emotion. "Can we meet? Please?"

After some hesitation, you agreed to meet him at a quiet café that held memories of happier times, the one you always went to at night when no one was around. As you sat across from each other, the weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

His hair has gotten longer, messier. His Glasses were also new, he probably broke his last ones again, a habit of his.

He looked tired, like he did after comebacks.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," Wonwoo began, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "I made a terrible mistake. I let fear and pressure dictate my actions, and I hurt you in the process. I never should have let you go."

His words were honest, and for the first time since the betrayal, you saw the vulnerability beneath his composed look. His words stirred a tumult of conflicting emotions within you—anger, hurt, and a flicker of lingering love.

"Why now, Wonwoo? It´s been months" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

He took a deep breath, reaching across the table to hold your hands in his. "I've been a wreck without you. Seeing you move on... it made me realize how much I need you in my life. I can't bear the thought of losing you."

You pulled your hands away gently, needing space to process his words. "What about your career? The fans? The things that broke us in the first place"

"I don't care about any of that if it means losing you," he said honest and desperate. "I'll do whatever it takes to make things right, Y/N. I'll fight for us."

His declaration stirred something deep within you—a glimmer of hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to rebuild what was lost. But doubts lingered.

"What about her?" you asked quietly, referring to the new Woman you had met recently, after you visited Vernons release party. "Are you sure it's me you want?"

Wonwoo's expression softened, regret etched in his features. "I was jealous, Y/N. Seeing you with someone else made me realize how much I took you for granted. You're the one I want, the one I love. The only one I´ve ever loved"

Silence enveloped the café as you processed his words. The wounds were still raw, but a part of you yearned to believe in his sincerity—to believe in second chances.

"I don't know if I can trust you again, Wonwoo," you finally admitted, your voice wavering with emotion.

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. "I understand. But please, give me a chance to show you. I'll prove to you that things can be different this time. I'll be there for you, Y/N, every step of the way. I already told Jinyoung that I don´t care about the consequences, I only want you back "

As you sat there, thinking about the past and of the future, a part of you softened. You saw the remorse in Wonwoo's eyes, felt the depth of his love despite everything that had happened.

Maybe, just maybe, love was worth fighting for.

In the weeks that followed Wonwoo's heartfelt apology and plea for a second chance, you cautiously allowed him back into your life. Despite lingering doubts and the fear of history repeating itself, his consistent efforts to prove his commitment slowly chipped away at your defenses.

However, the path ahead was far from smooth. He still was an Idol, fans took the Dating reveal of their Bias not very well. Every public outing together landed on Twitter and in genereal Social. The hate comments on social media intensified, criticizing your every move and questioning your worthiness of Wonwoo.

One particularly harsh article surfaced, dissecting your relationship with ruthless scrutiny. Tears streamed down your face as you scrolled through the hurtful comments, feeling exposed and vulnerable.

What if they are right? What if you´re not enough for him?

After all you´re just an average girl which is in love with an Idol.

Wonwoo found you curled up on the couch, trembling with tears streaming down your face. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close as you buried your face in his chest, seeking comfort in his warmth.

"I can't take this anymore, Wonwoo," you sobbed, your voice muffled against his shirt. "Why can't they just leave us alone?"

He held you tighter, his own frustration evident. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I hate seeing you like this. But please, don't let them get to you. They don't know us."

You looked up at him, searching his eyes for reassurance. "Do you really think we can make this work, despite everything?"

Wonwoo cupped your face in his hands, his gaze unwavering. "I know it won't be easy, but I want to try. I love you, Y/N, more than anything. And I'll fight for us, no matter what."

His words echoed in your heart, sending a flicker of hope amidst the storm of doubt. Slowly, tentatively, you leaned into his touch, seeking comfort in his embrace.

That night, as emotions ran high and the weight of their struggles bore down on them, you found solace in each other's arms. It was a tender, vulnerable moment—the feeling of longing, forgiveness, and the shared desire to rebuild what had been broken.

Wonwoo made sure to let you know how much he loved you, how much he cherished you and how much he graved you.

The night was like no other and you were grateful it happened.

As the morning light filtered through the curtains, you woke to find Wonwoo still beside you, his fingers intertwined with yours. His presence was a calm feeling within your heart.

"We can do this, Y/N," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Together."

And in that fragile, hopeful moment, you dared to believe that love could conquer the challenges ahead—that perhaps, against all odds, your love story will find its way back to happiness.

[uranometrias]

✮ꜜ : ❛ now i see daylight : spencer reid x fem! reader

pairing: spencer reid x fem! reader

summary: three weeks have gone by since your last encounter with reid. you'd both been doing an exceptional job of pretending that the other didn't exist. you felt like it was only fair. he didn't have the right to talk to you any type of way, and you supposed in his mind, you didn't have the right to behave so jealously. three weeks of no ground being made, that is, of course, until a conversation with rossi helps to screw your head on straight

content warnings: love confessions. reader definitely has anxiety and a fear of romance/relationships, BUT she fights her fear! i also think it's fair to say that she views telling spencer about her feelings as facing her fear, regardless of his response! this is part two to 'guilt is a motherfucker'.... i'm so sorry it's taken forever, but i've actually preparing to enlist in the army && haven't had a lot of down time. i've got 10 drafts to prove it, but i tried my best to make this longer than part one, and i hope that you guys enjoy it.

Grow up.

Those words had haunted you for about three weeks. It'd been that long since the day you and Spencer had sort of... drifted apart. You refused to blame yourself, despite knowing full well this whole ordeal was majorly your fault. Okay, all of the blame very well rested on your shoulders, but you were stubborn. You'd been that way forever.

Maybe you were the childish, scared, and jealous little girl he'd accused you of being. That wasn't your job to figure out, because he had no business speaking to you that way. Who did he think he was? You could hit him right in his stupid little face. That last thought of violence seems to follow you.

Especially as you sat as your desk, leg bouncing furiously underneath as you counted the seconds until he was away from the kitchenette. Your cup of coffee was dwindling, and you still had a few more files to get through, before you'd give yourself room to slack off. You needed more caffeine, but the newfound thorn in your side was taking up space, using up all the sugar as he made his third cup of the day.

A more mature person might have questioned why you didn't just go up there anyway. He didn't own the kitchenette, and it wasn't like you had to say anything at all. It was meant to be cut-and-dry, you were both mature adults, you could interact as such. Except neither of you were quite as mature as you affronted. You could just picture the screwed up expression he'd offer you if you chose to approach.

You were certain your face was already twisted up, showing off your own annoyance, and he wasn't even near you.

You'd been berated by Derek, Emily, and Penelope over your petty streak, all three parties really driving in the point that you were behaving like a toddler throwing a tantrum. They had a point, but you also refused to accept any such criticism about your behavior. Partly, because you hated correction, and you didn't want to think about the possibility that all of your friends were on his side.

But you think most of your refusal to accept your part from any of them had a lot to do with the fact that they weren't the ones who'd been so callously humiliated, and they weren't the ones with feelings for someone who obviously knew, and was perfectly content flaunting such knowledge right in your face.

God, you could punt him like a football.

You needed to work on your insult creativity, these were starting to get repetitive. You shake all thoughts of assault out of your mind as Dave begins to approach your desk. Rossi wasn't stupid, he like everyone else had noticed the significant decline in attention passed between you, and Reid. But unlike the rowdier members of the team, he and JJ had elected to go the route of silent but deadly.

They'd cast the both of you disapproving looks when in rare form you'd allowed your spat to affect your job. Their clear disappointment in you exceptionally loud. Times like those were sparce, you really only ever objected obedience when Hotch insisted on partnering the both of you up. Which had luckily become much more rare in the last few weeks.

"Still pouting, angioletto?" he asks, and his ability to read right through you seems to make your pout deepen. "It's been three weeks, don't you think it's time to talk about it or move on?" he questions, and there's no judgement there. It's what you like the most about Rossi, he seemed to have fallen into the role of paternal figure incredibly well. He gave you the tough love that you often needed.

But he never disrespected your boundaries, he never went too far. He'd always say just enough to nudge you in the right direction.

"Maybe." you agree, and it's true. You know it's time to put this situation behind you in one way or another, but you refused to cave first. You didn't want to give Spencer the satisfaction of it, and once again you're made aware of just how petty you really were. "But I don't want to." you voice this thought to Dave, who offers an unamused expression. You narrow your eyes in his direction.

"He's the one that started it..." you exclaim your side for the umpteenth time. Rossi's expression doesn't morph, but there is a bit of disappointment swimming in his eyes. It makes you avert your gaze quickly, you could feel the first pinpricks of guilt slicing at you. "It's true." you insist. Rossi waves a tired hand at you, ushering you to proceed, and you find yourself grateful for the chance to vent.

Everyone else knew too much about the behind the scenes to let you get a word in edgewise. Rossi was basically a clean slate. "If he knew all along, what he thinks he knows..." you stop long enough to look towards the kitchenette. He's still there, which is a relief, you'd be pissed if somehow he managed to overhear this. "Then why would he come over here and flaunt it. Was he trying to rub it in?" you demand.

Silly you for thinking that Rossi would be any less on your ass than the rest of the team. He was David Rossi after all, one of the founders of the BAU, a smart man that could read you like a picture book. "You finished?" he asks, and your mouth parts. You weren't finished, but you don't tell him that, he looked like he was ready to lecture. You offer a curt nod, and he hums under his breath.

"What exactly were you expecting from him, Y/N?" he asks, and you blanche. You weren't expecting anything, you'd never expected anything from Spencer. "I mean just stick with me here... put yourself in his shoes for one second." he prompts, and you huff. Those were big shoes, probably uncomfortable. Still, you play along as you wait for Rossi to proceed. "Would you wait around for two years for someone to finally realize that they want to be with you?" he asks.

You hope that it's rhetorical, because the answer for you was probably a lot different than the one he was expecting. You also feel the urge to correct him, you didn't take two years to figure out you liked him, you'd known since your first day. Your issue was verbalizing it, because you cared about your bond. Spencer was nice, he was the sweetest person you'd ever met. You liked seeing him get excited about the things no one else seemed to care about. He was different.

He was your friend, and you had always admired him.

"I wasn't making him wait..." you voice the correction. "And I didn't need time to realize anything..." you trail off, and realization seems to set in for Rossi. He sighs deeply, head shaking as you continue on your tangent. "I liked him back when all the girls in the unit still looked at him like he was some freak, and I'm not saying it entitles me to anything... I'm the dummy for being a chicken, but he didn't have to be so mean." and you're certain that's the root of it all.

Your feelings were hurt.

"Ah, well haven't you heard? Boys are quite stupid." Rossi offers, and you think he only said it to get you to laugh. It works, because you do chuckle, and it makes Dave's shoulders relax just slightly. "Talk to him, Y/N." he presses, and you find yourself looking across the bullpen. "It's the right thing to do." and you know he's right. "And who knows, it might even wind up being for the best." he offers, and you blanch. You nod your head, and Rossi beams proudly.

"You're right." you agree audibly, and you're fidgeting in your chair.

"You are coming this Friday aren't you?" Rossi pries, and you've gone nonverbal, head nodding once more as he mimics your action. "See if you guys can't get this squared away before then, won't you?" he asks, and he's leaving you with a gentle pat on the shoulder. You stare after Rossi with a mixture of disdain and appreciation. Leave it to the old man to get you off your ass. Your eyes are drawn to Spencer as he draws closer, you know he's not coming to you.

It was a byproduct of your desk location, but it wouldn't hurt to use it to your advantage. When he's within earshot, you take the first step. "Spence?" you try, and you expect him to ignore you, to keep walking like the sassy bastard that he is, but he shocks you. He seems to mirror your feelings with his own surprised expression. "Can we talk?" you try, and it's the cliche thing... but you don't have it in you to be poetic. He stops abruptly, head nodding stiffly as he does so.

You feel like you need to stand up, having him stand over you feels too much like you're being cornered or something of the sort. He takes a small step back when you do so though, and the tension seems to only grow tenfold. You mask your disappointment in his retreat easily, instead standing up a bit straighter, sticking your chin out as you prepare to bite the bullet and be the bigger woman. It was utterly humiliating having to bring yourself back to Earth like this.

"Sure." he finally verbally answers your question, you take that as a cue to get on with it. Your patience for back and forth seemed almost as thin as his.

"Maybe it's three weeks too late..." you begin, and his eyebrows furrow. "And I know we've got this new rhythm of pretending we don't exist to each other," and his face betrays how wrong he finds that statement. His face pinches up like he's smelled something bad, and he wants to remind you that the only reason you hadn't spoken was because you hadn't had the guts to own up to the fact that you had feelings for him, but he digresses. He wasn't here to pick a fight.

"But, I'm sorry...." you spit the apology out and it feels hollow. You know you have to do better, so you proceed before he can shoot you a disapproving glance. "I really am." you insist, and despite the fact that you had only just begun to feel guilty about the whole thing in the last few minutes, you meant it. "I never should've acted like that, and I never should have let this go on for so long." you express.

Across the bullpen, Rossi, Penelope, Derek, and Emily are huddled up watching the exchange, not so discreetly. You're none the wiser to your growing audience, but Spencer sees them clearly. Not that they were really aiming for subtlety. "It's not my business what you do outside of work or who you do it with." and your nose curls, mostly because you want it to be your business. You want to be valid in your aggravation, more than that you wanted to be his. How annoying.

Your leg starts to shake just barely, and you look like you'll crumble to the ground at any moment. Spencer notices all of these ticks, and stores them into the part of his brain that's full of things specific to you. "So I'm sorry that I was being a jerk." you offer, and Spencer's face doesn't show any signs of whether or not he believed you, so you continue. "I'm happy for you." you clear your throat, and feel embarrassment setting in.

"Thanks, Y/N." his head tips to the right as he appraises you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes you in. It's not a menacing sort of glance. He seemed to be waiting for something else, you weren't sure what more could be put into your apology, there was no way you were about to give an outright confession, that'd be humiliating. Instead, you avert your gaze, and it seems to be enough of an answer to whatever internal question he had. "That actually means a lot."

You don't smile, mostly because you're not sure what the actually means, he seems to notice the way your expression changes just slightly, and he's quick to correct himself.

"I just mean that your approval does mean a lot to me." he says, and you relax. You can't quite beam, you're still not up for it, but you offer a small smile, one that could count more as a grimace than anything else, but you weren't in the headspace to monitor your facial expressions. You were growing bothered all over again, and you had to do everything in your power to ensure that this time things didn't end with another three-week break between you and Spencer.

"Really?"

Spencer's nose curls now, he's an expressive guy. His facials said a lot more than his words could at times, and you note that this particular expressions reads somewhere between confused and surprised. Those were almost synonyms in the grand scheme of things, right? "Is that a real question?" Spencer asks, and despite the tension that hung over you at the start of the conversation, with this question you witness the way his guard drops. It was liberating in a way.

"I asked it didn't I?" you quip, but there's no real bite behind your words. Spencer seems to note this, lips pressing together firmly.

"You're important to me." he promises, and you hate that his first reaction is to validate you. Your anxiety-riddled mind would convince you that he secretly thought you were fishing for praise, which was the farthest thing from the truth. Still, you love Spencer, platonically and otherwise, and you're certain that's why you're mimicking his words back to him so quickly.

"You're important to me too."

He takes a second to stare at you, and you stare right back. You're careful not to show any signs of timidity or awkwardness, things were finally starting to look up. "I..." he begins, and you stay silent to allow him the time he needs to get whatever was on his chest off. "I'm sorry." he says, and you're surprised. It was the last thing you'd expected from this conversation, you're certain your surprise is evident plain as day on your face.

"Yeah?" you feel it's only fair to press him onward.

"Jealous little girl." he cringes as he repeats it, and you wince because it still hurts. "That was-" he shakes his head. "It was out of line. Plain and simple, I guess I was just a little frustrated, but that's not your fault. It wasn't fair of me to come at you in that way." he begins to ramble. "I wouldn't want you to feel... mocked or belittled by me." and you blink. Mostly because that was exactly how you had felt, but how did he know. It's then that you finally feel the beady-eyed stares.

You look over your shoulder just in time to witness the group dispersing, Penelope grasping a file in her hand as she scurried in the opposite direction. Derek picking up a file folder, and Emily focusing all her attention on the drink sloshing around her mug. You really hate profilers, this is the loudest thought in your head as you turn back to Spencer. "It doesn't matter if I felt justified then, or even if I feel justified about it now." and it makes you snort.

Classic Spence.

"D-Do you forgive me? Are we okay?" he asks, and his voice has grown a bit fainter. If you listen hard enough you hear the echoes of the Spencer you first met. Even with all his strides, and the confidence he gained, there was still that small part of him that felt like the nerdy boy that everyone overlooked. The one that talked too much, and was constantly silenced with looks or snide remarks whenever he rambled for too long about some niche subject.

You think this train of thought is what gets you to see Rossi's point of view. And who were you to get in the way of someone who clearly was ready for someone as amazing as Spencer. You didn't know much about the woman, aside from the fact that she was constantly making coffee, and staring at Spencer. You didn't know how long she'd worked at the bureau, you didn't even know her name, but you knew that she was brave. She knew what she wanted and got it.

Unlike you.

You suppose 'snooze you lose' is your burden to carry from this ordeal. At least you'd gotten your friend back though. And that was enough, it could be anyway. You nod your head at his question, offering a half smile. "We're okay, Spence." you promise, and he seems relieved. His smile is one of those rare ones, the gorgeous kind that Spencer reserved for special occasions. He then visibly and audibly lets out a quiet sound of relief, and it makes you relax.

"Hey, Spence, can I get your help?" JJ is calling, and your pulled from your bubble. The world is still spinning, there's still work to do, pressing matters that needed your attention. You felt a little lighter, offering another half smile as he offers you a sheepish glance. He's heading towards JJ as you sit back down at your desk. Your leg bounces despite the perceived 'win'. It only takes you a moment to wonder why, reality sets in, and you realize your shortcomings.

You'd failed the test twice.

Twice you'd had the chance to be the most open and honest with Spencer, only to let your nerves or fear of rejection get in the way. The jealousy is gone now though, instead replaced with a brief feeling of self-aggravation. You hear Dave's stern voice in your head. 'Talk to him, Y/N.' and you frown. Hadn't that been what you'd done? You'd talked to him, so why did you still feel so bummed.

Why don't you just talk to the guy? Look him in the eye and tell him straight up how you're feeling? Derek's question from three weeks prior slaps you like a ton of bricks. You supposed that was the end goal, wasn't it? The only way to relieve yourself of all this anxiety and all the big feelings you were having a hard time digesting. You're back to pouting, mostly because you've got no idea where to start.

You pick up one of your files, and flip it open, hoping to bury yourself in work. Every time your mind tried to stray to Spencer or your feelings, you'd switch files, until all twenty-five on your desk had a dent in them. Your hand was cramped, and you know that soon enough you'll need a cup of coffee. Emily approaches your desk, hands centered as she leans forward, eyes right on you.

"So how did it go?" she asks, and you cut your eyes at her. "Tension's all gone, so it must have gone well, right?" she's grinning down at you. "I told you if you told him the truth, you'd have nothing to worry about." Emily proceeds, and you're shaking your head back and forth.

"Emily... Emily, no!" you exclaim, and her smile drops.

"No? What do you mean, no?" she demands as you exhale.

"I still haven't told him, and I'd really appreciate it, if you'd lower your voice." you hiss as she pouts. "Maybe it's just not supposed to be." you shrug, and Emily looks visibly disgruntled with your thoughts. "I'm just saying... we're okay, because we apologized." you explain. "I don't want to risk making it awkward again, because I think I have feelings." and now you're being purposely dismissive.

"Oh, so now you're not sure?" Emily questions, and then she's clicking her tongue against her teeth. "No. I don't buy that." she denies, and she's stern, but discrete. "Don't do this, Y/N. Don't be that girl." she pleads. "There's nothing worse than regret. It eats at you until there's nothing left, you don't want to look back, and think 'what if!'" and that's twice you're hearing something of the sort. Wasn't there some quote about hearing important things twice? You're not sure.

"If you like him-" she pauses, head still shaking from side to side. "If you love him... like it seems, you owe it to yourself to tell him. What's the worst thing that could happen?" she questions, and you scoff. "No, realistically." she insists. "Realistically tell me what the worst thing could be? And not from that place where your irrational fears sit." she deadpans, and you feel attacked, it makes you look away.

"In the two years of you knowing Reid, do you actually think that he's the kind of guy to break you down to nothing if he doesn't feel the same?" she asks, and the answer when presented to you like this is no. "So tell me what it is that you're really scared of?" she presses, and you don't understand why everyone's so worked up over this. Why the whole unit seemed to be invested in you expressing your feelings.

"I don't want to mess it up..." you shrug your shoulders. "I don't want to make it weird." you offer, and Emily's unmoved by your answer.

"You managed to do that without saying a thing." she retorts, and you feel like you've got no room to speak, no voice to rebuttal with. "Let me be your shrink for a second." Emily is your friend for moments like these, where her clear allegiance to you shines through. "Talk to me." she prompts.

"Why are you so invested in this?" you inquire. "Why does it even matter?" you huff.

"Because it matters to you." she answers. "What? You didn't know that's how this team works?" she asks, and you huff out a puff of air through your nose. "This isn't about us playing matchmaker... it's about you realizing that you've got a few bad beliefs about romance... and friendships.... and relationships that are going to keep you all by yourself if you don't start speaking your mind." she shrugs.

"And despite the way you curl into yourself back here at your desk, we both know you don't really want to be alone." and you think you might cry, it makes you wince. "You owe it to yourself to try, but ultimately the decision is all yours. I just think you'll feel better if you take Reid aside, and tell him the truth about how you feel." she seems done, and you don't know how to respond. Emily pats your shoulder as she rounds your desk, before heading back across the unit.

You really hate profilers.

By the time you're heading home for the night, you and Spencer hadn't spoken again. You'd been so buried in work that you'd skipped lunch to get things done. You'd gotten a comment from Hotch about that, wondering if you were feeling alright. You knew that he knew the truth, even as you told him a fib. Hotch though, was discrete enough not to make you feel scrutinized by exposing just how obvious you were. You couldn't get Emily's words out of your head.

You didn't feel angry with her, and your embarrassment had managed to go away within the first forty minutes after she'd left you alone. You knew she was right, but it still didn't make things easier. It was almost like you forgot how to speak whenever the time came to really express yourself. You supposed that was why your apology had been so flat. Feelings weren't your strong suit, and you'd learned to express them by lashing out. A less than healthy way to live.

You liked that the team didn't speak to you like a child or treat you like you were incapable. Instead, they talked to you like an adult, gave the truth to you in a way that sliced through all your stubbornness and attitude. As you head towards the elevator, you hear footsteps, and look just in time to see Spencer making his way towards you. His satchel hangs off his shoulder, and he looks relieved, an emotion that you knew all too well by the end of a work shift.

You hoped there wouldn't be any cases that drug you back to the unit, all you wanted was a shower and a nap in your own bed.

Stepping into the elevator, Spencer trails you. He takes one side of the elevator, while you huddle up in the other. He offers you a tired smile as the doors slide closed, you offer him a smile right back. It's weary, mostly because you were drained, but partly, because Spencer had been the object of your thoughts the entire day. Especially after Emily's blunt speech. You were drained. The anxiety of keeping the secret far outweighed any fear of rejection now.

"Hey, are you alright?" he addresses you, after noticing the way you seemed lost in your head.

"Hmm?" you hum, and he repeats himself. It snaps you out of your mind spiral, and your head nods. A lie. "I'm all good, Spence." you reply, and he looks disappointed, but not surprised. "Thanks for asking though." you add a second after, and he offers you a dry little nod of his head. The elevator is back silent, and you hope the doors open quick. You might drown if the tension grew any thicker.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." he says, and you blank. Your confusion is clear as day on your face. "Earlier..." and your still not understanding. "I wasn't telling you that you were important to me, because I was expecting anything in return." he explains, and it clicks. "If it made you feel weird, I'm sorry. It just felt like the right way to express my point then." he proceeds, and you don't know how to collect yourself. "So, I'm sorry." and you want to scream.

Mostly at yourself for being so infuriatingly inadequate at expressing your thoughts and feelings.

"If you want, we could just pretend I never said anything?" he offers, and you don't answer quick enough. The elevator slides open just as the words are settling inside your head, and he's stepping out into the parking deck without another word. You sit there in the elevator for a moment, the door sliding shut after a moment, but you don't move. You feel like you're at a crossroads, almost at a point of no return. If you let Spencer leave now... like this, there would be no coming back.

There would be no room to gain some balls later, and try again. It wouldn't be fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to yourself.

You feel like hyperventilating, thoughts everywhere. Love had never been a subject you really understood. You'd always sort of saw it as this concrete construct. Unchangeable, always either black or white. A gloomy, gray, existence that could cut you up and spit you out. Love could turn you into a hollow version of who you once were. Love could break you down, and make you nothing. But then you think of your team. JJ and Penelope, Hotch, Dave, Emily, Derek. Spencer.

They were the rarest and purest examples of love in your day-to-day life, weren't they? You'd never quite met anyone who had your back more than your team. They fought for you, they fought with you. They believed in you, pushed you to be the best you that you could be. So why was it so hard, what were you scared of? Was it the notion of getting Spencer, and staining him? Blowing out that light inside him the way you'd witnessed for so long?

Was that a life worth living? Was it a chance you could take?

And then you huff, because damnit... you were tired of waiting. You were tired of anxiety, and uncertainty, and insecurity, and pain. You're certain that is why you hit the button to open the elevator. Gracefulness is not on your side as you practically sprint out into the car park, your eyes scanning hopefully for the familiar silhouette of your friend. When you spot him, you release a quiet noise of relief. "S-Spencer!" you hear the echo from your shout, and cringe.

But it doesn't matter, because he turns, he stops, and he's looking at you. His eyebrows are raised, hands gripping his bag, as you start to run. You ignore your fatigue, and your desire to run and hide, and instead run towards something for once. You don't stop running until you're past the point of 'personal space', you want to hover, you want to be in his space, because it was the only way you could possibly get through this. He looks a bit unsure, and still a bit grumpy.

You hope by the end of this that's no longer the case.

"Spencer, I don't want to forget about what you said." you're trying to catch your breath, bouncing up on your heels. "I don't want to pretend you never said it." you add, and Spencer's surprised expression has the hairs on your arm and neck ready to stand on end. "I-I actually want to know what you meant." you admit. "Because, I know what I meant when I said it... and it's not something that I take back." you express, and you can hear blood rushing in your ears.

"What did you mean?" Spencer asks, and you blanche.

"I asked you first." the obvious retort, and Spencer exhales loudly, but there's no annoyance, no exasperation. Only amusement, like always.

"I've done enough talking, haven't I?" he asks. "I want to know what you're thinking." and his voice is so soft, full of tenderness that you feel like you're being serenaded. You feel like you've got a knot in your throat also, almost like you'll suffocate if you don't get your thoughts out. "I promise I won't leave you hanging." and you're not sure what he means by that, but it helps. It makes your heart stutter-step, and you need to catch your breath, because you can't believe this is actually happening, or that you're actually here.

"I-" you play withy your fingers, and you have to inhale deeply to ensure you don't chicken out. "Spence, I didn't tell you that you were important to me, because you said it first." you promise, and he nods, but he doesn't say anything. His eyes are syrupy, alluring, and beautiful, still twinkling under the dingy, flickering lights of the parking deck. "I said it because you're all I really think about." you admit, and his eyebrows furrow, and you're scared.

"And the last three weeks... I've been so mad at you." you blurt out. "I was the one that acted like a child, but I was angry with you, because I thought that you were making fun of me... and all the feelings I have for you." you exhale, and you look down at the ground, because the nerves that come with your words are overwhelming. "I was jealous, I acted like a child, but it was only because I thought you were rubbing it in my face... I thought you were being cruel."

Spencer's long lashes blink rapidly, but he's still stone silent. Probably because he knows that you're still not done. "And that wasn't fair of me, because I know you, Spence. You're not that type of person, but I just I couldn't reign myself in, and I acted immaturely because I was scared... and then just now, in the elevator... I almost did it again. I almost let you think that I don't care about you... but I do. Spencer, I have feelings for you." and you clear your throat, legs shaking.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not... this isn't some trick or ploy or cry for help. I understand if you're mind is elsewhere... and I'm so sorry if the way I've been acting ruined everything, but I-I love you okay? That's what this has all been about. I'm sorry it took me so long to say something, but there it is." and you gasp, chest heaving now that you were finished. You finally look up at Spencer again, and he's staring you down. It doesn't feel hypersexual or heady with tension.

Instead, it's like the first intake of air into your lungs after being under water for so long. You supposed that's what the truth did, you supposed that's what your feelings for Spencer did when you allowed them to exist. "You mean that?" he asks, and you huff.

"Of course, I mean it. I mean it so much, I think I'm going to be sick." and despite himself he laughs, a bright beam following after it. He takes a small step towards you, and you feel crowded, the body heat from you both warming you up from the inside out. Still, despite how outwardly calm he looked in comparison to you, you managed to spot the shyness, the anxiety that rested in his own eyes. He looked unsure, almost like he was being careful not to ruin the moment.

"Do you know how long I've been wanting to hear you say that?" he asks, and you're shocked, stuck, surprised. You don't know if this is in your mind or if you just got lucky. "Have you ever-" he's got this gleeful look on his face. "There's this quote by Lao Tzu..." he stammers, "Love is of all passions the strongest, for it attacks simultaneously the head, the heart, and the senses." he quotes, and there are no butterflies... you think that might be a good thing.

"I don't know if there's been a time since I met you that you haven't been on my mind." Spencer explains, and there it is. "I think that's why I snapped the way I did, I don't think I ever imagined a scenario where we'd be here." he admits, and it pains you to know that he thought that way. "It was-" he motions between you both. "The thought of us being something was sort of just something I believed would always sort of just be a thought." Spencer's glowing red.

The blush coats his ears, cheeks, nose, and neck. His eyes are brighter, and his hands twitch at his side, almost like he's restraining himself. You think you only notice, because you're doing the same.

"I want to be with you." he says this so faintly you're almost unsure you heard him correctly. Your eyes widen, and your surprise is obvious. He takes a small step forward, and he's crowding you. It's nothing like the movies, in fact, the closer he gets to you, the more you're able to see the shyness in his eyes. He reaches out, and his hand ghosts over your side.

"Spence-" and the you that you were just an hour earlier, the one too scared to tell him the truth almost feels like she never even existed.

"Can I?" he asks, and your eyes drift to his hands that are inching closer to your body. You nod your head quickly, and he doesn't look amused. "I want to hear you." he says quietly. "I want you to tell me that I can." he adds, and you find yourself nodding anyway.

"Y-You can." you promise. "But I don't want you to pretend." his eyebrows furrow again. "Please don't do this if you don't mean it." you say, and Spencer's hands drop to your side, there's no wandering fingers, in fact it feels like he wanted to touch you for the sole purpose of keeping you from shaking any longer.

"Y/N, I want to be with you." he repeats it more firmly this time, and he's looking directly at you. It's intense, the eye contact more than anything else. He sounds sincere, and that makes you nervous.

"But what about..." and you trail off, because you don't know what to label the pretty woman he'd been entertaining. Spencer chuckles quietly, and his head shakes from side to side.

"She was nice." he reiterates the words he'd said three weeks prior. "But, she's not you... I don't think anyone would've been able to fill your shoes." he says, and you squeeze your eyes closed, because God, Spencer was so good with words. His hands are on your face, brushing at your cheeks as you shed a few long overdue tears. "Are these happy tears?" he asks hopefully, and your eyes shoot open. Your head nods, and you're not sure why you're so quiet.

Maybe, because life had thrown a curveball and surprised you in a good way. "Happy tears." you agree, and he presses his lips together, thumbs still working to keep the tears at bay. "I just can't believe-"

"Please do." he cuts you off, before you can get it out. "Believe this, believe me." he almost begs, and you hum. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, and you don't answer him, instead you surge forward and press your lips to his. You're certain security is getting a full view of the action, Spencer kisses like he wants to inhale you, and it's nice.. It's more than nice, his kisses are surged with emotion, every ounce of affection that his words had been drenched in was felt in the kiss.

Had breathing not been a factor, you might have stayed there. When you pull back to inhale, Spencer's got this twinkle in his eye that makes your nose scrunch up. "What?" you press, and he grins at you.

"You love me..." he breathes it out, and you're not sure if he's stating it or asking, but you suppose now that the cat's out of the bag, saying it again is nothing.

"Yeah. I love you, Spence." you promise, and he's quick to lean in and peck you on the lips. "D'you love me too?" you ask, once he's pulled back, and his hands move up, cupping both sides of your face as he drags his thumbs up and down.

"I love you." and it sounds like a promise.

So you believe him.

 "It’s a profoundly strange feeling, to stumble across someone whose desires are shaped so closely to your own, like reaching toward your reflection in a mirror and finding warm flesh under your fingertips. If you should ever be lucky enough to find that magical, fearful symmetry, I hope you’re brave enough to grab it with both hands and not let go.” ― Alix E. Harrow

[ifyoucandaniel]

exactly one person asked and i’ve been DYING to make this, so here are all of my favorite long batman fanfics in general and for new readers @twisted-tales-told :)

cards on the table by @wesslan ! 69k, completed. this is one of my all time favorite fanfictions, it’s so funny and tim is a mastermind genius and a little liar <3 he basically pretends to be a fortune teller and gives scarily good predictions and advice by stalking the upper class and eventually gets involved with the batfam and has to maintain his lies while dealing with his issues :) 10/10, very found family, good angst, so much lying

Dark Matter by @mysterycyclone , 221k, ongoing. this is a batman fanfic rec, of course my bbg dark matter is going to be here <3 this is a MCUxDCU crossover where after infinity war (spoilers for that if you haven’t seen it!) peter parker gets sent to the DCU dimension with part of the soul stone and basically is haunted by the ghosts of the avengers while trying to survive in gotham and get back to his dimension. this is so well written i’ve read it at least three times, it’s still ongoing but trust me it is SO GOOD. i can’t properly describe it, but if you like spider-man and you are interested in batman, you’ll love.

Red is the Color of Sinners by @bluelotuswrites , series, 120k, ongoing, M. i want you to look me in my eyes when i tell you this is my favorite series on ao3. it is set after under the red hood and daredevil 3 where jason and matt meet in a church after jason loses his ability to speak following the events of UTRH. they keep running into each other both as matt and daredevil and eventually jason begins helping matt out with injuries and tech. it’s not finished yet, but there is something so compelling about their dynamic in this series as well as jason’s overall character and how he is portrayed. i’m a sucker for mute jason after UTRH and this series does so well giving him a fresh start and a place away from gotham to heal and build relationships. i cannot recommend enough.

buy back the secrets by @vinelark , 71k, ongoing, T. THIS!!! oh my god, so this is a timkon fic where kon still doesn’t know tim’s civilian identity, but whenever he’s in trouble tim calls for superboy which leads to them meeting without kon knowing. shenanigans ensure when kon starts spending more time with tim! it’s still ongoing but the author is currently working on the next part and it is so so worth the wait. chapter 4 ends on a cliffhanger though so be warned :))

Sales People Know (listening is the most important part) by Mayhem10, 77k, completed, T. this has the coolest urban magical realism ever. tim basically runs this magic shop that shows up places and people who need something find it in his shop :) it’s kinda a slow burn found family fic with magic themes and a smidge of angst!

Retrograde Motion by Lysical, 112k, completed, T. this is best de-aged kid fic ever. jason gets turned into a 7 year old and basically the outlaws, artemis and biz, join forces with the batfam to take care of him. but trust me when i say this is worth your time, it might sound tropey but in the best way possible!! and jason’s relationship with artemis is sooo important to me in this!

Hand in Unloveable Hand (a chokehold) by britishparty, 54k, completed, M. this is one of the best psychological torture/grooming fics i’ve ever read. pretty much what if while our taking photos of batman and robin, little tim gets kidnapped and black mask gets his hands on him and decides he’s the perfect size for a protege. years of psychological abuse and insane mind games ensue. also tim is a Badass™️

If He Had Come by bronwe_iris, 45k, completed, T. so i’m a little freak and i love the angst of arkham knight jason, but more specifically the aus where bruce saves jason before he becomes the arkham knight! this is an au where bruce finds jason and saves him from the joker after 9 months of torture and brings him home. focuses on his healing mentally and physically and rebuilding his relationship with his family

Banshee in a Well by liverobinreaction (bugbee), 43k, completed, T. veeeery good angst. basically what if tim couldn’t die? 43k of tim drake whump where he just dies a bajillion times and eventually his family notices <3

The Birds: Hatching a Family by Oceanera12, 81k, completed, T. this is like “what if the batkids weren’t adopted by bruce, but instead they were all foster siblings who can’t seem to stay out of gotham at night and batman happens to find them and decides obviously he can’t leave these kids to their own business, he has to stick his nose in it” and there’s some angst and heaps of found family

The Hellblazer’s Apprentice by @bluelotuswrites, 29k, ongoing, M. what can i say, im a simple woman, i love to see jason with literally any older male mentor :) basically in UTRH what if he took up an apprenticeship under constantine to learn magic to piss off batman! so good, i really love constantine so seeing him and jason interact in a long fic is so good. also ALL BLADES JASON TODD SAVE ME… ALL BLADES JASON TODD-

something in the static by bonerot19, 101k, ongoing series with three main completed works, T. this is a jason centric series where jason still lives in crime alley with his mom and dad and never stole the batmobile tires. it follows his life in crime alley with an addict mom and an abusive dad and one night when his dad is whaling on him nightwing finds him and the bats just can’t seem to leave him alone after that. steph is his neighbor and best friend also and their relationship is so good. this is a “what if jason took a different way home to the wayne’s” fic series and i love it so much <3

catch the asteroids that come your way by ThePackWantsTheD, 54k, completed, T. i don’t read a lot of ships in the batman fandom i’m sorry, but this kyle/jason one is sooo lovely. basically the two of them growing up together and falling in love and then dealing with the aftermath of A Death in the Family and finding each other again :) really sweet and nice!

hope you find something you like! i realized the majority of these are tim or jason centric, and i love them all dearly, but if anyone has any recs for long fics focusing on any of the other batkids lmk! and any other recs in general, i am a fiend for new fics

[emasstars]

broken glass

simon riley doubts his worthiness of having you | hurt/comfort(?)

sorry i was gone for so long. i haven’t felt motivated in a while. this is just an attempt to get back into writing. i’ve been working on various projects, abandoning them halfway through. was relatively proud of this, so i’ve decided to post it.

mentions of abuse. insecurities. i don’t know, tell me if i missed any.

He was born into a home of broken glass, every argument a shard, every silence a fracture.

Simon Riley had been born into chaos. His earliest memories were of screams that echoed through the halls of a crumbling home, the heavy thuds of fists against thin walls, the sound of a door slamming as his mother stumbled from the house, her face bruised and hollow. His father, always drunk, was a constant presence—a shadow, a monster—who only softened when his fists fell silent, usually in a moment of fleeting remorse, or more likely, when his anger was spent.

He was a man who was shattered like thin glass, a splinter that made you bleed and quickly pull your hand away like there was fire. He drew blood, his hands rough and calloused, a man too harsh to be loved. War was all he had, and all he’d known, even if he wanted to know better. He had so many questions, and yet he choked on the words as he tried to ask, instead opting to drown deeply in the cacophony of screams. He searched for peace, a man who’d never experienced such, echoes of gunshots ringing in his ears and never offering any silence. He was engineered by a system to survive, to endure, but never to heal.

Simon didn’t sleep anymore, or, if he did, it was never rest.

His whole life had been dedicated to violence, actively seeking it as much as he avoided it. He felt stained with the blood he drew, scars along his back only indicating the pain he endured rather than that which he caused. Simon was a man who was supposed to be dead, and yet, the cruel God which seemed to have cursed him refused to let such a thing occur. His soul cracked in ways he couldn't articulate, his body a crumpled map of all he'd been through. He’d gone through existence without ever living.

He sought for warmth and comfort, even though he knew he could never be worthy of such a thing. He was a man who stained the snow-lands a deep scarlet. He was a wreck of a man who broke everything with his touch, strangling flowers in his grasp.

Perhaps that was why he fell so hard for you. You were like a beacon of light, granting him some solace. Giving him sympathies which he didn’t deserve, yet he yearned for. His head rested on your chest as he listened to your heart beat, assuring him that you were real and you were here. Whispered confessions of love still left doubt in his twisted mind, convinced you’d find someone better than him. He was convinced you might leave, holding on tightly to you and treating you as best as a man like him knew how to.

He’d never had a proper role model for love, most of the things he knew having been learned from books he’d stumbled upon or movies he’d watched. He was a man with a wicked father, and no matter the care of his mother, that evilness he believed was deep inside him could never be cancelled out. Love was a foreign language to him.

After all, there was no escaping the ghosts that haunted him, for he was one himself.

And yet you made him believe it might be possible.

His harsh voice would whisper your name like a secret prayer, his hand with its scarred knuckles gripping your gentle hand tightly. Perhaps he was finally starting to believe you might not go anywhere.

One night, in the capture of the moonlight which snuck through the cracks of the pulled curtains, Simon asked, slightly more loudly than he intended to, “why do you love me?”

Fingers that were previously toying with his slowed to a stop, and you adjusted yourself to stare at him. “What do you mean?” you replied. Your brows were furrowed, confusion evident on your face, and yet Simon could swear you looked like a deity. A blessing, was what you were to him. Someone who managed to let him know that maybe he wasn’t as ill as he’d convinced himself he was, a carefully-crafted facade having broken down more as the months turned into years.

He sat up, not sure how to word it. He was a man of few of those, after all. He plainly answered, “exactly what I asked,” slightly shrugging.

You bit your lip, seemingly thinking for a moment. It felt like a stupid question. Why did anyone love anyone, after all? Why did he love you, you could even ask. You swallowed, deciding to softly say, “because you’re worth loving.”

And perhaps he might one day start to believe he is, especially of the love of yours. The moments of bared insecurity were rare, occurring in only the latest times of night, the moon the only other witness of the confessions. They were caused by exhaustion, barely recalled when the sun rose. Yet, each night it happened, as he let himself sometimes cry in your arms after a nightmare, or letting drops of pain drip out of his soul, he was slowly starting to believe your honesty when you said you would not leave.

When you said that you love him.

He was a man with a shattered ego which he’d tried to tape back together flimsily, yet you made new parts of him which were whole. Certain parts could never be filled, but as long as you were in his arms, the pains of his soul may slowly fade away into nothing but background noise, lullabies of your words drowning them out as delicate fingers ran themselves over his scarred and tortured body.

A hand rough from holding knives and guns could tend for flowers as well, he was slowly starting to learn.

[frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe]

part two to this little thing 'cause i saw these tags on the last part from @stevesjester and actually kicked my feet and giggled about it

After Pretty Boy kissed him, Eddie walked back to the staff break room in a daze.

His slow lumbering gait still managed to scare some folks, though, so that’s a plus.

He opens the door, slowly turns to close it softly, and leans back against it once it is.

“Eddie? You okay?” Comes a voice he’d know anywhere. “Wait, that is you, right? You’re supposed to be Piggy Man tonight?”

Eddie pulls the rubber mask off, making his stomach flip thinking about the last time it was pulled up. You know, ‘cause he’s a sap.

Chrissy takes in his shocked, sweaty face, “Oh my god, you okay? What happened?”

He looks up at his roommate (best friend, sister) in her bloody cheerleader costume, an ironic holdout from their time in high school, and breathes a laugh, “I fell in love.”

“OMG OMG tell me everything right now!!” Chrissy bounces over to him excitedly and pulls him down to the bench of their one (1) break table, a sagging plastic picnic table.

He looks up at her bright happy face and barks out a half hysterical laugh, “I can’t believe you’re this excited about me potentially falling in love with someone I’m literally being paid to scare.”

“Oooh, so they were a runner??”

“Yeah, literally in this case.”

“Start talking, Munson, or I’m going to throw all your guitar picks down the garbage disposal.”

“Okay, okay, Jesus Christ.. Okay, so I did my usual creepy husky voice at him, called him all the usual things,”

“Let me guess, you started with ‘pretty boy’?”

“Yeah. ‘Cause he’s pretty. Duh. Damn was he pretty…”

“Uh huh. And you fell in love with him ‘cause he was pretty?”

“No, no of course not, listen to this:” Eddie sits up straighter in preparation for the story. “I had him backed into a corner, right? The fake gate over in section 2B,”

“Ah yes, of course.”

“Yeah! And when I lunged at him, he caught my arm, and spun me around.”

“Shut. Up.”

“No, never. SO he’s got me backed against the fence, and he–I swear to fucking Jesus H. Christ–lifts my mask up and kisses me.”

Chrissy starts to squeal incoherently. “Eeeeee!!! Shutupshutupshutup!! Holy shit there’s no way this happened!!”

“Look, 100% serious right now; he kissed me stupid, and spun around and booked it again.”

“Pretty Boy distracted you with a kiss to escape!?! I cannot believe this, c’mon..” Crissy grabs ahold of his arm again and pulls him out of the breakroom with her insane unchecked leftover cheer squad strength.

“Whoa, what? Where’re we going?? He’s probably gone by now! I was standing over in 2B like an idiot for a while after he left!!”

“Not that, we gotta go see Argyle.”

“Argyle why—ohhh shit. Oh my god, you think they caught it on camera?” Eddie’s actively following her now.

The two burst into the warehouses’ security office, where they’re met with the backs of two ‘zombie’ guards (and the leftover smell of weed).

“Argyle, Jonathan, you need to look at something for us,”

“Is it the footage of Eddie’s makeout sesh in 2B? ‘Cause we’re waaayy ahead of you pompom.”

“Ah!! Holy shit he was telling the truth?!” Chrissy bodies between the two, sending Argyle rolling away on his chair, and Jonathan staggering back a step.

“Dude, that’s so cool of your boyfriend to come to the haunt, keepin’ us in business.” Argyle directs at Eddie, though still spinning slowly in his chair.

“He’s not my–you thought he was my boyfriend?”

“Yeah man, why else would you look at him like that.” Jonathan points down at the screen. 

Chrissy re-winds it again and Eddie watches himself charge forward at Pretty Boy (damn, he’s still pretty though this grainy footage too, how the fuck is that possible??), get spun and–oh shit, they’re right.

“Oh Jesus Christ.” he hangs his head into his hands, falling down into Jonathan’s previously abandoned chair.

“Sooo…he’s not your boyfriend..?”

Chrissy re-winds the footage again. Squeals happily.

“Nope. Just met him tonight.”

“Wow dude, that’s like, love at first sight if I ever saw it.”

She re-winds it again, squeals.

“Yeah I know, it’s embarrassing as shit, alright?” Eddie’s still talking into his palms.

Chrissy snorts at that, “Not for you! Well..kinda..but him too, did you not see that pause?”

“...What pause?”

His question goes unanswered as Jon and Argyle move back in over Chrissy’s shoulders and after a few seconds both “Ohh…” in sync.

“The fuck’re you talking about?”

“Look,” She re-winds the tape once again and points, “Watch after he lifts your mask.”

So he does, and..okay, there was a pause.

“...So?”

“He totally fell in love with you at the same time you did him. Fell with him. With each other?”

“You both fell in love at the same time.” Chrissy says what Jonathan was trying to. “We have GOT to find this guy somehow.”

Chrissy records the footage on the screen with her phone, intending to post it online to find the guy, but Argyle’s positive he’s gonna show back up tonight.

“Give him a chance, pompom, he’s totally in love too, remember?”

“Fine, but if he doesn’t come back today, I’m posting this. Maybe it’ll get us some more business too.”

“Do I get a say in this?” Eddie asks, already knowing the answer.

“No.” Yep, there it is.

So, he rolls his eyes, puts his mask back on, and finishes out the night like everything is normal and he didn’t just fall head over fuckin’ heels for a random (hot) stranger earlier.

He’s done for the night before Chrissy since she’s got a lot of that fake blood to try and wash off, so he grabs up his stuff and heads out the front, intending to wave bye to Gareth at the front counter before braving the frigid late fall wind to warm up his car (and move it closer to the entrance so Chrissy doesn't have to walk in the cold). 

“See ya Ed,” Gareth calls, and he waves over his shoulder at him as he passes, his attention pulled to a blonde with a choppy bob looking in through the glass of the door, partially silhouetted by the bright ass headlights of a shiny Tesla parked behind her.

He can see the shadow of someone in the driver seat too, as he gets closer and opens the door for her, their face only partially lit up through the tinted glass by the glow of a phone screen.

She starts rambling off immediately after the door is open. “Oh my god, I thought we were too late and you were closed and I completely didn’t even realize I’d left something here when we were here earlier an–”

“Nope, no worries, ma’am, just go talk to Gareth at the front counter and he can tell you if someone turned in…whatever it is you left here.”

She says her thanks and scoots past him, and he spins quickly towards the side lot where his old Neon is parked.

He glances back when he hears the bell chime over the door, a bit delayed (probably the wind holding it open), and sees that the Tesla’s stopped beaming their headlights into the front door, that’s nice of them.

He unlocks his car and gets in, turning the engine over and cranking the heat as high as it’ll go. Once the engine stops it’s signature ‘I’m cold as fuck rn, don’t even try to move me’ rattle, he drives to the front door to wait for Chrissy, pulling in next to the burgundy Tesla.

He scrolls down TikTok for a couple minutes before a banner pops up on his screen

Chris C.: oh my holy fucking shit eddie, get your ass back inside!

Panicking, he races back in through the door, not even bothering to shut off his engine (or close his car door for that matter), thinking shiny Telsa duo is like, robbing the place or something, but as soon as he gets back in, he’s stopped dead in his tracks.

His heart’s still beating a mile a minute, but now with nerves.

Because standing infront of the counter are Chrissy (who’s actually vibrating with excitement), choppy blonde, and…

Oh fuck.

No way.

“H–hi, hi. I’m Steve, you’re Eddie right?”

He can’t help the grin that splits across his face. “Hey, pretty boy.”

thanks to @henderdads for rightfully pointing out that modern day rich boy steve would probably have a tesla <3

tagging everyone i saw in the tags of the last post that seemed interested in more/wanted to see the aftermath lmao: @bangarangdarling, @tartarusknight, @kas-eddie-munson, @wormdebut (AMAZING url btw), @vecnuthy, @perseus-notjackson, @homosexual-having-tea, @matchingbatbites, @scarcrossdlvrs, @anzelsilver, @auroraplume, @kkpwnall, @wildwildsoul, @bennys-burgers, @steveharringtonssluttywaist

[lazyjellyfish300]

by the moon 🐺

Synopsis: the story of you, the daughter of a village baker and how you came to fall for the mysterious Atsuya Kusakabe who harbors a dark secret that plagues him every full moon. One problem: you're betrothed to Naoya Zenin who you do not love. 🌕

Banner/divider cred: @/saradika-graphics

Words: 9.3k (I can't believe it either tbh)

CW: x FEMALE! READER, MINORS DNI, SMUT, P IN V, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, MASTURBATION, CUNNILINGUS, SUI IDEATION MENTION, PET NAMES(PRINCESS, SWEETHEART, ETC) SOME HISTORICAL MISOGYNISTIC ATTITUDES, DARK CONTENT, DUB CON, POSSIBLE NON CON JUST IN CASE, IT'S NOT TOO CRAZY BUT PLSSSSS TAKE CARE IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE. INFIDELITY , BITING, WEREWOLF! KUSAKABE, KNOTTING, BREEDING, PREGNANCY, ROUGH SEX, SPIT, CUM, CREAMPIE, NAOYA SUCKS, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH NAOYA, CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR, NEAR DROWNING, VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST, FLUFF, NON GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF KILLING ANIMALS

A/N: for the amazing Monster Mash event hosted by the incredible @nanamiscocksleeve . Thank you sooooo much for having me!! 💕💕 HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON! 🎃👻 And ty to @actuallysaiyan for being my source of inspiration for my first go round writing werewolf smut. 💕😩

Snow in October was rare, yet the quiet beginnings of the unexpected snowfall began to dust the ground, the shimmery white blaring against the deep orange and green of the forest.

You tugged your blanket tighter around you as though you could sense the bitter chill directly through the frosted window of your new manor house, its unforgiving walls causing your mind to wander far off elsewhere during this same time of year, five years ago...

He was the first and only man you ever loved, and the way you met him was entirely by accident.

The riverside village you grew up in was quaint, surrounded by trees with the innumerable evergreens of the deep forest just on the outskirts.

Despite its charmed exterior, its inhabitants were gossipy, prone to mob mentality, and rather superstitious. One stray rumor quickly added kindling to the fire of another like a domino effect, leaving the poor victim scorched and shunned. And although you knew better, something about you always yearned for something greater outside the small minds of your town, the daughter of a mere baker.

Day after day, smoke and chatter filled the small streets as merchants hustled for a living. Farmers ushered livestock, fish were gutted, and business carried on as usual. Preparations were well underway for winter's timely arrival as the village made haste to meet this year's quota to avoid famine.

A large chunk would go to House Zenin, led by Naobito, the ruling Lord of the region who lived on the other side of the mountains. An early frost like this caused winter's kill to afflict the vast river and the population of fish, putting many livelihoods in jeopardy.

This unsettling pressure was tangible in your interactions with the locals, including your father who was more short tempered than usual as the orders for bread came in quicker than he could fulfill.

So, you did what you do best which is run away into the forest despite numerous warnings and disapproving nods from your neighbors not to wander off, especially during the heart of October when the full harvest moon's appearance would happen like clockwork. This would could give way for a completely new problem that plauged nightmares and local legends:

Lycanthropes.

This year in particular coincided with a blue moon.

The issue of a werewolf had not haunted the village in hundreds of years. Though, with this blue moon on the horizon, it only fanned the flames of unrest, villagers insisting the Gods must be angry due to this year's scarcity and were sending a werewolf as penance for their grievances.

However, some took this opportunity to indulge in the fascination behind the supernatural and trade old stories around the fire during the harvest festivities, hearty drunken laughs echoing from the bitter ale.

You supposed, as you thought to yourself as you sauntered through the expanse of the forest floor along the twig laden paths, that coming face to face with a werewolf wouldn't be all that terrifying.

Who's to say those beasts weren't capable of feelings or just as fearful of humans as they were of them? You thought it thrilling to run underneath the moon and be chased by such a creature. A creature that ran on two legs like a man with claws and sharp teeth, big and strong. Easily overpowering you. Something oddly alluring about the primality, the taboo behind the uncertainty of what he'd do to you when he caught you. You, his helpless prey he'd rip out every corner of the forest that concealed your sweet, sweet scent away from him...

But all of these things, you surmised, would land you directly in the village looney bin had anyone else accessed your thoughts.

As you wander, you don't realize you're being watched until your observer makes himself known.

"Village is that way, miss."

You whirl around, eyes widened when you're greeted with the stern gaze of a young man who was weathered and rugged like someone much older, eyes a shade of brown that competed with the intensity of the bark of trees that surrounded you. Bushy brows that almost met in the middle, dark spiky hair, and a sharp jawline that framed his handsome face.

"I'm sorry -I'm..." You hesitate. The first rule not to wander in the forest, already broken, soon to break the second of not speaking to strangers as well.

"I'm not looking for the village..."

Atsuya Kusakabe tilts his head. You were like a lost fawn. A dead one if your survival skills and sense of judgement were truly as poor as his prior observations of you led him to believe.

"Do I know you?" You prod, eyes searching his face attempting to jog your memory. "Wait, I think I know you..."

Kusakabe looks away, trudging silently towards his cottage that was tucked further down the path, towing a wooden cart with fishing tools and you stumbling behind him.

"You're...are you....you're the Kusakabe boy?"

You had heard rumors of the scorned family, who, many years ago were banished after the mother was thought to be a witch. The fate of her young son remained unknown, until now.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of one particularly long scar that adorned his forearm. He takes notice and unfurls his sleeve down in response.

"Ya really shouldn't be out here. If ya turn back now, you'll be home before sunset." He shoots an annoyed look at you when he realizes he won't be rid of you so easily. "Seriously, you're not concerned about your safety at all?"

"I am, I just—"

"Jus' what?"

You shrug. "I like being in the forest. It's better in here than it is out there."

"Really, a girl who likes being in the woods?" Kusakabe's eyes narrow as you approach the small cottage together.

"Yeah. I mean it's not so far fetched. My dad's insufferable. The villagers are annoying. The girls my age want nothing to do with me and the boys my age are all painfully rude and arrogant. It's much better in here where I can be alone."

"Well, get used to it, princess. In here is no place for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yes, you. You're delicate." His eyes briefly appraise you again.

"I'm not made of glass."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Kusakabe scoffs. "You're one of those proper girls. Ya know the ones that spend all their time reading books? The pretty ones that always get married off to some rich bastard Lord an' have a bunch of babies."

You couldn't help but remain stuck on the fact that he called you pretty as he turned his back to you, stowing the cart in a shed adjacent to his cottage.

"Well, you're wrong about that. I'm not getting married to any Lord." You straighten up.

"Right, we'll see about that." Kusakabe leans boredly against the shed.

Silence persists for a moment and you try to think of a way to prolong this encounter.

"You're a fisherman?"

"Ya."

"Where do you fish? I've never seen you at the river." You lean on your hip, eyes trained on his.

"I don't go to that river." Kusakabe folds his arms.

"Why?"

He clears his throat, his family history flashing briefly in his mind. "For reasons..." The pause in his voice contains an indiscernible pain behind it. "I go to the lake on the other side of the forest."

"There's a lake?" Your curiosity is piqued.

"Ya? Ya never seen it?"

"Well, maybe you can show me one day?"

"Not a chance, miss." A smile tugs at his lips after thinking for a moment longer. "Okay.... Maybe. But I wouldn't be doing all this for free."

You think carefully. "How about some bread? And in exchange you show me the lake and the ins and outs of the forest I don't know about."

Kusakabe's stomach inevitably grumbles. It had been so long since he tasted bread, having been exiled from the village so long ago. Such things were a luxury to him. He can't help but agree.

"Deal." He notices the sun beginning to dip in the sky. "But seriously, get going, princess. Night's just gonna get darker." He reaches for a lantern that sits on the gate in front of the cottage. "I'll walk with ya."

You walk together, chatting the whole way while he silently listened, fighting to disguise the faint ghost of amusement on his face as you incessantly speak, recounting stories from your childhood, what you ate yesterday, your theories on how the universe came to exist while he escorts you to the forest's edge.

"Well, here ya are, miss. Have a g'night."

"Goodnight, Atsuya."

He smiles, his name was warm when it fell from your lips. His first pleasant interaction with someone his age for the first time in years. He can't shake you from his thoughts that night as he wanders away in silence.

And so, this became a routine. Every afternoon after your studies, you'd run off into the woods until sunset, winding and finding your way back to Kusakabe, greeting him cheerfully with a biscuit or roll. Talking for hours and hours about everything and anything, this blossoming friendship between you two. He couldn't place it, but something about the promise of you jovially running down the path to see him every day became his motivation to let his feet hit the floor in the mornings.

Your father begins to notice, becoming more cold and harsh than usual.

"I don't know what you're up to, but it needs to stop, missy, you hear me?" He scolds you one evening.

"Winter is coming and you're off galavanting in the woods like usual. If you put half as much effort into lazing off as you did making yourself more suitable for marriage, then perhaps we wouldn't find ourselves on the brink of bankruptcy."

You went to bed that night with tears in your eyes, relentlessly tossing and turning as sleep evaded you. Marriage wasn't for you. Or at least your father's idea of it. Loveless and transactional, selling you off to the highest bidder.

You got up in a rush and promptly put on your cloak, off to the woods once again to see Kusakabe despite your better judgement.

Unknown to you, your father hired a group of young men from the village watch guard to keep an eye on you. You despised them and their leader just so happened to be Naoya Zenin, son of the renowned Lord Naobito.

You heard rumors that you were one of the prime choices among the young ladies in the village to be his bethrothed, but everything about him made your skin crawl.

He was rich and handsome on the outside, but the ugly innards of his heart overrode those two things completely. Callous and cruel with a particular sadistic liking for torture, you vowed to stay as far away from him as distance would allow.

The feeling that Kusakabe gave you compared to him was night and day.

Naoya snickered from his tent as he watched your candle disappear into a clearing, nodding for two of his accomplices to follow.

"Let's see where the little brat is off to this time."

"If we're lucky, we'll get to watch her get eaten by something."

Naoya chuckled darkly, "Now, that's no way to talk about my future bride." A smirk painting his loathsome face as he watched you scurry into the night.

-----

"Kusa!"

Kusakabe jolts awake inside his small cottage, heart pounding in his chest when he sees a small flame outside his window, answering you with a wave of disbelief mixed with excitement.

"Hey! The hell're ya doing out here..?"

"I had to see you."

Kusakabe nods and immediately brings you inside, glancing cautiously in both directions. The darkened silence of the forest putting him at ease as he closed the door behind him.

"My father's driving me crazy..." You sigh as you strip your cloak off, landing in a heap beside the modest fireplace and planting yourself onto the rocking chair beside it.

Kusakabe realizes this is the first time the entirety of your beauty became revealed to him, the shadows from the fire painting an air about you that was rather bewitching. No sooner does the thought enter his mind than he banishes it completely.

"Tell me 'bout it."

"He wants me to get married." You tell him with a sigh. "He doesn't care if I'm happy or not. I feel like my whole life is being decided for me and it's so, so unfair..."

Your lip trembles and Kusakabe has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms. The surgence of his feelings he had been in denial about for some time making themselves apparent at last when he lays eyes on your precious tears.

"Hey..."

Your soul flares alight when he crouches down next to you, a supportive hand resting on your thigh. You twitch slightly and Kusakabe waits, thinking perhaps he was too forward, but then you do something that surprises him and you collapse into his chest entirely with a broken sob.

"Kusa...Kusa...hold me..."

Kusakabe raises his hands in surprise but then melts completely as he pulls you into his lap and into a protective carry against his chest.

It was only now that you realized how truly strong he was. He sets you gently down on his bed just on the other side of the room, rocking you back and forth, his brow furrowing as he squeezed you a little tighter.

"M'here, m'here.... m'holding you angel, I've got ya..s'okay....s'okay..."

Your quiet cries dissolve into hiccups as you stare over Kusakabe's shoulder, calmness starting to settle in, realizing being wrapped up in his arms was where you wanted to be all the time.

"Shh..." Kusakabe closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of holding you at last. Warmth traded between you both with every passing moment.

He pulls away for a moment, keeping both of his large hands on your arms, running them up and down slowly and searching your face before he brings a careful hand to your face. The right, followed by the left as he gently swipes at the wetness under your eyes.

A loud hiccup exits your chest and he can't help but smile at the adorable sound.

"Feel a little better now, sweetheart?"

"I *hic* ....sort of..." You sniffle.

"Hey, s'alright..." He murmurs. You notice his lips part a little bit as he takes in your features, an irresistible warmth that starts to creep up between you two that made the air undeniably foggy.

He whispers your name, "...tell me somethin'.."

"Yes?" You straighten your back. "Yes, Atsuya?"

He hesitates, then abruptly decides to take the leap. "You...ya like me, right?"

You give him a mildly confused look.."Of course I like you.."

"No, goddamn it, I mean..." He chuckles and looks at the floor in tired defeat. "Sorry, princess. Language. I mean..." He lifts his brown eyes with a sigh, boring into your own. The softest manner he has looked at you dead on the entire time you've known him.

"I mean..." He says gently. "I mean do ya like me, princess? Do ya feel somethin special f'me?"

You have forgotten how to breathe, but this feeling of being breathless was not one you would come to regret. The heat in your face becoming very noticeable to you the longer you gazed at his beauty. This remarkable young man you didn't realize you were in love with until he had the courage to say it out loud.

"If ya do...I mean, like I do for you, then...then you could stay here." He straightens up, the initial fear of confession over with and a fire lit under him as he continued. "I would take care of ya. I could be a good husband to ya, princess. Wouldn't let anything happen to ya.. keep ya safe..."

He brings his face even closer. "And I'd love you for all of my days..." He cups your cheeks. "I'd even ask your father's permission. So what if he hates me. Couldn't live knowin that I didn't at least try for ya."

"Atsuya..."

He sighs, closing his eyes as he gently kisses your forehead. "Please..." Before he carefully presses it against his own, bringing both of your clutched hands to his chest. "Please, tell me ya do, I—"

But he can't speak for the face of a goddess is staring back at him as you blindly lean forward and capture his parted lips in a delicate first kiss.

His hands automatically pull you even closer to him, clutching you against his chest like salvation as he kissed you tenderly in that small cottage in front of the cackling fire.

----

The group of men look nervously at Naoya beside them in the bushes outside, who's watching the whole thing and keeping eerily silent. But they don't have to guess to know he's absolutely seething.

"My...my Lord...." one of them steps cautiously closer before Nayoa snarls and knocks him aside, snatching the torch away from him and striding towards the cottage in a blackout fury, aiming it at the roof.

"My Lord, wait!!!" One of the guard's eyes goes wide when the moon outside begins to peek through the cloud cover.

Inside, Kusakabe's head jerks up in alarm, pulling you closer to his chest when he hears a yell outside his window, cursing when a flicker of moonlight begins to leak through the windows.

Oh no...

He gravely underestimated how soon the phases would arrive on the calendar. The sclera of his eyes begin to darken, before they become bloodshot, his eyes becoming intense and golden.

"Kusa...?" You look up at him in worry, horror painting your face as you see the distressing look on his face, his face twisting into something sinister.

"Princess, listen..." He fights to keep his voice gentle, it's still the one you know, the one that belongs to your darling beloved. You cling to him in worry.

"Atsuya, what is happening...?"

"Ya need to go—"

You yelp as he hastily sweeps you into his arms, running with you towards the back door, the smell of smoke telling you the cottage was on fire.

Suddenly, his whole body feels alarmingly hot, your eyes widening terror when purple and green veins begin to darken under his skin, the muscley sinew bulging, the sickening sound of flesh tightening and nauseating crackle of bones being broken. The veins in his neck throb as patches of thick hair begin to sprout all along his face and arms, his elongating claws pricking and drawing blood which you scream in pain as they knick your skin before he shoves you out into the harsh cold of the night.

"Run..." He chokes out. The last trace of the real Atsuya you fell in love with before he slams the door closed.

You stare in utter disbelief at the cottage, the burst of orange from the fire and shattering glass pulling you out of your state of shock.

"Kusa..." You murmur, darting towards the front of the cottage, utter dread settling over your entire body when you see Naoya and his group of men, throwing rocks and more lit torches on horseback, taunting and yelling in diabolical glee.

"NAOYA...STOP!! PLEASE!!"

You sprint towards where he's standing, laughing at the misfortune. "Don't hurt him!!!"

He sneers at the sight of you. "Get back, you whore. Toji, restrain her."

You yell in protest as the dark man's strong hands lock you against his chest as you kick and squeal to no avail, heart sinking and crying out in anguish when the roof of the cottage collapses, setting the surrounding trees on fire in uncontrolled blaze while the men cheered.

"Atsuya..." You feel a tangible pain of inconceivable heartbreak with a sear in your chest unlike anything you've ever experienced as you could only assume that poor boy was dead. All because of you.

"You...you FUCKING BASTARD!!!!" The grip Toji has on you has loosened just momentarily for you to barrel straight at Naoya, attacking his face, his arms, chest, torso, anywhere you could reach as you tore and ferociously clawed at him like a madwoman.

His anger turns on like a deadly switch as he growls loudly and seizes your arms while you cry out in a mixture of grief, fear, and pain as he overpowers you swiftly and knocks you to the ground, only before his assault began to worsen in a feral rage as he struck you repeatedly in the face.

Before he can strike you again, you shut your eyes as your consciousness teetered on the edge before a blood curdling scream rattles your bones. You open your foggy eyes, the group of men slowly backing away and turning to run away in fear. You weren't sure what you saw, but it could not be anything other than the largest wolf you've ever seen.

Only it wasn't quite a wolf. It stood on its two hind legs, towering ovover a shrieking Naoya as it mauled him relentlessly, the unmistakable squelch of breaking flesh and fleeting drips of blood staining the forest floor.

You hear the yells of men behind you rallying together, charging the beast. He turned his head, yellow eyes and teeth coated in foaming saliva and broken chunks of Naoya's flesh as he snarled wildly at them with the face of your deepest nightmare before you lost consciousness.

-----

That was five autumns ago. You felt tears brim with longing as you gazed out of the window of your lonely bedroom. The harsh bitter cold of outside seemed more compassionate than the firelit halls of your new home as you were slowly ripped out of your daydreams and faced the reality of being betrothed to a man you did not love.

"Woman, look at me when I am speaking to you."

You turn slowly, eyes sullen with defeat as you look up at the scowling face of Naoya, which was now deeply scarred from that fateful night you were just recollecting.

"Yes, my Lord."

"It's about time you addressed me with some respect." He tsks. "You were off in the woods again last night. If you come home at an unreasonable hour again, I will revoke your permission to ride in the evenings altogether. Have I made myself clear?"

Oh, last night.

You usually took your rides in the afternoons. But as the wedding drew near, the haunting of Kusakabe's memory became more unbearable. So, you started taking them at night, riding horseback to the forest's edge under that old tree you and him would lay under all those years ago just overlooking the vast lake, hoping that the moonlight would somehow bring him back to you.

This miserable existence as the forced betrothed to this disdainful man had caused you to check out entirely. Not caring if the hour was late and he found you out. Sometimes, you dared to think death would more kind if the Gods would not let you be with the man you truly loved.

Maybe that night he really did perish and you were chasing a ghost after all this time.

"Yes, my Lord."

He leans over you with gritted teeth. "You will do well to learn your place. We've only days until our wedding and you will honor me. Is that clear?"

When he sees that faraway expression in your eyes, he boils underneath with jealousy. The look of a woman whose heart lies somewhere else.

"That thing is dead. Do you not remember, foolish girl? I killed it this harvest. Its head now rots on a spike outside these very walls."

You did remember. How could you forget the revenge tour Naoya set out on as soon as he healed from the werewolf attack? Scouring the forest with his men and hunting packs of wolves to near extinction you were sure.

He would do everything within his power to make absolute certain that Atsuya wouldn't live to hurt him or steal what rightfully belonged to him ever again, dashing all of your deadened hopes that he would come back for you.

But, when Naoya paraded his last kill in the streets you felt in your heart that it was not really the head of your lost love.

Naoya would sooner switch places with the beast and put his own head on display before he would ever admit it, but, deep down, part of him trembled in fear that Kusakabe still lived and would come for revenge of his own.

Naoya brings you to his eye level. "That so-called love of yours is not coming back. He's dead."

You tremble and you feel your blood run cold as it seems he relishes in your fear and his dominance over you.

"You will give and submit yourself to me fully, whether you want to or not." Naoya's yellow eyes flicker away from you before one last warning. Tears finally spill out of yours with the deafening sound of the oak door slamming shut.

----

The ground breezes past you at the speed of light as you descend deeper and deeper into the forest, the wind biting your cheeks. Thoughts of Kusakabe fills your head as the salty tears blur your vision causing you to momentarily lose your balance, hands tightening the reins as you encourage your horse, faster and faster, akin to your boiling frustration that you knew wouldn't last much longer.

You tread even farther than you've gone before and chart your course to the other side of the vast lake, now putting yourself with more than a few hours journey away from the village. Not that you'd be returning.

When you arrive at the lake overlook, you bring your horse to a halt, breathing out slowly as the peaceful sight of the dark water grounded you. A distant rumble of thunder echoes throughout the valley and the winds pick up, gently sloshing the waves. Determined, you get down, shedding your cloak and boots, walking to the edge of the black sand, as you take in the oranges, reds, and greens of the autumn drenched forest around it and the ashen clouds hanging overhead painting the world almost a grey blue. How fitting to be surrounded by heaven one final time.

You rock back and forth on your toes lightly to settle your mind. You think of him, of Atsuya Kusakabe. Using his face and the distant memory of his rough voice to slowly guide you to fight off the piercing cold of the water around your ankles, then your shins, thighs, and torso.

Living together in your happy place away from where anyone could touch you as your frantic breaths stilled from the chill and you floated on your back on the mild current. Not giving a damn if he was a werewolf or not. Living freely without shame in love. Maybe raising up a family of your own. Belly swollen with his pups. Dreaming of their little faces that bore a mixture of you and him.

All of this, the fleeting enchantment of the forest, the biting murky tides pulling you further and further from the shore, and Atsuya Kusakabe's name uttered from your lips as you close your eyes, unaware of a looming wave before it swallowed you in one gulp.

----

The soothing heat radiating from a small cackling fireplace greets you as you slowly open your eyes. You're groggy, cold, fingers pruny, and damp hair. Your nose and throat feel on fire and your chest aches. A cough rattles from deep inside and you sit up quickly, heaving as you bend over, discovering you're clad in a long sleeved nightgown with several quilts wrapped around you. You feel dizzy and a numb pounding in your head makes itself known.

"Hey, careful. Don't move too quickly all at once, princess."

You whip your head at the voice which you surely thought was from the grave.

"Atsuya....?"

Those oakey brown eyes were just as deep as the day you met him. He stood there, rugged and tall. The years had weathered his appearance even more, but certainly not in a bad way. His hands were more calloused, gruff complexion more tanned with the evidence of working regularly in the sun and crafting his survival in the rough terrain, unshaven stubble along his square jaw. A man.

You stared at him as though he was made of glass. A facade of fog and smoke. You reached out to touch him and he brought his hand to meet your own. "Yeah, it's me..." The wrinkles by his eyes more apparent as he bestows you a caring smile, guiding a small wooden bowl into your palm. "Here, drink this. It'll help with any pain you're experiencing."

Your bewildered expression remained, still unsure if you were dreaming, dead, or somewhere in between. Finally, you look down at the soup with a reluctant approach.

"S'perfectly safe, princess." Kusakabe reassures. "It's chicken broth."

That pet name shudders through you and you recognize it really is him. You rise up quickly and throw your arms around him, almost spilling the broth.

"Jesus!" Atsuya tenses, sets down the bowl, then relaxes as he greets your hug with his own, one of his hands gently holding the back of your neck as he allowed his face to become buried in your hair.

"I thought you were dead..." You whisper as a tear leaks out of your eye followed quickly by another.

He grips you tighter in response. "I missed ya too, beautiful..."

"How...how did you come to live here? What happened that night? The last night that I saw you?" You pull away for a moment and look into his eyes, running your palms over his cheeks. "Why didn't you come back...?"

Atsuya sighs deeply, leaning into your touch and gently removing your hands from his cheeks, enveloping them in his own. "I wanted to..." He closes his eyes momentarily then opens them, his expression more serious. "But first of all, why'd ya come out here by yourself...? The hell were ya doin' on the lake during a storm like that?" His voice is stern but it trembles at his last question.

You take a step back, caught off guard by his question. "I..." You turn away from him completely. "It's..." You hesitate, trying to stop tears welling in your eyes. "I don't really know. I was upset and I just needed to get away..couldn't bear it anymore. Just wanted to feel something." You bring a shaky hand to your face to swipe at the increasing wetness. "Part of me thought you were dead. I was grieving that. But I don't understand why you didn't at least come back to say goodbye. Letting me think the worst when you were here this whole time."

His heart shatters, his guilt the consequence of his cowardice. But he knew he was only trying to watch out for you, as well as himself. He had no desire to worsen relations between him and the village that cast him out.

Even worse if they obtained knowledge of his true secret. One that he was hoping you didn't fully piece together that fateful night. He couldn't love you if he were a dead man after all.

"I heard 'bout the engagement." He said solemnly. Silence drags the moments between you until it's indiscernible how much as passed. He looks at you, trying to muster up a little more lightness to the conversation and change the subject slightly. "Decided ta be somebody's wife after all, huh princess?"

You huff out a little air. "Was hardly my choice." You cross the room back to the chair he sat you in, bringing the quilts back over you and cupping your hands around the warm broth. Kusakabe takes the stool in front of you. "Lord Naoya Zenin can choose any woman he wants for his bride. The wedding is in three days."

A bolt of jealousy courses through Atsuya followed shortly after with a seethe of silent anger at the mention of your fiance. Not realizing it was to him. "Oh..." He clears his throat, trying and failing to disguise his obvious disdain. "Didn't know that..." He looks at you. "Well, congrats, princess. Hope you're happy with him...."

You look at him with that obvious look of love that said the opposite, but you realize you'll have to fake it until you make it. "Thanks, Kusa."

He knows you well enough to know when you're putting on a facade, but right now, he just wants it to feel like old times again when you and him could speak for hours.

"Well, how's palace life, princess? Now that you're a real life princess?"

You giggle, looking down. "Hardly a princess. A Lady, if we're being technical. The beds are nice and the food is better but nobody warns you how boring the Lord's council meetings are."

"Oh?" Atsuya smirks and leans forward on his elbows, making himself more comfortable. His forearms and generous biceps you notice flex slightly as he props his chin on his fists. "Tell me all 'bout it."

And several hours have now escaped as you chatted away by the low fire. You updated him on life as a soon to be member of the ruling class, telling him all about your education, music, teaching him a few phrases in Latin and other local dialects you picked up from your time as a pupil. You discuss again your theories on everything and he soaks all of it up like water to a parched man.

Now it seems like the passage of five years has become irrelevant as this reconnection between you both made it feel like you never left. Darkness is now fully descended upon the forest. You look out the window, realizing Naoya surely would be on his way, scouring the forest when your horse wandered back to the manor without its rider. You could only imagine the the unforgiving consequences he would inflict on you this time for your defiance.

Atsuya senses the shift in your energy, like there was unrest in your soul that was troubling you. He hesitates but then asks quickly without thinking too deeply about it.

"Are ya really happy with him, princess?"

"Hmm? Oh I'm. Well I'm..." You clear your throat before taking a distracting sip of your broth.

"I spared my father and I from the streets. My happiness and personal satisfaction really come secondary to all of that."

Kusakabe's thick eyebrows raise at this new maturity and attitude in you, but he waited as you continued.

"...In addition our land will have a new Lady to rule alongside her Lord and provide him with successors. It is vital to the Zenin clan."

He looks at you, longing brimming in his expression. "But you're not in love with him?"

Alarmed he could apparently read your mind, your lips part. For a moment as you gaze at one another, the space between you feels very thin. Just like it did that night five years ago when you felt the warmth of his lips for the first time.

But, the fear of being branded a whore for dabbling with someone other than your betrothed before your wedding kept you silent.

"Is he good to ya?" Atsuya asks softly. "Does he make ya feel like I could?"

"He...takes care of me, yes."

"But he puts his hands on ya."

You blink rapidly in defense, resisting the urge to cry again. "M-many lords do when it comes to their lady. It's within their right."

"Yeah, but that don't make it right..." Kusakabe says a little irritably.

"Perhaps I should go."

"No." Kusakabe insists, a little harshly at first, then resumes his gentle tone. "S'well past dark now, princess. You're on the other side of the lake. Ya wouldn't reach home til an hour before dawn."

The knowledge he bears of the creatures of the night eats at the back of his mind. "Ya don't know what's lurking out there. Trust me, you're much safer here til the morning."

"No, Kusa please? I'll be alright..." Exhaustion from your near drowning has overwhelmed your body at this point, your eyelids fight to stay open but your fear of your fiance's wrath is still very present in your mind.

"Really, I don't want Naoya to come looking for me out here. I don't want him to hurt you again. I fear what he'll do if he finds out I came here..I can't put you in that kind of danger again, Kusa."

He scoffs. "Your stupid fiancee can't hurt me, princess. And he won't hurt ya. I won't let him, sweetheart."

"Kusa..."

Kusakabe pauses then trembles. His body on fire. He's sensing the changes that are taking place in the clouds in the night sky outside the window. He needs to get you asleep. Now. As soon as possible for your own safety.

He knows it's selfish to keep you here but he doesn't care. Fate brought you back to him and he'd be damned if he let it take you away from him again. Especially to someone as evil as Naoya. The slowly appearing moonlight outside is working against him and he must act quickly

"L-look, princess. Just sleep here til the morning alright? We'll figure somethin out." He looks anxiously at the window then back at you as he manages a coaxing look. "C'mon, let's get ya to bed."

Before you can say otherwise he brings you to his chest, the firmness and warmth of his body all the persuasion you needed to just let him take care of you.

He takes you into another room in his new cottage which is noticeably nicer than his old one, setting you on the bed with a gentle creak and bringing the covers under your chin. The exhaustion works itself quickly into your system and your eyelids become overpowered immediately.

"Kusa, you aren't gonna sleep too?"

Kusakabe smiles, leaning a hand on your forehead. "Course I will, princess. M'just makin sure you fall asleep first."

The moon juts from behind the clouds even more and he swallows nervously. "If ya wake up and notice I'm not here, I'm probably just out getting wood for the fire, okay? Don't panic and whatever ya do, just go back to sleep, alright sweetheart? Promise?"

"Mmmm... mhmmm....." But you're already in dreamland.

He eyes you tenderly one more time, standing up slowly and walking towards the bedroom door, shutting it gently before he crosses swiftly to the threshold. He almost sprints outside before he disappears into the bushes with a pained cry shortly followed by snarls and a haunting howl that rattled through the evergreens.

------

Hours later, a breeze from the wind in the dead of night brushes the cracked window in Kusakabe's bedroom open ever so slightly causing you to slowly rouse from your deep slumber.

The comfort of being where you longed to be for all these years at last rendered you particularly safe and content, so much that the faintest ember of desire began to tingle between your thighs.

You bit your lip, unable to resist the allure brought on by the lingering haze of sleep and the scent of Kusakabe that was everywhere in your surroundings, in his bed.

Your hand slowly snakes down your body, softly gripping your breasts and tweaking your nipples on the way down as you arch your back. You sigh and dig the crown of your head into his pillow, rolling your clit. The air is disturbed quietly by your little pants, your eyes prying open as the arousal gently leaks into a gradual flood. You notice your lover is gone, but remembering his words, you stay where you are. The way your aching pussy is begging for your attention more and more and the smell of him on the pillows immersing you like the real thing is too good not to follow through.

"Atsuya....oh, fuck....fuck me so good, Atsuya..."

You've done this many times, envisioning him so often fucking you for the first time. Only honorable young women kept their virginities intact, reserving them for their wedding nights. According to plan you'd be forced to give yours to Naoya, but you still dreamed of Kusakabe anyway.

Hopeful that one day Atsuya would be the one to make you cum with a shudder of his name. The first man to roam his eyes all over your naked body. Thinking about the sweet agonizing stretch of his cock that quickly bowed to sinful deliciousness while you moaned to make yourself all his.

His pretty drunk little cock slut who was just an innocent virgin before now underneath him in his bed, stretching herself all out on his thick cock who belonged to him and him only. His pussy to cum in and breed.

Your fingers could only take you so far. You moaned sweetly, gathering the pearly slick and working it into your clit, back in, and out.

"Kusa...mmmfuck I love your cock so much....so much, baby..."

You lock down that heavenly spot, shutting your eyes as you see his face so clear as day above you in your mind, his parted lips and sweaty face as he fucked you with everything he had. His heavy, sweaty cock so long and thick and veiny. Fuckkkkk, his hairy body and chest. Picturing him raising your legs and folding you up while his cock had you creaming all around the base as he hit that deep spot inside over and over with filthy precision before you finally snapped and cried out with your glossy juices permanently staining his sheets.

-----

The sweet, sweet honeyed scent of your pussy hits Kusakabe like a train. Immediate sex pollen as it winds its way into his enhanced nostrils and settles deep in his core, his aching werewolf cock and balls swelling with his seed.

Must breed. Must have you tonight. Make you pregnant by the morning so your piece of shit fiance can't have you. Ruin you permanently for anyone else because when a werewolf finds his mate, only death could stand in the way of what destiny declared to be all his.

The moonlight continued to flood the floor of the forest as he sped past the trees in a blacked out lustful haze. Your pussy: wet, silky and soaked in slick the forefront of his mind.

You scream as he bursts into the bedroom, gathering the sheets all around and clawing your way up the headboard at the sight of the nightmare with yellow eyes.

You tremble and shake as cold sweat pops up on your forehead, your poor heart about to give out as it absolutely pounds in your chest, echoing in your eardrums. Absolutely expecting this moment to be your last on Earth before Atsuya would come back to find your mangled bloody body and guts strewn all over his bed like a horror scene.

But, the beast is calm. He edges towards you slowly, a clawed hand reaching out as you felt his warm leathery palm lock around the meat of your calf as you softly whimper.

"P-please....please..."

In one fell swoop, he drags you to the edge of the bed, spreading you wide open, claws like scissors as they shred your nightgown completely. You yelp as the cold air hits your naked body, leaving your nipples pointed and bumpy. You squirm to get away only before he immediately dives into the glistening mess that was still sticky between your thighs. You cry out from the stimulation that hits you like a rock. His rough, hot breath against you, you hear him groan as his large oversized tongue flattens against your clit, recognizing the low tone of your sweet Atsuya.

"Kusa...?" You whisper.

He grunts almost to say yes, too drunk off the immediate taste of your free flowing nectar he had only dreamed and fucked his fist full of cum to for all those years.

"Ffuck...Kusa? Kusa.....ohhhh..." You stared down at him between your legs with wide eyes and jaw open in shock. God, this shouldn't feel that fucking good. This was hundreds of times better than your fingers.

But why, why was your brain firing up your arousal even so as this fearsome thing stared up at you?

He was so hairy and wolflike but his body bore resemblance to a man. Buff and strong and solid as a rock. It intrigued you, it enthralled you. It felt wrong but God the way he was eating your pussy like he had been long deprived, this feeling of utter euphoria felt so fucking right.

If this was what real sex felt like then you'd let him fuck you all the time.

You go slack and grind against the large meaty wet muscle in his mouth sighing breathlessly as he stroked you with it again and again.

"S'right, baby...give yourself to me..." He rasps in between generous licks.

"Atsuya..."

"Fuck, I dreamed of this....fucked my fist s'many goddamn times to this..." He grunts, his claws knicking the insides of your thighs, making you cry slightly in pain.

"S'okay, s'okay... you'll be strong f'me, won't ya, princess?" He lifts his head from your pussy and licks all along the tiny puncture marks, his wolfy drool oddly soothing as he relishes the sweet metallic taste of your blood. "Gonna breed you once you're ready f'me..."

"Atsuya....oh, God..." You run your fingers in his hair and hold on for dear life as he dives right back in. "Kusa...Kusa, r-right there...right there, baby please!!"

His low growls and thick poky hair on his chin tickle your inner thighs as he plunges his tongue even deeper, your tight little hole loosening up for him under all his heavenly treatment. His tongue could almost pass for three of your fingers on its own, gasping as you feel yourself bloom open around him, silky walls coaxing his tongue deeper as he fucked you with it, determined to wring out your second orgasm tonight and his first with you all into his insatiable mouth.

"Don't stop, please don't stop...Kusa, baby..." You tremble and gasp, thighs trembling around his wolfy ears. He pulls away, and you see his monstrous face in all his glory clearly through the moonlight for the first time, sharp canines and the fur around his chiseled chin all drenched and covered in your shiny slick.

"My Atsuya..."

"My beautiful mate..." He whispers, locking your legs around his waist. Between the v lines covered in dark brownish auburn fur, you see his pulsating cock and the biggest breeder balls you've ever seen, the size making you simultaneously tremble and drool. "You're ready to take me..."

"Kusa, please I've never done this..." Your lovely eyes meet his ravenous ones. A swell to his ego rises and his eyes darken, confirming his suspicion that no man had you before. And none ever would except him.

"Oh don't worry, you'll take me, darlin. Trust me, jus' relax..."

The bulbous, swollen tip rubs at your folds. You coo sweetly at this and he decides to tease it a little again, eager to stuff you but realizing he likes it when you get all whiny and desperate when you gush around his cock.

"Yeah? Feel good?" He mutters gruffly, drool dripping down his fangs as he glides his cock in between your loose dripping lips, his throbbing shaft now coated in a new shine of your dribbling juices as he moves and strokes it up and down, the veins of his girth softly nuzzling and prodding at your puffy wet clit with every careful swipe.

"So good...Kusa...so good, baby....mmmm I love it so much..." You moan as you begin to squeeze and knead your breasts.

You're getting greedy. He realizes he needs to do it now, needs to bury his cock deep inside you if he wants this to work and get you pregnant. Wafts of your evident ovulation and heat inhaling through his nose as he begins to push his cock against your entrance.

You mewl and whine as you feel him absolutely stretch you out to new limits. He draws his hips slowly back, letting the back and forth motion spread the built up slick around his cock to act as lube.

"Kusa, I c-can't...so big...you're too big..."

He brings the rough pad of his thumb to your clit, some sweet relief shooting up your spine like electricity and arching your back again allowing him to push his cock even farther inside your deep pussy.

He chuckles. "Haah, really, princess? Lookit how much of me's inside your pretty pussy already..."

He smirks wickedly as he brings a clawed hand to an emerging bulge in your belly, which you realize with eyes widening is the outline of his cock, a feeling of ecstasy sparking between your thighs again when he harshly presses on it, pressure going to your clit which makes you drip around him even more again.

"There..." He licks his lips as a wolfish grin slowly spreads across his face when his meaty cock is nice and fully sheathed inside your squishy cunt, an experimental thrust of his hips elicting breathy pleas from you.

He thrusts deeply, and picks a rapid pace. Every movement intentional, deliberate and intense. Not an inch of him spared from you as he really lets you feel him, stuffs you nice and full with every mouthwatering ridge, vein, dimple and curve of his wolfy cock.

"So warm n'tight.... Shit.... n' it's all f'me..." He growls possessively. "Tell me you're mine. M'the only one that's gonna fuck this pussy, breed ya with my pups n' these...." He cups your breasts, flicking your nipples, the sharp edge of his claws poking your perky buds ever so lightly. "These will be nice n full of milk, my milk...."

"Fuck, I'm all yours, sweetheart... Just wanna give you babies..." You sputter as you feel yourself go dumb on his cock. "Please fuck me, ruin me so nobody can have me, Atsuya..."

"Fuck..."

He snarls and his grip on your thighs is near bruising before he folds them up, now slamming ferally into you in mating press, his heavy balls smacking against your anus. The depth you found him inside you at this angle really put you to the test. But, you were determined to take him, determined to let him make you a mommy and breed you full so Naoya couldn't have you. Be his pretty little cum dump and fill you, fuck you and love you anytime he wanted.

God, you would let him do anything to you.

"M'gonna...m'gonna..." You feel like you're about to see heaven as he pummels into you even faster, shooting thick spurts of cum inside your virgin womb. He bites down on your shoulder and you scream then sigh as you feel his cock twitching madly inside you as his balls emptied. The volume of his cum was so excessive that it leaked out in gobs of creamy silver white, running down your pussy in filthy trails and staining both your pubes with the sticky substance.

Atsuya sloppily licks your shoulder where he bit as he jolts intermittently a few times, making sure what amount of his cum did land inside you went deep enough, his seed surely working quickly already to make you pregnant.

"Mine...mine, mine, mine mine....all fuckin' mine..." The mantra works him up, gets him excited as he begins to pump inside you again.

"Kusa..." You groan from the building ache, but bite your lip and lay your head back on the pillow when he brings his thumb right back to your clit, activating that tried and true spot he discovered earlier.

Something strange happens. You feel his cock harshly throb inside, pulsating against your walls in a way that almost felt like he was vibrating inside you.

"Baby....that-fuck..." You grit your teeth as the sensation spreads like a shockwave against your body. "Kusa...?"

He smirks, moving his long fingers up and down your ribs, sliding underneath your back and gripping the plush of your ass, using it to firmly shove you down on his cock, causing the lewd mixture of cum, saliva, slick, and blood to squelch out of you a little bit with a dirty wet plap.

You cry out and he captures your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. The head of his cock swells immensely, making you feel impossibly full like you're going to be split open. Your eyes widen in horror as you claw at his arms. He nearly crushes you against his chest, grunting as he moves a little bit inside you to provide you with more friction to ease the ache.

"S'okay...s'okay, s'okay. Let it happen baby, fuck just let it happen, gonna make you mine for good, now. Fuck jus, jus, relax, baby, yeah?" He spits on your clit, the area where you're connected an almost unrecognizable sopping mess covered in both your fluids. He rubs your clit again, which works to loosen you up a bit again, however it's bordering on overstimulation.

Sensing your discomfort, he sucks on your breasts, giving you deep, slow thrusts into the practically ocean of cum inside you as the knot nears completion in its formation, doing what he can to distract you from the ache.

He was taking care of you, his beautiful new mate. This had to happen for the ritual to be complete. You were the first human he had ever knotted in, and he wanted to savor every moment since you would be his last.

You sob, nearly passing out from the overwhelming mixture of pleasure, pain, and elation unlike anything you've ever processed in your life. You go limp in his arms, and he runs a hand, bigger than your face over your cheek, smiling when you blink up at him in a daze through your lovely lashes.

"Did so good, my darlin', so good..." He kisses your sweat covered forehead and looks down, attempting to withdraw his cock from the cum plug he built up around your connected bodies, but it remained cemented in place, the knotting complete.

"Atsuya....my love..." You coo weakly.

Warmth floods him from the inside as he pulls you into a loving kiss.

"You're mine now for good, princess..."

----

Your horse was found wandering in distress in the woods the next morning. Naoya set his men out on a blind hunt in fury, determined to find you and drag you home where you would be whipped to unconsciousness, and then Atsuya made an example out of and executed publicly in the streets.

However, he never found such luck. Your soaked cloak and discarded boots were found floating in the lake and his discouraged men called off the search when they believed you were long buried in a watery grave.

----

Months later in the dead of winter, you hugged and stroked your swelling belly, calling your sweet Atsuya over to put a hand over yours where you could feel his two pups kicking inside you.

You looked at him with love stricken eyes as he prepared you some vegetable soup. This was bliss. Tucked in your little cottage deep in the woods far away where nobody could hurt you. Spending your days doing what you loved and taking care of your little dwelling, then being doted on and adored and loved and fucked in the evenings by your werewolf husband.

Rumors had reached you that Naoya never did take a bride, having been murdered in the streets by his own men when they became fed up with his self serving ways. Either way, it didn't matter, but this piece of knowledge that your abuser met his well deserved fate eased any remaining unrest in your soul.

This permitted you to continue in your sphere of eternity in those darkened woods with Atsuya Kusakabe by your side.