#I took way too long trying to think of a reply to you

[parfaitblogs]

as time goes by ❀ s. reid x reader

in which you funnel through photographic memories of what once was, now isn't, but might still be.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: angst & smut (18+ mdni) tags: what isn't there? meet cute. burnt toast theory if you squint. right person wrong time. soft dom!spencer. first time. p in v. fingering. praise. fade to black oral (f receiving). mommy issues. anxious attachment reader. past alcohol consumption. argument. + angst, smut, fluff, hurt/comfort. word count: 9.8k a/n: i know i said this was 8k but then i just kept writing and writing and writing and writing and writing... enjoy my angels!! this truly took a piece of my soul to write. a short playlist of what i listened to while writing this <3

"I'm always soft for you, that's the problem. You could come knocking on my door five years from now and I would open my arms wider and say 'come here, it's been too long, it felt like home with you." (Azra T)

February

It was a dreary burst of continuous rain and the threat of a thunderstorm that landed you in this predicament. 

Grey storm clouds that darkened the entire city even at the early hour of seven in the morning. There was a soft glow in one of the clusters of clouds where the sun was attempting to peek through, a striking metaphor for the way your life currently felt. Rays of sunshine barely piercing the sky enough to make an impression on the otherwise miserable day. 

You were late for work. Your usually easy morning routine replaced by bus delays due to the traffic on the roads, and trains canceled due to faults in the signalling.

You were barely halfway up the stairs to your platform when it happened. 

If you were any less focussed on keeping the ends of your jeans off the damp concrete, you wouldn't have spotted the drop of the blue and green SmarTrip card dropping to the step in front of you, from a leather messenger bag that was frantically swinging on someone's shoulder. 

You pick it up without even thinking, concerned by the fact that its owner hadn't even noticed. Which meant you'd have to experience the God awful awkward interaction of handing it back to them, and the even more awful small talk conversation that followed. 

The platform stretched out in front of you, and you were rushing to tap his shoulder before he could get too far away from you. A mop of messy curls turned, and never mind the fact that he was a stranger; he was hot. 

He's confused, and you watch him begin to think the tapping was a mistake, and you were just too rude to apologise for it. 

"Hi," you burst out, holding the card out in front of you. "Sorry. Is this yours?" 

"Oh," his expression is replaced with relief. "Yes. It is. Thank you."

You force an awkward smile onto your face, and he matches it with his own. Your heart flutters at the sight of it, and you thank God he was one of those awkward attractive guys — not an asshole. 

Then again, this was a two second interaction, and you didn't know him. Delusion would be your downfall. 

The train was overly crowded that morning. The traffic of two trains packed into one, resulting in barely any seats, and even less standing room. 

Thankfully, you had gotten one at the back of one of the carriages, which meant you could watch as multiple people walk past you, thinking there'd be more further down. Only to be sorely disappointed, but too stuck to come back and get the seat beside you they had spotted. 

"Oh. Hello again."

You lift your head at the voice, metro card man standing awkwardly next to the seat next to you. 

"Hey," you reply, heart rate skyrocketing. Just your luck.

"Is it okay if I sit here? All the other seats are taken," he asks, and even if there were six other free seats away from you, you'd let him. 

He sits when you nod, and you adjust your bag on the floor in front of you as he does the same, the messenger bag hugged firmly atop his lap. 

"Thank you for catching my card," he says, and you aren't sure if he's trying to make small talk because he's interested, or because he feels too bad to not. 

Your heart decides to go with the former. 

"It's no problem," you shake your head. "If I ever lost my metro card I'd probably have a panic attack in the middle of the station. So... y'know..." Why did you say that?

His chest shakes with quiet laughter anyways, and he's nodding in agreement, but you're sure he doesn't really understand what you mean. He doesn't seem like the type of person to have a panic attack in the middle of a train station.

"Are you headed to DC?" he then asks, and delusion be damned if this isn't him interested in you. 

You nod your head. "That's where this train is going, yes."

He pauses in a reply. "Well, yes, but there's stops along the way. You could be getting off at any of those." You fall silent at his words. That was true. "But you're not. You're going to DC."

"I am," you confirm your destination of the day for the second time, and your brain wonders if telling this inherent stranger where you were planning on going was a wise choice. Probably not. He didn't seem like a serial killer, at least. Then again, your judgement wasn't always the best.

"I am too," he says, lips pulling into the same awkward smile he had earlier, when you'd given him his metro card back. 

"We have so much in common," you joke, but you aren't sure if it lands. For he's blinking awkwardly, and then he must recognise you're trying to joke, because his chest puffs in a laugh. Pity laughter was still laughter. 

"We do."

It takes an entire train ride of conversation for you to muster up any courage at all, and it's only when he's about to step out into the aisle to disappear into his own world, and you into yours, that you blurt out,

"Do you want to get coffee?"

He blinks a few times, but then he's nodding his head, lips twitching into a small smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like that."

At his approval, you ask, "Could I get your number? Y'know, to... plan... this coffee date..."

Metro man, whose name you've since learned is Spencer, nods again, and he's rummaging in his bag for a piece of paper and a pen. The pen he finds, the paper he does not, and you simply tell him to write his number down on your hand. 

Delusions were fuelled quite easily when you're a hopeless romantic, and the immediate flutter of your heart when his hand holds yours in place so he could write on your skin was enough to convince you this man was your soulmate. 

You part ways from each other, feeling a little giddier, and a lot less like the storm clouds still swirling over your head. 

March

Even the quietest of sounds were catastrophically loud when you were in that middle ground between being awake, and being asleep. And the muffled sound of a tap turning on was as loud as a raging thunderstorm, in the early hours of that Saturday morning, startling you awake from the comfortable sleep you had been in. 

It took you a few more minutes to fully come to consciousness, but by that point, you had registered what tap was on and why, and your fears of an unfamiliar scent surrounding you as you awaken were diminished. 

"Oh. Morning."

Your eyes flutter open to see a slightly shocked Spencer Reid standing at the foot of his bed, collecting the bundled socks he had set on the mattress. 

"What're you doing?" you ask him, tiredly, rolling onto your back and blocking the bright sunlight with your arm. 

"Going to work," he answers. "I have paperwork I need to catch up on," he then adds, at your puzzled expression.

"Oh," you pout immediately, your heart sinking at the knowledge that he was leaving you. 

"I'll be home by three," he promises, moving around and crouching down by the edge of the bed, next to your head.

"You want me to stay here?" you ask him, rolling over to look at him.

His eyes bore into your own, and you search his face, his cologne mixing with the scent of his sheets beneath your head, making your head go a little fuzzy. 

He brushes hair out of your face. "You can if you want. There's food in the fridge, and I bought copies of your toiletries for when you do... stay over..." he stammers to a stop, brain catching up to his mouth. "Sorry. Is that weird?"

"No," your lips pull into a smile. "No. It's really sweet, actually."

"And there's clean clothes in my dryer," he continues at your reassurance. "Since you said you like my shirts. I mean, you don't have to, obviously. But I'll only be gone six hours, and then I have the rest of the day and tomorrow off, and I know you do too, so I just figured—"

You cut him off with a kiss. Perhaps not the best time to kiss him, for you're pretty sure you have a bad case of morning breath. If you do, he doesn't protest. In fact, he melts even further into your lips. 

"I'll stay," you tell him.

"Okay," his eyes light up a little, and your cheeks hurt from how wide you're smiling. You're sure you look ridiculous. "Okay. I'll see you later."

"Bye," you say, catching him for one more kiss, until he's closer to being late for work than anything, and he's tearing himself away from you. Forcefully, because he doesn't really want to. 

He comes home six and a half hours later to his home smelling distinctly of a candle he forgot he even owned, and whatever it was in his fridge you had managed to create a dish out of. 

He wonders if it's too soon to feel love for you. 

April

A night out was, arguably, the last thing you had expected to do when you woke up that morning. In fact, you had spent the entire day with plans to stay in your sanctuary of a bedroom with a shitty television series playing to detach from the past few weeks. Your life was busy, and you felt as though you had no time to yourself. Technically, you did. But your days off never consisted of an entire day in your bed without any responsibilities. 

It seemed that even on your planned day off, you couldn't get that. Granted you weren't mad, come six o'clock, because despite talking about how excited you were for your day off to him, the second Spencer Reid had mentioned restaurant and dinner in your morning phone call as he commuted to work, you were begging him to fulfil the plans he was about to cancel. 

He had stayed afterwards. Of course he had. You'd be damned if the man who had just taken you to the nicest restaurant you've ever been to in your life didn't stay over afterwards. And he was quite happy to, it seemed, which made your heart flutter a little more than it probably should've.

"Have you read Emily Dickinson?" you ask him, looking up at his face. You were now in your bed, covers draped over your entwined legs, his back up against the headboard of your bed, your own on his chest. 

"Yes," he nods his head, lips twitching at the way your face fell upon his response. "Did you think I hadn't?"

"No, I guess I assumed you had," you shook your head. "A small part of me didn't know for sure, though."

"Now you know," he says, eyes falling to the televison that had a silent cartoon playing on it (your choice, not his). "Did you have a good night?"

"Yeah," your lips curl into a smile. "Did you?"

"I always do with you," he leans down and pecks the smile off your face, watching your lips frown when he pulls back. "What?"

He laughs at the pout on your lips, and your eyes narrow in response. In a quick motion, your legs and arms wrap around him, bodies now facing each other, as you return your lips to his. 

"Was my kiss not up to your standards?" he muses against your mouth, and you poke his shoulder with a finger as a response, incessantly begging him to kiss you back.

You had done this before. Multiple times, in fact. Making out with Spencer was slowly but surely becoming your favourite past time. You weren't entirely sure what it was about it. Perhaps the way he kissed like he'd never be able to kiss again, always with so much fervour, and always so desperate. Maybe it was the way his hands felt when they grappled the entirety of your ass whenever you were on his lap, something that seemed so not Spencer Reid. Whatever it was, it was maddening, and you found a quiet, controlled mewl leave your lips when his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you closer to him (if that was possible).

"Mm-mm," he murmurs against your lips at the sound, fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass, eliciting another, less controlled sound from you. "You can do better than that."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," you mumble against his lips, semi-breathless, hands delving up into his curls, encasing your fingers in them.

He laughs again, the sound addicting, and melting any anxieties away as his fingers travel up your body, beneath your pyjama shirt, stopping short where your bra strap would be if you were wearing one. 

"We don't have to," you rush out when you feel his hesitance. Though you were no stranger to this part of making out – the suggestive touching – you could feel the bulge in his pants, and you realised this was not like every other time.

"You don't want to?" he asks with a gentle voice, pulling back to look at you.

"No, I–of course I do," you reassure him.

His lips tug into a small smile, and his face leans in to kiss the corner of your lips. "Okay. Good. I want to, as well."

"Good," you answer with a firm nod, and he hums. 

His hands slip beneath your shirt again. Warm – burning, even – though you weren't particularly cold. Yet, you felt like your skin was ice that was melting beneath his fingers as they dragged along your skin. All while his lips kissed down your jawline and neck, until they found your pulse point. He had found it accidentally a few weeks prior, and had used and abused it as much as he could after that. For no reason other than the fact that you let out the sweetest sounds whenever his teeth grazed over it, or his lips sucked on the skin there.

His hands reached further up, and his palms brush over both nipples at once, eliciting a gasp from you as your back arches into him. 

"Sensitive," he notes when his thumbs drag down over them, pulling the same reaction from your lips. You shoot him a sharp glare, and he laughs. His response is then to lean back in and kiss the pout away, gently biting down on your jutted lower lip with his teeth. All while he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, earning a whimper from you into his mouth.

It was a few more moments of that, before you murmur quietly, "Tell me you're taking this further." 

He laughs in response. Then, says, "What do you want?"

"Up to you," you reply, and he shakes his head, bringing one of your hands to his lips and kissing it. 

"No. Up to us."

"Okay. Um..." you hesitate. "Surely there's a natural order of things."

"I don't know. I think it depends on the people," he replies. "Tell me what you want to do."

You hesitate. There's a thousand things you want from him, and you're sure the mere twenty-four hours in the day are not enough for them all. Though, you also know time is not running out for the two of you soon. 

Recognising your hesitance, he instead taps your hips to get you off his lap, and you comply, and he lays you down on the bed. He hovers above you, and you almost laugh at his hair that falls down and creates a curtain over your two faces. 

His fingers lift the hem of your shirt over your body, and you let him, your breath hitching at the still less-than-hot air that settles in your room amidst April. He follows suite and removes his own shirt upon seeing your close to demanding look, before he ducks his head down to kiss you again. 

Fingers dance across the skin of your waist as he hesitates in pulling your pants down, but you don't even want to complain as he kisses you. In no rush to hurry him along, you savour his lips on yours, allowing him to take the time to work you up with brushes along your thigh through the fabric of your pants. 

You were equally as present as you were lost in a daydream as he touches you, for you don't really remember when your legs had become bare and his touch had become more direct, but you remember exactly what it felt like for his breath to hitch against your ear as he ran a finger down the damp fabric of your underwear. 

He seems to have picked up on your dreamlike state, for he brushes his lips against your temple and asks, "You with me?"

"Yes," you reply, breathlessly. 

He doesn't really believe you, but you're eagerly inching your hips closer towards his retreating hand for him to need to. 

Gently, he's pulling your underwear down your legs, and you're watching the pupils in his dark eyes expand. You relish in the knowledge of you emitting such a reaction from him. 

A sharp whine comes from you when his finger brushes through your folds, stopping just short of your clit. He does it again. 

"Spencer."

"Yeah, pretty girl?" he murmurs, though his focus is solely directed to his hand on you.

"Need you."

"I can see that," he muses, and he jolts at the way your heel kicks his side. You're pretty sure it doesn't hurt, at least. "Okay, okay. Sorry."

"You should be."

His other hand pinches your thigh.

You don't have time to argue against him, for he is sinking a finger into you, and every word dies on your tongue, replaced only by a quiet moan and the breathless sound of his name. 

He lifts himself back up your body as he presses his finger further into you, capturing your second moan with his lips against yours. Again. He would probably swallow you whole if you asked him to. You think you might. 

He adds a second finger almost too soon. His fingers were longer than yours ever could be, and he curls them in a way that has your head tilting back and pressing into the pillow beneath it, and your hips rising off the mattress. He chases your lips with his as you squirm away, and his free hand pushes your body back into the mattress as he draws his fingers out, then presses them back into you. 

"Didn't know you were this sensitive," he murmurs against your mouth, and your teeth nip at his lower lip in protest. You feel him smile, and he returns the gesture, scoldingly. 

His fingers brush against your g-spot and you're pretty sure you see stars. Or perhaps that's just the ends of Spencer's hair tickling your cheeks as he continues to kiss you. 

He continues to finger you until it becomes its own language, complete with strings of high pitched moans from you, and his inability to keep you still on the bed. He pulls his fingers out all too soon, and you're verbally complaining about it as he takes his own pants off. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asks you, but there's no heat behind his voice for you to seek insecurity from. 

"I talk when I'm nervous," you reply. 

"Are you always nervous?"

"Around you? Yes."

He doesn't reply, but he laughs, bashfully, and you know he finds it endearing. Instead, he says, "I need to go get a condom."

At which your eyebrows shoot up. "Did you bring some?"

He pauses, sheepishly replying, "Yes?"

You decide against teasing him for it, and merely nod your head. "Okay."

He doesn't waste time, but you're left laying there on the bed to watch him, stuck within the thoughts of how did you luck out so well? 

He's quick to return your mind back to Earth, and in a quick turn of events, he's positioned back over you, condom wrapper discarded somewhere in your room — you'd need to find that later before it gets found by somebody mortifying — and his hips achingly close to your own. 

Lowering your gaze instinctively, your lips part, and you mutter a, "What the fuck?"

"Tone, please," he asks you, kissing the corner of your mouth.

"Bad. But good," you confuse him further, before you settle on, "Shock."

"Are you still okay with this?"

"Yes," you quickly confirm. "Just... scared. I guess. I haven't had sex in a while and you're..." Not small.

"I'll go slow," he promises, and your heart flutters at the sincerity in his voice. 

Slowly, he eases himself into you, swallowing your moans all over again with a kiss, hands rubbing gentle circles onto your hips as a welcome distraction. It was borderline filthy as he moans into your ear in harmony with your own.

You hear him murmuring from above you, your ears catching the whispering of numbers and statistical facts you've definitely heard him spewing to himself before. But never in bed. Usually, it would be as he situates at his desk to work. 

"What're you doing?" you murmur, and he pauses upon realising he was thinking aloud. 

"Trying not to come so soon," he answers, kissing your jawline, a shuddering breath leaving him to rest his head in that position. 

"Oh."

"Yeah. Oh," he mocks. "You just feel so good around me. Can't believe I went so long without you, angel girl. Fuck."

You wish you could tell the you many moons ago that this is how the man you met at the train station would talk to you. 

He's slow as he withdraws his hips from you, before he's pushing himself back into you with yet another moan, from both him and you.

You're not sure when your causal moans break into whines and desperation overtakes you. Somewhere between him taking his time in getting to know what you liked, and discovering how easy it was to make you squirm if he just put a finger on your clit at the same time as thrusting into you. 

He is so good it's almost sickening, and you begin to entertain the idea of this man being your soulmate once again. Or perhaps he's just really good at seeing right through you, which might be a little embarrassing in retrospect. 

"Spencer," you moan, hands looping around his neck, delving into his hair and nails scratching gently at his scalp. 

"Mm?" he asks you, pressing another kiss to your head, drawing circles on your clit in tandem with his thrusts. 

"Please."

"Please what, honey?"

"Wanna—" you're cut off with a wanton whine, "—come. Please."

"You do? Really?" 

"Spencer," you repeat his name, this time frustratedly.

"That's no way to ask for what you want," he wanes his movements ever so slightly, a silent warning. 

"Please make me come."

"There you go, good girl," he mumbles, and he smiles at the way your hips jerk slightly at the praise. 

He complies with your request immediately, though you're sure it has something to do with how quickly his own hips stutter into a stop with an orgasm of his own. 

Never one to complain, though, and you let him work you through the star-seeing experience with broken moans and chants of his name that has his own heart fluttering. 

He rolls off of you soon after, disappearing from the bed only to dispose of the condom, before he's climbing back into the bed. Regardless of every bone in his body telling him to get you up to shower. 

"Why didn't we do that earlier?" you murmur.

"I don't know," he replies, lips moving against the skin of your forehead. 

"Can we do it again?"

His breath is warm as he huffs out a laugh, rolling back over top of you, thankful for his lack of asking to shower. "Yes."

June

There's a comfortable quiet that blankets the air around you and Spencer. The pages of his book turning as he flips them every few seconds, and the quiet murmur of characters Ilsa and Sam talking on the television, Casablanca playing at an awfully quiet volume. 

He was sitting on the floor in front of you, who was sitting on the couch, fingers entangled in his hair. Freshly washed, because you were adamant on fixing him a proper hair routine now that his hair was long enough to require something remotely akin to your own.

His head lifts as the piano began to play, and the familiar voice of Dooley Wilson filled the space, his reading of his book now on pause.

"Spencer!" you began to protest when he peeled away from the edge of the couch, the criss-cross pattern in his hair falling loose almost immediately. He turns to look at you, noting the page he was on for his book, before he closes it and places it on the coffee table in front of him. 

"What are you doing to my hair?" he asks you, hands going up to feel the strands, eyebrows frowning towards each other at the loose plaits he was touching. 

"I was braiding it," you grumble, watching as he brushes each strand out unconsciously. "You've ruined it."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he muses upon realising what he had done, lips twitching as his hands drop back by his side. "Do you want to redo it?"

"No," you huff, scooting further back into the couch, folding your arms across your chest. 

"Honey," Spencer says amidst a laugh, turning his body around fully. 

Instead of acknowledging him, you kept your eyes fully transfixed on the black and white television screen in front of you. You could see, out of the corner of your eye, the sight of him shifting on the floor. 

Perhaps it was cruel to be giving him the silent treatment so quickly. Though, you have a small smile painted on your face that told Spencer he wasn't in any real trouble with you for pulling your otherwise perfectly curated braids out of his hair. Unknowingly, mind you.

With your lack of response, he found his hands wandering over to your legs, fingertips trailing delicately up the sides of them. Despite the pyjama pants you had on providing a layer between his skin and your own, you still squirmed. And, much to his own satisfaction, your gaze flickered down to his face. His stupid, grinning face, that told you he knew he had succeeded oh so easily. 

"I'm mad at you," you bite, and his eyebrows rose. 

"You're mad at me," he parrots. When you glare at him, he's forced to bite his cheek to stop himself from laughing out loud. "Okay. Can I make it up to you?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" 

No, you weren't. For his head was resting gently against the side of your thigh now, the slightest hint of a pout on his lips, eyes wide. To absolutely nobody's surprise, your resolve was dissolving, and you found yourself hesitating with a response to him. 

He wasn't oblivious to your hesitance, and the amusement on his face was almost frustrating. Almost, if not for the teasing drag of his fingertips along the sides of your thighs distracting you from the irritation you had towards him.

But, you held your own. "Yes, I'm sure."

His eyebrows rising told you he didn't believe you, and it took everything in you not to respond with the twitch of a sheepish grin. And under his unbelieving gaze, you let out a huffed sigh, and shook your head. 

"Yeah, I didn't think so," he answers, fingertips gently pressing into your lower back as he tugged you towards the edge of the couch. "So I can make it up to you?"

"Maybe," you murmur, biting the inside of your cheek. "What're my options, Dr. Reid?"

"I could take your clothes off," he says, punctuating his point with his fingers sliding around to your waist, hooking under your pants' waistband. "Or you can choose something else."

"I like option one," you answer, meekly. 

"I figured you would."

He was frustratingly slow as he pulls your pyjama pants down, the fabric catching on the leather of his couch you were sitting on, until you had enough conscious mind to lift your hips up for him.

He trails his fingers back up the skin, eyes almost fascinated in watching you squirm as your inner thighs — and only your inner thighs — received the upmost of attention from his hands. At a whining protest from you, Spencer's hands wandered to do the one thing he knew you were after, and you let out a breathy moan when his index finger traced up the centre of your already damp underwear.

"Oh, you do like option one," he says with a hum, and if you were any less turned on, you'd probably be glaring at him for it. Instead, you were nodding your head in compliant agreement. 

He, thankfully, wastes no time in latching his mouth onto you. He spends a good portion of your evening taking you to the stars and back, multiple times, before he's satisfied, and he's sure you are too. 

You're showered (again), and curled up on the couch, your head now in Spencer's lap as his fingers brush through your hair, the beginning of Casablanca beginning to play all over again. You had protested neither of you appreciated it enough the first time, and you want to give the film its proper treatment. 

"Why do you like this film so much?" he murmurs, staring at the black and white screen. 

"Reminds me of better times, I guess," you reply. 

"Your better times take place in Morocco in the forties?" 

"No," your lips twitch into a small smile, your head shaking, hair brushing across his thighs. "When I first watched this film I was fifteen, with my mom. It was one of the few times we really got along, so... I guess that."

He decides against commenting on it, for your voice had dropped to something a little sadder. "Rick's not a good person," he chides. 

"You don't get to form an opinion on Rick without finishing the movie first."

He laughs at that, but he falls silent soon after, an evident promise that he would wait. 

"Why did you make me watch this?" he asks, as you're greeted with a screen of black, your two reflections staring back at you. 

You turn your head, resting it flat against his thighs as you look up at him, raising an eyebrow in question. 

"It isn't a happy ending," he explains at your quizzical look. 

"Oh, so movies I show you need to have a happy ending?" you argue. "You like Star Wars, Spencer."

"No, obviously they don't. But when you explained the film to me, you said, 'a romance classic from the forties'. Forgive me for presuming it would be a happy ending."

"I think it is kind of happy," you reply, shrugging as you tear your gaze away, resting instead on the coffee table. 

"How so?" he brushes the hair that falls out of your face. 

"They weren't right for each other," you murmur. "Rick knew that. He loved her enough to let her go, I guess."

August

You are a fragment of every person you have loved, and who has loved you. Tiny pieces of their soul weaving within your own to form the person you are today. From acts as simple as the way you cook your eggs, to reactions as serious as your emotional response to an insult. Family members making up your emotional regulators, childhood friendships determining your insecurities. 

Like a solidified piece of putty holding two pipes together, you are a person moulded to be what other people need. 

Stay quiet, don't react, detach. 

Not even a conscious choice you make anymore. Too many years spent punished for being loud, too many tears cried over your supposed overreaction, too many pieces of your heart shattered each time somebody leaves. Your responses are simply automatic now. 

Spencer Reid had not heard from you in fifty six hours. 

Two thirty in the morning was never a good time to try and communicate, for a plethora of reasons. Never mind the fact that it was late. His mind had been exhausted of its use during a particularly gruelling case, and you had been too anxious the four days he'd been gone to sleep properly. 

For that reason, and possibly many others you didn't know, he was in a bad mood. Your being awake at that hour was irritating to him, your half drank coffee was an awful idea in his mind, and your touch was unwanted by him. You didn't know why. 

You hated miscommunication. You hated the unsaid words that hung in the air whenever you'd look at him. 

The first thing he had said upon coming home was not, hello, or even, I missed you. No, it was a sharp, "Why are you awake?" as he set his messenger bag down on the floor next to his door. 

"I was waiting for you," you had said, picking up the mug of coffee. "Then it hit midnight, and you still weren't home, and usually you come home to me asleep, but I wanted to see you so I drank some coffee and..." you'd trailed off upon seeing his uncharacteristically cold expression. 

"You shouldn't stay awake waiting for me," he'd muttered, taking the mug from you and heading into the kitchen to clean it, flicking the light on. "You have work tomorrow. You need to be asleep."

"I missed you," you'd protested, standing up and going towards him. 

"I missed you too, but you should've been asleep."

Your attempt at hugging him and kissing him in greeting was denied, his hands prying you off his body. He could've ripped your heart out instead and you'd think it hurt less than that.

"Go to bed. I'll be there soon."

You felt like a child being scolded at his snark, which was evidently the reason behind you not listening to him at all in the end. 

He'd offered no proper explanation for his irritation towards you. Even as you'd picked up your things and left his apartment, silently, not even a quiet I love you whispered to confirm that you weren't leaving him for good, he didn't explain a thing to you. 

Out of sight, out of mind, was not a principle you could exercise when it came to him. Every notification to your phone that didn't brand his name hurt your heart, a constant reminder that maybe he was still mad at you, and he didn't want to see you.

It was a knock at your door that pried you from the clutches of your duvet that morning, a half-assed attempt at brushing through your hair and straightening of your clothes was the best whoever dared to come see you uninvited would get. 

Opening the door and your brain computing who it was had you wanting to slam it again, as if this were some movie and he would have the will to shove a foot in the door to stop it from closing. 

Maybe he would. 

"So you are alive," he says. 

"Last I checked, yes," you reply. 

Simple words spoken between two far from simple individuals, until he was nodding his head to the open space of your apartment behind you, and you were wordlessly agreeing to let him come in. 

"Are you here to break up with me?"

His closing of the door was interrupted by your question, his entire body going rigid for a beat, before he gently clicked the door and lock in place, turning on his shoulder with frowning eyebrows. 

"No. I'm... not—why, why would you think that?"

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Habit."

That hurts his heart, and he's shaking his head almost incessantly. "I'm not. I promise, honey. I just want to know what's going on. Nobody's heard from you."

"I know," you murmur, feet carrying you over to your couch before your legs can give out on you. 

He watches you, awaiting another spiel of words to explain where you had disappeared to for the past two and a bit days. And yet; nothing. So, he follows you, and sits down on the couch next to you. Hands reach out to pick up your legs, shoulders relaxing a little when you let him place them in his lap, and you go slightly still out of fluster. 

"I'm sorry for making you mad, if I did," you whisper. 

"You didn't. Did you think I was mad?"

"I guess. You were kind of mean," his heart shatters at that. "But maybe I was just taking it the wrong way. I was tired."

"No," his fingertips run up and down your legs, the only conscious act he could focus on to keep himself from bombarding you with every worried thought he's had the last two days. "I shouldn't have let you leave thinking I was mad at you. I wasn't. The case just stressed me out, and I was concerned about you still being awake that late."

"I was waiting for you," you mumble. 

"I know, angel," he nods his head. "It's just I usually come home to you asleep on the couch."

"Or the bathroom."

His chest puffs out with laughter, and your heart swells a little in your chest at the sight. "Or the bathroom," he parrots, nodding. 

It was when he was coming home from a case on the border in Washington state, and you had, like usual, tried to stay awake to wait for him. Unfortunately, the UnSub tiptoeing between the two country lines meant the case was dragged out, and he had come home much later than expected. And you had mistakenly passed out on the bathroom floor, wrapped in a towel, after a shower. 

Amusement was over as his eyes found and locked with your own, and he earnestly asks, "Can you tell me why you disappeared?"

"No."

It wasn't that you didn't want to tell him. Just that you didn't know why either. Perhaps it was something you'd need to unpack with a professional, not your boyfriend at ten in the morning on your couch. 

Ever so understanding, Spencer Reid was. Even with the pause of his delicate touch on your legs in what you're sure is another jolt of frustration towards you.

"That's okay," he says, instead. "Can you promise to try and not disappear next time, then?"

Your shoulders shrug. Can you promise that? 

"You can't," he voices your thoughts for you, and you nod your head in confirmation. "Okay. Well, I really want to work this out with you. I need you to want that too."

"I do," you say quietly. 

"Then you need to work with me," he answers. "Where did your brain go that night?"

"Um," you hesitate. You could think of a thousand places your mind wandered to that night. None of them very good. A child again, being scolded for not turning the light out because you were up reading, maybe. "I don't know. I don't like being scolded like I'm a child. I guess I felt like a child."

"That wasn't my—"

"—I know," you cut him off before he can defend himself to you. "I know it wasn't your intention. But it felt that way. I'm an adult who makes her own decisions, and losing sleep before work because I want to see my boyfriend is one of those. No matter how... how stupid a decision you may think that is."

"I didn't think it was stupid," he shakes his head. "I was just concerned."

"Funny way of showing it," you mumble, lowering your gaze, before his lack of response makes you realise what you had just said to him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. That was mean."

"No," hands lightly swat your legs. "No, I deserved that. I was really mean. It wasn't the right way to show my concern for you."

"Doesn't mean I should be rude back."

"I think it does," he says, his fingers going back to tracing patterns on your skin. "In fact, I encourage it."

In true Spencer fashion, his words tug a small smile onto your lips, and you feel the heaviness of what had happened between you two ease off your chest slightly. "That's a weird thing to encourage."

"Maybe," he agrees. "I don't like that you left without saying anything."

"I didn't feel very wanted," you explain. "By you. I tried to hug you, and you wouldn't let me touch you."

"I was overstimulated," he says. "It wasn't that I didn't want to hug you, honey. I did. Sometimes I don't like people touching me, yes, even you," he adds upon seeing your confused expression and tilted head. "I didn't handle that well. I should've told you that in the moment."

"I wish I had known that before," you murmur. "That's why I left. And you didn't try to stop me, so I just assumed..."

"I wasn't very present," he shakes his head to stop your self-deprecating thoughts in their tracks. "I barely registered you were leaving until I heard the door shut."

"Oh."

"I wanted to stop you when I realised. I decided to give you space."

"I just thought you didn't care."

"If nothing else, know that I'll always care," he tells you, and your heart stutters at the raw honesty in his voice. "Even if you run away and I don't reach out for a week because I think you need space. I'll still care."

"Please don't leave me alone for a week if I run away," you reply, and one of his hands squeezes your knee. 

"Noted. I won't."

You nod your head with the faintest hint of a smile, before your gaze lowers to your legs. You inhale, then say, quietly, "I'm sorry for disappearing."

"I know," he answers. "It's okay."

November

It was a horrifically awful day that led you to this moment. Curling up on the couch with a blanket covering your entire body, staring aimlessly off into the warm glow of the reading lamp Spencer had bought you many moons ago. 

Your heart was heavy, hands cold, body shivering, in the cool November air that flooded your apartment. Your thermostat was just too far. Not that you were comfortable. Not even a little bit. You could evidently feel each spring of your couch pushing into your flesh, puncturing you uncomfortably. You hadn't had a need for a new couch since getting together with Spencer, usually finding your residence at his apartment more often than not. 

Not today, it seemed. 

Keys rattled outside your apartment door, and you heard the shuffling of familiar feet, followed by the gentle calling of your name to alert you of his presence. 

"Honey, it's freezing in here," he says, settling his bag down on the kitchen countertop, you're sure (you aren't looking). You hear the beep, following by the rush of wind coming out of your air conditioning unit as he turns the device on, and you're silently grateful. 

He finds you on the couch, wrapping his arms around you from behind it, greeting you with a kiss to the side of your head, right on your temple, and a few of your worries melt away in an instant. Only a few, for there is still a bricklayer of hurt seated comfortably over your heart. 

He says your name again when you don't say anything to greet him, and it's more shuffling of feet until he's dipping into the couch next to you, despite the fact that he still had his shoes and work clothes on. Irrelevant affairs he could deal with later. 

"Hey, what's this?" he asks you, quietly, leaning forwards and nudging your arched knees, and your gaze finally tears from the lamp to his face, spots of light decorating your vision and covering some of him.

"Sorry," you mumble. "I'm thinking."

"Very hard, apparently," he says, lightly. You appreciate the attempt of lifting the mood. "About what?"

"Um," you pause. "I saw my family today."

"Yeah. You said you were. I assume it didn't go well?"

You wordlessly shake your head, and he sighs, wasting no time in bringing you into his chest. You crack, and his heart shatters at the quiet sob that wracks through your body.

"Talk to me," he murmurs, voice all too quiet for your fragile state, for it only makes you cry a little harder. "Angel."

"She—um," your voice cracks. "Everything I said she turned into a joke to everyone. I just felt stupid the entire time. Like everything I said wasn't worth being said. So I stopped talking, because I couldn't get made fun of if I didn't say anything, right?" You feel his head nod against your own, even though you couldn't see him.

"No. She brought up things I'd said to her previously, and mocked them. I mean, I was in the other room so she didn't know I could hear her, but—but—" you choke on your words, cutting your ranting short, your hands petulantly clutching at the fabric of his shirt to ground yourself. "I'm sick of waiting for her to love me. Isn't she supposed to? She's my fucking mother and yet I'm still begging her to even like me. Why?"

"I don't know, angel." His voice is achingly soft, and his hands thread into your hair, brushing through it a few times; a welcome comfort. "This happens every time you see her."

"Yeah."

You're feeling impossibly small in his arms as you nod, sniffling away hideous snot bubbles you're sure he cared about. If he did, he didn't say anything.

"Maybe it's time to stop seeing her."

"Yeah." 

You're reluctant in agreeing with him, though you know deep down he's right. But it's an Earth shattering revelation that you aren't quite sure you wanted to ever come to. While certainly a thought you've had, and entertained previously, agreeing to it aloud is an entirely different beast. 

"She's my mom, though," you mumble. "She raised me."

"What she did for you previously should never be enough for you to ignore what she does to you now. I've never seen you come home happy after seeing her. You're never anything short of miserable. That makes me miserable, honey," the pads of his fingertips brush against your cheek, and you hum as a quiet response. "I hate seeing you like this."

"I hate feeling like this."

"Yeah, I know," he murmurs. "Don't decide tonight. You're emotional—yes, you are. Don't look at me like that," he scolds as you jerk your head back to narrow your tear filled eyes at him. "But can you promise me you'll consider my option?"

"I promise."

"Okay. Good. I love you."

"I love you too."

January

He wasn't home. 

Three o'clock in the morning, and Spencer Reid was nowhere to be found. Not in his own apartment, like you had originally thought. Not collecting the last of your boxes from your own. Not anywhere he commonly would be. 

At three in the morning. 

You had tried calling him. Multiple times, actually. A flurry of messages followed in their wake, and you were growing increasingly impatient as you stand awkwardly outside his apartment, that had just recently become your apartment too. You didn't have a key yet — needing one to be cut for Spencer only had one thus far. 

He had promised he'd be home. When you'd asked him as you were leaving earlier that evening if you'd need to take the key, he said no, and that he'd be home all night. 

God forbid you actually believed him, apparently. 

You could've sat at that apartment door for three minutes or hours. You weren't too sure anymore. Staring off into space and making up a list of sentences to say to him when he finally showed up — if he showed up. 

It was embarrassing. Heels tucked next to you, dress bunched at your waist, head beginning to ache from the alcohol wearing off, and eyes beginning to droop from how exhausted you were. 

Shuffling of feet had you lifting your head, landing on an equally as exhausted looking Spencer Reid, who's lips were parting upon spotting you on the floor, and a sickening realisation settling on his facial features. 

"I'm sorry," he stumbled out as he helped you stand up, ignoring your protests as he picked up your heels for you. "I forgot you weren't staying at your friends. I just assumed—"

"—You forgot?"

You didn't sound angry. You didn't even sound a little irritated. It shatters his heart more to hear a painstakingly small, broken tone coat your words, instead of them being dipped in venom. 

He knew it was a pathetic excuse. He forgot. That's his whole thing. He doesn't forget. But he also isn't always called into his job at two in the morning for an in state amber alert. You didn't know that, though.

"Here, let's get you inside and out of your clothes," he places a hand on the small of your back and pushes you forwards into his apartment, your feet stumbling as you let him guide you around. 

"What do you mean you forgot?" you ask him, quietly. His stomach twists. 

"I got called into work. It was urgent. I had been so focussed on Hotch being freaked out I left without thinking. I'm so sorry, angel girl."

"Seriously?"

He freezes at your incredulous voice, his hands pausing at the top of your dress zipper. When he doesn't answer you immediately, you turn so you can look at him.

"You weren't home because you got called into work," you repeat the words over, and over, as if saying them more will make them any more sensical. He opens his mouth and begins to say your name, so you cut him off, "I was sitting there for—" you pause, checking the time on the wall clock across the room, "—two hours, Spencer. Drunk, and cold, and you weren't fucking picking up. Did you forget how to use your phone too? Did you forget how to contact your girlfriend?"

"You're tired, honey. Can you get some sleep and we talk about this tomorrow?"

"I'm fine, actually. We're having this discussion now."

"No, you're not. You're exhausted. Sleep deprivation affects your emotional regulators, and—"

"—For once, can you not fucking Reid-splain to me?" you spit. "I think I'm allowed to be a little upset with you, Spencer. You forgot about me!"

He agrees; he does deserve your anger. Though, it doesn't make this any easier to listen to, and it certainly doesn't make his biting of his tongue very easy. For he wants to argue with you. He didn't forget about you, and none of what happened tonight was due to anything other than his lack of focus on things that weren't at the forefront of his mind. Case in point; a missing child. 

A few more beats of silence pass by, and you're brushing past him into the kitchen, jerking your arm away when his hand reaches out to grab it. 

"Why is it always work?" you ask him. "All of our issues come back to your job."

"I don't know."

"Am I not worth more than your job?" 

The question itself hangs in thick air, and his hesitance is enough of an answer within itself. It isn't fair. You know that. His job is important, and you'd never actively ask him to choose you over saving somebody's life. He knew that.

"I'm not asking you to choose seeing me over saving a life," you verbalise your thoughts, when he still doesn't reply. "I'm never asking that of you. But you couldn't have called me back? Or texted me to see if I could go to a friend's? Or even come to you at work to get a key?"

"I—"

"—Forgot. I know," you mutter, almost bitterly, turning around to pick out a glass from the cabinet. 

It's another few moments of quiet. Save for the tap that runs as you get yourself water, and the shuffling of his feet as he hesitates, then takes tentative steps towards the kitchen bar. 

"I don't think I can do this anymore," you whisper, before he can get too close.

"Do what anymore?"

"Us."

The silence that follows deafens, and you have to flutter your eyes up to the ceiling to wane tears that threatened to spill. This was most certainly not how you imagined your night to go. 

"That's a big decision," he says, as if it weren't obvious.

"I know," and it's the finality in your voice that hurts him even more. 

"Can we please revisit this conversation in the morning? After you've slept?"

"My decision won't change."

"It might."

"Humour me with how we're supposed to move past this."

He freezes. "Um—we can talk. And we can even go to couple's therapy, or something," he ignores the face you pull. "I just think we—you—should make this decision when you're completely sober and rested."

You place the now empty glass on the bench again. "I won't have the courage to break up with you tomorrow."

"Is that not a sign that you shouldn't break up with me, then—"

"—Let me do this, damnit, Spencer!" you slam your hands down in front of you, eyes wide and almost desperate. 

He doesn't say anything more to argue with you. Instead, he bows his head, and you despise the crack in your heart at the way his eyes shut and shed a tear before his face is out of sight. 

You're moved out by the end of the month.

June

The universe is a wonderfully strange place. Somewhere you go to when things get too difficult, begging for respite and the freedom from yourself. Or when things are going so well you thank whoever was pulling the strings of your lifeline. 

You tried not to curse at the universe. What you give, you will receive. The love you expend will always be returned to you, whether that is in two minutes or two years. Hatred for the universe was always internalised and pushed down, for you'd rather that, than having the karmic Gods ruin your life any more. 

And yet; fuck you universe. 

You were recently asked who you love, in a group setting with people you barely knew. You'd have said your best friend's name, or your parents, but you felt awfully lonely amongst a group of people saying, "my partner", "my kids". You didn't think you were old enough yet for the most important person in your life not being the woman who raised you (though, she would never be that anyways). 

You said his name before you could even comprehend it. Before your brain had a second to stop running on autopilot to think. The two syllables flying past your lips, embarrassingly so. 

When someone asks you who you love, you think of him. 

Perhaps this was all your own fault. If you had just bided your tongue, held onto your pride and mumbled a quiet, "My mom, I guess", you wouldn't have spoken his existence back into the universe. 

It was a quiet, "Oh. Hello," that'd prompted your head to lift from your phone, attempting to tune out the busy train. And there he was, standing tall, messenger bag crossing over his body. 

"Hi," you say, breathless, air knocked from your lungs. 

"Can I... um, sit? All the other seats are taken."

And like you would if he was a stranger, you nod your head, shuffling a little closer to the side, allowing for him to sit down next to you. 

"Your hair's gotten long," Spencer Reid says, quietly.

"Yeah, I need to go get it cut. You have more—um, facial hair. Like it's more prominent. Like thicker," you stammer. 

"Yeah," you see his lips twitch into a small smile out of the corner of your eye. "I just got back from a case. I haven't had time to shave."

You manage to push down a comment about you liking it. 

And as if you were not strangers, he asks you, "How are you?"

You know he doesn't mean currently. Subconsciously asking you to tell him you're doing awfully without him, that the past six months had been horrible and you miss him dearly. 

It's true, but you can't say that.

Instead, you opt for a nonchalant, "I'm okay," and, "How are you?"

"Okay, too," he says, and you wonder how much truth his words hold. 

"How's work been?"

You don't know if you actually care. Asking aimlessly about the thing you had to blame for him becoming a solidified memory in your brain, and not a current experience. 

"Busy," he answers. "I've barely been home."

Not much has changed, it seems. "That sucks. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he replies. "It's kept me from wallowing."

"Can't say I've had the same fate."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

It was your own fault, really. And maybe he thought that. Maybe he's making fun of you in his mind for being sad and feeling horrible things after the breakup, because it was you who initiated it, at the end of the day. 

No, he isn't. You know that. Spencer Reid doesn't do that.

"It's okay," you finally say, words spoken on a breath. 

Silence covets the two of you, a thousand words on the tip of your tongue, but none ever spoken aloud. A silent conversation dancing in the air between your two bodies.

Do you miss me?

Yes. Do you miss me?

More than anything. 

But then the train stops, and his station is called, and he's standing awkwardly, forcing a tight smile onto his face, as he bids you goodbye. 

And for a few long half seconds, you watch him walk away, very slowly, for time has stopped for just a few beats of your heart. Then, you're calling his name, and he's stopping, as if he had expected you to reach out to him before he could get too far. 

You stare up at him for another beat longer, and you wonder if he's quite content to miss his station, just to talk to you some more. 

"Do you want to get coffee?"

"To wait an hour — is long — if love be just beyond. To wait eternity — is short — if love reward the end." (Emily Dickinson)

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated ♡

[stonerfromlesbos]

✦ aftercare | billie eilish

warnings: fluffy, bubble bath lots of lots of personal attention.

summary: she wants to be with you for all time, and she would made sure that you knew that.

"it´s okay, it´s okay." billie said holding your tired body beside hers, caressing your hair with her fingers. "you did so good for me, baby, such a perfect girl." she kissed your forehead gently, letting you rest after breaking you. your head now laying on her chest, breathing deeply. "can i get up to prepare your bubble bath, angel?" your gaze was now in her eyes, looking up at her. "of course, bills, js' dont take too long.. okay?" you said in a soft tone, almost whispering.

she just kissed your forehead one more time and got up going towards your bathroom, she could see that you were too tired to even speak properly. billie was the kind of person who could treat you like a princess after playing a role of degrading you. the only moment she was being true was when she told you how much you mean to her, you were the only comfort she had in life. her life as a famous singer was a complete rush, and you had always been the peace she had on her life.

billie saw everything in your eyes, everything she needs to see. the only thing she always wanted for sure, was to have you with her until the end of time. her life was full of doubts, and she loved that with you, there's not even a single doubt. she was yours, and she was so fucking glad that a sweet person like you was hers too.

"babe? all ready here, u okay?" she spoke, coming towards you as you got up to sit on the bed. "yes.. all okay, js' thinking about you." you said with a soft smile. she sat beside you, staring at you as she took a strand of your hair and put it behind your ear. "what kind of thoughts?" she replied, with no malice. billie was staring at you, admiring you like you were a work of art. "the kind of thoughts that make me wanna kneel down the floor and ask you to be my wife." you said it all softly, you truly meant it, and she knew. she smiled, getting closer to you, and finally, kissing you.

it was all slow, billie kissed you in a soft way, it almost seemed like you were a doll and she was so scared to even scratch you. her tongue dancing with yours, her hand going down to your waist, but with almost no pressure there. your breath starting to get shorter, as you two didn´t want to be even a centimeter far from each other. eventually, it ended. her blue eyes now staring at you with all the love she has. "i love you so fucking much." she spoke, trying to hold a smile of coming out. "i love you even more." you replied as she chuckle. "thats impossible, angel. let me help you go to the bathroom now, okay?" you just noded your head, as billie took your body in her arms, carrying you to the bathtub. and putting you on the ground in the front of it.

you quickly entered, sitting on the warm water. "waiting for u" you said as billie was taking off the only clothes she had left on her body. "anxious are we?" she giggled, entering and sitting behind you. both of her arms wrapping your sides and trapping you close to her. "ugh, i wish i could spend all my life here with you." you giggled, carresing her arm. "in a bubble bath after sex?" she giggled "all i want in life is to hold you tight and take care of you, the place doesnt matter." she said almost explaining herself to you.

"i love you in a way that words wouldn´t be enough to describe." you said, opening your heart.

"then show me, i want stay like this with you for my whole life, i want you to be my wife."

taglist: @chrissv4mp @karaeilishh @iluvapplesxh @hkkuugu @bilsdillldough @n0vabug @certifiedwomenlover @dollyvuu @cupidsvzq @dyinbymistake @hailwiggly

[voikiraz]

— 𝓜y soul 𐙚 within you [ p.sh ]

Lover . Bf!sunghoon x fem!reader w. Im not sure >-< step ? #2093 M.recordings [ this is like my child, i carried this for 9 months - quite literally - ]

Syn. Memories with you lover ; park sunghoon, that will forever be engraved in your heart.

✶ It was a rough day, and all you wanted at the time was to have him next to you, so when the day started to end you felt relieved, finally watching the door open and revealing a tired sunghoon at the door.

You flashed him a smile unconsciously, letting your phone down and walking towards him.

"Hi love," he said, kissing your head as he returned your smile.

"Hey, how was today?" You asked him, dropping yourself next to him on the couch, as you started playing with his hair.

"It was okay, kind of long, though," he replied, resting his head on your chest and lying completely on the couch. You were still playing with his fluffy hair, hearing whatever he had to say.

At the end of the day, when both of you were tired, when you saw each other everything just became better, you were next to each other, his scent invading your senses in the best way possible, he was totally adorable.

✶ On the edge of your bed, was sitting a fully ready-to-go sunghoon, you were going out with your friends and he was going out with his, but he wanted to drive you to your distention first.

So now he was just watching you picking out your clothes.

"Okay which one" You turned to the said boy, showing him two outfits that almost had the same vibe, he squinted his eyes, pretending to think then he had chosen this summer dress with flowers in pastel blue.

"Okay okay, cool I'll go change," you said, taking your outfits and then running to the bathroom.

Even though he gave you an answer and picked the dress, you still wore the other option, some jeans, and a cute top, making him roll his eyes at you.

Whenever you ask him about his opinion, you do the opposite, you're just stubborn like that but he loves you anyway.

✶ It was past midnight and the night that was supposed to be a 'couple bonding time' had suddenly turned into trauma dumping and deep conversations.

One of the many good things about being in a relationship with Sunghoon was how he felt like your best friend, someone you can talk to about everything, so freely without getting scared of being judged, without any restraints holding you back.

So when you were talking about how your childhood didn't do you justice, and the way you had to work on yourself to get to a good point again.

At this point you were just rambling, eyes going to the top right corner and just looking everywhere all at once, trying to collect your words and your thoughts.

Completely missing the way his eyes held the stars in them, head leaning a little to the side as he took in every move you did, every time you twirled your hair between your fingers and shifted the pillow on your lap or pulled on your necklace, he noticed everything.

And he didn't fail to catch the way your voice almost hitched, resulting in a tiny frown on his brows. He listened and observed like you were telling him the most exciting story ever.

His eyes followed your hands and then his hands followed yours, he pulled you closer, cross-legged in front of you, your hand in his palm, close to his heart and to his soul.

He nods along everything you say, telling you he's there, he's listening and he'll always be by your side, right next to you.

✶ The sound of the loud alarm rang through his ears — the wrong ears too — making him stir awake slowly, looking over at the person that should wake up, you.

He leans his head to make it rest in the crook of your neck, his arm lazily draping over your frame as he mumbles your name slowly.

Yet you didn't move an inch, still soundly sleeping, unaware of everything.

He starts leaving a trail of kisses from your neck to your cheeks, calling your name a few more times, you slowly open your eyes, looking at him in question.

"Babe, you have classes today," he said barely looking into your eyes, his hand now in your hair, doing such a great job at waking you up.

"I don't wanna go" you groaned, closing your eyes once more, "come on love, you have to," he said, now looking at you more clearly.

You look back at him, annoyed but you know he's right, you take a moment to snap yourself into it as he gives you a sweet smile.

"Come on pretty," he said, removing his arm from your waist and giving you space to get up, "I'll even help you pick an outfit if you want," he said, sitting up straight as he offered you a tempting deal.

"Thanks, hoonie" you peck his lips, going over to the toilet to freshen up, knowing that he'll have the fit picked and him on the bed, laying down and almost back to sleep by the time you're back.

✶ This was totally not a part of your plan, suddenly you were on a hike with your friends, and what was supposed to be a peaceful night became a long tiring day and one full of adventures.

You were standing on the edge, enjoying the amazing view, nature was really something else.

And here was the boyfriend, running over to you saying that you can easily fall and that he's gonna stand next to you for protection.

You chuckle at him, he always made up things like this, saying that he's only holding your hands because you're cold, he's only helping you study because he feels bad, he's only shopping with you so he wouldn't be bored at home, he's so silly, and you always just laugh at him, making his cheeks turn a crimson red.

And right now was no different.

He came closer to you, linking your arms with his, telling you the most random fact ever.

Meanwhile, there was the rest of your group, standing not too far away, but far enough so you don't hear what they're saying.

And you should've guessed it from how many times it happened but here was Sunoo, taking pictures of you and your silly boyfriend, linking arms and staring at each other, completely in love while huge grins are visible across your faces.

You better know that he's about to airdrop these pictures to everyone he sees.

✶ Sunghoon is insanely tall, that's what he always made you think, you weren't short but standing next to him sure made you look like it.

And the boy didn't let you live either, you were out with friends and you guys always loved to take pictures for the memories, believing that you'll stay together forever and show these pics to your kids one day, so as heeseung was getting ready to take a group photo of you guys, sunghoon wanted to play one of his little games and tease you a bit.

“Wait a minute guys y/n isn't in the frame,” he said with fake concern in his voice, you could literally hear the teasing grin in his voice.

He came up to you and bent down, indicating to you that he was gonna pick you You huffed in annoyance but did it anyway, you jumped up on his back so he could carry you, biggy pack style and he giggled, making you roll your eyes at him.

“I'm not that short by the way, I think you're the one who grew to be a palm tree it's not my problem” he gasped, faking offense.

“Hey that's rude, you don't appreciate me at all,” he said and you just shushed him and ushered heeseung to take the pic.

Oh, you were so gonna get him back for this.

✶ You finally finished your mid-term exams and can take these weeks off, all the university work has been killing your back and making you look like a grandma, so these few weeks were needed badly, and just when you woke up thinking how you’ll have the full day to do nothing but rot in bed, you remembered the uncomfortably looking kitchen, and the dishes you said you’d do later - that’s never good -

Deciding to move into a house by yourself didn't sound so bad a while ago but now that you realized how much stuff you had to do around the house, all you have to do is thank your mother because no way she does all of this stuff around the house every single day.

You get out of your bed with a little huff, freshening up and putting your hair in a ponytail.

You go down the stairs, huffs and complaints making their way out of your mouth, you would've loved to just say you were gonna do them later but you know that won't happen.

Thought the last thing you expected to see when you went down the stairs, is a fully cleaned kitchen, an empty sink, and your boyfriend standing near the counter making a drink, when you genuinely thought he went to his job like usual.

“Sunghoon did you do all of this?” you asked as you came closer to him, making him startled by your sudden appearance.

“Oh good morning baby,” he said with a little smile that quickly made its way onto his face, pairing his overly sweet gesture with a forehead kiss that made you unconsciously lean into his touch.

You hugged his side and rested your head on his shoulder, thanking him and telling him he shouldn't have done all of this.

He finished making the drink he was making ( which was your morning drink that you can't live without by the way ) and turned to face you, cupping your face in his hand.

“Baby, you've been working so hard, you need to rest, I don't want you to overwork yourself, okay?”

✶ Everyone knew that sunghoon never really shared his food with anyone, get close to his plate and youre done for, that is except for you.

You were the exception to all of osunghoon’s rules, and its not even that you had to break them in the first place.

He will literally break them for you.

You were having dinner with your friends, and for some reason your food decided to come a little late, so as you were sitting next to hoon waiting for your food when he took the first bite of his meal, ready to give it to you.

All of his friends completely shocked by his actions, but they know how much he loves you, its really no secret anyway.

✶ You were laying down, head resting on sunghoon’s chest while he played with your hair, you didn’t need calming rain sounds to put you to sleep when you were next to him like this, his steady heartbeat was enough.

“you know” he broke the silence, I guess he won’t let you sleep right now then, “i think you're my ice rink”

What?

You looked at him with a confused expression on your face “What does that even mean?” you asked with a little breathy laugh.

He gave you a little chuckle before explaining his nonsense “you know when someone calls someone else ‘home’ it’s because they feel comfortable and safe with them like they feel in their home right? Well I feel most safe and comfortable at the ice rink so you’re my ice rink because I’m the most comfortable and my true self when I’m with you”

Oh wow you thought, you didn’t know what to say if you’re being honest, you were looking at him with your blown pupils “So I’m your ice rink huh?”

“you have no idea how much this means to me, hoonie, i love you” you responded in a low voice, giving his cheek a kiss then going back to laying on his chest, having a lot of thoughts in your head.

But the thoughts about him were what stood out the most

✶ “Sunghoon youve been staring at her for so long, are you going insane?” heeseung said after giving his friend a little nudge, he really has been staring for so long, but it never felt enough for him

He needs to look at you forever

“Shes glowing, of course ill have to stare” he said without even sparing a glance to his friend ; who’s now looking at sunghoon in disbelief.

“Maybe i am going insane”

© voikiraz 2O24

[a-wolfs-bad-moon-rising]

Are you there L.T.?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Student!Reader

(Finals are coming up and I think nothing more than fluffy Ghost would help more than anything.)

(Fluffy fluff from the big man himself)

My eyes crack open and I stare up at my ceiling. Daylight floods in through my windows illuminating the room. I hear the soft hum of my heater trying to keep my apartment warm in contrast to the cold wind bustling outside.

I sit up on my elbows and blink bleary-eyed, scanning the room. It feels like I hadn't slept at all. I just wanted to take a nap. I haven't been sleeping well at night because it's exam week and I'm beyond stressed. I nibble my nail as the anxiety sits in and I reach for my phone. I pray that more time as past since I laid down for a nap.

The cushions under my legs sink in as I lean forward. I pick up my phone and tap the screen. I blink a few times before registering that I had only been asleep 10 minutes.

With a groan I toss my phone to the side and put my face in my hands. I squeeze my scalp, my fingers closing around strands of my hair and I breathe shakily.

I can't believe how much the stress is getting me. I will myself not to cry and an idea pops into my head. Maybe there's someone who could provide moral support. I look at my phone a moment before picking it up. I tap on a familiar app and scroll through. He may not even be on leave. He may be deployed somewhere. He almost might not care to talk his old teammate off the edge during something as trivial as exams.

But he was always a good guy. Someone I looked up too who provided comfort when I needed it. Worth a shot. Who is it? My old Lieutenant. Simon "Ghost" Riley.

I tap on his contact and send a message.

LT?

I wait a few moments aching for a reply before I realize it probably won't come. I get up and with a pop of my joints I head to my shower.

Behind the bathroom door, I open a closet and pull out a fluffy towel. I set it on the counter before picking through my closet for a change of clothes. I turn the knobs in my shower. A few squeaks and the water flows through the shower head. The water was cold at first, the temperature picking up a few minutes later. I watch the steam rise and I undress getting under the spray.

I spend a good amount of time decompressing and allowing the water to soothe my body. I had just lathered myself up with soap when I hear a ping from my phone. Almost breaking my neck jumping out of the shower, I haphazardly dry my hands off before picking up my phone and tapping the screen.

I smile seeing the ghost icon. Suds slide their way down my body but I pay no mind as I open the text

(Y/N).

Always a man of a few words.

Long time no see. Are you in the area by chance?

I am for now. What's on your mind?

I'm struggling with finals and the stress is getting to me. Can't sleep, any ideas?

You've been on countless missions with 141 and finals got your nerves going?

I freeze and sheepishly reply.

Yeah.....

I had left the military after my contract ended. I kept close contact with the other members. I'm particularly close with Soap. Price was always fatherly and Ghost, I leaned on him a lot inside and outside the military.

Want me to come by?

I smile and type out my response before I finish my shower.

I'd like that it'd be nice to catch up!

Once I finish cleaning, I towel off and get dressed. It'll take Ghost about half an hour to get to my apartment so I settle on making a snack as I wait for him.

A knock at my door has me rushing to open it. Standing there is Ghost. I'll be honest it took me a bit to get used to his face without the mask.

"LT!" I exclaim a little to enthusiastic.

He nods at me with a ghost (see what I did there?) of a smile.

"(Y/N)"

I smile and open my arms. He awkwardly does the same and I'm just happy he's indulging me. I lay against his chest and give him a squeeze. His smile subconsciously gets bigger and he holds me back.

I let him into my apartment and he looks around.

"So finals gettin ya frazzled?"

"Yeah.....I thought after the military nothing would stress me out but this....civilian life is worse."

"Ain't that the fuckin truth."

"I just can't wrap my head around this." I gesture to my textbook. "How the hell am I supposed to know the answer to....this?"

I show him a question in my book. His eyes barely scan it before he gives me an answer. I deadpan before looking it up.

"You did not fucking know that." He chuckles and leans towards me.

"Give me another." He says with a cocky grind. We go back and forth and he irritatingly gets ALL OF THEM. He even caught on when I was bullshitting and flicked me in the forehead.

"Ow!" I yelp

"Don't act like a brat jus because yer strugglin." He says simply. I grumble and rub my head as he laughs.

"Alright I'll help ya siddown." He says.

"No LT I can't take another second if studying."

"I said sit." I blush and comply sitting next to him as he picks up my book. I groan and he shoots me a look.

He goes back and forth with me explaining problems and helping me figure them out. Towards the end I finally start to get the hang of it. I answer the last question, the one that gave me the most trouble.

"Are you sure?" His unreadable eyes pierce me and I stress. I squeeze my hands and look at him.

"I'm sure." He looks at me blankly and I start to sweat.

"That's right." He says. I breathe a sigh of relief and fall against my cushions.

"Thank GOD!" Ghost chuckles at my enthusiasm.

"Atta girl I knew ya could do it." He says and I flush.

"Thanks LT you always did make things easier on me."

"Ah that was all you love. Jus needed a little help is all." He says and I blush.

He stands up, his massive frame towering over me and stretches.

"Well let me take ya out and we can get some dinner."

"Really?"

"Sure let's go. Don't tell Johnny, damn bastard always tryin to get a free meal out o me."

I giggle at the mention of Soap and I grab my jacket and gloves go layer up. I pull my boots on and brave the cold. I look at him and in confirmation. He opens my door and let's me out shutting it behind us. I lock my door and we start walking down the street.

We banter for a few minutes catching up on what the rest of the crew is doing. A snowflake melts on my neck and I shiver. Without a word Ghost takes off his scarf and wraps it around my neck. His hands brushing my hair and shoulders. Thank God the cold made my cheeks rosy already. We get to a bar and he opens the door for me. I stamp my feet out and we sit at the bar.

"What'll ya have?" He asks me. I give him my drink order and he orders for me. I sit next to him happily.

"When's your exam?" He asks me. I sigh.

"Tomorrow." I say. He nods.

"You'll be jus fine love." He gives me one of his rare Ghost smiles. We order food and keep talking about the good old days and how things are now. I realize how homesick I've been for the 141. I'm stuffing a French fry in my mouth when I hear a loud voice.

"Blood 'ell." Ghost sighs and I smile knowing what's got his nerves. I swivel in my chair and look at beautiful blue eyes. The Scotsman smiles at me.

"Soap!" I exclaim and hop off my chair. I jump up and hug him and he holds me back.

"Hey there lass. How ya been?" He asks me and I nuzzle his chest.

"Good Soap! I missed you!" He smiles and picks me up, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

"I missed ya too lass. What're you and the missus doin ere?"

I giggle

"He was helping me study for my exam tomorrow." Soap feigns hurt and looks at me.

"Oi why didn ya ask me fer help?. Instead ya ask our tightass oer there?" He says. I laugh and Ghost pipes up.

"Johnny you're a bloody sod." He says. Soap smiles at him and sits down.

"I am not go on quiz me. I'll be I get more right then you."

After a humbling experience, Soap settles to joking around with us and sharing my food. We watch the rugby game on the television and go back and forth talking. I sit happily between the two men and feel content being around two familiar people.

"Thank you guys. This has really helped."

"Always lassie."

"Anything for ya love."

Later on that night they walk me home. I walk in between them and the follow me all the way to my door. I undo the scarf Ghost gave me and hand it to him. Soap snatches it and wraps it stupidly around his head. Ghost shoots him a death glare but doesn't bother taking it back. Soap smiles cheerily at him.

He opens his arms to me and I hug the Scotsman tightly.

"Goodnight Soap. Thanks for being here."

"Always lass, treasure seein ya." He kisses my hand and I blush. I turn to Ghost. He carefully gives me a hug and Soap smirks at him.

"G'night love. Good luck on your exam t'morrow. You'll be jus fine."

I smile and let him go.

"Thanks LT."

They let me go inside and I crawl under my warm covers. I lay sleepily against my pillows and relax. I feel more content than I had in a while and I gently sleep.

The next morning I stand in front of my classroom. I grip the straps to my backpack tightly and shift from foot to foot. I try and calm my nerves. I was never the best test taker. I go to take a step when my phone goes off a bunch of times. Vibrations felt through my pocket as I get bombarded with messages. Wondering what the hell is up I open my screen and my heart melts. It's a group chat from the 141.

(Soap): Oi. Everyone wish (Y/N) good luck on her exam today. Not that the lass has to worry her pretty little head

(Price): Good luck love. You were an amazing soldier, you got this.

(Price): Get back to work Soap.

(Gaz): Ayeooo (Y/N) has finals? Knock em dead sweetheart!!! 🫶

(Konig): Gut luck Liebling

(Keegan): Showtime (Y/N) we got your back

(Roach): Good luck!

(Ghost): Good luck soldier.

I read the messages happily soon the chat turning on Soap and instead berating him. I giggle.

(Y/N): Thank you guys! I'll do you proud.

(Keegan): We know you will sweetheart. Soap was that you I saw walk by in that stupid scarf?

(Soap): Why yes it was

(Ghost): it's not stupid

(Price): I didn't know we were all jerkin off today. Let the girl take her test and get the fuck back to work.

(Soap): Aye sir

(Ghost): Roger

(Keegan): On it Capn

(Konig): I will get back to it

(Roach): I wasn't a part of this.

I laugh at the messages as they cease. My phone vibrates one more time and it's a separate message from Ghost.

(Ghost): Stop stressing. You've always been a bad test taker but you're more than capable. Kick ass today.

(Ghost): I'm proud of you

My heart melts at his words and I beam. He was always a man of few words but this meant the world. I take a breath and head into my class to take the final. My mood and confidence boosted knowing I have a whole army behind me.

~~~~~

(Soap): Wow I like it a lot!

(Wolf): Thanks me too!

(Soap): I like how you shamlessly added me in there.

(Wolf): *blushing* Soap you're basically my husband at this point of course I'm going to.

(Soap): *Rolls eyes* Shameless

(Ghost): You procrastinated studying to WRITE about studying?

(Wolf): Hell yeah I did. And it worked.

(Ghost): That makes no sense.

(Wolf): Yes it does shush.

(Soap): Lass no it doesn't.

(Wolf): *pouting*

(Ghost): Get the 'ell over ere and study!

(Wolf): B-but!

(Ghost): NOW!

[sweetcomicval]

𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄 | 𝐉𝐉𝐇

pairing: jeong jaehyun x fem!reader song choice: coming home - nct u word count: 1.3 k PEACH & PINE MASTERPOST

The soft morning light began to sneak through the curtains, giving the room a gentle glow. You yawned and blinked sleepily, fumbling for your phone to stop the alarm. For a moment, you just lay there, letting the haze of sleep gradually fade away.

You made your way to Teo’s room and gently nudged the door open to find him fast asleep, curled up under his space-themed comforter. Sitting on the side of his bed, you gently stroked his hair.

“Teo, baby, it’s time to wake up,” you murmured, your voice soft and coaxing. “We don’t want to be late for daycare.”

Teo groaned as he peeked out from beneath the covers, squinting at the brightness. “Do I have to go, Mommy?” he asked, giving you a half-hearted pout, still sleepy.

“Yes, sweetie, you have to,” you said with an understanding smile. “But you’ll get to see your friends and have fun!”

Teo’s expression turned blue for a moment. “I want to see Daddy,” he murmured with a hint of sadness. You felt a pang in your chest; Jaehyun had been gone for almost two weeks, and the house just wasn’t the same without him.

You gently touched Teo’s cheek, stroking your thumb over his soft skin. “I know, baby, I miss Daddy too,” you said, trying to smile. “But guess what? He’ll be back soon, and we’re going to surprise him with something amazing, okay?”

Teo’s eyes lit up at that, and he sat up, his excitement slowly replacing the earlier melancholy. “Can we do something special for him?” you nodded, a smile spreading across your face.

“Let’s get him a present... and cake!” Teo blurted out, his arms suddenly wrapping around your neck in a tight hug, as if the idea couldn’t wait a second longer. “Absolutely,” you replied, hugging him back. “We can do all sorts of fun things to surprise Daddy, but first, you need to get ready for the day.”

After breakfast and a bit of a battle getting him dressed, you finally bundled Teo up in his winter coat and scarf. “Look at my little man!” you teased, poking one of his dimples as he giggled, trying to pull the scarf away from his face.

“Let’s go, Mommy!” Teo let out a dramatic sigh, pretending to be overwhelmed by the wait, but his smile betrayed his eagerness. You chuckled softly, knowing that this little routine was a cherished part of your mornings.

On the drive to daycare, you took a quick peek at Teo in the rearview mirror. “Hey, baby, any suggestions on what we should get for Daddy?” you asked, half expecting toys as his answer.

Teo’s adorable little face scrunched up in deep thought. “Umm… Play-Doh!” he finally said, his face lighting up as though he’d just thought of the perfect gift. You couldn't resist a small chuckle. “Play-Doh’s a great idea, but I think Daddy’s a little too grown-up for that. What about his favorite perfume?”

Teo shook his head, clearly not impressed. “Perfumes are boring. Daddy likes Legos!” he argued, as if that settled everything. “Baby, that’s more of a gift for you, than for your dad,” you explained gently. “What about a vinyl record? The ones that spin and play music?”

Teo’s eyes widened at the suggestion. “With Christmas songs?” he asked, his curiosity sparking. “Sure! We can get one with Christmas songs,” you confirmed, your excitement matching his. “Come on, my little elf! I’ll take you to the door.”

“Bye, Mommy! See you later, love youuu!” Teo called out, stretching the last word while his little hand waved frantically. You smiled, watching him disappear into the daycare with that same boundless energy. “Goodbye, sweetie! Love you too!” you replied, your heart full as you watched him go.

Later that afternoon, the sun hung low, washing the neighborhood in a soft, golden light as you drove toward Jaehyun’s parents’ house. It had been a long day, but the thought of seeing Teo gave you a second wind.

Miyoung, Jaehyun’s mom, opened the door with her signature bright smile, revealing the cheerful westie, eagerly wagging her tail at the door. “Hello, sweetheart! Come in, come in; we’re just having some tea and cookies,” she said, beckoning you inside.

“Hi, eomeonim! Hi, Bomi!” You greeted, stooping to give the dog a quick pat. Inside, Teo was sitting at the kitchen table next to Jihoon, Jaehyun’s father, talking a mile a minute. “And we went to a museum and had so much fun!” he practically shouted and grabbed another cookie. Jihoon looked intrigued, raising an eyebrow, "Really?"

Teo’s head bobbed. “Yess, it was amazing! There were so many lights and fun games!" His hands flew around in the air as he described the vivid experiences from his school trip.

Miyoung chuckled softly beside you. “Look at them—best buddies, huh?” she said, her eyes warm. You smiled too, watching Teo as he laughed, with crumbs of cookie all over his shirt.

Suddenly, Teo’s face lit up as he spotted you. “Mommy! Hi!” he called out. “Hi, baby! Hello, siabeoji!”, you replied with a laugh, the joy in your son’s voice warming your heart. You pulled out a chair beside Teo and poured yourself some tea. “Thanks for taking care of him today,” you said, your tone warm and grateful. “Jaehyun should be back soon.”

Jihoon smiled, setting his cup down. “It’s my pleasure! He’s such a lively little guy and great company,” he said warmly. “We love having Teo over,” Miyoung replied. “He reminds us so much of Jaehyunnie when he was a kid!”

After a quick chat with Jaehyun’s parents, you and Teo headed to the record store nearby. As soon as you stepped inside, you lifted Teo up so he could see the colorful album covers plastered all over the walls. When Teo spotted something familiar, his eyes went wide. “Mommy, look! Snoopy!” he shouted, practically bouncing in your arms as he pointed at A Charlie Brown Christmas record on the shelf.

You followed his finger, your heart warming at his enthusiasm. “Oh, that’s a classic! Do you think Daddy would like it? you asked, smiling.

Teo nodded furiously, his dimples popping out as he grinned. “Yes! It’s got Snoopy! Daddy and Uncle Jungwoo love Snoopy!”.

With a sense of accomplishment, you both left the store with the album in hand, ready to go home. After having dinner and getting everything ready for the next day, you tucked Teo into bed. “Baby, let’s call Dad!”

You tapped Jaehyun’s number on the screen, and soon his familiar face popped up. “Hey, my love! And there’s my little man! How are you guys?” Jaehyun greeted, his usual dimpled smile making the distance feel a bit smaller.

“We’re good,” you started, but Teo cut you off, practically climbing over you to get to the phone. “We miss you, Daddy!” he declared with a dramatic pout.

“I miss you too! I want to be home already!” Jaehyun replied, his eyes glistening with affection. “When will you be back?” Teo asked, his voice hopeful.

“Soon, baby! In a few days. Have you been taking care of Mommy?” Jaehyun inquired, his tone playful yet sincere.

“Yeah! I make sure she eats her fruits and goes to bed on time!” Teo proudly announced, puffing out his little chest. “You’re the best, Teo-ah!” Jaehyun beamed.

You smiled at the bond they shared, but it was getting late. “Darlings, I think it’s time for us to sleep. Let’s say goodbye.”

“Good night, Daddy! Love youuu!” Teo called out, waving wildly at the phone. “Goodnight, my Teo! I love you too! Sleep well, honey. I love you!” Jaehyun replied, his voice soft and full of love.

You leaned in, smiling at the screen. “Me too, love. Goodnight! I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” you said, giving him a quick wave before hanging up.

As you ended the call, you tucked Teo in a little tighter, both feeling the love that connected you across miles.

a/n: i hope you liked the names i picked! idk the names of jaehyun’s parents so i made them up ��� the divider is from @enchanthings 💌 reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[magical-reid]

Ricochet

Pairing: Bucky x Fem! Reader

Slow Burn/ Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 1.4K

Reader’s POV

The elevator ride to the top of Avengers Tower was too quiet, too long, and too nerve-wracking. It wasn’t supposed to feel like this—I was supposed to be excited, grateful even. Joining the Avengers was a big deal. The deal.

But all I could think about was the man waiting on the other side of the shiny metal doors.

Bucky Barnes.

The Winter Soldier, they used to call him. The Ghost. The most terrifying assassin in history. Now, they called him an Avenger. A hero. A man trying to rebuild his life, just like me.

Except, he hated me.

The elevator dinged, interrupting my downward spiral. I adjusted the strap of my duffel bag, straightened my back, and stepped into the common area.

It was bustling. Clint Barton was leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee. Wanda Maximoff was cross-legged on the couch, nose deep in a book. Sam Wilson was half-shouting something about a sparring session.

And then, there he was.

Leaning against the far wall, arms crossed, piercing blue eyes narrowed in a look that could melt steel. Bucky Barnes.

Bucky’s POV

I saw her before she even got off the elevator.

The new recruit—great. Another kid with a chip on their shoulder and something to prove. Fury had said she was talented, promising even. But Fury said a lot of things, and I wasn’t buying it.

Especially since she was Hydra-trained.

I crossed my arms tighter, keeping my mouth shut as the others greeted her. My stomach churned as I watched her, trying to read her body language. She stood tall, confident, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. Good. She should be nervous.

“You’re the new girl, huh?” Sam said, clapping her on the shoulder like they were old friends.

“Yeah,” she replied, glancing my way for half a second before looking back at Sam. “I guess I am.”

Her voice was steady, but I caught the slight clench of her jaw. She knew who I was, knew what I thought about her being here.

“Welcome to the Tower,” Sam said, oblivious. “What’s your specialty?”

“Close combat,” she said. “And infiltration.”

“Great,” I muttered under my breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Her head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like,” I said, pushing off the wall. “You’ve got ‘infiltration’ written all over you.”

Reader’s POV

It took every ounce of restraint not to throw my duffel bag at his head. He was testing me, pushing my buttons, and it was working.

“Okay,” Sam said, stepping between us with a strained smile. “Let’s just… ease into this. No need to kill each other yet.”

Yet.

The tension lingered, thick as smoke, as Bucky gave me one last icy look before brushing past me and disappearing down the hall.

What the hell had I gotten myself into?

Bucky’s POV

The new girl—Y/N. Fury had mentioned her name in passing—was trouble. I didn’t need Steve’s optimism or Sam’s over-the-top friendliness clouding my judgment. People didn’t just walk away from Hydra clean.

I knew that better than anyone.

She was going to slip up. Eventually, she’d prove me right.

The problem was, part of me almost didn’t want her to.

Two Weeks Later

Reader’s POV

I’d managed to avoid Bucky for the first couple of weeks, which was harder than it should have been considering we lived under the same roof. But there was no avoiding him in the field.

Our first mission as a team had gone sideways fast. Hydra—not that it was surprising—had set up a trap, and now half the team was scattered in the woods outside the compound while Bucky and I were stuck together.

“Stay close,” Bucky barked, his voice sharp enough to cut through the chaos.

“I know how to stay alive,” I snapped back, dodging behind a tree as bullets tore through the air.

“Yeah, but for how long?”

I didn’t answer. Instead, I slid my knife from its sheath, took a deep breath, and bolted toward the nearest Hydra soldier. The element of surprise worked in my favor. I took him down quickly and efficiently, just like I’d been trained.

But the second soldier saw me coming.

“Damn it,” I muttered, raising my blade, but before I could strike, a blur of black and silver tackled the guy to the ground.

Bucky.

He stood over the unconscious soldier, shaking his head. “You’re reckless.”

“I’m fine,” I bit out, wiping blood from my cheek.

“For now.”

“Why do you even care?”

His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he grabbed my arm and pulled me behind him as more soldiers approached.

“Stay behind me,” he growled.

I wanted to argue, but something in his tone made me listen.

Bucky’s POV

She was going to get herself killed.

I didn’t trust her—not even a little—but I didn’t want her blood on my hands. She was brash, stubborn, and reckless, but she wasn’t incompetent. That’s what made it worse.

Because if she wasn’t Hydra anymore, if she really had turned her back on them, she didn’t deserve to die like this.

“Bucky, behind you!”

Her voice snapped me back to reality just in time to block the incoming blow. The Hydra soldier hit hard, but I hit harder. I turned and delivered a swift kick to his chest, sending him flying into a tree.

When I turned back to Y/N, she was watching me, something unreadable in her eyes.

“You okay?” I asked, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

She nodded, lips pressed into a thin line.

“Good,” I muttered. “Let’s keep moving.”

Later

Reader’s POV

By the time we made it back to the jet, I was running on adrenaline and pure spite. Bucky hadn’t let up the entire mission, barking orders and criticizing every move I made.

But he’d also saved my life. Twice.

“You’re lucky I was there,” he said as the jet doors closed behind us.

I rounded on him, eyes blazing. “You’re lucky I didn’t stab you.”

Clint, sitting in the pilot’s seat, let out a low whistle. “This is gonna be fun.”

Bucky ignored him, his focus entirely on me. “You want to survive out there? Start listening to people who know what they’re doing.”

“I know what I’m doing,” I snapped.

“Do you?” He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a dangerous growl. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re trying to get yourself killed.”

“Better than hiding behind everyone else.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, I thought he might actually yell. Instead, he turned and stormed toward the back of the jet.

Bucky’s POV

She was infuriating.

She didn’t know when to quit, when to listen, when to shut up. But damn it, she had fire.

I hated that I noticed it. Hated the way my heart skipped when she called me out, the way my mind replayed her voice when I was alone.

I hated the way she looked at me, like she was daring me to prove her wrong.

But most of all, I hated the thought of something happening to her.

Weeks Turn to Months

The missions kept coming, and so did the tension. Every time we worked together, sparks flew—anger, frustration, heat. But somewhere along the line, the edges softened.

It started small: a hesitant “good job” after a successful mission, a shared smirk when Tony made a particularly bad joke.

And then, one night, everything changed.

Reader’s POV

The training room was quiet, save for the rhythmic sound of fists hitting the punching bag. I’d come down to clear my head, but I wasn’t alone.

Bucky was there, shirtless and focused, his metal arm gleaming under the fluorescent lights.

I froze in the doorway, my heart doing something stupid in my chest.

“Gonna stand there all night?” he asked without looking up.

I scowled, stepping into the room. “Didn’t know you owned the place.”

He smirked, the faintest hint of amusement flickering in his eyes. “You here to train or to sulk?”

“Both,” I admitted, grabbing a pair of gloves.

We worked in silence for a while, the air thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t until I landed a particularly satisfying hit on the bag that he finally spoke

Part 2

[dood-itsradical]

No Worries.

Pairing: Jake Kim x Gn!Reader

Summary: Uhhhh Jake see partner, Jake happy 👍

Genre/Trope: Fluff, friends to lovers.

Details: Established relationship, Samuel judging your taste, implied sex mentioned at the end.

A/n: Am now bad at summary. Most of the time idk wth to name my oneshots. I do not take requests!

Masterlist

Dating Jake is like a bliss. He's protective and overall a nice decent man. Everyone knows this and put faith on him whilst looking out for him. In return they look out for each other. It's what you love about Big Deal.

Despite his insecurities regarding his fears of becoming his father, you are always there to remind him otherwise. Even before your relationship became official, your words just seems to affect him differently in a way he can't decipher. Regardless he was very much thankful of you. And he never forget to repay your kindness.

So when you two took your relationship on the next level, he was over the top anxious. Ecstatic but anxious. He wants to treat you good, like you're deserving. Even for your presence alone. Even if he knew you are already familiar with the gangsters life, that didn't stop him from worrying than he let on. And you're no fool, he can't even hide it. The whole crew knew his antics by now. Stupid habit of his of overthinking the what ifs and whatnot. Sometimes it's up to you to snap him out.

You try to keep the relationship low-key. You know everyone is happy for you both but you took consideration to respect them and only be lovey-dovey when you're alone. It wasn't a challenge to you, but it is to Jake. This man can't even stop stealing glances at you. His fingers always fidgeting, itching to just hold your hand. It's adorable. Especially when he try to act serious, but he's secretly crumbling inside. Not when you're just standing there looking all pretty and invested to the things he's saying.

He was holding his dear life not to smile when he notices you were looking. He's so whipped it's crazy. This man just can't shut up about you. Basically whatever basic thing there is about you, he knew. And when he knew so does the crew. When you're not here with him, he turned into a sad puppy, though try to hide it by acting leaderly — which he fails pathetically. So now which bring us back to the present.

It's only been a day and he haven't heard a word from you. Been a day since his supposed half brother made an appearance. He started to get worried but Jerry kept convinced him that he's overreacting and that you're very much fine. He looked back at the screen of your private chat where his text was left unread.

His mind starts to ponder. What if you're in danger and couldn't reach out? No, no he mustn't think that way. You can take care of yourself. He wants to believe that. You're no damsel in distress, he knows this. Then why does it takes you to long to reply? He understands you have responsibility to take care of. Maybe he should pay you a visit instead? You wouldn't mind, right? He's just being a good boyfriend.

Boyfriend.

The word still feels foreign to him. Yet it feels right. He's becoming soft. For you. And he likes that. He likes that he likes you. Or better, he loves you.

He groaned softly, brushing his face with his calloused palm as he thinks about it. He realised he have yet to drop the L bomb towards you. He thought it's too soon and it would scare you away. But he have known you enough. From your worst fears to the thinks that ridiculously would make you peeved. It wouldn't be so wrong after all. At least he's confident enough to know that your feelings for him are one hundred percent mutual.

But then what caused you to ignore his texts? It was so unlike you. You can't be possibly be mad at him, would you? Last time you depart, nothing was left on a bad term. There he is again with his fucked up brain. His brows are knitted so tightly he could get a headache.

Meanwhile, somewhere in a convenient store, you were half aware of running late to see Jake. You cursed your phone charger for this. You kept a mental note to buy a new wire at the same time but choosing specific snacks is also completely out of your ordeal today. Tapping your chin rhythmically in the snack isle, your eyes moves back and forth as your mind decides aimlessly for you.

"You been standing there for 10 minutes."

The voice caught your attention, you were surprised by the presence of the former President of the Workers towering next to you. Your expression relaxed immediately.

"What's it to you?"

Samuel scoffed, reaching for a packet M&M from the shelf for himself. "You two disgusted me."

You raised your brow. His eyes rolled behind his glasses at your confusion. "Well what'd you know? Smartass and dumbass together. Perfect couple beyond compare."

You let out a flat "Oh." comprehending his previous words. "Thanks." Your tone spoke speak sarcasm. He sneered, "No seriously, you guys are matched made in heaven I could literally just-" He leaned forwards, hovering his two fingers in front of his mouth and feign a gag.

He chuckled after you gave an unamused look. "You're just pissed-"

"Woah, hey there." He raised his hands mockingly, "Don't go flattering yourself. I can judge you, especially him as much as I fucking want."

"Not like I got anything better to do with my life. Your standards must be that low, it's almost believable." He muttered passed you to the drinks section. You decided to ignore him, grabbing whatever appeals to you before making your way to the cashier.

Samuel rendezvous with you shortly with his own items after and pulled out extra cash. The knowing glance from the cashier goes unnoticed by you due to your gazed being pinned towards Samuel. He ignored you as he payed for your stuff. When you exited the store, you thanked him even though he left without a bothering himself to reply.

By the time you got to Big Deal's turf, Jake was fast asleep waiting for you. Your eyes softened seeing him snoozing softly. Your fingers gently brushing between black locks which then startled him by reflex. Once he realised it's you, he sighed in relief. You chuckled with amusement.

Your laughter brought him back with him. His eyes widened as he pulled you against him with a loving embrace. "Oh shit."

"Fuck, I was worried about you." He sharply inhaled your scent, cupping your face and kissed anywhere on your face except your lips. "Worried? For nothing?" The corner of your lips curled.

He pulled back to look at you with offense, "For nothing? You're worth every punches."

"Corny." You uttered.

His raised his hands with apolagy, "I know, I know." before sets them back on your sides, "I just thought you...you know?" He trailed, patting your sides with acknowledgement.

You raised a brow while pulling a small grin, "Wow, I really made you worried, huh?" He wanted to wipe that amusement off your face but seeing you in such a good mood, equals good sign, he can't help but to match. "Hey, my masculinity isn't fragile. I'm allowed to ask."

Always have fond of his humour, you let out a soft snicker, "Right, excuse me."

Waving his hand dismissively, he asked, "Nevermind that. Something happened?"

You sighed, "Phone dead. Sorry about that." He sighed in relief at your answer before beckoning you to the couch and get comfortable with him, to which you obliged without a complain. "You?" You asked back, "Don't tell me you're just being a potato couch." You ruffled his hair, "Kidding. You deserve it anyway."

He scoffed, "If anything I looked like a wet dog. " He sighed, "But, no. You're right. I've been stressing out."

"Oh." You tilted your head, your tone with a hint of sympathy and understanding. You softly brushed his hair back affectionately. His shoulders relaxed as he leaned in your touch. "Not that kind. It's just-"

You cut him off, "No, I get it."

He shook his head, "No. Not that. There's something else happened yesterday. The half brother showed up here. We talked."

Now this caught your attention. Your brows lit up. "You're serious?" He nodded as a respond.

You scooped closer to him, "Well damn. What happened? What was he like? Does he looked like you? Scary-looking? Was anyone hurt?" You asked each one by one patiently.

Jake chuckled at your constant questions. His face showed gratitude upon your understanding. "No, we're fine. At least." You frowned slightly, knowing what he meant by that. Meaning that the guy's intention is still unknown. And it's not a good sign.

Knowing Jake most likely have a lot in his mind already, you decided to push the thought away and help him have his mind at peace. Whatever it was, that's a problem for another day. You nudged him, "Hey, next time he come back I'll be there with you, yeah?"

Now it's his turn to frown. Again, he didn't doubt your skills but putting yourself in danger feels wrong. You have already read his mind based on his face expression so you just pinched his nose gently. "Aigoo, kenchana. It's your call anyway. I won't get involved if you won't let me." Your hand move to his cheek, pinching them slightly with care, "Adding more mess into your head is the least thing I wanna do anyway."

He chuckled at your gestures, his cheeks turned a hint of pink. "Thanks, yeobo." And wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you both back against the couch.

He turned his head to you, "You're my world, you know that?" He cut you off, rolling his eyes before you could utter, "Yes, corny. Whatever. Deal with it. Alright?" He gestured with his hands, "You gotta deal with this...big deal you know what I mean?" And as soon as those words came out of his mouth you bursted into laughter. He can't help but laugh with you, realizing how bad the phrase was to him but he was proud anyway that it got you to laugh.

"C'mere you." He pulled you closer, squeezing you lovingly. "What the hell am I gonna do with you?" You nuzzled your cheek on his, "I brought snacks. We can binge watch that one K-drama I've been telling."

Jake nodded with agreement, "Sure. I just want you to stay." As you stood up and took off your jacket, leaving you with undershirt. While you looked for the show in your phone, he looked through the plastic bag and took the snacks and drinks out only to pause his action for a moment.

He blinked, chuckling a bit then looked at you. "Oh. I didn't know we have other plans in mind. Well, I suppose it best to take precaution, huh?"

You raised your brow, "What do you mean?"

When he took out an item from the plastic box, your eyes turned wide upon seeing the durex box in his hand. Your whole body turn white, only to immediate morph to tomato red. Fucking Samuel.

[tvchi]

Veiled Intentions: The Hunt, Prt 3

Disclaimers: DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK. DO NOT TRAIN AI WITH MY WORK.

Warnings: Mature Audiences ONLY: 18+, Minors DNI- Nudity, Female receiving fingering, Profanity

Pairing: black male x black female Words: 3,884k

A/N: Here is Part 3 of this series. I'm proud of myself for meeting this week's deadline. No real smut here. I'm so sorry, you're gonna have to wait for it. However, the suspense is building. Once again if suspense, thrillers, and espionage are not you're the thing, I get it. Please scroll.

Summary: Terry lets Y/N know that her Mark may be on to her and there are things that she may not be considering in this case. When she finds out that Adrian may not be completely forthcoming, how will she react?

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

Terry

I walked into the building and made my way down the hall. I had to let Director Moore know I was being watched, and most likely, she was, too. Once I got to my office, I began getting intel on this Adrian guy. As soon as I got past his birth records, there was a knock on the door.

"Good morning, sir. I just wanted to know if you wanted some coffee because I made your fine ass some," said Brooke. I chuckled and smiled.

"Thank you, Broooke," I sang back.

"You say my name like that again, and we go together!" she retorted, gently laying the cup of coffee on the table before turning around to leave.

"Hey, I wanted to ask you something. Maybe you could help me out. I've looked through all the files and there's not much about the Mark, Adrian. You've been on this case as long as Y/N has. Maybe you know something."

"Yeah, well, he went to Pembroke but got his master's in art history at NYU. He took some time off to travel. Went backpacking in Europe and then visited Columbia, Panama, and El Salvador. He stayed in Okinawa for 3 months before coming back to the States. He submitted a proposal for a PhD, but it was denied. I think I remember him getting a collections manager job for a small-time museum in Miami before coming back here. Why?"

"You keep giving me answers like that, we might just actually go together" I grinned mischievously, sipping the now warm coffee. 

"Stop playing with me before this whole office catches an early morning show; you hear me?"

At this, I couldn't help but laugh. 

"But seriously, why are you looking into him? Should we all be?"

"Yes, why are you looking into him?" said Y/N from the doorway. I hadn't noticed when she came in, and I always noticed.

She wore a cropped hoodie, an oversized blazer, dark-washed jeans that just kissed the bottom of her hoodie, and Air Jordans. Her braids hung freely down her back. Her lips were outlined in a soft chocolate, accentuating their plump center. I wondered what they tasted like. Trying not to let my eyes linger too long, I flashed my attention to her eyes. Hers met mine and quickly darted to Brooke and then to my desk. This was the third time she's averted her eyes from mine. I stood and walked around my desk.

"Brooke, thank you for the coffee and the intel. If I need anything else, you're my girl," I said, winking.

"You're too fine to be winking at me like that, sir. I'm going to mess around and pass out," she replied, giving me a wink of her own. I smiled. Grabbing my coat, I walked out of my office.

"So you're not going to answer me when I'm talking to you?" Y/N said, stalking down the hallway after me. 

"I speak to people who greet me in the morning and look me in the eyes when they're speaking to me. You do neither. If you want to run that question by me again, I'll be in the cafe for the next half hour." I threw over my shoulder.

When I finally got to the cafe, there was a line. I took everything in. The college students huddled around their different groups. All animated. All full of life.

There was this couple in front of me. The girl was trying to decide whether to get the scones or a croissant while trying to convince the guy to drop out of human sexualities because it's for "perverts" and join her in a sociology course. She was giving him good arguments, too, including the point about men only joining to learn different positions and not how to get better at pleasure. Most people who take that course never actually get around to knowing where the clit is. I chuckled.

As I looked around, I wondered if this would have been the life Mike had been living if he were alive. Whether he'd be love-struck, chasing some girl all around campus, listening to her world views, or convincing him to drop courses. I wondered if he would have felt more at home here than the cells he saw.

I placed my order and occupied a free table by the windows. I stared out of the windows, not really taking in the sights but riddling myself with guilt about all the things that I could've done to keep Mike alive. It was a once-a-week misery date I kept with myself so I would never forget that I am living as penance for what I wasn't able to do– nothing else.

A sweet smell filled the air. I turned my head slightly to see who or what it was coming from, and there she stood. She took the seat across from me and peered at the table momentarily before bringing her eyes to me.

"Good Morning ASAC Richmond. I don't want to bother you, but I wanted to know what the reason was for looking into my Mark. We ran background checks months ago. I placed everything in those files."

“Good Morning SA Olisa. You're not bothering me. To answer your question, I wasn't looking into him at all before he stopped me this morning and told me that he was looking into me." Her gaze lowered, and her brows furrowed. 

"What do you mean he's looking into you? How does he know you?" she said, confusion littering her face.

"It doesn't seem like he knows me. But it does look like he's keeping tabs on you while you're away from him."

"This is Adrian we are talking about. He's charming and doting. He also forgets his keys every other day, calls me for help when he accidentally trips the alarm at the museum and is actively boycotting Apple for handing over user data to 'The Feds'. I'm pretty sure he's not tailing me."

"Well, I don't know how else to explain him curb-side siding me on my way to the Box, asking me what I'm doing here and telling me that he's never seen me before." She laughed.

"I'm sorry, but there's no way you could be talking about Adrian."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Yea. Okay."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that I'm going to continue gathering intel on all members of this case, including the ones who actively seek me out, and you can continue maintaining that the Mark is incapable of any wrongdoing."

"I didn't say he was incapable of wrongdoing. I said he isn't a guy capable of surveilling me."

"Okay."

"I think I would know. I've only been—"

"Sleeping with him for the last three months," I finished flatly, attempting to hide my contempt with boredom. 

She inhaled deeply and slowly before speaking again. "I was going to say that I've only been at his side, living with him and monitoring his habits for three months. I'm not sure how anything else I do is any of your concern."

"It is if you forget that he's a mark," I replied too quickly.

"Forget?" she said incredulously, her eyes squinting and lips flattened into a line. Her head tilted to the side in smoldering anger. For a moment there, I was distracted. Even in her disdain for me at that moment, she looked incredible. Not wanting to escalate things, I quickly thought of a way to disarm her. 

"I just mean, when was the last time you did a sweep? When was the last time you tailed him? When was the last time you listened to the bug in his office? The last time you looked into the new clients he was purchasing for? Did you do a deep dive into his overseas contacts when he was backpacking in Europe and parasailing in Panama because I didn't see any details in the files?"

"Are you suggesting that I can't or didn't do my job?"

"I didn't say that. I think that we have a limited focus, and we need to broaden the net. He approached me. We were never seen together except for in the Box. So unless he's also a part of the case, I'm not sure how he would know me."

She pursed her lips. Her forehead creased in pensive thought or inner turmoil; I couldn't be sure. 

"If you need proof that he approached me," I started, chuckling, "There are thousands of cameras around this campus. Ask Brooke." With that, I stood and walked out of the cafe with my coffee in hand. 

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

Y/N

He has no reason to lie to me, and he's technically my boss. He has nothing to prove. I've been studying Adrian's tells since he first asked me out on a date. I know him. He hasn't been lying to me. I also haven't been asking him very many questions lately. Nothing that would need him to tell a lie.

You sat at the coffee shop on campus, thinking for a long moment. What if Richmond was right. What if you haven't been paying as close attention as you should have. This is the part of the job you hated— the second-guessing. Being the first African-American female on the shortlist for Assistant Director was without its fair share of imposter syndrome.

Having to conduct meetings or manage briefings where everyone's eyes are constantly questioning you. Their perpetual state of disbelief or random inquiries on work that you've triple-checked always got to you. No matter how iron-clad your work has been over the years, there's always someone else who doesn't think that you should be here. Someone else looking to point out your mistake and hang you for it. Someone needs to find hard data to prove that you should've never been hired. Today, it's him.

The pressure in your chest starts to build as you begin to put into words a feeling that has been ruminating in the back of your mind for weeks. Always knowing you're alone in this world and seeing the hard proof of it are two different things. I know that if it were him or me, his connections or my word, his status or my truth, he'd always choose himself. I'm not entirely sure his sole purpose of coming here and shortening our deadline isn't because the hire-ups don't trust me to run point on this. You closed your eyes, hoping to dull some of the pain circling your temples. After a deep breath, you opened your eyes again.

"Ma'am, I'm not sure if you wanted to order anything, but if you did, you have to do it upfront," the waitress interjected.

"No, I was just leaving. Thank you" you replied and headed out of the shop and towards your car.

Driving back home, you tried to think about the case and what you could be missing. Adrian being into play was far-fetched but if Richmond was right, it may be the answer to why they've been behind for so long. That thought made your stomach turn. 

"Hey, Siri. dial Brooke"

"Dialing. Brooke. Now," Siri responded.

"Two days in a row. I must say, ever since Mr. Fine Ass showed up, you've either been calling the office or showing up way more than you have been. You tryna get perfect attendance in his class, heifer, 'cause he's mine." You laughed. Brooke always had a way of making you smile.

"Brooke, you know HR and IA exist, right?"

"I know. I also know that I'm the head of surveillance around this muthafucka, and won't be no evidence for them to find!"

"Lol. You got that."

"So, wussup?"

"I need some footage of all the library entrances and exits from early this morning till about now."

"Why, what's going on?"

"I haven't heard any chatter, but I wanted to double-check that I'm not being followed."

"Okay. I'll send those right over. Today's encryption code is 4761."

"Thanks, girl."

"Anytime. Oh, girl, I gotta go. Here comes Mr. Fine-Ass now. Heeeeeeey ASAC Richmond"

As the call disconnected, you wondered whether Richmond was in the Director's office right now telling him how he doesn't think you're fit to lead this operation.

After you got home, you headed straight to the den. You opened the government-issued laptop and typed in the code. An entirely new interface comes alive on the screen. You navigated emails until you landed on the one Brooke sent of the footage. Quickly, looking around the den to make sure no one else was there, you clicked on the video and began to watch.

Around 6:15:35am, there is a man approaching Richmond on the steps with a knitted hoodie and black denim. The face is obscured by a fitted cap, hoodie, and Richmond's frame.

Then, at about 6:17:45 am, he changes positions, placing his back to the camera. He continues to do so throughout the entire video. He must have known this camera was there. This could be anybody.

At 6:20:29 am, he turns to leave down the stairs of the library. Once down the stairs, he walks off to a vehicle that is out of frame. You rewind the video back to 6:17 and watch it again. This really could be anybody, I mean — you spot it.

[At a cookout last month, Adrian invited you to meet some of his friends. The park was teeming with bodies, from those who were well-known in the county to those who were just happy to be there. The DJ played all the Top 40 hits and mixed some 90s jams throughout. You spotted a friend and joined in a line dance on the grass. Finally spotting Adrian, you ran to him. 

"Wait, wait, wait girl. I will give you the world, but I will throw you somewhere if you get those muddy ass boots all over these 1s."

"What is so special about them damn sneakers that you'd risk your life like that?"

"Wouldn't be the first time"

"Now you gotta tell me."

"It was 2017. My first Mardi Gras experience. My brothers took me to the All-Star weekend festivities because their friends had the hookup. We were going from the games to the clubs. There was liquor, titties, and ass everywhere. That same weekend, they dropped these. There was a line down the block at every Foot Locker and Finish Line in the state of Louisiana damn near. I left the club early and stood in line all night and all morning. I finally got to the store, and there were only 3 left in my size. As soon as I placed my hand on the shoe, this other guy placed his hands on it. I looked at him and tugged the shoe away. The next thing I know, this guy is swinging at me. We fought, and security had to break us up. I told them that they had to go to the back and look at the footage of who got the shoes first and who assaulted the other first. I was not leaving there without those shoes. One of the employees and one of the security guards left together to watch the footage. I snatched the other sneaker out of the man's hand and walked up to the register to get my shoes. I got to pay for them, and I noticed that my wallet was missing. I called everyone I knew to either look for my wallet or come pay for the shoes. Eventually, my second oldest brother came and bought the shoes for me. Turns out, I had left my wallet in our section at the club, and he picked it up."

"Oh, you really went to war for these."

"Sure did. That night, we went out to celebrate.]

The special edition Air Jordan 1 Retro High OG All-Star with the iridescent detailing glistened into view on the computer screen. There was a white tag that he linked through one of the holes. You stared back at the shoes missing from the case and back to the video. Shit.

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

Y/N

"Babe, you home? Adrian's voice boomed from the front entrance.

"Hey. I'm here. What are you doing at home?" you quickly shut down the laptop and closed the lid as you heard his footsteps make their way toward the den.

"Got done early today, so I thought I'd pop in and get dinner started. I didn't want to order out again."

"Oh well, aren't you thoughtful"

"What are you doing at home? I thought you said that you'd be working a little later tonight. Something about moving up a deadline," he probed.

"Right. Well, you know me…I thought I would focus more if I was on campus like every other collegiate student. I kept getting distracted," you lied. "Then I tried my office, but I wasn't comfortable there," that wasn't entirely a lie. You wouldn't have been able to focus in the Box. Not with him there. "In the end, I just gave up and came home. But there is still very much a deadline that I have to meet," you finished.

"Sounds like you need some productivity. Lemme get out your way" he concurred, pecking you on the lips twice and then moving to the empty case.

"Oh, I see you brought out the big dawg today. What was the special occasion?" you asked, hoping that this would be the start of something enlightening.

"Oh, you mean the shoes. Nothing. I just felt like wearing them today."

"Mmm, well, what did you do all day today looking fresh."

He chuckled. "Nothing. I went by the office, spoke to a couple of clients who were interested in some pieces, stopped by the store, and then came home."

"You should've stopped by my office so I could show you off to those hating ass hoes at my job if you just wanted to look fresh running errands."

"I'll do that next time," he joked. "Alright, I'm really gonna leave you alone. Get that work done!"

"Sir, yes, sir."

He turned back and smirked. "Hold on to that. I may need you to say that to me again later." He turned and went up the steps. When the door shut, you exhaled. He was lying to you.

When did this start, and why didn't you notice? You started retracing your steps with Adrian to see if there was something you missed or maybe a change in behavior. When you couldn't pinpoint an inciting event, you left that task and adopted a new one that required you combing through his file piece by piece.

"Did you do a deep dive into his overseas contacts when he was backpacking in Europe and parasailing in Panama because I didn't see any details in the files?"

As Richmond's words echoed through your head, you started going back to all of the places that he had been seen and confirmed vacationing in. You worked all into the night.

A soft knock on the door alerted you to the fact that it was late. Adrian walked down and stood at the doorway. 

"Come eat, Alana"

"I'm coming. I just need to jot down one more thing." You changed your interface back to the default Microsoft interface and powered down your phone before he could get the chance to look at it. You climbed the stairs, wondering how you were going to muster the energy to withstand tonight's dinner conversation. You sat and ate dinner, slowly pondering the day's revelations. It must have shown on your face because Adrian stood up and asked. 

"Everything okay?"

"Yeah, just thinking,"

"Talk to me"

"It's really nothing. I guess I just didn't realize I had so much to do behind this project."

"Yeah, I get that."

A moment passed, and you finally finished the last bite of your salmon when you heard some music playing in the distance.

"Dance with me," Adrian commanded, hand held out to you.

"Adrian? Right now"

"Yea. Dance with me. C'mon, woman", he repeated.

You took his hand, and you two danced to the sounds of Sweet Lady by Tyrese. His hands slowly trailed your spine as his head nestled into your neck.

It was the strangest thing. Feeling at home in the arms of someone you knew was lying to you, knowing that you were lying to them. Your bodies swayed together in tandem as you both held each other. It was everything you wanted. It was what you craved. Why couldn't this be…real?

After a couple of songs, he led you to bed. He slowly undid your jeans, helping you out of them one foot at a time.

Then, after applying short kisses up your happy trail, he stood up, removed your cropped hoodie, and undid your bra. Your breast spilled out of them. He took the left into his mouth as you moaned. Interchanging between nibbles and kisses, he stimulated the small whimpers you tried to stifle deep within your throat. After a few moments, he turned his attention to your other breast.

A trail of kisses slowly went up your neck and finally to your mouth. You took his lips in yours desperately. You hungrily sucked his tongue, hoping to salvage the last night you would be this version of yourself with him. He tugged at your thong until his hand found what it was searching for.

He traced circles around your pearl. You waited for a moment to feel that release. That dampness that never had to be beckoned. That exhilarating plummet in your stomach makes way for the honey coating that ruins the sheets. It never came. 

"Is something wrong?"

"Mmm, no, why?"

"Your panties are usually done by now."

"Maybe I didn't drink enough water today."

He looked at me intently. His eyes darkened with intensity, then softened slightly. 

"I took you to Cali for three days. All we had were shots of Tequila and a couple of Coronas. I had your legs behind your hand, and we had the sheets changed four times one of those nights. Water has never been a problem for you. Talk to me," he said sternly.

"I'm not sure what's going on, Adrian," you lied.

"Are you sure there's not something you want to tell me?"

"Like what?"

He paused for a moment. "I don't know. I'm just asking. Maybe you're upset or worried about something?" he probed.

"The only thing I've been focused on has been the deadline. I'm okay with that, though. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. It's okay. Let's go to sleep."

"Or or or…maybe we can try some lube," you suggested, trying to lighten the mood.

"So now we're lube people?"

"Hey, there's nothing wrong with lube."

"No, but something is going on with you, and I'd rather we get to the bottom of it than throwing some lube on it,"

"But...but," you pouted as you looked at his erection.

"He'll be fine. Let's go to bed."

"You sure?"

"Yea, come here," he said, lying down on his side and pulling you close. Unable to fall asleep, you wondered how you were going to salvage this night. You needed to find out who the new buyer was going to be and fast because, at this rate, it would only be a matter of time before he found out the truth.

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

Check out Part 1 and Part 2 if you haven't already! Please hit the comments with your feedback, give suggestions on what you'd like to see, and let me know who you like and don't. Talk TO ME!!! Part 4 coming soon.

Tags: @thecapodomme @writers-of-tmblr @melaninpov @spaceslutsworld @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @mymusicbias @the-black-label @master-builder42 @miraculously-dumb-bitch @megamindsecretlair @hopefulromantic1 @tranquilfandomer @thadelightfulone @vivalaorgasm @hotgrlcece @planetblaque @blackgurlnhermoods @andriaharris @theblacklewinsky @kumkaniudaku @lovelyflames @girlbeblogging @toiadeenovels @longpause-awkwardsmile @sweettea-and-honeybutter @sirenmouths @almostelectroniccheesecake @liquorlaughslove @meleekabenjamin @19jammmy @thoseprettywords @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @stellarxfresh @noirelyfe @moooonluvr

@kinginwithbreezy-blog @bunniibooooo @sk1121-blog1

[diana-bluewolf]

On one surprisingly sunny November day, a young Merlin lands graciously on a tree not too far from where Chris and Misha are walking. It tilts its head while it observes the wizard and gives a few chattering calls before taking off again, something bright red tied to one of its legs. The presence of the wolf agitates the falcon a little, so it chooses not to land on the ground but instead on a branch of another nearby tree, high enough for the boy to reach but with plenty of distance to take off if the lupus decides to strike.

The object tied to Merlin's leg is an origami piece of an animal that easily comes off when touched, allowing the bird to leave. Upon closer inspection, it is a paper wolf that stirs on Chris' palms, stands on its wobbly paper feet and raises its head high up. Even without the sound it is clear that it is howling. Then, suddenly, the paper unfolds itself, revealing a letter.

Dear Chris, I can't believe we've known each other for so long already. We took a winding path towards becoming friends. It is still a little wild to me that you felt like I ever needed anything in return other than your genuine company. I know, we've talked about it, and I really should've seen it sooner. Will often says that I don't see things right under my nose. But I still want you to know that I'll never require anything from you in return for a chocolate frog or homework or a friendly chat. You are my friend. Anything you need — I'll never say no. I am unsure where to find you as we live in different dorms, but wherever you are right now, I wish you a Happy Birthday, from my whole heart. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to enjoy every day of your life. You deserve companionship (and I mean human, too, not just Misha's!) Perhaps I'll catch you at dinner? I think William got you some yummy goodies earlier today (I probably should not have said that), so don't fill your tummy up all the way! Happy Birthday, dear friend! Your shiny unicorn, Elland 🌙

Aww, it’s such a cute ask! Therefore, ahem…

TW↓: obscene language 🤨😁

"Merlin, why does he have to be so embarrassing?" muttered Chris after running his eyes over the letter. He was sitting on a large mossy rock with his leg tucked under him.  

"Have you ever felt that it's just…ugh… almost painful to read something?" he addressed Misha, who was stretching lazily beside him.

Misha didn't answer. Well, he tended to do that - not bothering to reply. Chris didn't blame him since he often was the same.

"Well, I guess the inability to read can solve this, can't it?" Chris smiled and petted Misha's ear.

"What I mean is all this… "deserving" stuff. Why wouldn't he just insult me? That would be much easier and fun to read. Like, I don't know, happy birthday, you prick? Bring your ass here, or I'll eat all the goodies, and then William? Not that I would care about the latter, but at least it would be fun. And this," Chris waved the letter in the air, "this is pure torture."

Chris sighed and made himself reread the letter, this time trying not to skip everything that started with “you deserve”. He was positively unbearable sometimes. Elland, that is. 

Maybe that’s why Chris was so glad to see his falcon today?

“Look, look,” Chris nudged Misha, pointing at the your shiny unicorn line. “He’s trying to joke here.” 

Misha looked at the parchment. The parchment wasn’t edible and hence wasn’t a feature of interest.

“Oh, don’t worry, mate, I didn’t get it, either,” Chris assured Misha. He then glanced at the letter again. 

“He’s a weirdo. Elland.” Chris smiled warmly. “But…have you ever met wolves that were not as bad as other wolves? Because I have. Quite a few, actually. Well, not wolves, people, and that makes it even stranger. I have only one explanation for this - it’s Hogwarts. And if so,” Chris grabbed his bag and fished out ink and a quill, “I freaking love magic.”

See you at dinner. Bring the goodies. You can leave the prefect where he is.

Chris smirked, aware that Will would probably read it anyway. Well, no one asked him peeking at Elland's correspondence.

Your grumpy dugbog, Chris. P.S. Those guys look peculiar as friends, don't they?

P.P.S. Thank you.

Chris shoved the letter into the bag and jumped to his feet. 

“My shiny unicorn is waiting,” he explained to Misha, who enthusiastically followed him on his way out of the forest. 

“I need to send an owl first and grab those pasties I bought for Will in Honeydukes. You see, Monsieur Tangerine, in addition to all his flaws, is a gourmet, and we often have differences of opinion on the matter of taste. But this time, I’m sure even he will like it!”

It was a surprisingly sunny November day.

[misahyochaeng]

Un Abri dans l'Orage

Jihyo x Fem!Reader

Chapter 4-(?)

tw: jihyo x fem!reader, ceo au, model!reader, ceo!jihyo, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, angst, fluff, reader almost gets trafficked, substance abuse/ use of alcohol

Other chapters here:

summary: After a night of tension and unresolved emotions at the gala, the storm outside mirrors the one inside you. Fearful of the thunder and unable to calm your anxiety, you find yourself at Jihyo’s door, vulnerable and unsure. Her reluctant embrace becomes an unexpected comfort as you fall asleep in her arms. For a moment, the animosity fades, leaving behind something raw and unspoken, a fragile connection neither of you is ready to admit.

—

The car rolled smoothly over the driveway as the Mercedes pulled up to the venue. The house in front of you was massive—grandiose in a way that made your stomach flutter. The press lights were blinding, and you could already hear the distant hum of the paparazzi from outside. You didn’t even know if you were ready for this, but here you were.

Jihyo’s butler stepped out, holding the door open for you, and Jihyo followed suit, not saying a word as you both got out. The crowd in front of the mansion only seemed to get louder as flashes went off. You could feel them all on you, but all you could focus on was Jihyo’s hand reaching out, the coolness of her fingers brushing yours.

You were taken aback. There was nothing harsh about this touch—no bruising grip like before. Instead, it was tentative, almost careful. You didn’t say anything, though. You just followed her as she led you through the throngs of people and into the gala. But it didn’t stop that strange feeling in your stomach from twisting. You’d been to galas before, but this one? This one felt different. The people, the glitz, the fancy dresses. You couldn’t shake that feeling that something was off.

As you walked in, it all hit you. The gold-trimmed ceilings, the clinking glasses, the air of exclusivity. Your nerves flared up again, like you were a rookie again, new and inexperienced, unsure of where you belonged. It wasn’t the spotlight that made your chest tighten, though. It was the memories. The ones of that night when you broke Jihyo’s necklace, the very thing that had caused this mess between you both. The rivalry. The distance. You still couldn’t believe how everything had spiraled from that.

You barely even realized Jihyo had tugged you along until she stopped in front of a private lounge. She shot a quick, almost unreadable glance at you. There was something there. Concern? You couldn't be sure.

“I thought you were going to be fine tonight,” she muttered, her voice lacking its usual bite. You raised an eyebrow. “What, you think I’m going to be okay with this? Just like that?” You gestured around the lavish space. “You think I’m fine with this whole situation?” Jihyo stared at you, but this time, her gaze wasn’t filled with disdain. She looked... something else. But she quickly blinked it away. “I didn’t say that,” she replied, but it was a little softer than usual.

There was a long silence before she sat down on the plush sofa, motioning for you to join her. You reluctantly took a seat, trying to calm the anxiety twisting inside you. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake it. The nagging feeling that something was unsettled between you and Jihyo kept creeping in.

The door opened again, and a makeup artist entered with a small, expensive-looking box. She set it down on the sofa between you both, not saying anything before quietly leaving. You stared at the box for a moment. You were both alone now, and the silence between you two felt strange. Too strange. It almost felt... intimate.

Jihyo broke the silence, grabbing your wrist again. The touch wasn’t harsh this time, but the suddenness of it made you flinch. It wasn’t the same as earlier in the day when she’d bruised you, but it still wasn’t exactly comfortable. She pulled out a concealer tube from the box, applying it to your wrist. You winced slightly at the pressure. “What are you doing?” you asked, though you already knew the answer. “I’m covering it up,” Jihyo murmured, almost to herself. “So no one asks.”

The words caught you off guard. You pulled your wrist from her grasp, though she didn’t let go immediately. Her fingers tightened around your wrist again. It wasn’t painful, but it reminded you of earlier. The bruise. You couldn’t help but ask, “Is this your way of apologizing?”

Jihyo didn’t answer immediately. She kept dabbing at the concealer, her hand steady, but there was something in her expression that made you pause. The usual coldness was there, but beneath it, there was something softer, something that made you wonder if maybe—just maybe—she regretted the way things had gone between you both.

“You think I owe you an apology?” she said quietly, not quite looking at you. You leaned forward, your voice sharp. “You owe me more than just that, Jihyo.”

You felt Jihyo’s grip tighten around your wrist again, and your heart sank. There was a coldness in her touch, a firmness that made you feel like you were being held in place by something far stronger than her hands. For a brief moment, the tension between you both hung thick in the air. But it was her words that cut through, her voice soft yet pointed. “You think I owe you more than an apology?” she asked, her gaze still not meeting yours. “Well, since our little incident in a place like this, Y/N, I think *you* owe me an apology.”

The mention of the necklace hit you like a cold gust of wind, the memories rushing back faster than you could stop them. The blinding spotlight, the cameras, the one piece of jewelry that was supposed to solidify everything you’d worked for. It shattered in your hands. You’d never felt more humiliated in your life.

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your voice. “I didn’t do it on purpose, Jihyo,” you muttered, the words escaping before you could stop them. “It was an accident. It wasn’t intentional.”

But Jihyo wasn’t having it. Her expression hardened, and she shook her head slowly, her eyes narrowing. “It was one-of-a-kind, Y/N,” she snapped. “The most expensive piece. *My* brand’s reputation. And you broke it.” Her voice was tight with frustration, the bitterness of the past still lingering in her words. “You were supposed to represent us, not ruin us.”

You felt the sting of her words. But something in you snapped. You weren’t going to just sit back and take this anymore. “You think I don’t feel bad enough already?” Your voice was louder now, your emotions bubbling over. “Do you think I wanted that to happen? I wanted everything to be perfect, Jihyo. I worked so hard for this, for *you* and your brand. It wasn’t my fault!”

Jihyo's lips pressed into a thin line, but you could see the annoyance flaring in her eyes. She crossed her arms tightly. “It’s always someone else’s fault with you, isn’t it?” Your chest tightened at the accusation. You didn’t mean for any of this to happen, and yet here she was, putting all the blame on you, making you feel like you were the one who had tried to destroy everything. “I didn’t ruin anything!” you shot back, your voice cracking slightly. “I didn’t mean to break your stupid necklace! It wasn’t my fault!”

The anger in Jihyo’s eyes flickered, and for a brief moment, you saw something softer behind it. But it didn’t last. She clenched her jaw, her grip on your wrist tightening again. “Shut up, Y/N,” she said, her voice sharp. The words stung, but it wasn’t the words that made you flinch. It was the way she gripped your wrist, her nails digging into your skin in a way that made you wince, a jolt of pain shooting up your arm.

You winced again, a soft gasp escaping your lips, and that was when the tears started to well up. You didn’t want to cry in front of her, not now. But the pain—the emotional and physical pain—was too much, and one single tear slipped down your cheek before you could stop it.

You couldn’t look away from her. Her expression softened, and her hand slowly loosened its grip. The sight of your tear made something shift in her gaze. Her features softened, almost imperceptibly, as she gently traced her fingers over the bruise she had caused. It wasn’t an apology, not really. She didn’t say sorry, didn’t even acknowledge the tear in your eye. But her touch, the way her fingers lingered on the bruise for just a moment longer than necessary, felt like a silent admission of guilt. You wiped the tear away quickly, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt. Trying to pretend like you weren’t falling apart inside. “It’s fine,” you whispered, though it didn’t feel fine. “I’m fine.”

Jihyo didn’t respond at first. There was a long silence before she finally spoke, her voice quieter this time. “Let’s just go.” It wasn’t an invitation. It wasn’t an apology. It was simply an order. You nodded, not trusting your voice, and stood up from the couch, brushing off the tension that still clung to the air. As you gathered your things, you caught a glimpse of her face—her cold, guarded expression. You weren’t sure what she was thinking, but you knew this wasn’t over. The cracks in her armor were starting to show, but she wasn’t about to admit it—not to you.

You forced a smile as you grabbed your bag, the weight of the unspoken words heavy between you both. You couldn’t keep pretending, not when you felt like you were falling apart. But for now, you had to keep going. You had to keep up the facade. Because no one could see how broken you really were.

The party was a blur, but the tension lingered in the air as you sat at the bar. You swirled the remnants of your drink, staring at it like it held some kind of answer. Another sigh escaped your lips as your fingers brushed against the faint bruise peeking through the smudged concealer on your wrist. You didn’t want to think about it, about any of it—the argument, the memories, or the weight of Jihyo’s gaze from earlier.

“Another?” the bartender asked, his voice cautious. You nodded without looking up. “Keep them coming.” By the time you were down to your seventh drink, the room was tilting slightly. Your shoulders felt heavier, your thoughts hazier. You didn’t care. You didn’t want to care.

But then, as if the universe had it out for you, a man appeared at your side. His shadow loomed over you, and when he spoke, it was with an unsettling smoothness. “A woman like you shouldn’t be sitting alone.” You stiffened, glancing at him briefly before turning back to your drink. “I’m fine,” you muttered, hoping that would be enough to make him leave.

It wasn’t. “Fine?” he repeated, leaning closer. “I’d say you’re more than fine.” Your stomach churned. You stood up, intent on leaving, but his hand darted out, gripping your wrist—the bruised one. You winced, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “Let go,” you said, your voice trembling. “Relax,” he said, his tone darkening. “Don’t make a scene.”

Your chest tightened as you looked around. People glanced your way, their expressions fleeting before they turned back to their drinks or conversations. No one moved. No one cared. This was just another night for them. “I said, let go,” you repeated, louder this time, panic rising in your chest.

Before he could respond, a familiar voice sliced through the air, cold and cutting. “Is there a problem?” Jihyo’s presence was immediate and commanding. Her hand slipped around your waist, pulling you flush against her. The man’s grip loosened instantly, his face paling as recognition dawned.

“Ms. Park, I didn’t realize—”

“Didn’t realize what?” Jihyo’s voice was calm, but it carried a deadly edge. “That you were harassing my partner? Or that I’m not the type to let men like you walk away unscathed?” The man stammered, stepping back. “It was a misunderstanding—”

“Oh, there’s no misunderstanding,” Jihyo said, her eyes narrowing. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to leave and pray I forget your face. Because if I don’t, I’ll make sure you never show it in public again, Dick-face.” He muttered an apology, scurrying away like a rat.

The moment he was gone, you pulled out of Jihyo’s hold, your wrist throbbing. “I didn’t need your help,” you snapped, the words coming out sharper than you intended. Jihyo’s gaze flickered to your wrist, her jaw tightening. “Clearly,” she said flatly, but there was something in her tone—something unspoken. You glared at her. “Don’t act like you care.”

“I don’t,” she shot back, but the words didn’t land. Even she didn’t sound convinced. “You smell like weed,” you said suddenly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. For the first time, she faltered, a faint blush creeping up her neck. She adjusted her blazer. “Let’s just go home.”

“I’m not done,” you retorted, stumbling slightly as you tried to walk past her. “You can’t just swoop in and—”

“Y/N.” Her voice was firmer now, and when she grabbed your arm, it wasn’t harsh. It steadied you. “You’ve had enough for tonight. We’re leaving.” You wanted to argue, but the exhaustion was winning. With a frustrated sigh, you let her guide you outside to the waiting Mercedes. She didn’t speak as she helped you into the backseat, her movements methodical, almost gentle.

The car ride was quiet at first, but it didn’t last long. “You’re such a control freak,” you muttered, slouching against the door. “You think you’re perfect, but you’re not.” Jihyo let out a slow breath, her gaze fixed out the window. “And you’re drunk.”

“Doesn’t mean I’m wrong,” you mumbled, pointing a wobbly finger at her. “You’re—ugh, you’re just—” She glanced at you then, her lips twitching ever so slightly. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re annoying,” you shot back, crossing your arms dramatically. Jihyo didn’t respond. She simply watched you, her expression unreadable. But as you continued to ramble, slurring insults and occasionally glaring at her, she found herself biting back a smile. You were a mess, a complete mess. And yet, somehow, you were... endearing. Not that she’d ever admit it.

When the car finally pulled up to the house, Jihyo stepped out first, offering her hand to help you. You ignored it, stumbling slightly as you tried to walk on your own. She rolled her eyes, catching your arm before you could faceplant on the driveway. “Thanks, Mom,” you muttered sarcastically. “Anytime, kid,” she shot back, steering you toward the door. Her hand rested on your waist again, steadying you as you wobbled.

Inside, the house was quiet, and for the first time that night, so were you. You didn’t fight her hold. You didn’t snap at her. You just let her guide you, your exhaustion finally overtaking your stubbornness. Jihyo glanced down at you as you leaned against her slightly, her expression softening. She wouldn’t admit it, not even to herself, but in that moment, she didn’t hate you. Not even close.

The storm raged outside, the thunder shaking the walls with each strike. You shot up in bed, heart pounding, body covered in a cold sweat. Your head throbbed, a dull reminder of the drinks you’d consumed earlier, and your stomach churned violently. Stumbling into the bathroom, you clutched the toilet, emptying yourself of everything you'd downed.

The house was eerily silent aside from the rain pelting the windows. The clock on the bedside table read 3:07 a.m., but it felt like time had stopped. Another crack of lightning illuminated your room, and you flinched, instinctively pulling the blanket tighter around you as if it could shield you from the chaos outside.

But it wasn’t enough. The blanket, the pillow you hugged for dear life, none of it was enough to calm the anxiety clawing at your chest. You hated thunderstorms. They reminded you of being alone, small, powerless. Your mind raced, but nothing soothed the spiraling fear. Without realizing it, your feet had carried you down the hallway.

Jihyo’s door was slightly ajar, the soft glow of her nightlight spilling out into the dark corridor. You hesitated, gripping the doorframe for support as you peeked inside. She was sitting up in bed, her back resting against the headboard, a book in her hands. Her long red hair was pinned back with a claw clip, a few loose strands framing her face. She looked so calm, so unaffected by the chaos outside.

The door creaked as you stepped in, and her head snapped up, startled. Her book lowered slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw something unguarded in her expression before she frowned. “What the hell are you doing?” she demanded, her voice sharp but not loud. “It’s three in the morning!”

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. You didn’t need them. Your eyes, wide and glassy, gave away everything you were feeling. You didn’t care if you looked weak or vulnerable. You just… couldn’t do this alone. Jihyo sighed, long and dramatic. She looked at you, her gaze hard to read. “What is it now?” she asked, her tone edged with frustration, though her voice softened slightly as she took in your trembling form.

You didn’t respond. Instead, you moved forward, your body acting on instinct. Climbing onto her bed without asking, you slipped under the covers and latched onto her waist like a lifeline. Jihyo froze, her body stiff as a board beneath your touch. “What the—are you serious right now?” she stammered, her voice a mix of disbelief and irritation. “Just shut up and hug me,” you muttered, your voice small, muffled by her shoulder. “Please.”

She was silent, her body still tense. For a moment, you thought she’d push you off or start yelling. But then, with a heavy sigh, she wrapped one arm around you, her movements hesitant and awkward. “You’re ridiculous,” she grumbled, her tone quieter now.

You didn’t respond. The warmth of her body, the steadiness of her heartbeat, was enough to ease the storm raging inside you. The thunder still crashed outside, but it felt distant now. You were safe. Within minutes, you drifted off, your breathing evening out as sleep overtook you. Jihyo looked down at you, her expression softening as she noticed the way your face, once tense and pale, had relaxed.

“Dumbass,” she muttered under her breath, though there was no real bite in her words. She placed her book on the nightstand, adjusting the covers over both of you. As the storm continued outside, she allowed herself to relax, her arm tightening ever so slightly around your sleeping form before her own eyes fluttered shut.

[heftmanrhamm]

Sorry my mum said I can't play with you anymore BC you call it parma

Noooooo!!! :,(

Sorry, can we make up over a HSP?

[wildevenusian]

i just don’t understand. why say ur ready to talk if you aren’t?

can u believe this post is what got me to reach tag limit

[lususnatura]

💟

the expression on blamore's face while he sat next to eliza on their picnic (date) was made of pure joy. i mean, the two of them were sitting in the middle of a meadow together, with a blanket beneath them and various foods spread out all around them... which was already lovely. though what really made this moment special to it was the fact that elizabeth looked so beautiful in the sun like this: her green eyes shining, those bountiful red tresses of hair of hers descending down her shoulders like pillars of flame, and her outfit? ooh, eliza had managed to outdo herself yet again in the art of appearing like an angel. all blamore could think about now was that there was only one thing that could possibly make things more perfect right now.

waiting for the ideal moment to do so might just take a bit. he scooted slightly closer to eliza, then, to make sure that she was comfortable with being physically close to the plant-hybrid. he knew that he had gotten attached to her rather quickly after all and didn't want to run the risk of possibly scaring her away. not to say that eliza would be for sure, but still, blamore thought. the faint sound of leaves rustling with the wind soon occupied the space all around them. a gentle, cool breeze had just made it's way to them, ❝ ahh, this is so relaxing, isn't it? i feel like i could stay like this for forever. ❞ the sigh that slipped through it's lips was equally quiet and content; blamore just taking a moment to bask in the reprieve it granted them from the heat.

a partially lichen-covered hand got closer to eliza's to the point where their pinkies were just barely touching. blamore could feel his heart against his chest at this point, while nervous energy seemed to build up in his bones all at once. it had done this before. kissed someone, i mean, and it could do it again. that was the belief that burgeon was currently trying to drill into himself while his eyes darted down from the other's eyes to her lips. ❝ you know... excuse me if i'm being a bit forward, but the moment i saw you here, i got this fluttery feeling in my chest. i think you'd call it 'butterflies?' i don't know, but — ❞ a hearty chuckle resounded from it's throat as it summoned the courage to intertwine a few of it's fingers with hers from above.

❝ i wanted to do something since the last time that i saw you, ❞ a good-natured smile made it's way onto his face, before blamore leaned towards eliza and it revealed why in just a few seconds. it pressed a delicate kiss to her lips, along with raised a hand to gently cup her cheek midway through it. he allowed himself a moment to caress eliza's cheek with her thumb before completely pulling away from her. and burgeon was pleasantly surprised by this, because although it once believed that it couldn't be happier to be sharing his time with her, it was proven wrong.

[the-ferocious-kittyrose]

Simon gets a message from reader while he’s on base. It’s a video. The thumbnail looks like a blurred image of a store isle

Once he has a moment to himself, he’s able to sit back and finally check out what you had sent.

The camera pans down to show yours and simon’s two year old daughter. She has half a mini chocolate muffin clutched in her little baby fist and chocolate smudges on her nose and bright pink cheeks. She’s standing, staring at something out of frame.

The camera is a bit shaky and Simon can hear you trying desperately to hide your laughter.

“Baby,” you say, “baby, look at me.” You bend down to bring the camera closer to your daughter, who only turns to look at you for a second before going back to staring at the same spot out of frame.

“Who is that?”

Your daughter raised one of her chocolate covered hands to point towards whatever it was that had been captivating her the entire video. “Daddy.”

Simon here’s more of your pained stifled laughter and the camera follows your daughter’s gaze, revealing a cheaply made Halloween grim reaper statue, with dusty purple robes, a plastic scythe, and a hilariously misshapen skull face.

He reads the accompanying texts that had followed the video.

[She just started saying “daddy daddy” over and over and it took me forever to figure out what she was talking about]

[for a second I thought, “oh is he here?”]

[Im so dense lol]

[she really misses you ]

[I miss you too]

The next text was a picture of your daughter fast asleep in her car seat. Now cleaned of chocolate, she had replaced her muffin with a giant plastic rat that she hugged to her chest like a teddy bear.

[she refused to leave without it]

Simon smiles. It had been a long time since he had a family. People who loved waiting for him to come home.

Your texts had been sent hours ago, and he felt bad about not responding all day.

[that’s unfair. My mask is made of much better materials]

[I miss you both too. If everything goes right I should be home by Monday]

[and don’t call yourself dense]

Simon thinks for a moment, something eating at him about that video

[I wish she didn’t know about the mask. I don’t want her to see me that way]

You respond quickly, making Simon feel worse about his delayed reply

[Dont worry about that honey. She’s only two, and I think she only saw you wear in mask once once or twice. She’ll forget in a month.]

[She doesn’t see you as anything other than her daddy]

[her daddy and her jungle gym]

[lol yes that too]

[Im sorry I don’t have a lot of time. I’ll try and call you tomorrow]

[ok Im heading to bed now anyway]

[goodnight I love you ❤️]

[goodnight I love you too ❤️]

[nanaslutt]

• I will always catch you •

ʚ synopsis: You and Nanami play a game of tag, if he wins he spanks you

ʚ cont: fem reader, spanking, fingering, dirty talk, rough sex, unprotected sex, overstimulation

You stood with your hands perched on the back of the couch, your eyes not once straying from where they were glued to Nanami's opposite the couch from you, the only thing that separated the two of you besides the coffee table that sat in front of the couch. "Ten second headstart." You said, already feeling your heart start to pick up at the promise of Nanami chasing you around. 

You knew logically no matter how much time you asked for, he would always catch you in the end, but that's what you wanted, not that you would tell him that—even if he already knew. Nanami nodded, removing his hands from his pockets confidently, his mouth barely quirking up in a smile at the corners, the skin beside his mouth dimpling with it. "You won't catch me this time." Lie. "We'll see." Was his only reply before he raised his hands and started ticking down his fingers, letting you know he had started the timer.

You ran around the couch, passing him where he stood on the other side as you ran for the kitchen across the room, using the large island in the middle of it to separate him from you. It was your best bet to escape him for as long as possible, wait him out here, bait him to stalk you around the island, and shoot up the stairs for his office which had the only locking door in the house save for the bathroom, but that was too close to the kitchen, you needed more time to get away. 

You watched, eyes bright and heart racing as his fingers hit 1, then he closed his hand tightly, letting you know you were out of time before he started walking toward you calmly. Your smile grew larger the closer he got, as did his, though he was far more cocky and confident than yours which was playful and full of adrenaline. "Aren't you going to run, sweetheart?" Nanami asked, cocking his head to the side as he made his way to the kitchen, standing across the island from you.

"I told you I learned some new tricks, you won't catch me this time." You said confidently, moving slowly toward the corner of the island, trying to bait Nanami into following you. And sure enough, he did. He didn't reply to you, just started walking towards the side in which you were closest to him, making you walk away from him, the two of you slowly circling the kitchen island as you made your way back to the opening of the living room.

You knew not to avert your eyes to his and give away your plans, if he caught you looking towards the direction you were going to run, he would catch you—no doubt about it. Nanami was taller and faster, his long legs eating up the space between you like nothing whenever you ran from him, so you had to be smart about this. "We'll see if your tricks are enough." Nanami finally voiced, stopping in his tracks diagonal to you, him standing where you just were in the kitchen, your positions now reversed. 

You smiled at him in response, showing your teeth before you turned abruptly and took off sprinting across the living room. Your heart raced in your chest, the sound echoing through your whole body and making that the only thing you were able to hear. You wanted to turn around so bad and see how close he was, but you knew you couldn't afford to do so. You let out a laugh as you reached the banister on the stairs, gripping it tightly as you pulled yourself forward, using that momentum to run up them as quickly as you could. 

You tried not to think about how Nanami often went up the steps two at a time, so if he was running he could probably manage three or more... shit. Your adrenaline was still pumping, making you more assured of yourself as you reached the top of the stairs, sure he wasn't right on your tail. His office was in your sight already as you pushed off the wall and sprinted toward the end of the hall. You were mentally praising Nanami for his constant pushing to leave all doors in the house open unless they were being occupied so the air could flow freely between them, making it so none of the rooms were stuffy—meaning the door was wide open and all you had to do was grab that door and slam it like your life depended on it. 

You could only feel your own steps as you raced down the hall, surprised that he hadn't reached the top of the stairs yet, but that meant you had one, you finally had one. You reached the office and grabbed the handle before spinning yourself around and momentarily disorienting yourself before you were snatched into a pair of strong arms and hoisted over a shoulder with a scream of surprise. You felt like your heart was going to leap out of your chest and run away at the shock.

How had he got you so fast? You were sure he wasn't on your trail, but apparently, that had been wishful thinking. "Nanami!" You laughed, kicking your legs against him, trying to free yourself as he held you over his shoulder with an iron grip, his arm locked tightly around the back of your thighs so you couldn't wiggle out of his grasp. Your laugh was cut short when a harsh smack was left on your ass, the sting making you whip your hands back and cover yourself from him. 

Nanami swiftly kicked the door shut behind him and stalked over to his desk, wrenching your hands away from your ass easily in his grip. "This is my reward for catching you, hands down." He said calmly, the deep baritone of his voice making you shiver as he pulled you off his shoulder and spun you away from him, using his body to press you against the edge of his desk and pushing you down on it with his hand on the middle of your back.

You weren't able to resist his moves, the speed of his actions making your body more pliant than you would've liked. The papers on his desk crumpled under your chest as you tried to push yourself up so you could stand again, and maybe try to attempt to run away, though you never had been successful at that before. Kento grabbed your wrists with both his hands and locked them behind your back with strength only he could possess, freeing himself a hand as he kept you at his mercy, rubbing his free hand against the swell of your ass.

"The new trick you tried didn't work so well." Nanami cooed, stating the obvious and making your face feel hot as he rubbed your loss in your face. "Were you planning to lock yourself in my office?" He asked, sliding his hand up and down the side of your body, making your skin prickle under your shirt. "Yeah, I was close too." You said defiantly, trying to gain back even a little bit of your ego. You had been so sure of yourself and now look at the position you ended up in.

"Mmm," Nanami hummed, the deep sound of it in his throat making your legs part willingly for him as he pressed his knee against the inside of your thigh and made you spread them. "What were you planning to do once you were in here?" He asked, making you pause. You looked around his office, thinking on his words. I don't know, relish in your victory? Bait him through the door? Write taunting notes about how he's a loser and slide them under the door for him to read?

"What do you think would happen when you opened the door? You couldn't stay in here forever." He asked confidently. "I'd come out because I would have won." You said quickly, the answer obvious, "There is no time limit on the game." He said, his fingers pushing up the back of your shirt and sliding against the skin of your back, pushing the fabric against your arms that were locked behind your back. The gears in your head started turning as you considered his words. 

"What do you mean?" You asked, turning your head as far to the side as you could manage to look at him from under your lashes. "I will always catch you, you can't escape me." You opened your mouth to complain, to whine about how the game has been rigged from the start, how there was no way you could ever win, when a loud slap against your ass stopped your words from coming, a different sound escaping you. Your hands balled into fists as you wiggled back against him, trying to find relief against the sting that never came. 

"That's not fair." You pouted. Nanami huffed out a laugh before his large hand rubbed across your backside, his fingers finding the hem of your shorts before pulling them down to pool around your ankles. "No, it's not." He agreed, another harsh smack making contact with your skin, making you jump. Nanami's warm hand stayed against your flesh rubbingaway the pain as he pressed closer to you, his crotch pressed against your left thigh. "But you don't mind as much as you're trying to make me think you do." He said assuredly. 

You felt a tick of annoyance run through you before it was almost completely snuffed out by another slap of his hand, this one followed by two more in quick succession against your other cheek. "Why would you think that?" You sighed, trying not to pant through your words and give in to him as much as you wanted to. "This whole game has been rigged the whole time." You complained, your eyebrows shooting up when he pressed his knee against your clothed cunt, making you press try to press your legs together--an action that was stopped by his knee that was knocked into your own, keeping you spread. 

Nanami gripped your ass in his hand before leaning over you, massaging the fat of your backside as his weight crushed you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. He rut his hips against your thigh, letting you know how much he was enjoying his win before he pressed a kiss right under your ear. You shut your eyes, a gasp falling from your lips as all complaints left your brain, the only thing you could think of being the weight and scent of him as he consumed you entirely. 

"You like it when I chase you, but you like it when I catch you even more." He whispered against your ear, his voice making you clench around nothing. "You're so cocky." You breathed, making him breathe out a laugh before he placed a kiss on your neck, the top of your spine, your shoulder blade. You held your breath when his hand that gripped your flesh slid between your legs, your body welcoming him as you spread your legs wider for him.

You couldn't stop the gasp that fell from between your lips when he pushed aside your panties like they were never there and rubbed his fingers through your wetness before dragging them across your clit. "And you're soaked, sweetheart," Nanami replied, showing you just how right he was about how much you loved being caught by him. But you didn't need him to tell you that, you already knew. 

Nanami leaned back from crushing you with his body at the same time he slid his fingers back down to your entrance and pushed two thick fingers inside you like it was nothing—and it might've well been, his fingers getting swallowed up by your wet cunt with ease. The groan that left your lips made his cock twitch in response, the feeling of his hard length against the back of your thigh driving you crazy. 

He released your arms from being caged behind your back, which you immediately used to grab the edge of the desk to steady yourself. Just when you were about to beg him for more, he slapped you again, harder this time, your ass stinging at the impact while your pussy tightened around his fingers like a vice. Nanami echoed your moan with a groan of his own as he began thrusting his fingers in and out of you, the wet squelching of your cunt echoing throughout his office.

"I can feel how much you like it." Nanami groaned, his voice deeper and more assertive with his arousal prominent. "Fuck," You whined, wiggling your hips back to meet his thrusts." Smack, another slap making you whine, a fuzziness starting to build in your mind as he fucked you harder on his fingers. "Tell me how much you like it, honey." Nanami moaned, though it sounded more like a beg as he rubbed his hips harder against your ass, trying to relieve himself on you. 

"Kento," You whined, thrusting your hips back against him harder. A clinking of a belt and a zipper following the sound told you Nanami was ridding himself of his own pants. Another slap against your sore ass was all the motivation you needed to answer him, nodding against the desk. "I love it Ken, I love it, it feels so good." You whined, your clit throbbing at the lack of attention as you wiggled back, hoping he would relieve you soon. 

You cried out when he pulled his fingers out of you abruptly, "Shhh, don't cry-" His words ended as he slammed himself inside you in one thrust, the stretch and slight burn of the sheer size of him making your eyes roll back in your head as he started up a brutal pace inside you, giving you little time to adjust before his hand dropped to your clit just as you wanted while his other massaged your soon to be bruised ass. 

Without his knee between yours anymore, you were able to squeeze your thighs together around his hand as your orgasm wracked through your body, making you scream as he pounded it out of you, his cock hitting just the right spot inside your soft walls and prolonging your high as his expert fingers matched pace with his thrusts on your clit. "K-kento-" You whined, one of your hands wrapping around his wrist that kept rubbing your oversensitized clit, the pleasure of it bordering on pain. 

"I know, I know, honey." Nanami cooed, his voice soft but his actions a stark contrast as he slapped your ass twice, once on each cheek, never once faltering his rough thrusts inside you, "You have to let go, sweetheart. Let go of my hand." He instructed, making you shake your head back and forth violently, only resulting in his fingers rubbing faster back and forth along your clit, it was almost too much.

"T-too much, Kento- f-fuck-" You cried, squeezing your eyes shut tight as you tried to lean forward to escape the pleasure, but he just followed you with his thrusts, knocking hard into your g-spot each time he slammed inside you. "No, it's not, Iknow what you can take." He replied dismissively, massaging your ass in a circle. The two of you had a safeword that had been long established and never used, and you weren't thinking about using it now, so maybe he was right, maybe he did know how much you could take.

You simply whined in response, feeling another orgasm quickly creeping over you, no escape from it in sight. "Let go of my hand, sweetheart, I won't ask again," Nanami said through a groan, his hand briefly coming up to cradle your cheek in a sweet gesture before he slid it back down your body and slapped the back of your thigh. The niceness of his words and the roughness of his actions made it hard to combine them into one person, you almost wanted to curse him out for sounding so unaffected but you knew he wasn't fairing much better than you.

The small sounds of him grunting and cursing under his breath told you exactly how he was doing. Kento's thrusts started losing their rhythm as he lost himself inside you. Begrudgingly, you let go of his hand, your own shaking as you placed it back on the edge of the dest, your knuckles turning white from how hard you were gripping it. "Good girl, I have you, I-I'll take care of you." The sound of Nanami's words getting choked off by a groan made your clit throb under his fingers. It was a fucking headrush knowing how much this man lost himself to you. 

"Please-" You begged, unsure of what you were asking for but knowing you weren't going to last much longer. "Let it out, I'm right behind you." Nanami nodded, leaning over your body and wrapping an arm under your stomach, pulling your back tightly to his chest as he humped his cock in and out of you, the stretch and loss of him with each thrust making you go a little dumb in the head each time. 

"Cum-" You weren't even able to finish your sentence as you came with a cry at the same time Nanami placed his lips on your cheek and kissed softly, trailing those kisses over your shoulder and neck as his fingers and cock worked in perfect harmony to draw your orgasm out of you. "Coming, I'm coming- oh my god-" Kento groaned through his teeth, his hair tickling your face as he buried his head in your neck and ground his hips flush against yours. 

The circular movement of Kento's hips against your ass made your legs shake with sensitivity as his fat tip rubbed against your g-spot as he emptied his balls inside you. A warmth filled you from the inside out with each kick of his cock as he came, rope after rope of his seed filling you just like he did every time he fucked you. A loud, low, continuous groan left his throat as his balls throbbed with his release, his fingers finally ceasing their rubbing against your clit as he went still, basking in his orgasm while keeping himself inside you. 

You reached a shaky, weak amr behind you and grabbed the back of his neck, gently scraping your nails up along his neck and trimmed undercut of his hair. Nanami hummed in satisfaction before he lifted his head and found your lips with ease, kissing you gently and lovingly, like the two of you had all the time in the world and nothing would ever separate the two of you. 

He pulled away and looked at you, a content expression on his face. He leaned in to press one more kiss against your eyelid before he pulled back entirely, smoothing his hands down your sides as he pulled out of you, making the both of you moan at the missing contact of the other. You already wanted to whine about how empty you felt, but you knew you could have him whenever you wanted so that feeling didn't last long.

"My ass hurts." You complained, breaking the silence as you were now finally able to feel the full extent of his actions without a clouded mind. Kento laughed as he pulled your panties back in their rightful place, keeping his cum stuffed inside you as he patted his fingers over your cunt before dropping down and sliding your shorts up your legs. "I'm sorry, my love. I'll take responsibility." He said, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

"You gonna massage my ass all night?" You asked, pushing your body up and leaning against the back of the desk, not yet ready to fully rely on your shaky legs yet. "Of course, I was the one who bruised it after all." Kento nodded as he buckled his belt back into place before stalking forward and caging you in with his body. You wrapped your arms around his neck like you've done a thousand times and let him lean in to kiss your neck, his hands wrapping around your waist to help you stand.

"Good." You said, relishing in his kisses before speaking up again, grabbing ahold of his face and pulling him back so you could look at him properly before you asked your question. "Was the game really rigged this whole time or were you just saying all that to be sexy?" Nanami smiled at that, his own hands grabbing your cheeks as he placed a kiss to the top of your head, to lessen the blow of his inevitable answer you knew was coming. " You know it is, I will always catch you." 

[corvidcrossbow]

~•♡•~ I Like It Long

➳ Summary: While out on a run, you and Michonne start lightly teasing Daryl for having his hair grown out. But there's a hidden reason as to why he won't cut it. (Daryl x Fem!Reader)

➳ Setting: Alexandria, post Savior war

➳ Word count: 1.4k

➳ C/W: Just smut n hair pulling

➳ A/N: This spawned from me writing the context plot of another fic and I was like… wait (And thank yall for the attention on that Mother's Day post??? Yall are so sweet 😭🫶)

My hair is really similar to Daryl's when it's partially or almost dry and it's actually my favorite thing about myself like xbsosjdjdneisnsiasjebeiisjabajissn

You loudly banged your forearm against the glass door of a long abandoned drug store, not hearing any noise inside. Vines and weeds had grown through cracks in the concrete, winding up the sides of the building.

“Sounds pretty clear,” You shrugged, holstering your bow and opting for hand-held blades as Michonne pulled open the handle. You, her, and Daryl were clearing through a nearby town while out on a supply run, opting to make quick work of the task in favor of getting home.

You three entered the building, keeping your guard up in case of any straggling walkers that weren't roused by the initial attempts to lure them towards you. The interior wasn't large, so you could comfortably split off from each other and still be close.

“Seems mostly ransacked. Not much left,” Michonne commented, katana lowered but out in front of her. This had begun to grow repetitive and boring, energy matching the grayness of the lighting.

She took a pair of hair cutting shears off the shelf in front of her, holding them up to your gaze a few isles over. “Think he could use these?” She asked as a smile played the edges of her mouth, nodding back towards Daryl, looking for mischief. His hair had grown quite long over the course of the last two years, the tawny blond darkening into a rich brown, accompanied by a shaggy cut.

“Oh definitely. Jus’ gotta determine which onna us can hold him down long enough to cut it,” You replied with a chuckle, eyes following hers to where the archer stood at the endcap of another lane.

“Shuddup, will ya?” Daryl scoffed, shaking his head with grunt. His gaze didn't break from the advertisement in front of him, trying to ignore your antics. “Ts'fine.”

“Gotta make use of whatever supplies we find, no?” You continued your teasing, trying to hide the grin on your face at his reaction. “You were sweatin’ like a pig all summer, hair tangled all over yer face ‘n what not. When was the last time you cut it?”

“Don’ kno’, don’ care,” He grumbled, and you eyed Michonne again. It's definitely been since the prison, at least. He moved on from the stand. “Plus, winter up ‘ere's gon be colder. Will keep me warm.”

“Daryl, you're ‘bout the only one who didn't freshen up since we got to Alexandria. Don't you at least want a trim?” Michonne pestered, raising her eyebrows at him and shifting her weight to one leg. “You remember Rick's whole hobo-beard.”

“Ain't got no ‘hobo-beard’.”

“But you do look like the only ‘scissors’ you know is the recently searched on your go to porn site,” Michonne chaffed, barely able to contain herself.

Daryl froze for just a second, face flushing as his head whipped to stare back at her. And you two burst out laughing, to which his expression soured.

“Give it up, alrigh’?! Ain't nothin’ wrong with mah hair!” He snapped, accent thick with embarrassment, bowing his head slightly in an effort to obscure it. He readjusted his hold on his crossbow. “Gon shoot tha botha ya.”

“Ay, ay! Jus’ sayin’. Rick scrapped the beard and… maybe you'll finally get some play too,” She winked, followed by a lighthearted snicker.

Daryl groaned again and rolled his eyes, beginning to walk off, but caught your gaze for just a second.

It's not that he didn't want to cut his hair - he didn't care about it – but he wasn't really allowed to either way. There was one major, sexy, moaning reason he didn't cut his hair.

❥-》》—————➣

“Oh, god, Daryl! Fuck! Don't stop… god don't stop,” You cried out, hands clutching his shoulders as your nails began to dig into his flesh. His grip on your hips was bruising, keeping you steady as he pounded up into you at a relentless pace. That grip was the sole thing grounding you in the reality of the present moment.

“Ain't gon stop,” He affirmed, voice gravelly. You moaned wildly, head weakly falling to his chest with exacerbated breaths, his own heaving against your temple. He leaned closer when he could, harshly sucking at your clavicle and boobs, leaving behind a litter of hickeys and little bites that colored you in reds and purples.

The springs of the bed beneath you sounded like they were gonna fold in on themselves, headboard sporadically banging against the wall as Daryl shifted down a little to hit into you at an angle, your clit brushing against him with each thrust. Your back arched overtop of him, shoving his dick into your belly.

“Baby, please… fhuuuckkkk.” You couldn't even think, every thought consumed by the feeling of him. The way he just destroyed you like it's an art he'd mastered, tip brushing against every sweet and sensitive spot inside you, walls desperately trying to cling on, balls hitting up against you, clit grinding on him, slickness coating his pelvis and your inner thighs, his clutch on you just so fucking strong.

You pulled yourself together, lifting your head to see him. His long hair was dark and dampened with sweat, matting up as it stuck to his forehead, obscuring part of his vision. But he was too focused on using you to fix it, didn't dare to remove his hands unless God willed him to.

You moved up, swiping it away, and his blue eyes instantly connected with yours, pupils blown with lust. He (somehow) sped up, starting to slam your hips up and down to meet him instead of just keeping them stationary, now just beating your cunt.

“Tha's it girl. Jus’ keep takin’ me good like tha’.”

His words made you shiver, and you partially fell forward again, nestling your face beside his and snaking an arm behind his head. Your fingers weaved through his messy hair, tangling at the scalp, then tugging harshly as another wave of pleasure ripped through you.

And he whined. There it is. His breathy gasps and grunts mingled with strained whines, and whimpers, as you pulled tighter and tighter at the roots of his locks. His face contorted, eyes nearly squeezing shut, that one vein bulging from his neck, directly on the verge of so much.

“Daryl… inside.., Dar-” You panted, cut off as everything went white and you hit your peak. Your whole body felt electrified, tensing, twitching, walls spasming, toes curling and claws clinging to his frame.

Daryl tipped over the edge almost immediately after, having just been waiting for you to cum first. He desperately pumped into you a few more times, before curving up once more and simultaneously ramming you down as he came deep in you, the warmth of his release spreading through your core, and he threw his head back with ragged breaths.

You were both left a sweaty mess, gasping for oxygen, feeling full and satisfied. Your muscles couldn't keep you up, and you collapsed onto him, loosening your hold at his scalp, his hold on your hips doing the same.

He recovered a bit quicker than you, bringing a hand up and brushing your own messy hair away the second he had the energy to do so.

“Ya alrigh’, sunshine?” He asked between hitches, hoping he hadn't been too rough. He soothingly rubbed his palm over the curve of your body where bruises were sure to form.

You nodded faintly, moving your head so you could breathe better, and you could feel him relax beneath you from the reassurance. He held you tenderly for a while, giving you time to regain your composure. Your eyes were closed in bliss. Few things beat the feeling of Daryl under you, rising and falling with his torso, hearing his low humming as he steadied himself – his softening cock still buried deep inside you, cum ever so surely beginning to dribble down.

You lazily remained in his arms, not wanting to deal with getting up, or the shower you two definitely needed. You took a strand of his hair, affectionately curling it around your finger like a tendril, then letting it go and repeating.

“Ya actually want me tah cut ma hair?” He eventually asked, thinking back to your light mocking from earlier, how you'd laughed as Michonne layered it on. It didn't matter much to him, he'd do whatever pleased you.

“Fuck no. Was just messin’ with you, Dixon,” You replied, kissing the skin of his collarbone right below you, and moving up to find his lips. “You know I like it long.”

The long hair suited him, he looked good with it. You loved to wash and play with it, brush and braid it while he laid in your lap. But mainly, it was easy to grab at, pull on – and close to nothing in existence sounded better than those whines and whimpers every time you did so.

©corvidcrossbow 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified or adapted to other platforms. My work may be translated only if asked and with proof of given consent.