#I don’t think I ever had time and I was new to playing on the pc

[starkwlkr]

girl, so confusing | f1

an: this is SADLY the last part :( don’t worry, i do plan on writing more fics for the f1 dilf!! here’s your long awaited reveal on the baby daddy lol made this one extra long for y’all <3 enjoy!!

part 1 part 2

faceclaim gisele bündchen

liked by ynstyle, goss1pformulas and others

f1gossiproom could mark webber be the father? recently former red bull and williams drivers, mark and y/n have been spending time together. the pair were spotted having dinner several times and a source confirmed that webber attended y/n’s daughter’s recital! they were once again spotted out in australia spending time in bondi beach with y/n’s daughter (not pictured to protect her privacy) they were soon joined by friends and webber’s family. a source, who wishes to remain anonymous, saw them and said y/n’s daughter, gemma, and mark were bonding as if they were dad and daughter 👀 he even calls her ‘gem’ and ‘gemmy’! what do you think? is mark webber the real father? we certainly think so!

formulaho3 how about just leave them alone?

roscoesno1fan mark looks like a total dilf in that pic so yes

oscarspastry what if the real father is the friends we made along the way?

webberxvettel i need to know the truth before i die

hamiltonsmerecedes not f1 twitter trying to cancel y/n for getting with their faves 😭

lnwhores i stand by my cancelled wife

myhonestbitchface and when y/n reveals that sebastian is the bd then what 🤨 i feel it in my gut 👀 that german bitch is the bd

blackwidowswife bitch you’re just hungry

load more comments

THE PADDOCK SESSIONS has posted a new YouTube video!

Italics = voiceover by y/n

“Hello!” Y/n’s daughter, Gemma, opened the door to Dan. She knew that he was going to film an interview with her mother about her racing career. She watched as Dan’s camera man waved to her. She assumed they had already started filming.

“Gemma hates and loves when I’m away. She stays with her grandparents when I have to leave or if her dad is not busy then they’ll be together. I think she loves it because her dad lets her have ice cream before bed. I’m more of a strict parent between me and him.”

Photos of little Gemma appear on screen. The young girl was picture with her mother on her first birthday, then with Mark and family members then Sebastian and Jenson.

Dan entered Y/n’s London home with Gemma by his side. He spotted Y/n making tea. “Got here just in time.” He laughed as he joined the former driver in the kitchen.

“I hope the flight here wasn’t too bad.” Y/n passed a mug over to Dan.

“Slept my way through it,” before Dan could take a sip from his tea, he noticed the mug that he was given. It had ‘best dad ever’ sloppily written in paint. “Cute.” He held the mug up and smiled.

“Yeah, Gemma made it for her dad last year for Father’s Day.” Y/n smiled proudly at her daughter’s creation.

That’s when Gemma joined the conversation. “But I couldn’t give it to him on actual Father’s Day! He was away racing and couldn’t be here so I had to give it to him later.” She explained.

After the pair finished their tea, they walked together to Y/n’s small garden. There she had a little seating area where the rest of the interview would take place.

“Lovely garden.” Dan commented.

“Thank you, although I won’t take all the credit. Sebastian comes to help, Gemma kind of bosses him around telling him where each flower looks best.” Y/n laughed, setting her mug on the glass table.

“Dad loves the flowers I picked out for the garden.” Gemma pointed out as she joined them outside. As Dan started the interview, Gemma kept playing outside with her toys.

More images of a young Y/n flashed on screen. She was driving for Williams at the time, they were her first ever team.

“Williams was my first home. They were nice to me, but they put so much pressure on me to perform, like every race had to be perfect. And when it wasn’t, you could feel the disappointment, like a weight hanging in the air. I’d go back to my hotel room at night, and it was just me and the silence.”

The video showed a clip of young Y/n in the Williams garage getting ready for her debut race. She noticed the camera then smiled and waved. The video then cuts to from a happy, full of life Y/n to a gloomy, quiet Y/n sitting alone in her garage.

“I didn’t have friends in the paddock back then. Everyone was focused on their own thing, and the people around me—the trainers, the engineers—they all kept their distance. One of my trainers actually told me, ‘I’m not here to be your friend; I’m here to work.’ And that’s when I realized I was completely on my own."

Y/n then looked over her shoulder and saw Gemma using a teddy bear that her father had bought the girl for her birthday last year in Germany. The former driver smiled at the memory of her little family spending a special day together.

Back to the interview, Y/n then talked to Dan about her divorce. It was a dark time for her. She had been young when she said ‘I Do’ to a man she thought was the love of her life. At the time of her marriage, her husband was six years older. She was nineteen at the time, about to turn twenty.

Several headlines from the day her marriage was announced appeared on screen.

“Barely an Adult, Already a Wife: Y/N Marries Six Years Her Senior”

“Y/N’s Whirlwind Marriage: Chasing Love, Not Podiums?”

“Teenage Racer’s Rush to the Altar: Desperate for Love or Just Immature?”

“Is Y/N Looking for Validation in All the Wrong Places?”

“‘She’ll Marry Anyone’: Critics Slam Y/N’s Hasty Decision at Just 19”

"They painted me as some kind of desperate girl who couldn’t handle being alone. The truth was, I was 19, scared, and in love—or at least I thought I was. But that didn’t matter to them. They just wanted to sell papers."

Dan then spoke. “What led to the divorce?”

Y/n sighed deeply. Only a few people knew the real reason. “It’s . . . a complicated thing to talk about. I mean, when you’re nineteen and in love, or what you think is love, you don’t always see the red flags. At the time, I thought I’d found someone who believed in me, who would support me no matter what. But as time went on, I realized that wasn’t the case."

A picture of Y/n getting ready by herself on her wedding day appears on screen. Her family were not present as her husband at the time wanted it to be only them. She smiled brightly at the camera as her photo was taken. The image fades then clips of Y/n racing in the early 2000s play.

“He wanted a family. Kids, a house, the whole thing. And there’s nothing wrong with that, but he wanted it then, right when my career was just beginning. He gave me an ultimatum—racing or him."

Dan lightly gasped at her words. “Oh . . .”

“I chose racing. How could I not? It was everything I’d worked for, everything I’d dreamed of. But he didn’t take it well. He made me feel like I was selfish, like I was throwing away a chance at a ‘real’ life."

Several more images of Y/n and her then husband flash on screen. There’s no photos of him attending races, mostly because he thought racing was dumb and didn’t like loud crowds.

“He didn’t trust me. Whenever I was away at races, he’d insist I call him every single day, sometimes multiple times. If I missed a call because I was in a meeting or debrief, he’d accuse me of . . . things. Things that weren’t true. I couldn’t even have a normal conversation with my trainer or my team principal without worrying about how he’d react."

"There were times I wanted to visit my family, to go home and just breathe. But he’d make me feel so guilty for even thinking about it, like I was abandoning him. So I stopped trying."

The screen cuts back to Y/N on the sofa. Her hands are clasped tightly now, her voice calm but with an undercurrent of emotion.

“And then the divorce was final and for a moment I was happy until he went to the media spreading all sorts of lies.” Y/n added.

Several more magazine headlines appear on screen.

“The Truth About Y/N: Ex-Husband Reveals Why Their Marriage Failed”

“‘She Wanted the World to Love Her, Not Me’: Y/N’s Ex Speaks Out”

“‘All She Cared About Was Fame’: Y/N’s Ex-Husband Speaks Out About Their Divorce”

Then the screen cuts to clips of Y/n’s ex husband being interviewed about their marriage.

“I sacrificed so much to support her career, but she couldn’t give me the one thing I wanted: a family. She was too busy chasing the cameras and the glory.”

“It was rough. Instead of being asked about racing, I was asked about my failed marriage.” Y/n recalled all the times during interviews when her ex-husband’s name was mentioned. “I just wanted to go home a cry, but I had a job to do. But of course the attention I was getting got me fired.”

“How were you told you were no longe driving for Williams?” Dan asked.

“Would you believe it if I said it was a ten second phone call from Claire Williams?” Y/n laughed. “Claire and I were never enemies. A few days after I got her call, she had dinner in my house and explained to me that she didn’t want to be the one to call me, but she was pressured to. Apparently the Williams team thought it was best for her to tell me in a phone call because they thought it would be ‘easier’ if the news came from her, since she’s a woman. They thought it would hurt less coming from her. Can you believe that?"

Dan noticed how Y/n laughed at the mention of the famous ten second phone call.

“It was definitely ridiculous of them. But they didn’t understand how humiliating it was either way. But Claire . . . I could tell she hated it. She ended the call so quickly because she didn’t want to do it. She didn’t want me to be dropped from the team."

A photo showed of Claire Williams talking to Y/n before a race. At the time, Y/n didn’t know it, but Claire was her only friend.

“I don’t blame her for how it happened. She was caught in the middle of a decision that wasn’t hers to make. And honestly, her coming to my house afterward to explain—that meant something. It didn’t fix anything, but it showed she cared." Y/n finished drinking her tea then resumed speaking. “That ten-second call changed everything for me. But at least I know it wasn’t Claire’s choice. It was just . . . Williams being Williams."

“After everything that happened with Williams, you had every reason to step away from the sport. But instead, you joined McLaren. Looking back now, would you say that was the decision that changed everything for the better?" Dan questioned. He watched as her face softened. She truly adored her time with mclaren.

Y/n nodded. “Joining McLaren felt like a fresh start, like a second chance to prove what I was capable of. At Williams, I was just surviving. But at McLaren, I got to thrive."

Clips of Y/n during her time with the mclaren team played. Her smile was genuine and she looked happier than ever.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to keep racing. I didn’t know if I could trust another team. But McLaren . . . they believed in me in a way no one else had."

"It wasn’t just about the racing, though. McLaren gave me a second chance, not just at my career, but at myself. It reminded me why I fell in love with this sport in the first place."

“And then came those three idiots.” Y/n laughed when she remembered becoming friends with Mark, Jenson and Sebastian. Her cheeks tinting slightly, but her smile stays steady.

“But with that friendship came negative comments. I remember reading articles calling you horrible names just for having friendships with them.” Dan commented.

“Those negative comments still come my way even after many years,” Y/n added. “I stayed away from social media for that same reason until recently.”

“But with sharing your life on social media also came questions about your daughters life as well.”

Y/n knew it was something that was going to come up in the interview. Dan didn’t want to ask, but Y/n wanted to share. Gemma’s father and her had discussed it before and they both agreed to the interview.

“Yeah, the whole ‘who’s the father?’ thing has taken over every social media app i have. I can’t avoid it, especially when people constantly message me about it.” Y/n spoke. “Jenson thinks it’s hilarious.”

“Jenson?” Dan questioned.

“Yeah, he sent me a meme about it comparing us to Mamma Mia. I sent it to Sebastian and he sent it to Mark.”

The remainder of the interview, Y/n talked about her family she shared with the man who endlessly supported through everything. Every time she talked about him, she smiled brightly. It was clear that she loved him and their daughter more than anything.

As the video came to an end, Gemma was seen running towards someone who was out of frame. “Dad’s home!” Gemma jumped into his arms and hugged him.

“I thought you were flying in next week.” Y/n stood up to hug him.

“I come here to surprise you and Gem and this is how I’m treated?” He placed a kiss on Y/n’s temple, still holding onto Gemma. “Sorry, I definitely interrupted you two, haven’t I?”

“It’s alright, Jenson. We were just wrapping things up.”

INSTAGRAM

liked by landonorris, wagstyle and others

f1gossip after finally revealing the identity of her daughter’s father, y/n and her daughter gemma were seen together in a beach in california 👀 jenson button also lives in california so we’re thinking the button family is spending some time together.

vettelsbees GIRL SEB WAS SPOTTED AT LAX

hamiltonsmercedes AND MARK

nicorosbergisadiva WHAT IS GOING ONNNN

landonorris hey i know her

ferraridepressionclub ARIANA WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEREEE

webbertears what do you know you gremlin

load more comments

“Can I have money for ice cream?” Gemma ran up to her parents, Mark and Sebastian. The former drivers were all enjoying the sunshine of California, an idea that came from Gemma. She had been the one to call Mark and Sebastian to join her and her parents. They agreed even if they cancelled their plans with friends. They would literally do anything for the young girl.

Without hesitation, all the men took out their wallets and took out money for the girl. Their actions caused both Gemma and Y/n to laugh.

“Okay, thank you.” She gladly took the money from each of them.

“I’ll go with you, Gemmy,” Mark said as he got up from his spot and took Gemma’s hand in his. Together they walked to the ice cream stand.

“Has Claire called you?” Sebastian wondered. Ever since the interview was posted, the Williams team had posted several posts of Y/n when she was driving for them. They were finally acknowledging her wins and podiums. And of course they received some criticism from fans.

“She messaged me letting me know she watched the interview. She’s happy I did it.” Y/n replied.

“We all are. You should’ve done the interview years ago.” Jenson said.

Y/n only nodded and turned her attention to Mark and Gemma. The girl had always been close to both the German and Australian drivers, how couldn’t she when they had been in her mothers life and now they were in hers.

“Gemma asked if she could go to a race, but she wants you all to be there.” Y/n spoke up. Gemma desperately wanted the three men to join her. Y/n knew they would all say yes immediately.

“Did she say which one?” Sebastian asked.

“She said she wants to go to each of your home races.” Y/n grinned as Jenson immediately said he was in. Sebastian laughed then nodded. Of course they would join Gemma, the girl had them all wrapped around her finger.

“And will you be attending too?” Jenson winked at her. “We could do a repeat of what happened after Australia.”

“Funny, I was about to suggest the same thing but it happened in Canada.” Sebastian teased.

“Well weren’t you a busy woman.” Jenson smirked. “And Mark?”

Y/n kept quiet, innocently sipping her lemonade. After setting her drink down, the former drivers waited for her answer. “If you must know . . . We were in Vegas.”

Jenson groaned. “I was thinking Monaco.”

“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas, baby.”

[little-jana]

"Undercover Desires"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: heated, fade to black smut, 18+, no explicit s*x, fluff

Warnings: smut, kissing, jealousy, flirting, touching, fade to black smut, some case talk, reader wearing a dress, heated make out

Words: 3.6k

Summary: Spencer and Reader have to go undercover and the tension between them finally snaps.

It all started with a case. A high-profile trafficking ring had resurfaced, throwing lavish parties to attract their next targets. The BAU was called in to infiltrate, gather intel, and take them down.

The plan was simple: go undercover as couples and blend in. The ringleader was known for flirting with his guests, so my job was to get close enough to him while Spencer played the part of the jealous boyfriend.

When Hotch paired me and Spencer, I thought nothing of it at first. But standing in my hotel room hours before the party, staring at myself in the mirror, nerves twisted my stomach.

The dress was breathtaking—sleek, black satin that hugged my body in all the right places. A daring slit climbed up one thigh, and the plunging neckline left little to the imagination. Paired with heels that made my legs look endless and a swipe of crimson lipstick, I looked the part of someone who belonged at an elite soirée.

But then there was Spencer. Sweet, awkward Spencer. The man who always left extra sugar packets on my desk because he knew I liked my coffee too sweet. The man who stumbled over his words when he was nervous, yet could recite the entire DSM-5 without blinking. I couldn’t imagine how he’d react when he saw me like this.

I stepped out into the hotel hallway, my heels clicking against the tile. Spencer was waiting, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit jacket. His hair was styled neatly, and his navy suit hugged his tall, lean frame perfectly.

"Ready?" I asked casually, though my voice came out softer than I intended.

He turned, and the moment he saw me, his entire body went rigid. His lips parted slightly, his hazel eyes widening as they trailed over me from head to toe.

"You… uh…" He coughed, looking away quickly. "You look nice."

"Nice?" I teased, stepping closer. "That’s it? I spent hours getting ready, and all I get is 'nice'?"

His face flushed a deep crimson, and he tugged at his tie nervously. "I mean, you look beautiful. Stunning. I just… you look…" He trailed off, his eyes darting to the slit in my dress before quickly snapping back to my face.

I smirked, loving how flustered he was. "Relax, Spence. It’s just a dress."

He mumbled something under his breath, his cheeks still burning, and offered me his arm.

The party was a whirlwind of lights, music, and champagne. Spencer played the part of the protective boyfriend flawlessly, his hand resting on the small of my back as we navigated the crowd. But I didn’t miss the way his jaw clenched every time the ringleader’s gaze lingered on me.

When the man finally approached, his charm was as disarming as it was nauseating.

"You must be new to these circles," the ringleader said, his eyes raking over me in a way that made my skin crawl. "I would have remembered someone like you."

Spencer’s hand tightened slightly on my waist, his fingers pressing into my side.

"My boyfriend insisted we come," I said, flashing a sweet smile and leaning into Spencer. "He thought it would be… exciting."

The ringleader’s eyes flicked to Spencer, who was staring at him with barely concealed disdain.

"You don’t seem like the type for this scene," the man said to Spencer, his tone condescending.

Spencer’s lips twitched into a tight smile. "I prefer to observe," he said coolly, his voice steady despite the tension radiating off him.

The ringleader laughed, clearly unimpressed, and turned his attention back to me.

"Well, if you ever get tired of observing," he said, brushing a hand against my arm, "I’d be happy to show you a more… hands-on experience."

Before I could respond, Spencer stepped between us, his height towering over the man.

"I think we’ve seen enough for tonight," he said sharply, his hand gripping mine. "Come on."

The ringleader’s amused chuckle followed us as Spencer led me away, his grip on my hand firm.

We left the party shortly after, our mission technically accomplished. But the tension that had simmered all night between us felt more potent than ever.

Back at the hotel, I kicked off my heels and leaned against the door of my room, watching as Spencer paced back and forth.

"What was that back there?" I asked, crossing my arms.

He stopped, running a hand through his hair. "I couldn’t stand the way he was looking at you," he admitted, his voice low.

"That was the point," I said, stepping closer. "We needed him to notice me."

"Yeah, well, he noticed you a little too much," Spencer muttered, his jaw tightening.

I tilted my head, studying him. "Were you jealous?"

His eyes snapped to mine, and for a moment, he looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"I—no—I mean…" He sighed, his shoulders slumping. "Yes. Okay? I was jealous."

The admission hung in the air, heavy and charged.

"You don’t have to be," I said softly, stepping closer until I was inches from him.

"You don’t understand," he said, his voice rough. "All night, I couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful you looked, how every man in that room wanted you, and I—"

"You what?" I whispered, my pulse quickening.

His eyes locked onto mine, and suddenly, the space between us felt too small.

"I wanted them to know you were mine," he said, his voice low and intense.

The air crackled between us, and before I could think, I reached up and kissed him.

He froze for a fraction of a second before his hands found my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss was slow at first, exploratory, but it quickly turned into something deeper, more urgent.

"Spencer, I am yours. How can't you see," I murmured against his lips, my hands tangling in his hair.

He groaned softly, his grip on me tightening as he backed me up against the door.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he said, his voice rough.

"Then show me," I whispered, my heart racing.

The moment Spencer’s lips met mine, it was like a dam had broken. All the tension, all the unspoken words and lingering glances from the past few months, surged to the surface, spilling out in the way his hands gripped my waist like he couldn’t bear to let go.

The kiss deepened, his tongue sliding against mine with an urgency that left me breathless. I clung to him, my fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him even closer as his body pressed me firmly against the door.

"Spencer," I whispered, his name a breathless plea as I broke the kiss for just a moment, my chest heaving.

His eyes, dark and blazing with something primal, searched mine. "I shouldn’t," he murmured, his voice rough, but his hands betrayed him, moving up my sides, his fingers brushing the bare skin over the open back of my dress.

"But you want to," I said, my voice daring as I leaned in, letting my lips brush his jaw, his neck. "Don’t you?"

His breath hitched, and I felt the slight tremble in his hands as they tightened on my hips. "More than you know," he admitted, his voice low, almost a growl.

"Then stop overthinking," I whispered, letting my teeth graze the sensitive spot just beneath his ear.

He groaned softly, his restraint finally snapping. In one swift motion, he spun us around, his hands on my waist lifting me easily as he carried me across the room. I gasped as he set me down on the edge of the bed, his body towering over me as he looked down, his gaze filled with a hunger I’d never seen in him before.

"You’re dangerous, you know that?" he said, his voice rough as he leaned down, his hands bracketing my thighs as his lips found mine again.

I smirked against his mouth, tugging at the lapels of his suit jacket. "And you’re overdressed."

That was all the encouragement he needed. He shrugged off the jacket, letting it fall to the floor as I worked at the buttons of his shirt, my fingers trembling slightly with anticipation. He caught my hands, his touch gentle but firm, and his eyes locked onto mine.

"Slow down," he murmured, his voice soft but commanding. "I want to take my time with you."

The intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. "Spencer—"

"I mean it," he interrupted, his hands sliding up to cradle my face as his thumb brushed my cheek. "You’ve been driving me crazy all night. Let me have this."

My heart skipped a beat at the vulnerability in his voice, and I nodded, letting my hands fall to my sides as he took control.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savoring every moment as his hands explored, his touch setting my skin on fire. The straps of my dress slipped down my shoulders under his fingers, and I shivered as his lips trailed down my neck, over my collarbone, leaving a path of heat in their wake.

"You’re beautiful," he whispered against my skin, his voice filled with reverence. "You have no idea how hard it was to keep my hands off you tonight."

"Then don’t," I whispered back, threading my fingers through his hair and pulling him closer.

His soft laugh sent a shiver through me, and he obeyed, his touch growing bolder as he worshipped every inch of me with his lips, his hands.

Spencer’s soft laugh melted into a low hum of satisfaction as he kissed me again, his lips warm and inviting against mine. The quiet intimacy between us was something I hadn’t expected—something that wasn’t hurried, wasn’t fleeting. It felt deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every moment of this.

As I shifted in his arms, his hands tightened slightly around me, keeping me close. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, his lips brushing the curve of my jaw.

“I wasn’t planning to,” I replied, smiling against his skin.

The vulnerability in his gaze when I tilted my head to meet his eyes made my breath catch. Spencer Reid was usually so composed, so logical and measured in his actions, but this moment? This was raw and unfiltered. His hand slid up to cradle the side of my face, his thumb gently brushing my cheek as if he needed to convince himself that this wasn’t some fleeting dream.

“I’ve wanted this for longer than I should probably admit,” he confessed softly, his voice low and rough with emotion. “But I never thought—”

“You never thought what?” I prompted, my fingers lightly tracing the line of his jaw.

He hesitated for a moment, as though choosing his words carefully. “I never thought I’d be brave enough to cross that line with you. You’re... you’re too good, too—”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence,” I interrupted, a playful warning in my tone. “If you try to put me on some pedestal right now, I’m going to knock you off of it.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, his fingers threading through my hair. “It’s not a pedestal. It’s just... you deserve more than what I thought I could give you.”

I pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath my palm. “And you don’t get to decide what I deserve, Spencer,” I said firmly. “That’s my call. And for the record, I’ve been hoping for this just as long as you have.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering across his face. “You have?”

“Of course I have,” I said, laughing softly. “Do you know how hard it’s been working with you every day, pretending I didn’t want more? But you’re you—brilliant, compassionate, a little infuriating in the best way. I didn’t think you’d ever look at me the way I look at you.”

He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned down and kissed me again, slow and deep, his hands holding me close as if he couldn’t bear to let go, while hovering over me on the bed. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, and his breath was warm against my lips.

“You have no idea how much I look at you,” he murmured, his voice low and earnest. “Even when I shouldn’t. Especially when I shouldn’t.”

His words sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn’t help but smile as I pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Good. Because I don’t plan on letting you stop.”

The tension between us, once so sharp and electric, had softened into something deeper—something that felt like it had always been waiting for the right moment to come alive. His fingers trailed down my arm, intertwining with mine as he gave my hand a gentle squeeze.

“Stay with me,” he said suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper.

I blinked, surprised by the vulnerability in his tone. “Spencer, I—”

“I mean it,” he said quickly, his eyes searching mine. “Not just tonight. Not just because of what happened. I want more than that. I want everything. With you.”

My heart clenched at the sheer honesty in his words. “You really mean that?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. The weight of his confession, combined with the warmth in his gaze, left me breathless. Finally, I squeezed his hand, a smile tugging at my lips. “Then you’d better keep up, genius. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer’s lips moved against mine with a newfound urgency, the careful reserve he always maintained giving way to something deeper, something raw. His hands trailed down my sides, hesitant at first but quickly growing bolder, his fingertips pressing into my hips like he was afraid I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight.

I tilted my head back as his lips left mine, trailing along my jawline and down to the sensitive spot just below my ear. His breath was hot against my skin, and a soft gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it.

“Spencer…” I murmured, his name trembling on my lips.

Hearing his name seemed to spur him on. His hands slid beneath the hem of my dress, the warmth of his palms setting my skin alight. His touch was still careful, still measured, but there was no mistaking the intensity behind it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he asked, his voice rough and low, like he was struggling to contain himself.

I shook my head, too overwhelmed to speak, and he pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes, dark and filled with heat, searched mine, and the vulnerability there made my heart ache.

“You drive me crazy,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Every time I see you, every time you smile at me, laugh at one of my stupid facts… I’ve wanted this for so long.”

His words sent a shiver through me, and I reached up, threading my fingers through his hair as I pulled him back down. Our lips met again, the kiss deeper this time, more urgent. There was no hesitation now, no holding back.

“Spencer,” I said softly, my voice shaky as I tugged gently on his dress shirt. “This okay?”

His eyes softened as he pulled back just enough to look at me. “More than okay,” he said, his voice filled with so much sincerity that it made my chest tighten. “But tell me if it’s not for you.”

“It is,” I assured him, my hands sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin. “It’s everything I want.”

His lips curved into a small smile before he leaned back in, capturing my mouth in another kiss. Each brush of his fingertips against my skin sent a wave of heat through me, and by the time he slid the fabric of my dress up and off my body, I was trembling.

“You’re beautiful,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over my collarbone. His voice was reverent, like he was seeing something sacred, and the intensity of his gaze made me feel like the most precious thing in the world.

I reached for him, pulling his shirt off of his shoulders and running my hands over the smooth planes of his chest. He shivered under my touch, his breath hitching as my fingers explored his skin.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of whispered names, stolen breaths, and the kind of intimacy that left no room for doubt or hesitation. Spencer was attentive and tender, his every touch and kiss a quiet promise, and by the time we finally collapsed together in the tangled sheets, I felt like I’d never been more seen or cherished in my life.

As I rested my head on his chest, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on my back, I couldn’t help but smile. The tension and uncertainty that had lingered between us for so long had finally broken, leaving only the warmth and comfort of something new and unshakable in its place.

“You’re stuck with me now, you know,” I teased, my voice soft and sleepy.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Because I don’t plan on letting you go.”

And as I drifted off in his arms, I knew without a doubt that he meant every word.

[muniimyg]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ SUPERNOVA // JJK ੈ✩‧₊˚

01 | 02 | ♡ 03

— stuck in an unspoken love triangle, oc and jungkook face the end of it all

au/genre:

mean girl au

love triangle

childhood friends to lovers

note: omg ! the end <3

//

jungkook had a plan. 

he was going to show you around the new exhibit, confess, and ask to be your boyfriend. his entire life, he waited for signs and for the perfect time—only for him to realize that there will never be a moment where bells ring and tell him; now. 

no. 

you see, after all this time—for his entire life—you have been the quiet. 

his quiet. 

all his life, it’s like his eyes only focused on you. everything and everyone around him was blurry and the only real clarity he had in his life was art and you… and as corny as it is; that’s what you are to him entirely. 

art. 

from your pottery, to the way you look, and to the way you simple are—you are his favourite masterpiece. 

the canvas gallery is where you two ran around as kids, amazed at all the pieces other artists made. so, it only made sense that this would be the place where he kicks his anxiety in the ass and finally fucking goes for it. 

so, he waited. 

and waited. 

…. and waited.

and right when he was about to call you—

hana showed up. 

she grabbed his arm and yapped all about how excited she is to be here with him. to that, jungkook shook off her grip and stepped away.

...

“what are you doing here?”

���___ gave me her ticket—”

“fuck that. hana, why do you always do this? why do you always take things from ___?”

with distant yet jealous eyes, hana replied; “because she has better things than me. i like her things. is it so wrong to like her things?” 

“are you insane?”

“maybe.” hana scoffed. “i don’t get it. what does she have that i don’t? we grew up together and did everything together—yet, it’s like… i’m not even half of her.”

“because you aren’t.” he growled. “you hate ___, right?”

silence. 

“that’s okay,” jungkook exhaled. “cos i fucking hate you. with all my being. ever since you blew out ___’s 14th birthday candles. ever since you always kissed the guys she was into. ever since her pottery business bloomed and you accidently knocked over a piece she was working on for two months. god, hana. i have and will always hate you.”

“shit, jungkook. is that it? are you done—”

“no,” he sighed. “i will never be done hating you for taking every opportunity to turn anything good for ___ into something bad. you want to play mean girl? fine by me. let’s fucking play. get this through your fucking head; i will never be yours but i will forever be ___'s."

...

jungkook gave you time.

partly because he was mad—mad that you gave hana your ticket so easily, mad at how quickly you folded like you always do. but mostly, because he knows how you are in moments like this. you don’t talk. you retreat, giving yourself space to breathe, to think. he hopes you’re using the time to clear your head, making space for him.

by the third week of awkward text exchanges—his dry "good night" met with your overly polite “you too"—and no more nightly facetime calls where he fell asleep to your voice, jungkook snaps.

he gets into his car and drives to your studio.

the late afternoon light spills through the frosted windows as he parks outside. his stomach twists at the sight of the closed sign hanging on the door, but the faint hum of a song playing inside tells him you’re there. jungkook knocks, loud and insistent.

for a moment, he worries you won’t answer.

that you’ll pretend not to hear him or let the music drown him out. but then, he hears the soft shuffle of slippers and the click of the lock.

when the door creaks open, you’re there.

cheeks flushed from the warmth of the studio, hair tied back messily, and streaks of dried clay smudged across your forearms. your apron is dusted in powdery beige, a damp hand towel clutched in your fingers.

“jungkook—”

he doesn’t let you finish.

his name on your lips is enough to tip him over the edge. stepping forward, he pushes the door shut behind him and closes the space between you in one fluid motion.

your back hits the sink behind you with a soft thud, the cool porcelain biting through the thin fabric of your apron. his hands find your waist first, firm and grounding, as though he’s anchoring himself to you.

“w-what are you—”

“i can’t do this anymore,” he mutters, his voice low and trembling, the words spilling out as though they’ve been trapped inside for years.

he shifts closer, one hand leaving your waist to cradle your jaw. his thumb grazes your cheek, where a smear of dried clay clings to your skin. you’re so warm, and so unbearably soft that it makes his chest ache. his other hand brushes against the edge of your apron, his knuckles bumping against the damp streaks of clay still drying on your fingers.

“jungkook—” you try again, but your voice falters when he leans in. his forehead brushes yours, and he’s so close you can see the strain in his jaw, the tension pulling at the corners of his mouth.

“i’ve had enough, ___,” he breathes, his voice trembling with something between desperation and exhaustion. “i’m tired of bending backwards to see you. i'm tired of people standing in front of you and i'm sick of you letting them. most of all, i’m tired of waiting for the right time. i—i’ve been in love with you since we were seven, and you know that.”

his hand leaves your cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his fingers trembling slightly as they linger there. “i haven’t done much to hide it, have i? i'm sorry. i've been a coward but... maybe i never did anything because i always knew how you felt about me too.”

your hands tighten on the towel, the wet clay squelching under your fingers. you glance down, unable to meet his gaze, but he doesn’t let you escape.

“look at me,” he pleads softly, tilting your chin upward until your eyes lock with his. the raw intensity in his stare steals the air from your lungs.

“please, ___... i'm fucking begging to you see me through this,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he leans his forehead against yours again. “i'm begging you to take my heart and mold it yours.”

and that’s exactly what you do.

your hands tremble, damp with clay and nerves, as you reach for him. you cradle his jaw gently, your thumbs brushing over the faint stubble along his cheeks.

then you kiss him.

jungkook freezes at first, his breath hitching in surprise, but it takes only a heartbeat before he softens. his lips move against yours, slow and deep, like he’s memorizing every second of this moment.

he’s hesitant—his hands stay planted on your waist, his grip cautious, almost shy. but when you sigh against him, his restraint snaps. his fingers curl into the fabric of your apron as he steps closer, pressing his body firmly against yours.

he bends his knees slightly, his arms sliding down to wrap around your thighs. with a quiet grunt, he lifts you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of the sink. your legs part instinctively, making room for him to step closer, his body slotting perfectly between yours.

you gasp softly as his hands find the back of your thighs, pulling you flush against him. your fingers slip into his hair, still streaked with clay, and he laughs quietly against your lips at the mess you're making.

his laugh fades quickly, replaced by a deep hum as he kisses you harder, with more certainty. the kiss grows messy, your breaths mingling and the faint taste of salt lingering between you.

when he finally pulls back, his lips are swollen, and his eyes search yours with an intensity that makes your heart stutter. he doesn’t move far—his forehead rests against yours, his nose brushing yours as his fingers trace small circles on your thighs.

“so…” he whispers, his lips curling into a boyish grin as his gaze flicks to your apron, your hands still smeared with clay. “about that mug?”

[rafeskai]

Not Now, Not Ever | Rafe Cameron

Summary: After a tense run-in with the cops, reader is injured while trying to escape, and Rafe reluctantly steps in to help. Though initially distant, Rafe's care and honesty break through the reader's defenses, revealing a vulnerability neither of them expected. As they face the aftermath together, the tension between them intensifies.

Pairings: Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings: Profanities

Author's Note: Requested by Anon! 

The thing about Rafe Cameron was that he always seemed untouchable. Born into privilege, raised on Figure Eight with a golden spoon in his mouth and a name that opened doors, he was the embodiment of everything you didn’t have. And yet, he was the storm you could never quite outrun.

You hadn’t meant to cross paths with him. Your world—chaotic, messy, and a little too close to the edge—didn’t belong anywhere near his. But life in Kildare had a way of throwing people together, whether they fit or not.

It started months ago, on a humid summer night at one of those wild beach parties you swore you’d stop going to. The sand was packed with bodies, the air heavy with the scent of salt and cheap beer. You were nursing your third drink of the night, watching the waves crash against the shore, when Rafe stumbled into your line of sight.

He looked like trouble—disheveled blond hair, a cocky smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and an energy that screamed recklessness. You’d heard the stories about him, the whispered warnings. Stay away from Rafe Cameron. He’s bad news.

You should have listened.

But when his sharp blue eyes locked onto yours across the bonfire, something shifted. It wasn’t a spark; it was a collision—two opposing forces drawn together by some unseen magnetism. He swaggered over, drink in hand, and before you knew it, you were trading barbs and sidelong glances, the tension between you electric.

“You don’t belong here,” he’d said, his tone teasing but laced with something darker.

“And you do?” you shot back, refusing to back down.

That was the first of many encounters. Somehow, despite your better judgment, you kept running into him. At parties, in the middle of town, even at the gas station late one night when you were buying snacks to fuel another all-night gaming session.

The dynamic between you was always the same: sharp words and stolen glances, a push and pull that left you dizzy. He got under your skin in a way no one else could, peeling back your defenses with a smirk or a well-placed comment. And yet, there was something about him—something vulnerable beneath the bravado—that kept you from walking away.

Rafe, for all his arrogance, seemed fascinated by you too. He’d ask questions he had no right to ask, dig into your life like he was trying to understand what made you tick. You never gave him straight answers, but you had a feeling he saw through your deflections.

One night, after too many drinks and an argument that left you both seething, he’d grabbed your arm as you turned to leave. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you?” he’d spat, his voice low and dangerous.

You’d stared at him, something raw and unspoken passing between you. “No,” you’d said quietly. “I think we’re both just really, really fucked up.”

He hadn’t let go right away. And in the silence that followed, something unspoken settled between you—a fragile truce, an understanding that you were both running from something neither of you wanted to name.

But your worlds were still too different. While you spent your days trying to keep your life from spiraling further out of control, Rafe seemed to thrive in the chaos. He was fire to your gasoline, and every time you got too close, you felt the heat.

You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. That the stolen glances and lingering touches were just part of the game he liked to play. But late at night, when the world was quiet and you were alone with your thoughts, you couldn’t stop wondering: What would happen if you let yourself fall?

You never got the chance to find out.

The months passed, and the tension between you remained unresolved. 

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow casting eerie shadows across the tangled maze of Kildare’s backstreets. You had been here before—ducking between alleyways, heart pounding in your chest like a war drum, your breath coming in sharp, uneven gasps. But tonight was different. Tonight, you weren’t just out of luck. You were out of time.

The piercing sound of sirens grew louder, echoing through the quiet night, chasing you like a predator. The adrenaline pumping through your veins was the only thing keeping you upright. Your knees ached from the sprint, but you couldn’t stop now. Not when the alternative was cuffs and a mugshot.

You cursed under your breath, your mind racing as you turned a sharp corner and slipped into a narrow alleyway. It was dark and cramped, but it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Pressing your back against the cold, damp wall, you counted the seconds, hoping—praying—that the cops would pass you by.

Then, the unmistakable sound of heavy boots crunching gravel reached your ears.

Damn it.

Panic clawed at your chest as you scrambled to move, but in your haste, your foot caught on a loose brick. The ground rushed up to meet you, and you landed hard, pain flaring through your ankle and shoulder. You bit back a cry, clutching your injured arm as you tried to push yourself upright.

"Shit," you hissed, blinking back tears of frustration. There was no way you could outrun them now.

“Having fun down there?”

The voice came from above you, sharp and dripping with sarcasm. You looked up, squinting through the darkness, and your stomach sank when you recognized the silhouette. Rafe Cameron stood at the end of the alley, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. His piercing blue eyes practically glowed in the dim light, and the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth made your blood boil.

Of all the people to stumble across you in this mess, it had to be him.

“Great. Just my luck,” you muttered, dragging yourself to your feet with a wince.

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to your injured arm. “Looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“No shit,” you snapped, brushing dirt off your jeans. You glanced nervously toward the street, where the sirens seemed to be growing louder. “And I’d love to stay and chat, but I’ve got places to be.”

He didn’t move. Just leaned against the wall, watching you with that infuriatingly smug expression. “You’re not going anywhere like that.”

“I’ll manage.” You tried to take a step, but your ankle buckled beneath you, sending you stumbling forward. Before you could hit the ground again, a strong hand shot out to catch you.

You stared up at him, startled, as he steadied you. His grip was firm but careful, and for a moment, his usual arrogance was replaced by something almost… concerned.

“Careful,” he muttered, his voice quieter now. “You’re gonna hurt yourself worse.”

You jerked away from him, your cheeks burning. “I don’t need your help.”

“Right,” he drawled, letting his hands fall to his sides. “Because limping around on a busted ankle is working out so well for you.”

“Why do you care, anyway?” you shot back, glaring at him. “Last I checked, you weren’t exactly the Good Samaritan type.”

He shrugged, pulling the cigarette from his mouth and tucking it behind his ear. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe I just don’t feel like watching you get arrested.”

“Touching,” you said dryly, but the truth was, you were too exhausted—and too hurt—to argue. The pain in your ankle was unbearable, and your shoulder wasn’t much better. If you didn’t get out of here soon, you’d be spending the night in a cell.

Rafe must have seen the resignation in your eyes because he sighed, running a hand through his messy blond hair. “Come on. My truck’s around the corner. I’ll get you out of here.”

You hesitated, staring at him as if he’d grown a second head. “Why would you do that?”

His lips twitched, but it wasn’t quite a smile. “Let’s just say I’ve been in your shoes before.”

That wasn’t exactly comforting, but it wasn’t like you had any better options. With a reluctant nod, you let him drape your arm over his shoulders, his other hand sliding around your waist to support you. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and despite everything, a strange warmth spread through you.

“Don’t make me regret this,” he muttered as he helped you limp toward his truck.

By the time you reached it, the sirens had faded into the distance, leaving the night eerily quiet. Rafe opened the passenger door and helped you climb in, his hands lingering a moment longer than necessary before he stepped back.

As he started the engine, you leaned your head against the window, exhaustion overtaking you. You didn’t trust him—probably never would—but for now, you were grateful.

“Where are we going?” you asked softly.

“Somewhere safe,” he replied, his voice low and steady.

The rumble of the truck's engine filled the silence as Rafe drove through the dark, deserted streets. You fought to keep your eyes open, the adrenaline of the chase fading and leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of pain through your injured shoulder and ankle, but you bit your lip to keep from making a sound.

Rafe glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” you muttered, though the sharp sting in your shoulder said otherwise.

“Right,” he said, unconvinced. “Well, we’re almost there.”

You didn’t bother asking where “there” was. Arguing with Rafe Cameron was like shouting into the void—completely pointless. Instead, you stared out the window, watching the familiar streets give way to the isolated backroads of Figure Eight. The trees grew thicker, their twisted branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, and the only light came from the truck’s headlights slicing through the darkness.

When Rafe finally pulled into the driveway of a small, secluded cabin, you frowned. “This… isn’t your house.”

“Nope,” he said, cutting the engine. “It’s a place I use when I need to get away. No one’s gonna find us here.”

The way he said it sent a shiver down your spine, though you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or relief. You didn’t exactly trust him, but you were too tired to care. If this was some kind of elaborate trap, you’d deal with it later.

Rafe came around to your side of the truck and opened the door. “Come on,” he said, his tone softer than before. “Let’s get you inside.”

You didn’t argue as he helped you out of the truck, his arm steadying you as you limped toward the cabin. The interior was surprisingly cozy, with worn furniture and a stone fireplace that cast a warm glow across the room. It felt lived-in, though you doubted anyone else knew about this place.

“Sit,” Rafe ordered, guiding you to the couch. “I’ll grab the first aid kit.”

You sank into the cushions, wincing as the movement jostled your shoulder. The pain was worse now, no longer dulled by the adrenaline. When Rafe returned, he carried a small, battered kit and a bottle of water. He crouched in front of you, his expression unreadable as he set the supplies on the coffee table.

“This is gonna hurt,” he warned, pulling a pair of gloves from the kit.

“Great,” you muttered, but you didn’t stop him as he carefully peeled back your sleeve to examine your shoulder. His fingers were warm against your skin, and you cursed the way your breath hitched when he touched you.

“You dislocated it,” he said after a moment. “I’ll have to pop it back in.”

Your stomach flipped. “Can’t we just… leave it for now?”

Rafe gave you a look that said he wasn’t in the mood for jokes. “If we don’t fix it, it’ll get worse. Trust me, you don’t want that.”

Trust him. The words felt foreign, almost laughable. But as he positioned himself beside you, his hand bracing your arm, you realized you didn’t have much of a choice.

“On three,” he said, his voice low and steady. “One—”

Before he even got to two, he pushed. Pain exploded in your shoulder, sharp and blinding, and you let out a strangled cry. Tears blurred your vision as you gasped for breath, the pain slowly ebbing to a dull throb.

“You okay?” Rafe asked, his tone softer now.

You nodded, swallowing hard. “I hate you.”

A ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You’re welcome.”

The rest of the cleanup was quieter. He wrapped your ankle with surprising care, his touch almost gentle as he worked. You watched him in silence, noting the way his brows furrowed in concentration, the flicker of something unspoken in his eyes. It was strange, seeing him like this—focused, almost… kind.

When he finished, he leaned back, wiping his hands on a towel. “There. You’ll live.”

“Thanks,” you muttered, feeling awkward under his gaze. “For… everything.”

Rafe didn’t respond right away. He just stared at you, his blue eyes searching yours as if he was trying to figure out what to say. The air between you grew heavy, charged with an electricity that made your skin prickle.

“You’re a mess, you know that?” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual.

You bristled, narrowing your eyes. “Gee, thanks. Glad to know you’re still a jerk.”

“That’s not what I meant,” he said, his expression softening. “You’ve been running yourself into the ground, getting into all this trouble, and for what? You’re gonna get yourself killed one of these days.”

You looked away, the weight of his words settling over you. “Why do you care?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and for once, there was no edge to his voice. “But I do.”

The confession hung in the air, raw and unexpected. You turned back to him, your heart racing as you searched his face for any hint of a joke. But there was none. Just the truth, laid bare between you.

“Rafe—”

“I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, running a hand through his hair. “But I can’t stand seeing you like this. You drive me insane, and half the time I don’t even know why I bother, but… I care about you. More than I should.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless. You didn’t know what to say, how to respond to a confession you’d never expected. But as you looked at him, his usual mask of arrogance stripped away, you realized something else.

You cared about him too.

The tension between you crackled like a live wire, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left. His eyes flickered to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might close the gap.

But he didn’t. Instead, he leaned back, running a hand over his face as if to steady himself.

“You should get some rest,” he said, his voice rough. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The cabin felt different in the light of day. The warmth from the fire was gone, replaced by a cold chill that seeped into your bones. You hadn’t slept at all the night before—your mind too restless, too tangled with the memory of Rafe’s confession. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it didn’t mean anything. But the truth was, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Rafe’s voice echoed in your mind, his words hanging in the air like an unfinished sentence. “I care about you. More than I should.”

The way he’d said it—quiet, raw, and unguarded—had unsettled you. You weren’t used to that kind of honesty, especially not from him. Rafe Cameron wasn’t supposed to care. Not about you. He was supposed to be the reckless, untouchable bad boy that everyone warned you to stay away from.

So why couldn’t you shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as untouchable as you thought?

You stretched out on the couch, the pain from your injuries still a dull throb in the background, but nothing compared to the weight of your thoughts. The first light of dawn had barely crept through the curtains when Rafe appeared in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the soft glow.

“Morning,” he said gruffly, his voice rough with sleep.

You barely acknowledged him, your gaze fixed on the floor. “You don’t have to do this, you know.”

“Do what?” he asked, stepping into the room. He’d changed into a worn flannel shirt and jeans, looking as effortlessly put together as always, despite the tension between you.

“Act like nothing happened,” you muttered. You pushed yourself upright on the couch, wincing as you adjusted your shoulder. “We both know that you didn’t mean what you said last night.”

He was silent for a moment, his eyes studying you with an intensity that made your stomach flip. “You think I lied?”

“No,” you said quickly, though it didn’t feel entirely true. “I think you said it in the heat of the moment. Maybe you were trying to fix things or—”

“Or what?” Rafe cut you off, his voice sharper than usual. “You think I can’t feel things just because I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve?” His jaw tightened as he took a step closer, eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t lie. I said it because I meant it.”

The air between you thickened, the words hanging heavily in the space between you. You could feel the pull, the electric tension that seemed to coil tighter with every breath you took. But you were too stubborn to admit it—too scared to believe it was real.

Rafe ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “Look, I know you don’t want to hear it. But I can’t pretend like I don’t care. Not anymore.”

You stood up, a rush of emotions flooding through you. “This isn’t a fairy tale, Rafe. People like us don’t get to have happy endings.”

His eyes softened for a moment, the hardness in his expression giving way to something more vulnerable. “Maybe we don’t need a happy ending. Maybe we just need to get through the mess we’ve made together.”

For a moment, you didn’t know what to say. His words hung in the air, leaving you caught between something you couldn’t quite define and something you were terrified to face.

“I don’t know if I can trust you,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to stay composed.

He stepped closer, his presence almost overwhelming now. “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’m asking you to trust yourself. You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

His words struck a chord deep within you. You’d always prided yourself on being independent, on handling everything on your own. But the truth was, you were tired—tired of running, tired of pretending you didn’t need someone. And maybe, just maybe, Rafe was the person who could help you put the pieces back together.

But you weren’t ready for that. Not yet.

You stepped back, crossing your arms over your chest in a protective gesture. “I need space, Rafe. I’m not ready for this.”

He didn’t argue. Instead, he simply nodded, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. “I’ll give you space. But don’t think for a second that I’m going anywhere.”

The words were both comforting and suffocating all at once. You weren’t sure what you wanted anymore, but you knew you couldn’t keep pretending like this—like nothing had changed between you.

“I don’t need saving,” you said quietly, the words coming out sharper than you intended. “I’m not some damsel in distress.”

Rafe didn’t flinch. His eyes softened as he took a step back. “I know. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve help.”

There was a long, heavy silence between you, the weight of his words pressing down on you. For the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe he was right. Maybe you didn’t have to do everything on your own.

“I’ll be outside,” Rafe said after a moment, his voice low but steady. “If you need anything.”

You didn’t respond, your gaze already drifting to the window. As he walked out of the cabin, you sank back down onto the couch, your mind swirling with a thousand thoughts, none of which made sense.

But one thing was clear—no matter how hard you tried to push him away, Rafe wasn’t going anywhere.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

A few hours later, you were sitting at the kitchen table, absently staring out at the woods surrounding the cabin. You hadn’t heard Rafe move around, but when you looked up, he was standing in the doorway again, his gaze gentle.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, his voice tentative. “You’re in a lot of trouble right now, and I can help. My family... well, they know people. Good people. I can have my lawyers handle everything, get you out of this mess. You won’t have to run anymore.”

The offer hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his sincerity. You hadn’t expected him to offer something so personal—so vulnerable.

You blinked, still processing the offer. “You’d really do that? For me?”

Rafe’s jaw tightened, and he took a step closer, his gaze softening. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mean it.”

You hesitated. The idea of being free from the constant fear of being caught was tempting, but something inside you still resisted. “But... why? Why help me, after everything?”

Rafe’s expression shifted, vulnerability flashing through his eyes. “Because I don’t want to see you suffer. I don’t want you to keep running, thinking you’re alone in all of this.” He hesitated, his voice lowering. “And because, despite all the chaos, I care about you. More than I ever thought I would.”

The silence between you was thick, but this time, it didn’t feel suffocating. It felt like something fragile and real, the kind of thing that could grow if you let it.

You met his eyes, the weight of his words settling over you, and for the first time in a long time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, things didn’t have to be as messed up as you’d convinced yourself they were.

“I don’t want to keep running either,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Rafe gave you a soft smile, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. “Then let me help you. Let me fix this. You don’t have to do it alone.”

For a moment, you just stood there, looking at him, the air between you warmer than it had been in a long time. You didn’t have all the answers, and maybe things weren’t perfect, but for once, it felt like you were on the edge of something real.

“I’ll take your help,” you said, your voice steady but filled with a hesitant warmth. “But only if you promise not to bail when things get messy.”

Rafe chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now, not ever.”

And just like that, the walls between you crumbled, replaced with something new—something uncertain, but full of promise. For the first time in a long time, you allowed yourself to believe in a future where you weren’t alone. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

© 2025 rafeskai | All rights reserved. My work is a work of fiction inspired by different characters, and no part of it may be reproduced or distributed without permission.

[oldsoul007]

oh, baby

joel miller x reader

summary: joel and y/n connect over being a single parent

a/n: i don’t really know what this is but i thought it was cute

It was a quiet afternoon when Joel decided to take Sarah out to a local café for lunch. They’d been cooped up at home for days, and he figured a little outing would do them both good. Sarah, as usual, was full of energy, chattering nonstop about everything she’d learned in her preschool class. Joel half-listened, half-watching her with a soft smile as he sipped his coffee.

As they sat at their booth, a young woman with a baby in tow walked past their table, heading toward the counter. The baby—Joel couldn’t have been more than six months old—was bundled up in a soft blue blanket. The woman, with her beautiful hair and easy smile, caught Joel’s eye for a moment as she passed. She seemed familiar, but he couldn’t place where he’d seen her before.

She settled into a booth across the room, a little distance away, but something in the way her baby was looking at him caught Joel’s attention. The infant, a chubby-cheeked little boy, was staring directly at Joel. And not just looking—staring, like he was trying to figure something out. His big eyes were wide with curiosity, and as Joel shifted in his seat, the baby’s face broke into a small, soft smile.

Joel blinked in surprise, unsure how to react. Babies didn’t usually single him out like that. He gave a small, instinctive wave, half-embarrassed by the attention, but the baby only smiled more, his eyes locked onto Joel with an intensity that was almost too much. Joel let out a quiet chuckle and leaned back in his chair, feeling his own cheeks warm under the scrutiny.

“Dad, look!” Sarah exclaimed, pointing toward the baby. “That baby’s staring at you!”

Joel glanced down at his daughter, who had noticed the same thing. He gave her a shrug, trying to keep his tone casual. “Yeah, I think he likes my face.”

Sarah giggled. “I think he wants to be friends!”

The baby’s gaze never wavered. Joel looked across the room again and caught the mother’s eye this time. She smiled warmly at him, and that’s when it hit him—she looked vaguely familiar, though he still couldn’t quite place where he’d seen her.

I was noticing his lingering gaze on my son, raised an eyebrow and gave him a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that,” I called out, my voice soft but friendly. “He’s just really fixated on you for some reason. I promise he’s not usually so… intense.”

Joel smiled back, feeling both awkward and charmed by the exchange. “It’s no trouble,” he said, trying to sound at ease, even though the little boy’s stare was starting to make him feel like he was being examined. “He’s got a good eye.”

I laughed lightly as I shifted my baby in my arms, the boy still keeping his focus on Joel like he was some kind of magnet. “I’m y/n, by the way. And this little guy is Luke.”

Joel nodded, feeling a little embarrassed at the odd connection he was having with this woman and her baby. “I’m Joel, and this is Sarah.” He gestured to his daughter, who was happily busy coloring on the kids’ menu.

My eyes flickered briefly to Sarah, then back to Joel. “It’s nice to meet you both. Looks like Sarah and Luke could be buddies if they ever got the chance.”

Joel chuckled and shifted his gaze back to his daughter, who was now enthusiastically showing Luke her drawings from across the room. “She’s pretty good at making new friends,” he said, his voice softening as he watched Sarah interact. There was something so natural about her kindness—it always reminded him that despite the chaos of his life, he’d done something right raising her.

I followed his gaze, a faint smile playing on my lips. “She seems like a sweet girl.” My tone was warm, almost affectionate, but there was something else in my eyes—something that made Joel pause. Was that a flicker of interest?

For a moment, the conversation lapsed into comfortable silence. The soft clinking of cups and cutlery from the other tables filled the air, and the babies’ quiet babbles and giggles blended into the background. Joel felt a tug of something—something he hadn’t felt in a while. An interest, an attraction, maybe? But as quickly as the thought crossed his mind, he pushed it aside.

“I’m sure you’ve got your hands full,” he said, trying to steer the conversation away from anything too personal. “Raising a little one, especially with… everything that’s going on.” He let the last part trail off, not wanting to assume too much, but still curious about my situation.

I met his eyes, and for a brief moment, there was a softness in my expression, a quiet strength. “Actually, it’s just me and Luke. No husband.” I smiled, but there was something almost wistful in my eyes. “Not that I mind. It’s just the two of us.”

Joel blinked, surprised. He’d assumed, based on the way she spoke, that there was a husband or some kind of support in the picture. “I didn’t know,” he said, almost apologetically.

I laughed softly, as if it wasn’t something I minded sharing. “It’s not something I usually bring up, but I don’t really mind being open about it. It’s just how things are, you know? But enough about me. What about you?”

Joel shifted, unsure how to respond, the sudden shift in the conversation leaving him both intrigued and a little nervous. “It’s just me and Sarah. I’ve been doing the solo thing for a while now.”

I nodded, my gaze warm and understanding. “It’s not always easy, is it? Doing it on your own.”

“No,” Joel said, his voice a little quieter. “It’s not. But I’ve got Sarah, and that makes everything else a lot more manageable.”

I smiled at that, my gaze softening as I looked at him—really looked at him—and for a moment, the air between us seemed to thrum with an unspoken understanding. We both knew the challenges of raising kids on our own, and we both knew the weight of that responsibility.

It was at that moment that Luke gave a small gurgle, and Joel realized the baby had finally broken his intense gaze, now more interested in the rattle his mother was shaking for him.

Joel exhaled a quiet breath, his heart still unexpectedly racing from the interaction. “I think he’s finally looking at something else,” he said with a laugh, his nervous energy easing a little.

I smiled again, but this time, it wasn’t just a polite smile. It was a real one—a smile that seemed to carry the possibility of something more. “Well, if it makes you feel better,” I said with a wink, “you’ve got Luke’s approval.”

Joel’s lips quirked into a half-smile as our eyes met, a spark of something more—something tentative but unmistakable—passing between us.

He wasn’t sure where this might go, if anywhere at all, but in that moment, it felt like the start of something new. And for the first time in a long while, that thought didn’t feel so scary.

[actuallysaiyan]

The First Time(Aka How Nanami Kento Lost His Virginity)Chapter Seven: Reunion

warnings: breast play, smoking cigarettes, mentions of male masturbation, slight awkwardness from both parties pairings: Emo!Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader summary: summer is done and you return to school for the next semester. though you are a little nervous about being around Kento, he shows you that he's made some changes. and those changes are all to your benefit. a/n: SO SORRY for the literally month long delay! I so hope everyone enjoys this chapter! More to come soon, that I can promise. This series gets finished this year, I promise! also check out the soundtrack for this fic here!

taglist: @cherryblossombankai @kenpachisbrat @benkeibear

@harlekin6 @brokennerdalert @marikuchanxo @gennaray

@sugurusprettygirl @hazzelle-kento @pixelcafe-network

Masterlist

Summer passes by in a flash. And though everyone is sad to see it come to an end, you’re more than happy to make your way back to university. After the phone call, you and Kento tried your best to stay in contact all summer long, but it wasn’t always easy.

So when the first day of school comes around, you find yourself fussing over your looks more than usual. You had spent the last few days in your dorm, fixing up things and placing posters in the right spots. Despite your parents wanting to spend even more time with you, they had done their job helping you settle into your dorm room once more.

Then once the reality of everything dawned on you, that’s when you began to realize that you were actually going to see him again. Kento Nanami, the man who stole your heart. You wondered if maybe things would go smoothly. But on second thought, you were sure that there would be lots of awkwardness at first.

Even just thinking about the phone call made your stomach turn. It had been so sensual and sexy; truly something to remember forever. Just the sound of his voice had you going. You remember just how sticky your fingers had been as you played with yourself to the sound of his gorgeous voice.

And when he came, he had moaned so beautifully. You missed the sound of his voice. You missed his timid but cute smile. The smell of the cigarettes he smoked. You wanted to wear his hoodie and show the world that you were deeply in love with Kento.

So the first day back to class, you resolved to talk to him. You were going to make sure that you at least said one word to him.

The issue? You found yourself even more shy than before.

Both of you had clearly put a lot of thought into your looks today. You don’t think you've ever seen Kento so dressed up like this before. His blazer was properly ironed, his hair was actually out of his eyes for once and his skinny jeans didn’t have any holes in them.

You had also bought some new clothes for class. You were hoping that he would notice. It wasn’t like you to wear a dress, but this one had been just so beautiful. The long sleeves hugged your arms, which you always hated to show off. It came down to your shins. The color was such a dark black, and it only proved to make you look much more mature than you thought yourself to be.

And yet, despite the new clothes and the renewed sense of wanting to talk to one another, it just never happened. Too much talk of the syllabus and class planning and other people catching up with one another. You longingly looked at Kento from your spot across the room. You swore you caught him looking at you a few times as well, but you didn’t want to believe it.

The first few classes went by in a blur, and you held out hope that you’d talk to him. Every single second, you thought about what you’d say first. But nothing ever came up and you just couldn’t find the right time.

So as the first day of the second semester ended, you were mentally cursing yourself for being so ridiculous. How could you not just go over to him and say hi? He was just a man, not some alien from outer space trying to harvest your organs.

“Girl, you need to just go talk to him.” One of your friends said as you left the last class of the day.

You two are walking towards the dorm building. The way she could just read you so well was what made you nervous. If she could see it written all over your face, could everyone else see the same?You shrug; you’re without answers.

“He’s over there. Now go!” She shoves you in his direction.

You make your way over to him, your whole body shaking as if you were a child afraid to go down the slide. He looks up from his notebook, and there’s a soft smile on his face when he spots you. You approach him and clear your throat.

“Can I sit with you?” You inquire, pointing at the empty spot next to him on the bench.

Nanami blushes. “Y-yeah! Sure, sit down.”

You sit on the bench, watching as your friend gives you a thumbs up. Then you turn to look at Kento. He’s still writing in his notebook, but when he feels your eyes on him, he closes it.

“Hey, uhm…” you start but he interrupts you.

“You look good. I like that dress on you.”

His words turn around in your mind for a bit. Your cheeks are burning. Even though he just complimented you, you feel like all eyes are on you. You bury your face in your hands. 

“Wait, what did I say? Did I say something wrong?”

You shake your head, finally uncovering your face. You reach over and kiss his cheek, which in turn makes him blush now. You two look like a couple of kids in love.

“Thanks, Ken. You’re a gentleman.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I’m just me.”

A comfortable silence falls on the two of you. You reach over and grab his hand, making his blush further onto the tops of his ears as well. He looks at you with such a soft and tender look in his eyes, it makes your heart skip a beat.

“I really missed you this summer,” you confess.

“I missed you too.”

Your eyes lock with his and then he’s leaning in. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing your cheekbone. Then Kento leans in to capture your lips in a tender and loving kiss. Your breath hitches in your throat, but you melt into the kiss.

It’s almost like all the feelings you had for him were spilling out into this one kiss. When he pulls away, you’re the one chasing his lips this time. He smirks as a sudden wave of confidence washes over him over that little move.

“So,” he says as he fishes his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. He places one on his lips, then one on yours. “We should go out on a date.”

You smirk as he lights up both smokes at once. “Deal. Time and place?”

“Friday night, your dorm.”

That’s all it took for you two to plan a quiet night together.

Friday night comes around and you’re more than nervous. It feels like it’s been forever since you’ve hung out with Kento. Just knowing how things will go, your heart keeps fluttering in your chest. You’ve done all you can to keep calm, but it’s proving to be almost impossible.

The knock on your door has you getting up off the sofa and rushing to the door. You smooth out your shirt and swallow hard before opening the door. Kento stands there, looking more confident than ever. He hands you the beautiful bouquet of wildflowers.

“Wildflowers for my beautiful wildflower.”

Your heart clenches in your chest. Here you were thinking you’d have to start from scratch with him, but it seems like the time you two spent apart seems to only have pushed you two even closer together. You take the flowers and invite him inside.

“I ordered take-out,” you tell him as you smell the flowers.

He comes over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. You feel the definition of muscles against your back. Kento nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, nipping so softly.

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” he whispers. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you all summer.”

You blush and smile. “I feel the same.”

He lets you go, allowing you the chance to put the flowers in a vase. You place them near the window where they can get lots of light. Then you return to your lover, guiding him to the couch. On the coffee table is a spread of your favorite foods.

“You really planned out everything perfectly,” Kento says.

He wraps his arm around you, pulling you close. You giggle as you rest on his chest. The food is quickly forgotten in favor of sweet, but chaste kisses. The kisses that turn into something hungrier and sloppier.

“It’s finally time for me to make you feel good.” He whispers as his hands snake up your shirt.

You moan against his lips as he plays with your breasts. He tugs on your nipples perfectly, making need pool deep inside of you. He kisses you tenderly, continuing his ministrations on your chest.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. Kento pulls away only to be able to pull the garment off your body.

With your breasts bared to him, Kento shifts on the sofa and adjusts his hardening cock in his tight jeans. He looks at you like you’re the most beautiful person he’s ever laid eyes on.

“My beautiful angel,” he moans as he cups your breasts. 

His lips trail all over the swell of your tits before he captures one of your nipples between his teeth. The look of love in his eyes has your stomach erupting with a million butterflies. You’ve never felt this way before.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans. “Jerked off to thoughts of you all summer, baby.”

The thought of him stroking his cock to the thought of you has your panties drenched. You part your thighs a little, allowing one of his hands to slip down the front of your sweatpants. He smirks when he realizes you’re also not wearing panties.

“So wet, just for me.” He murmurs against the softness of your chest.

His fingers work you up quickly to your release. Your breath hitches in your throat as the coil in your stomach is tightening so fast. There’s so much warmth inside of you and it spreads all over as Kento rubs your clit in perfect little circles.

He stays attached to your nipple, suckling and flicking the pert bud with his tongue. The look in his eyes is intoxicating, especially since he looks at you like you’re the perfect sex goddess made just for him.

“K-Ken,” you moan. “I’m cumming.”

He doesn’t even have to say anything. He watches you as you come undone. Your cheeks warm, your lips parted as you moan his name. Your thighs are shaking from the intensity of the pleasure. And he loves the way your nipples are so hard right now.

Slowly, he helps you come down from the intense high. Kento smirks when he pulls his fingers from your pants and they are covered in your juices. Something changed within your lover, and it’s for the better.

“Told you I’d make you feel good next time we saw each other.” He says as he licks his fingers clean.

“And it was good to count down the days.”

reblogs and comments always appreciated!

©actuallysaiyan 2025– do not repost on other platforms, copy, translate or edit my works!

[elryuse]

Evergarden Familia 2

Yandere Gahyeon X Male Reader

Tags : Yandere Mafia Gahyeon, Dominant Gahyeon, Dark n Gritty, A Lot Of Torture, Submission, Obsession

Words : 8,1k

Another Commission For My Friend @starconstruction On Tumblr and Ko-fi. Hope you Liked it Buddy.

The months following Y/n’s escape from Evergarden were a haze of sleepless nights, constant vigilance, and fleeting moments of hope. The city was a labyrinth of shadows, but no corner was truly safe from Gahyeon’s reach.

She was relentless.

Each time Y/n moved to a new safe house, news of her growing influence would follow him. Her reputation as the Queen of Evergarden spread like wildfire, her power cemented with fear and ruthless efficiency.

He heard whispers of her searching for him, offering exorbitant rewards to anyone with information. The underworld trembled at the mere mention of her name, but Y/n held onto his freedom with every ounce of his being.

Four months after his escape, Y/n found himself in Busan, a city far removed from the chaos of Seoul. The salty sea air and bustling markets provided a fleeting sense of anonymity.

For weeks, he had managed to stay under the radar, taking on odd jobs to sustain himself. But his luck was running out. Supplies were low, and he was nursing an infected wound from a skirmish with one of Gahyeon’s bounty hunters.

As he sat in a dimly lit motel room, bandaging his arm, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out. The walls seemed to close in around him, the weight of Gahyeon’s looming presence suffocating.

“Just a little longer,” he muttered to himself, though the words felt hollow.

That night, it happened.

The sound of boots echoed down the motel hallway, followed by hushed voices and the metallic click of a gun being cocked. Y/n’s heart pounded as he grabbed his knife, knowing he couldn’t fight his way out this time.

The door burst open, and there she stood. Gahyeon.

She was dressed in all black, her hair tied back in a sleek ponytail. Her eyes burned with a mix of fury and longing as she stepped into the room.

“Y/n,” she said, her voice deceptively soft. “Did you really think you could run from me?”

Y/n gripped his knife tightly, his gaze locked on hers. “I had to try.”

Gahyeon tilted her head, a cruel smile playing on her lips. “And look where it got you. Bleeding, hiding… pathetic.”

Her words cut deeper than any blade, but Y/n refused to back down. “I’m not going back with you, Gahyeon.”

“Oh, you don’t have a choice,” she said, her tone sharp. “You belong to me, Y/n. You always have.”

The fight that ensued was brutal. Y/n lunged at her, but she was faster, stronger, and more prepared. She disarmed him effortlessly, pinning him against the wall with a knee to his chest.

“You’re weak,” she hissed, her face inches from his. “You can’t survive without me.”

Y/n struggled, but the infection and exhaustion had taken their toll. He could barely lift his arms, let alone fight back.

Gahyeon leaned closer, her breath warm against his ear. “You thought you could escape, but deep down, you knew I’d find you.”

Her words sent a shiver down his spine. She was right—he had always known this day would come.

---

The days that followed were a blur. Gahyeon took him back to Evergarden, her grip on him tighter than ever. She refused to let him out of her sight, assigning guards to watch him even in her absence.

Y/n’s protests fell on deaf ears.

“I don’t care what you want,” Gahyeon snapped during one of their many arguments. “You’re mine, Y/n. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you.”

“You don’t own me,” Y/n shot back, his voice trembling with anger.

Gahyeon’s expression darkened, her eyes glinting with dangerous intent. “Oh, but I do. And the sooner you accept that, the better.”

Over time, the constant battles began to wear Y/n down. Gahyeon’s obsession was unrelenting, her love twisted and suffocating. Yet, there were moments—fleeting, rare moments—when he saw glimpses of vulnerability in her.

Late at night, when the world was quiet, Gahyeon would sit beside him, her head resting on his shoulder.

“I only wanted to protect you,” she whispered once, her voice tinged with sadness.

Y/n didn’t respond, but a part of him couldn’t deny the sincerity in her words.

Still, the weight of her possession pressed down on him, grinding his sanity to dust.

Y/n sat by the large window of the Evergarden estate, watching the rain streak down the glass like tears. His reflection stared back at him, a hollow shell of the man he once was. Gahyeon’s mansion was a gilded cage, trapping him in a life that wasn’t his own.

She had won. She always won.

The room was eerily quiet, save for the faint ticking of the clock. It marked the hours, minutes, and seconds of his confinement. Y/n leaned back, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the scar on his forearm—a souvenir from one of Gahyeon’s hunters.

“You’re thinking of running again.”

Her voice startled him. He turned to see Gahyeon standing in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim light of the hallway. She wore a loose, elegant dress, her hair cascading over her shoulders.

“I’m not,” Y/n replied, his voice flat.

Gahyeon stepped into the room, her presence overwhelming as always. “Liar.”

She closed the distance between them, her movements deliberate and predatory. Y/n stiffened as she sat beside him, her hand resting on his knee.

“Why do you keep fighting me?” she asked softly, though her tone carried an edge of danger.

“Because I’m not a possession,” Y/n said, his gaze meeting hers. “I’m a person, Gahyeon. Not something you can lock away and control.”

Gahyeon’s expression flickered, a brief crack in her armor. “You’re more than that to me.”

“Am I?” Y/n challenged. “Because it doesn’t feel like it.”

The tension between them was palpable, stretching thin like a thread about to snap. Gahyeon’s grip on his knee tightened, her nails digging into his skin.

“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation. “I’ve lost too much, Y/n. I won’t lose you too.”

“You’re not losing me,” Y/n replied, his tone weary. “You’re suffocating me.”

Her eyes burned with an intensity that made his chest ache. “You’re the only thing that keeps me sane,” she whispered. “The only person I can trust.”

Y/n wanted to believe her, but the weight of her obsession made it impossible.

Over the following weeks, Gahyeon’s behavior grew more erratic. She would oscillate between moments of tenderness and terrifying possessiveness.

One night, Y/n found her sitting in the garden, staring blankly at the moonlit flowers. She looked small, almost fragile—a stark contrast to the ruthless queen she presented to the world.

“Gahyeon,” he said softly, approaching her cautiously.

She didn’t look at him. “Do you hate me, Y/n?”

The question caught him off guard. He hesitated before replying, “I don’t hate you.”

“Then why do you keep trying to leave?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Because…” Y/n struggled to find the right words. “Because I can’t live like this. I can’t be what you want me to be.”

Gahyeon turned to him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “I don’t want you to be anything but mine.”

Her vulnerability was disarming, but Y/n couldn’t ignore the darkness that lurked beneath it.

The breaking point came one stormy night.

Y/n had been confined to his room after a heated argument. Gahyeon’s paranoia had reached new heights, and she had ordered guards to ensure he didn’t try to escape again.

But Y/n wasn’t deterred. He had spent years as a pawn in the 3 Crows, learning how to manipulate his environment to his advantage.

When the opportunity arose, he slipped out of the estate under the cover of darkness, his heart pounding with the exhilaration of freedom.

He didn’t get far.

Gahyeon found him hours later, drenched from the rain and cornered in an abandoned warehouse. Her guards had been sent away, leaving them alone in the echoing silence.

“You never learn,” she said, her voice cutting through the darkness like a blade.

Y/n squared his shoulders, refusing to cower. “I can’t keep living like this, Gahyeon.”

“And I can’t live without you,” she countered, her eyes flashing with fury. “Why can’t you see that?”

Their argument escalated, the storm outside mirroring the chaos between them.

“I’d rather die than be your prisoner,” Y/n shouted, his voice cracking with emotion.

Gahyeon’s hand shot out, grabbing his collar and pulling him close. “You don’t get to choose, Y/n,” she hissed. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

The storm outside raged on, but the tempest in Gahyeon’s eyes burned hotter. The abandoned warehouse felt like it was closing in around Y/n, her presence suffocating and inescapable.

“You’d rather die?” she repeated, her voice low and venomous. “How dare you even think that?”

Her grip on his collar tightened, forcing him to meet her gaze. Her nails dug into his skin, and he could see the storm brewing within her—a volatile mix of fury, heartbreak, and unrelenting obsession.

“You don’t understand what you mean to me,” she whispered, her tone deceptively soft. “You’re not just some pawn in my game, Y/n. You’re my king.”

He scoffed, his defiance flickering despite the fear gnawing at him. “A king in chains is no king at all.”

Her lips twisted into a cruel smile, one that sent chills down his spine. “You think you’re in chains? No, my love. This world is the chain. I’ve freed you from it.”

Before Y/n could respond, Gahyeon pushed him against a rusted pillar, pinning him there with an iron grip. The storm outside howled through the broken windows, the wind whipping her hair around her face like a dark halo.

“You don’t get to leave me,” she hissed, her voice trembling with a terrifying mix of rage and desperation. “Not now. Not ever.”

Y/n struggled against her hold, but she was stronger than he remembered. Her obsession had fueled her, turning her into something more dangerous than he could have anticipated.

“You think you’re the only one suffering?” she continued, her voice rising. “Do you know what it’s like to build an empire, to rule a kingdom, and still feel empty because the one person you love keeps trying to run away?”

Her words cut deep, but Y/n refused to back down. “Love? This isn’t love, Gahyeon. This is madness.”

Her hand shot to his throat, her grip firm but not choking. Her lips curled into a sinister smile as she leaned in, her breath hot against his ear.

“Madness?” she whispered. “Maybe. But it’s the kind of madness that will burn this world to the ground if it means keeping you by my side".

Gahyeon released him suddenly, stepping back as if to give him space. But her movements were calculated.

“You want to see how far I’ll go for you?” she asked, her voice eerily calm. “Fine. Let me show you.”

Before Y/n could react, she pulled out her phone and made a call. Her tone was cold and commanding. “Bring them in.”

The warehouse doors creaked open, and two of her men entered, dragging a battered figure behind them. Y/n’s heart sank as he recognized the man—a contact he had made in Busan, someone who had helped him hide.

The man’s face was bloodied, his body trembling as Gahyeon’s men threw him to the ground.

“Gahyeon, don’t—” Y/n began, but she silenced him with a raised hand.

“You think you can run from me?” she said, her gaze fixed on the trembling man. “You think anyone can hide you from me?”

Without hesitation, she pulled a gun from her holster and aimed it at the man’s head.

“Stop!” Y/n shouted, stepping forward.

She turned to him, her eyes blazing. “Then stop fighting me, Y/n. Stop running. Admit that you’re mine.”

Y/n’s fists clenched, his mind racing. He hated her for what she had become, but he hated himself even more for the part of him that hesitated, that feared what she might do.

“I’ll never be yours,” he said, his voice steady but his heart pounding.

Gahyeon smiled—a cold, predatory smile. “Oh, you will be. One way or another.”

The man’s scream echoed through the warehouse as Gahyeon pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot reverberated in Y/n’s ears, but it wasn’t just the violence that shook him. It was the way she turned to him afterward, her expression serene, as if she had simply swatted a fly.

“Do you see now?” she asked, her voice soft and almost tender. “No one can protect you from me. No one can love you like I do.”

Y/n stared at her, a mixture of horror and disbelief washing over him. “You’re insane.”

Gahyeon stepped closer, her hand reaching out to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the blood on her hands.

“Maybe I am,” she admitted, her smile bittersweet. “But you’ve made me this way, Y/n. You’re the reason I’m like this. And you’re the only one who can keep me sane.”

Y/n's nightmares had become his reality. Each passing day, Gahyeon tightened her grip, molding him into a weapon for her empire. His protests, his defiance-none of it mattered. She had decided that if he wouldn't love her willingly, she would make him indispensable to her reign.

The cold steel of a gun now felt like an extension of his hand. Every bullet fired, every life taken-it all added to the growing abyss in his soul.

"Do you see, Y/n?" Gahyeon murmured one night as they stood on the rooftop of Evergarden's fortress, overlooking the city she now ruled. "This is the world we're creating together. You and I-unstoppable."

Y/n said nothing, his jaw clenched as he stared at the distant city lights. Those lights were a reminder of everything he had lost.

"Your silence doesn't bother me anymore," Gahyeon continued, stepping closer. "Because I know you'll fight for me. You'll kill for me."

Her hand rested on his shoulder, her grip firm. "And soon, you'll understand that there's no life for you outside of this. Outside of me."

The missions began the next day.

It started with a rival syndicate encroaching on Evergarden territory. Gahyeon had no patience for negotiations. She wanted blood, and she wanted Y/n to be the one to spill it.

"I don't want to do this," Y/n said as they sat in the back of her armored car, her guards flanking them.

Gahyeon tilted her head, her dark eyes glinting. "You don't have a choice, my love."

She reached into her coat and pulled out a sleek, black knife, pressing it into his hand. "I'm not asking for your permission. I'm telling you what you'll do. For me. For us."

Y/n stared at the blade, its weight heavier than anything he had ever held.

"Why me?" he whispered, his voice hollow.

"Because you're the only one I trust," Gahyeon said simply, her voice laced with conviction. "And because every time you fight for me, you prove that you belong to me."

The attack was swift and brutal.

Y/n moved through the rival syndicate's headquarters like a phantom, taking down guards with precision and efficiency. He hated how natural it felt, how years of being Sang-hyun's weapon had made him so adept at taking lives.

When the last body fell, he stood amidst the carnage, his hands slick with blood.

Gahyeon entered the room moments later, her heels clicking against the blood-stained floor. She surveyed the destruction with a satisfied smile, her gaze finally landing on Y/n.

"You did well," she said, her tone warm, almost affectionate.

Y/n dropped the knife, his chest heaving with the weight of what he had done. "I'm done. No more."

Gahyeon's smile faltered, but only for a moment. She stepped closer, cupping his face in her hands.

"Oh, Y/n," she murmured, her tone dripping with mock sympathy. "You don't get to decide when it's over. Only I do."

As the weeks passed, Gahyeon continued to use Y/n as her weapon, sending him on mission after mission. Each time, she would watch from the sidelines, her eyes filled with a twisted pride.

"You're perfect," she told him after one particularly bloody battle. "Everything I've ever wanted."

Y/n felt himself breaking under the weight of her words. He wanted to hate her, but her twisted affection left him conflicted.

One night, after a particularly harrowing mission, Y/n finally snapped.

"I'm not your toy!" he shouted, slamming his fist against the table in her office. "I'm not some puppet you can control!"

Gahyeon remained calm, leaning back in her chair. Her fingers steepled as she regarded him with a predatory smile.

"You're more than a puppet," she said. "You're my partner. My equal."

"Equal?" Y/n spat. "You don't treat me like one."

Her smile widened. "Because you haven't accepted your role yet. But you will. In time."

The breaking point came when Gahyeon ordered Y/n to eliminate a group of innocent civilians who had unknowingly crossed Evergarden.

"They're not a threat," Y/n argued, his voice trembling with anger.

"They're an example," Gahyeon countered coldly. "One the rest of the world needs to see."

Y/n refused, throwing the gun to the ground. "No. I won't do it."

For the first time, Gahyeon's composure cracked. Her eyes blazed with fury as she approached him, grabbing his face with both hands.

"You don't say no to me," she hissed. "Not now. Not ever."

Y/n met her gaze, his own eyes filled with defiance. "Then kill me, Gahyeon. Because I won't be your monster anymore."

The room fell silent, the tension between them palpable.

Gahyeon's grip loosened, and for a moment, Y/n thought she might actually let him go. But then her lips curved into a chilling smile.

"You'll do it," she said, her voice soft but unwavering. "Not because I'll force you, but because deep down, you know you're already mine."

Y/n's world had become an unending spiral of blood and shadows. Every mission, every death-each step brought him closer to a point of no return. And through it all, Gahyeon watched him with a possessive intensity, her control over him tightening like a noose.

Days turned into weeks, and Y/n began to feel like a ghost haunting his own life. His soul, once so heavy with defiance, now felt hollow.

"You're quieter than usual," Gahyeon remarked one evening as they dined in her lavish penthouse.

Y/n didn't respond. He stared at the untouched food on his plate, his appetite long since stolen by the weight of his actions.

She reached across the table, her hand brushing his. "You're doing good work, Y/n. Evergarden is stronger than ever because of you."

He pulled his hand away, his voice cold. "At what cost?"

Her smile faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. "Don't start this again."

"You've turned me into something I never wanted to be," he said, his voice rising. "I'm not your soldier, Gahyeon. I'm not your weapon."

She stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. "You're mine," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. "Everything you are, everything you've done-it's all for us. For Evergarden."

Y/n pushed back his chair, standing to face her. "For you, you mean. This isn't about us. It's about your obsession with control."

Her eyes darkened, and for a moment, he thought she might strike him. But instead, she took a deep breath, regaining her composure.

"Do you know what happens to people who defy me, Y/n?" she asked, her tone dangerously calm.

"I don't care anymore," he said.

Her lips curled into a sinister smile. "You will."

The next day, Gahyeon summoned Y/n to a secluded warehouse-a familiar setting, one that made his stomach churn with dread.

When he arrived, he found a group of men tied to chairs in the center of the room. Each one bore the bruises and cuts of a brutal interrogation.

"These men tried to betray me," Gahyeon said, stepping out of the shadows. "They conspired with a rival syndicate to overthrow Evergarden."

Y/n's fists clenched. "What does this have to do with me?"

She handed him a gun, her eyes locked onto his. "You're going to make an example of them."

"No," he said immediately, his voice firm.

Gahyeon's expression hardened. "This isn't a request."

"I'm done killing for you," he said, throwing the gun to the ground.

Her gaze turned icy, and she stepped closer, her presence suffocating. "If you don't do this, Y/n, I'll make sure their families pay for their betrayal. Their wives, their children- I'll burn their entire lives to ash."

His heart sank. She had him trapped, as she always did.

"You don't have to do this," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear. "Yes, I do. Because this is how I keep control. And if you won't help me, I'll make you watch as I do it myself."

The first gunshot echoed through the warehouse, and Y/n felt a part of himself shatter.

He had done it. He had pulled the trigger. Not because he wanted to, but because Gahyeon had left him no other choice.

When it was over, the room was silent, save for the ringing in his ears.

Gahyeon approached him, her hands reaching out to cup his face. Her touch was gentle, almost tender-a cruel contrast to the carnage around them.

"You see?" she murmured. "You belong to me, Y/n. Body, soul, and everything in between."

He didn't respond, his eyes hollow as he stared past her.

She smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "You're perfect, my love. And one day, you'll thank me for this."

That night, as Y/n lay awake in the darkness of his room, he felt something inside him shift.

He couldn't keep living like this. He had to find a way out, even if it killed him.

But deep down, he knew that escaping Gahyeon wouldn't be easy.

She wouldn't let him go. Not without a fight.

The air in the Evergarden penthouse was tense as Gahyeon paced back and forth, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Y/n stood in the middle of the room, his arms crossed, defiance etched into every line of his face.

"I'm not doing it," Y/n said flatly, his voice firm.

Gahyeon stopped pacing and turned to face him, her eyes narrowing. "You don't get to decide that."

"I just did."

The room fell silent, the weight of his words hanging between them like a loaded gun.

For a moment, Gahyeon's expression softened, as if she were pleading with him to see reason. "Y/n, I don't want to fight you on this. This is for us for Evergarden."

"This isn't for us," Y/n shot back. "This is for you. For your obsession with control."

Her lips pressed into a thin line, her patience wearing thin. "You don't understand what's at stake here."

"I understand perfectly," he said. "You want me to kill another rival, another threat to your empire. But I'm done being your weapon."

Gahyeon's jaw tightened, her hands balling into fists at her sides. "Do you think you have a choice? After everything I've done for you, after everything we've built together, you want to walk away?"

"It's not walking away," Y/n said, his voice rising. "It's reclaiming what little humanity I have left."

Her eyes darkened, and the softness in her expression vanished, replaced by something colder. "Humanity?" she said, her tone mocking. "You think you can have a normal life after everything you've done? After everything I've done for you?"

"I'd rather die than keep living like this," Y/n said, his voice trembling with emotion.

Gahyeon took a step closer, her presence overwhelming. "You don't mean that."

"I do," he said, meeting her gaze with defiance.

Her composure cracked, and for a brief moment, Y/n saw the vulnerability beneath her hardened exterior. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by a steely resolve.

"If that's how you feel," she said, her voice dangerously calm, "then you've left me no choice."

The punishment came swiftly and without mercy.

Two of her most loyal enforcers dragged Y/n into a dimly lit basement, his struggles futile against their iron grip. They chained him to a chair in the center of the room, the cold metal biting into his wrists and ankles.

Gahyeon entered moments later, her heels clicking against the concrete floor. She dismissed the enforcers with a wave of her hand, leaving her alone with Y/n.

"I didn't want to do this," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "But you've forced my hand."

Y/n glared at her, his chest heaving with anger. "You think this will make me obey you?"

"I think it will remind you who you belong to," she said, her tone devoid of emotion.

She stepped closer, pulling a knife from her coat. The blade glinted under the dim light, and Y/n felt a chill run down his spine.

"You'll heal," she said, almost as if trying to reassure herself. "But you need to learn that defiance has consequences."

Y/n's breath hitched as she pressed the blade against his cheek, the cold metal sending shivers down his spine.

"Do you know why I'm doing this?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because you're a monster," Y/n spat.

Her eyes flashed with anger, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned closer, her lips brushing against his ear. "No, Y/n. I'm doing this because I love you. Because I can't lose you."

She pulled the blade away and stepped back, her hand trembling slightly.

"I don't want to hurt you," she said, her voice breaking. "But if it means keeping you close, if it means keeping you safe, then I'll do whatever it takes."

The days that followed were a blur of pain and exhaustion. Gahyeon didn't allow Y/n to leave the penthouse, keeping him under constant watch. She personally tended to his wounds, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the darkness of her actions.

"You'll thank me for this one day," she said as she wrapped a bandage around his wrist.

Y/n didn't respond, his eyes hollow and distant.

Gahyeon's gaze softened, and she cupped his face in her hands. "I know you hate me right now, but that's okay. Hate is still a connection, Y/n. And as long as we're connected, I can work with that."

He turned his head away, refusing to meet her gaze.

She sighed, her thumb brushing against his cheek. "You'll see, my love. This is all for us. For the glory of Evergarden."

The basement was silent, save for the occasional drip of water echoing through the room. Y/n was strapped to the cold metal chair once again, his wrists and ankles bound so tightly the restraints dug into his skin. His shirt was torn and bloodied, his breaths shallow and labored.

Gahyeon stood before him, her silhouette illuminated by the dim, flickering light. She looked almost ethereal, an angel of death watching over her prey.

“I didn’t want it to come to this,” she said softly, her voice calm yet laced with steel. “But you’ve left me no choice, Y/n. I told you, didn’t I? You belong to me.”

Y/n didn’t respond. His head hung low, sweat and blood dripping from his chin onto the floor.

“You’re strong,” she continued, circling him like a predator. “Stronger than anyone I’ve ever known. That’s why I love you. But even the strongest need to be reminded of their place.”

She crouched down, lifting his chin with her fingers. His eyes, though dull and heavy with exhaustion, still held a spark of defiance.

“You’re still fighting me,” she whispered, almost admiringly. “But you can’t fight forever.”

The hours stretched into eternity. Gahyeon’s methods were meticulous, calculated to break him piece by piece. Sometimes it was physical—blades tracing shallow lines across his skin, ice-cold water poured over his head to shock his senses. Other times it was psychological—taunting him with his failures, whispering promises of freedom that would never come.

“Why do you resist me, Y/n?” she asked during one of the sessions, her tone almost tender. “Don’t you see? There’s no life for you outside of this. Outside of me.”

Y/n gritted his teeth, his voice hoarse. “I’d rather die than be yours.”

Her eyes flashed with anger, and for a moment, she looked as if she might strike him. But instead, she stepped back, composing herself.

“Die?” she echoed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “You think I’d let you escape me that easily? No, Y/n. You don’t get to leave me. Not ever.”

Eventually, his body began to betray him. The lack of sleep, the relentless pain—it all blurred together, breaking down his defenses. His mind grew foggy, his thoughts tangled and incoherent.

Gahyeon noticed the change immediately.

“You’re close now,” she murmured, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “So close to surrendering.”

Y/n’s lips parted as if to respond, but no words came out.

She leaned in, her breath warm against his skin. “It’s okay, my love. Let go. Stop fighting.”

The moment came unexpectedly. One final, whispered taunt from Gahyeon was all it took to shatter the last remnants of his resolve. His shoulders slumped, his head falling forward as a broken sob escaped his lips.

“There it is,” Gahyeon said softly, her voice filled with satisfaction. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

She cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. His eyes, once filled with fire, now stared back at her with emptiness.

“You’re mine now,” she said, her tone dripping with possessiveness.

She pressed her lips to his, the kiss soft but filled with a fierce intensity. When she pulled back, she began to shower him with kisses, her lips brushing against his forehead, his cheeks, his jawline.

“You don’t need to fight anymore,” she whispered between kisses. “You don’t need to think. Just let me take care of you.”

Y/n didn’t resist. He couldn’t.

She pulled him into her arms, cradling him like a prized possession. “You’ll see, my love. This is how it’s meant to be. You and me, together forever.”

Gahyeon’s breath was hot against his ear as she leaned in, her voice a low, sultry whisper that sent shivers down his spine. “You’ve been running from me for too long,” she said, her tone laced with amusement and something darker—something possessive. Her fingers trailed down his arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He tried to pull away, but her grip tightened like iron, her nails digging into his skin just enough to remind him who was in control.

“Let go of me,” he growled, his voice strained, though there was a tremor beneath the anger. He wasn’t sure if it was fear or something else entirely. Her lips curled into a smirk, those dark eyes gleaming with a hunger that made his stomach twist.

“Oh, darling,” she cooed, tilting her head as if he’d said something adorable. “I told you already. You don’t get to decide when this ends.” Her other hand cupped his cheek, her thumb brushing over his bottom lip. He flinched at the touch, but she only smiled wider. “You’re mine now. Whether you like it or not.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but before he could utter a word, her lips crashed against his. The kiss was anything but gentle—it was hungry, demanding, and utterly consuming. She claimed him with a ferocity that left no room for resistance, her tongue slipping into his mouth as though she wanted to devour him whole. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, but the fight slowly drained out of him. Against his will, his body began to respond, heat pooling low in his gut as she pressed herself against him.

When she finally pulled back, he was breathless, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Her gaze locked onto his, those dark eyes filled with a predatory gleam. “There it is,” Gahyeon said softly, her voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.”

She cupped his face in her hands, tilting his head up to meet her gaze. His eyes, once filled with defiance, now stared back at her with an emptiness that only fueled her obsession. “You’re mine now,” she declared, her tone thick with possessiveness. Her thumb brushed over his lower lip again, her touch lingering as though savoring the moment.

Her lips began to wander, peppering soft kisses across his forehead, his cheeks, his jawline. Each kiss was tender, almost reverent, yet there was an undeniable intensity behind them. “You don’t need to fight anymore,” she whispered between kisses, her voice honey-sweet and hypnotic. “You don’t need to think. Just let me take care of you.”

He didn’t resist. He couldn’t. Something about her touch, her voice, had shattered the last remnants of his resolve. His body felt heavy, his mind clouded, as though she had cast a spell over him. She pulled him into her arms, cradling him like a prized possession, her fingers gently carding through his hair. “You’ll see, my love,” she murmured, her lips brushing against his ear. “This is how it’s meant to be. You and me, together forever.”

Her hands slid down his chest, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing every inch of him. When they reached the hem of his shirt, she tugged it upward, her movements unhurried but purposeful. He didn’t stop her, his mind still foggy, his body pliant under her touch. The fabric slipped off his shoulders, puddling at his feet, and she hummed appreciatively, her gaze raking over his exposed skin.

“Perfect,” she breathed, trailing her fingers down his torso. Her touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure coursing through him despite the conflict raging in his mind. She leaned in, pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat, then another just above his collarbone. Each kiss burned like a brand, marking him as hers.

His breath hitched as her lips moved lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Her hands found his waistband, and she paused, looking up at him with a teasing glint in her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked, though they both knew the answer. Her fingers toyed with the button of his jeans, her smile widening when he remained silent.

“That’s what I thought,” she purred, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down with agonizing slowness. His jeans pooled at his feet, leaving him completely vulnerable before her. She stepped back, her gaze roaming over him with blatant admiration. “So beautiful,” she murmured, her voice almost reverent. “And all mine.”

She closed the distance between them again, her hands finding their way to his hips as she guided him backward until the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Without hesitation, she pushed him down, following him as he fell onto the mattress. Her knee nudged his legs apart, and she settled between them, her weight pressing him into the sheets.

Her hands roamed over his body, her touch equal parts gentle and commanding. She leaned down, capturing his lips in another searing kiss, her tongue sweeping into his mouth. He moaned softly, the sound muffled by her lips, and she grinned against him, clearly pleased with his response.

“That’s it,” she whispered, breaking the kiss to trail her lips down his neck. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.” Her hands continued their exploration, mapping out every curve and plane of his body as if committing him to memory. When her fingers brushed against his growing arousal, he gasped, his hips jerking instinctively.

She chuckled, the sound low and husky, and wrapped her hand around him, stroking him slowly. “See?” she murmured, her breath warm against his ear. “You don’t have to fight it. You belong to me now.”

Her movements became more deliberate, her grip tightening ever so slightly, and he groaned, his head falling back against the pillows. She took advantage of his exposed throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin, her teeth grazing lightly just to hear him whimper.

“Gahyeon…” he managed to choke out, his voice ragged. It wasn’t a plea for her to stop—it was something far more dangerous. He hated how much he wanted this, how much he craved her touch despite everything.

“Shh,” she soothed, kissing him deeply again, her tongue sliding against his in a way that left him dizzy. “Don’t fight it, my love. Just feel.”

Gahyeon’s lips curled into a wicked smile as she felt him shudder beneath her touch. She could see it in his eyes—the surrender, the way his defenses crumbled like sand slipping through his fingers. His chest rose and fell unevenly, his breath hitching as she continued to stroke him, slow and teasing, drawing out every ounce of his resistance until there was nothing left but her.

“That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and dripping with satisfaction. “Just let go. You don’t need to hold back anymore.” Her fingers tightened around him, just enough to make him gasp, and she leaned down to capture his lips again, her kiss fierce and demanding. He moaned into her mouth, his hands twitching at his sides as if he wanted to touch her but didn’t dare.

She pulled back slightly, her breath mingling with his as she whispered, “You can’t even move without me, can you? That’s how much you need me.” Her tongue flicked against his bottom lip, and she bit down gently, eliciting another groan from him. “Tell me,” she coaxed, her voice soft but insistent. “Tell me who you belong to.”

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he fought against the words, but Gahyeon wasn’t patient. Her hand moved faster, her thumb brushing over the sensitive tip of him, and his resolve shattered. “Y-you,” he stammered, his voice hoarse. “I belong to you.”

Her smile widened, and she released him abruptly, leaving him trembling and desperate. “Good boy,” she purred, her hands sliding up his chest as she shifted above him. She positioned herself so that her thighs bracketed his hips, her warmth hovering just above him. “Now… let me show you what it means to be mine.”

With a slow, deliberate movement, she lowered herself onto him, their bodies joining in one fluid motion. His breath hitched, his head falling back against the pillows as she took him inch by inch, her own breath coming in shallow gasps. She reveled in the sensation, in the way he filled her completely, and when she finally settled against him, she let out a soft sigh of contentment.

“Do you feel it?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. “How perfectly we fit together? Like this was always meant to be.” She rocked her hips gently, testing the waters, and a shiver ran through her as pleasure sparked along her nerves. “You were made for me, my love. Only me.”

He clenched his teeth, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape him, but Gahyeon wouldn’t allow it. She began to move, her pace steady and unhurried at first, each roll of her hips designed to draw out every ounce of pleasure. His hands gripped the sheets beneath him, his knuckles white as he struggled to maintain some semblance of control, but it was no use. She was in complete command, her body moving with a rhythm that left him helpless.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her tone sharp but laced with a strange tenderness. Reluctantly, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, and she smiled down at him, her eyes burning with an intensity that sent a jolt of electricity through him. “I want you to watch as I take what’s mine.”

Her movements grew more forceful, her hips slamming against his with increasing urgency. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, punctuated by his choked gasps and her soft moans. She was relentless, driving them both closer and closer to the edge, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held on tightly.

“Say it again,” she demanded, her voice breaking slightly as pleasure coiled tight within her. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I belong to you, Gahyeon.”

Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, a wave of pure satisfaction washing over her. “Again,” she breathed, her hips never faltering in their rhythm.

“I belong to you,” he repeated, louder this time, his body arching beneath her as the pressure inside him built to unbearable levels. “Only you.”

She could feel it—the tension in his muscles, the way his breathing turned ragged—and she knew he was close. But she wasn’t ready to let him go yet. With a sharp twist of her hips, she slowed her pace, forcing him to endure the agonizing buildup for just a little longer.

“Not yet,” she cooed, leaning down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I want to savor this.” She resumed her movements, slow and torturous, her fingers trailing down his chest as she watched him unravel beneath her. “You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. “Completely at my mercy.”

He groaned, his hands grabbing at her waist as if to urge her on, but she shook her head. “No, my love. This is my pace. My rules.” She pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss, her tongue delving into his mouth as she ground down against him, the friction sending sparks shooting through both of them.

When she finally allowed herself to pick up speed again, it was with a wild abandon that left him reeling. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face as she rode him with everything she had, her cries mixing with his as they spiraled toward release together. And then, with a final, brutal thrust, she pushed them both over the edge, their voices rising in unison as pleasure consumed them entirely.

Gahyeon collapsed against his chest, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as she clung to him. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her ear, a frantic rhythm that matched her own, and she smiled against his skin. “Mine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Forever mine.”

Gahyeon lay there for a moment, savoring the warmth of his body beneath her, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath. She traced lazy circles on his skin, her fingers lingering over the scars and imperfections that made him human, made him real. Her human. Her lips curved into a small, possessive smile as she pressed a kiss to his collarbone, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin.

“You’re so perfect,” she murmured, her voice low and sultry. “Every part of you… every breath, every heartbeat. All mine.”

Y/n stirred beneath her, his fingers twitching slightly as if trying to regain control of his body. But Gahyeon was quick to react, her hand sliding down to grip his wrist firmly, pinning it to the bed. “No, no,” she chided softly, her lips brushing against his ear. “You don’t get to move unless I say so. Remember? You belong to me.”

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and unfocused, but they locked onto hers almost instinctively. There was something in that gaze—something raw and vulnerable—that made her heart ache with a twisted kind of love. She cupped his face again, her thumb stroking his cheekbone as she leaned in closer, their breaths mingling.

“Do you understand?” she whispered, her voice trembling with barely contained emotion. “You don’t need to think. You don’t need to fight. Just let me take care of you. Let me love you the way you deserve.”

He didn’t respond, not with words, but his body relaxed under her touch, his resistance fading like smoke in the wind. Gahyeon smiled, triumphant and tender all at once, and shifted her weight so she could straddle him properly. Her hands roamed his chest, her nails scratching lightly over his skin, leaving faint red lines in their wake. She reveled in the way he shivered beneath her, the way his breathing hitched when she found a particularly sensitive spot.

“You’re so responsive,” she purred, leaning down to press an open-mouthed kiss to his neck. She nipped at the skin there, just hard enough to leave a mark, a reminder of who he belonged to. When she pulled back, she admired her handiwork, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk.

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough. She wanted more—more of him, more of this feeling, this connection. She wanted to lose herself in him completely, to drown in the heat of his body and the sound of his voice. So she did what came naturally: she took.

Her hands slid lower, tracing the line of his hips before gripping him firmly. He gasped, his back arching off the bed as she began to stroke him, her movements slow and deliberate. She watched his face closely, drinking in every twitch and tremor, every flicker of pleasure that crossed his features.

“That’s it,” she coaxed, her voice soft yet commanding. “Let go. Let me make you feel good.”

He groaned, his head tipping back against the pillows as her hand moved faster, her grip tightening just enough to drive him wild. She could feel him hardening in her grasp, could feel the tension coiling in his body, and it only fueled her own desire. Her thighs clenched around him, her core throbbing with need, but she forced herself to focus on him. This was about control. About possession. About him.

When she sensed he was close—too close—she suddenly stopped, pulling her hand away and earning a desperate whimper from him. His hips bucked, seeking friction, seeking release, but she simply shook her head, her smile widening as she leaned down to press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“Not yet,” she teased, her breath warm against his skin. “I want to see how much you can take.”

She shifted again, positioning herself above him, and slowly lowered herself down, taking him inch by agonizing inch. She bit her lip, stifling a moan as she felt him fill her, stretching her in the most delicious way. Once she was fully seated, she paused, giving them both a moment to adjust, to savor the connection. Then, with a slow roll of her hips, she began to move.

Every thrust was deliberate, every movement calculated to draw out the pleasure for both of them. She kept her pace steady, unhurried, her hands braced on his chest as she rode him. Her hair fell in messy waves around her face, sticking to her skin with sweat, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the way he looked beneath her, the way his eyes glazed over with bliss, the way his hands clutched at the sheets as if he were holding on for dear life.

“Look at me,” she commanded, her voice firm despite the breathlessness creeping into her tone. Reluctantly, his eyes met hers, and she smiled, her movements becoming more intense, more demanding. “Good boy. That’s it. Just like that. Don’t look away.”

He obeyed, his gaze locked onto hers as she pleasured him, as she claimed him completely. She could feel her own climax building, coiling tightly in her stomach, but she held on, determined to push him over the edge first. Her rhythm faltered, her hips stuttering as her control slipped, but she tightened her grip on his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she pressed on.

“Come for me,” she urged, her voice breaking on the words. “Please. I want to feel you. I want to know you’re mine in every way.”

His breath caught, his body tensing beneath her, and then he was coming undone, his release spilling into her with a ragged groan. The sight of him—lost in ecstasy, utterly at her mercy—was enough to send her spiraling over the edge as well. She cried out, her walls clenching around him as wave after wave of pleasure crashed through her.

For a moment, neither of them moved, both too lost in the aftershocks to do anything more than breathe. Then, slowly, Gahyeon collapsed against his chest, her cheek resting over his heart as she listened to its rapid beat. Her fingers trailed idly over his skin, tracing patterns only she could understand.

“Mine,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Always mine.”

- To Be Continued -

[mads-hemmo]

It’s Nice to Have a Friend - Jschlatt

Part 3

Reader has been lonely their whole life. They have never been in a relationship. They don’t understand why no one will love them but their best friend, Schlatt has always been in love with them.

Part 1

Part 2

Schlatt lets you both in. “What are you doing here?” He asks Ted.

“I’ve been on a roadtrip with Tucker and I just dropped him off. I thought while I was in New York, I would come visit my buddy, Schlatt,” Ted says.

“Why didn’t you at least call first?” Schlatt asks.

“I wanted it to be a surprise. I just didn’t think you would be having company.” Ted turns to look at you.

“Oh I can go home, so you two can spend some time together,” you say. You are still wearing your backpack full of your sleepover necessities, so it would be easy to just leave.

“Nonsense. We can all hang out together. What did you crazy kids have planned anyways?”

Schlatt gives you a look like he wants to keep some things between you two. That thing being the coloring books in your backpack. “We were going to order some sushi. Not sure what else,” you tell Ted.

Ted nods. “That sounds great. I’m just excited to get to know Schlatt’s best friend.”

“Let’s go to the living room,” Schlatt says. The three of you take a seat on his couch while he orders the sushi on DoorDash.

“So (Y/N), what do you do for work?” Ted asks you.

“I’m a hairdresser.”

“Oh cool. Did you dye your own hair? I like the blue tips.”

“Oh yeah I did. Thank you. I have a pretty lenient schedule. Gives me more time to do my various hobbies.”

“What are your various hobbies then?” Ted asks, focusing on you.

“Oh god. I have so many. I crochet, I read, I play piano and I recently started coloring,” you tell him.

“Interesting. How do you have time to do all that?”

“I create my own schedule so I can work as many or as little hours as I choose. I’ve been at my shop for a while so they let me do what I want,” you tell Ted.

“That’s one thing I like about YouTube. I can pretty much work whenever I please.”

“Yeah it’s good for you since you barely upload,” Schlatt replies.

You let out a laugh. Ted looks between the two of you. “I upload. I just don’t want to spoil my viewers and make them get bored of the incredible content I make.”

“I must admit. As one of your viewers, it’s a little treat when you actually post,” you tell him.

He gives you a big smile. “Thank you. I’m glad to know I have such good looking viewers,” Ted winks at you.

Schlatt narrows his eyes at Ted as you blush a bit. “So Ted, how was your road trip?” Schlatt asks, getting the attention off of you.

“It was really fun. Tucker and I just drove around the US, exploring random places. Have you ever taken a road trip?” Ted asks you.

“Unless you count me helping Schlatt move back to New York. Not really. I’ve never really had the time or the money to do so,” you admit. Schlatt had promised you a trip to Japan at some point. However, you told him you wanted to raise the money yourself. You knew Schlatt would pay for everything, but you didn’t want to use him.

“You should go on one! They are a lot of fun! You could join me on my next one. I’ll even let Schlatt come along,”

“They don’t want to ride in your old truck. They might fall through the hole in the passage seat,” Schlatt chimes in.

“I’m not that tiny,” you pout.

“And I’m not huge, Toots,” Schlatt says. You flip him off.

The doorbell rings, alerting you all that the sushi had finally arrived. Schlatt gets up to answer the door. Ted turns to face you. “My truck does not have a huge hole and you’re welcome to ride in it any time,” he tells you, loud enough for Schlatt to still hear him.

Schlatt returns and places the sushi on the coffee table. “I got a lot of different rolls so we can all just share. That’s usually what (Y/N) and I do anyways,” he says.

“Awesome. Thanks Schlatt,” Ted says. “What was Schlatt like as a kid?”

“Not much different than he is now. He has always been quiet, but also Incredibly funny. He also was just as loyal and dependable as he is now. I have always been proud to call him my best friend,” you admit. Even though it may be sappy, you never pass up the opportunity to brag on your best friend. You had said similar things to Paige at work. You hated being single some days, but you hated Schlatt being single even more. He’s such a great guy who deserves to be loved by someone.

“Wow, don't get all soft, Toots. Don’t let them lie to you, I’ve always been an asshole. They’re the one who’s all those things and so much more,” Schlatt says, making your heart skip a beat. When he says things like this, it makes you jealous of his future partner. You know he’s going to be such a great husband to his spouse.

“You do seem really great (Y/N). I’m glad I got to meet you tonight,” Ted tells you. You feel your cheeks getting redder. Ted is obviously flirting with you right? You weren’t the best at judging if people were flirting, but you felt like he was. Ted is a very good looking guy and one of Schlatt’s friends so maybe you should flirt back.

“You seem really great yourself, Ted. Glad that you interrupted our hangout,” you tell him.

“Ted, were you planning on staying the night?” Schlatt asks.

“I was hoping I could. I have my bags in the car,” Ted says.

“That’s fine. It’s just (Y/N) was going to spend the night and they usually sleep in the guest bed.”

“I can sleep on the couch. I am tiny after all,” you say. Schlatt’s couch is comfortable and you don’t mind.

“You’re not sleeping on the couch. Ted can sleep on the couch.”

“How about Ted takes the guest room and we can share your bed? We used to do it all the time when we were kids. I always stay on my side of the bed so it won't be an issue,” you offer.

Schlatt doesn’t look convinced. “Or we can share the guest bed,” Ted says to you.

“(Y/N), that’s a great idea. We did it all the time as kids. Why not as adults? What’s the worst that could happen?” Schlatt says.

The three of you decide to watch a movie. Schlatt lets you choose and Ted agrees. That is how you end up watching Tangled. Even though you don’t know Ted very well, you don’t let that stop you from singing along. You smile to yourself when you hear Schlatt humming to himself. The singing keeps you awake. A few times during the movie, your hand accidentally touches Ted’s as you both grab for some sushi. He lets you have it every time.

After the movie, you all get ready for bed. “Night Schlatt, Night (Y/N), sleep tight,” Ted says, before going to the guest room.

“Good night, Ted. It was nice meeting you,” you tell him, going to Schlatt’s room.

“Ted’s single right?” You ask Schlatt, while washing your face in his on suite bathroom.

“Yeah, why?” He asks.

“Just wondering. Did you see how he was flirting with me tonight? Maybe he was just being nice, but it really seemed like he was flirting with me.”

“I think he was just being nice, Bub. He has a flirty personality.”

You sigh. “You’re probably right. I just thought maybe. He’s your friend, so he’s obviously a good guy. He’s also pretty attractive.”

Schlatt just looks at you. “He lives way too far away. You don’t want your first boyfriend living across the country. You need someone who you can go on dates with and that will spoil you here.”

You just nod. “You’re right. I was just being optimistic. Thank you for always looking out for me.” You kiss him on the cheek as you walk back into his room. You miss the way his entire face turns red and the way he stays paralyzed for a second.

He takes a deep breath and walks into the room. You have already tucked yourself in. You have unintentionally put yourself on the opposite side that Schlatt usually sleeps. He makes his way into the bed and lays beside you.

“You know you can take your shirt off. It’s not like it’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” you tell him. He nods, before pulling his shirt off. “Comfy?”

“Yeah,” he lets out.

“Awesome. I sleep like a rock, so don’t worry about me cuddling you in the middle of the night. Also sorry if I snore,” you tell him.

He laughs slightly. “It’s okay. I’m sure I snore as well.”

“Night Jay.”

“Night Toots,” he says. After a little while when he thinks you are asleep, he mutters softly, “I love you.” Before pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head.

You lay still, pretending to be asleep. Surely he means it in a friendly way, right? You choose to ignore it and drift off to sleep.

A/N: ahhh I love writing this story!! Parts might start being not as frequent as I have to go back to work next week. Boo!! Anyways thank you so much for enjoying this! Let me know what you think!

[uconnwbbcrashout]

last winter break

chapter iii: “i think i’m gonna kiss you”

paige x azzi

word count: 6.5k

content: swearing, some fluffy banter, and a healthy dose of angst

chapter list: here

author’s notes: after a long wait, it’s finally here!! i wanna apologize for the 100th time for how long this took me to write. as you can tell by the word count compared to chapters i & ii, this one kinda got out of hand. but i'm happy w/ how it turned out and i hope it's worth the wait!! :) enjoy!

Winter 2022-2023

AZ: hey, i saw the news

AZ: about your acl i mean

AZ: i hope you’re doing okay p

p (IGNORE): thanks. good as i can be yk

p (IGNORE): surgery went well and all

p (IGNORE): but hey

p (IGNORE): delayed not denied right ?

changed user’s contact name to “p”

AZ: right

AZ: you’ll be okay

AZ: i know it

p: i hope youre right

*****

p: did you see the schedule

p: we play you guys

p: dec 11

p: well i wont be but

AZ: i did!!

AZ: you guys don’t stand a chance btw

p: damn way to kick a girl while shes down az

AZ: sorry?

*****

AZ: happy birthday paige

AZ: you’re so old

p: shut up

p: thank you azzi

*****

p: happy bday az

p: yOu’Re sO oLd

AZ: ok i had that coming

AZ: but thank you :)

*****

p: just saw the clip

p: hope you and your knee are ok <3

p: rest up azzi

AZ: thanks p

AZ: looks like we’re both gonna be on the bench next week

AZ: we’re still beating you guys though

p: well see bout that

*****

AZ: told you so

p: i couldnt even play bro

AZ: and i could??

p: whatever

p: we beatin you in march idc

AZ: sure p sure

*****

Azzi sighs, stretching her thumbs again where they hover over the keyboard on her phone. She’s laid out on her parents’ couch, legs propped up on a pillow, feeling utterly ridiculous as she tries to muster up the courage to send a text to Paige. She scrolls back up through their conversations from the past few months for what must be the eighth time today, overanalyzing every word.

It shouldn’t be this difficult, really—it’s hardly the first time this year that she’s been the one to reach out and text Paige. And she’s literally just trying to ask her if she’s going to a party. It’s an extremely low stakes conversation topic.

And yet here she is, practically ripping her hair out at the thought of pressing "send."

In all honesty, it’s a pretty good way to sum up what this year has been—so much more difficult than it ever needed to be.

And to say it’s been a weird fucking year would be an understatement.

After a disappointing tournament run in March, Maryland’s team changes significantly, so much so that Azzi has a hard time keeping track of it all. Graduations, transfers out, transfers in, new freshman—they're basically an entirely new team by the time the season starts up again in the fall.

And then she meets a girl, Maya, late one night in February when she’s cramming for an exam in the student union. She’s on the track team—a sprinter—tall, and devastatingly pretty. She’s unwaveringly confident, too, sitting across the empty table from Azzi and striking up a conversation with her easily. They end up talking for so long that night that the cleaning staff have to kick them out.

Things just click after that.

It's nice. It’s safe. It’s fun.

It’s sneaking into team housing well past curfew. It’s study dates at their favorite coffee shop on campus. It’s stolen hoodies and cold winter nights, huddled together for heat. It’s good luck kisses and lingering hugs before away games or meets. It’s late-night FaceTimes when there’s hundreds of miles separating them. It’s flower bouquets and greeting cards left on kitchen counters.

It’s something that feels a lot like the beginning stages of love.

And, above all, it makes Azzi happy.

There’s just one persistent, unavoidable problem—there's never enough time. Differing practice schedules. Basketball games and track meets. Press conferences and weight training. Midterms and March Madness. Conference championships and long flights across the country.

And it’s unfortunate, really, because a big part of Azzi thinks things could’ve been different. That maybe in another life—one where they met at a different time—things might have stuck. Things might have been long-term, could have worked out.

But in this life, they don’t.

After that it’s fairly quiet. Some random hookups here and there over the summer. A couple dates that fizzle out by the end of the night.

In the end, nothing she really regrets, but nothing that's as real as those few months were with Maya.

And then she reinjures her knee in December, forcing her to be sidelined. An unfortunately familiar seat on the bench with her name on it.

And then, of course, there's this weird situation with Paige. One that Azzi herself more or less created when she first reached out in August after Paige tore her ACL. It isn't like texting a stranger, but it also isn't like texting the old best friend she once knew. It's something in between, some strange acquaintance-like relationship that leaves Azzi entirely confused as to what she should or shouldn’t say.

Even if it is a bit strange, and maybe not quite ideal, she has to admit that it's still nice to have Paige back in some capacity. And enough time has passed, enough people have come and gone, that Azzi's just starting to warm up to the idea of someday calling Paige her friend again. Just a little bit.

Oh, and maybe Azzi also still finds her to be incredibly attractive.

But that's hardly relevant.

Her phone vibrates in her hand, catching her so off guard that she nearly drops it on her face. Her heart starts pounding in her ears, her stomach fluttering with anticipation—

Damn, it’s just from Diamond.

Azzi groans, clicking the notification.

diamond: you text her yet

Azzi rolls her eyes at her friend’s impatience.

AZ: almost

diamond: you’re actually killing me here

diamond: gimme her number

diamond: i'm gonna text her if you don’t

AZ: absolutely not

AZ: i regret telling you anything

diamond: no you don’t

diamond: now quit stalling and text. her.

AZ: oh my god FINE

Azzi swipes out of their conversation and taps back into her one with Paige.

Here goes nothing.

AZ: hey, you going to that stupid party again this year?

She turns her phone off immediately and slams it face down into the couch cushions, bringing her hands up to cover her face.

Her phone chimes not more than 30 seconds later, and Azzi half expects it to be another text from Diamond asking for updates.

But it isn’t.

p: yo

p: the one at that football players house??

p: maybe. ion know yet

“Oh my God,” she mutters, fingers already flying over her keyboard.

AZ: dude

AZ: it’s literally tomorrow

AZ: how do you not know

p: dude

p: ima busy person

p: my time is valuable yk

p: wbu tho

Azzi tries to fight the smile that’s forming on her face. She thinks for a minute, deciding to answer honestly.

AZ: i was thinking about it

Azzi watches with bated breath as the three dots on the screen disappear and reappear several times.

p: then maybe i will

Azzi sighs, closing her eyes and pressing the side of her phone into her forehead.

I’m never getting a straight answer out of her, she concedes.

*****

If anyone were to ask Azzi, she would argue that a cropped cami tank top with a pair of ripped jeans is perfectly reasonable attire for a casual house party in early January. The below-freezing temperatures are simply irrelevant.

It, of course, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Paige is likely to show up tonight. Azzi doesn’t think about how Paige had hugged her from behind and mumbled, “Looks so good, baby,” the last time she wore this shirt in front of her. She also doesn’t think about how Paige always seems especially distracted when she wears her hair up in a bun like this, blue eyes constantly straying to the lines of Azzi’s neck and collarbones.

She absolutely does not, under any circumstances, think about that. At all.

Azzi just likes to feel and look good is all. She’s got the former down easily, and she thinks she’s managed the latter, too, if the number of people who have come up to her tonight is any indication. Guys, girls, people she recognized and people she didn’t—it didn’t really seem to matter. It felt like there was an endless stream of drinks being offered, numbers trying to be given out, and suggestive conversations directed at her. It was flattering, sure, but none of them had the right tint of blonde hair, the exact shade of blue eyes, the correct build of muscle she had been searching for all night.

She downs the last of her drink, crushing the plastic cup in her hands and tossing it in the trash can behind her. She pulls her phone out of her pocket, checking the time. No texts.

Lifting a hand up to rub at her eye, she yawns and scans the room one more time, debating whether she should just call it a night at this point.

And then she feels it—the soft graze of fingers along her lower back, just above the waistband of her jeans. A warm, featherlight touch, then the familiar scent of vanilla and sandalwood and a low voice in her ear.

“Azzi.”

She spins towards her quickly, her breath catching in her throat at the proximity of Paige’s face to hers, just inches away. Azzi leans back a bit, mostly to give herself a chance to breathe, and feels the hand on her lower back slide to lightly press on the side of her hip.

Azzi drags her eyes over Paige then, unable to help herself, taking in the tech fleece pants hanging low on her hips and the black fitted T-shirt straining against the muscles in her arms. Azzi’s a bit surprised to see that she’s wearing her glasses—it’s not something she does very often. Paige is smirking, her blonde hair hanging loose around her shoulders, and Azzi swears she must have gotten taller since the last time she saw her.

She manages to catch her breath for a moment, flashing a smile that she hopes doesn’t reveal the nerves that she’s feeling. “Hi, Paige.”

Neither of them seems to know what to do after that because, honestly, what are you supposed to do in this type of situation?

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige makes the first move, stepping into Azzi’s space and snaking her other arm gently around Azzi’s waist. It takes Azzi a few seconds to respond before she leans into Paige and circles her arms around her shoulders. Azzi’s heart rate picks up even more when she feels Paige’s breath being released heavily against her, the tension leaving her shoulders.

“This okay?” Paige asks, her breath hot against the outside of Azzi’s ear. Azzi hums in agreement, settling her head to rest on Paige’s shoulder.

It probably should be awkward, and it is for just a second or two, but muscle memory kicks in and it ends up being more comforting than anything. It’s a hug after all, something they’ve done probably hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

They could be there for a few seconds or a few minutes—Azzi really isn’t sure. At some point she feels someone bump into her as they walk by and that snaps her out of it, makes her realize that they are still at this party and people are definitely looking. She takes a step back and clears her throat, patting Paige’s shoulder once before dropping her arms to her sides.

“You look good, P,” Azzi admits, smiling softly.

Paige coughs and looks over her shoulder for a second before turning back to face her and—

Is she blushing?

She coughs again before saying, “Thanks. You do too, Az.”

Azzi smiles appreciatively, looking down at her hands. “Couple people here seemed to think so, too.”

Paige chuckles. “Yeah, saw ‘em all lined up for you.”

“You been talking to anyone else here?”

“Nah, not really,” Paige replies, waving her hand, and Azzi glances up to meet her eyes. Paige shrugs. “Only really came here for one person, you know?”

Azzi doesn’t have to ask her who that person is—the way Paige’s eyes are trailing across her face tells her everything she needs to know.

“Is that so?” Azzi crosses her arms in front of her, a smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth.

“Mhm.” Paige glances around the room before leaning into Azzi’s space again. “Hey, wanna get outta here? We can go somewhere else or somethin’.”

“I guess I can swing that,” Azzi agrees, hoping she comes across as indifferent as possible.

“Aight, cool.” Paige pats her pockets, searching for her keys. “You take your car here?”

Azzi shakes her head. “No, I walked.”

Paige raises an eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on her face. “No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Azzi tries again, patting her own pockets to prove that they're empty.

“You walked here,” Paige repeats, still disbelieving. “In this weather.”

“It was only, like, 20 minutes.”

“There’s no way.”

“It’s better for the environment!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh my God, can we just take your car or not?” Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Always the passenger princess.” Paige remarks, looking smug. “But, yeah, let’s go.” Paige beckons for Azzi to follow her to the coatrack. Paige holds the door open as they pull on their coats, both of the waving their hands over their shoulders as some people call out to them.

The short walk to Paige’s car is quiet, the occasional crunch of footsteps on snow the only sound. Azzi slips into the passenger seat and clicks her seat belt on, watching as Paige does the same in the driver’s seat. Paige drums her fingers quietly on the steering wheel, and Azzi glances out the window to look back at the house they just came from.

“So, uh, where to?” Paige asks, breaking the silence.

Azzi thinks for a moment before turning to Paige with a grin.

“Slushies?”

“Oh, fuck yeah.”

*****

“There’s just no way he said that,” Azzi giggles, readjusting her feet where they rest on Paige’s dashboard. They’re parked outside of Azzi’s parents’ house, heat blasting through the vents, SZA playing softly through the speakers, conversation flowing freely, half-drunken slushies melted and abandoned in the cupholders between them.

“I swear it’s true!” Paige promises.

“He for real told you that you have ‘the shittiest shooting form he’s ever fucking seen’?”

“On God, he did,” Paige laughs, running a hand through her hair. “Coach can be ruthless when he’s pissed off, man.”

“And you wanted me to come to UConn because?”

“Oh, c'mon, Az. You know no one can stay mad at you.” Paige reaches out and pokes at Azzi’s cheek. “Not with that face.”

Azzi pushes her hand away, flustered. “Shut up, P.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Whatever.”

A comfortable silence stretches on then, the two of them taking a moment to enjoy each other’s presence.

Azzi glances down at her watch. “I should probably get going,” she admits regretfully, turning around and rummaging in the backseat for her coat.

“Lemme pull up for you,” Paige insists, putting the car in drive and turning into the driveway.

She feels Paige put the car in park again just as she manages to find her jacket. “Thanks,” Azzi starts, pulling the door handle—

It’s locked.

What the hell?

Azzi yanks on it twice to be sure before turning to level her a stare. There’s a mischievous glint in Paige's eye that she doesn't trust. “So, are you letting me out or what?”

Paige keeps smiling widely at her, not moving or saying anything.

“Paige.”

Azzi watches Paige nod her head towards the front of the house, and Azzi follows the motion to see Curry and Stewie poking their heads through the curtains, their barks echoing off the window. Azzi shakes her head and glances back at Paige. “What is it?”

Paige shrugs, bringing her hands up to rest on the wheel again. “You gotta at least let me see my kids, Azzi.”

“Are you inviting yourself inside my house?” Azzi feels her eye twitching.

“Please,” Paige begs, and then she honest to God pouts at Azzi. “Think I’m due a visitation.”

“You are actually so annoying.” Azzi leans her head against the cool glass of the car window, closing her eyes.

“Is that a yes?” Paige asks, her voice lifting excitedly.

“It will be if you unlock this.” Azzi pulls on the door handle repeatedly.

“Ha, let’s go!” Paige exclaims, pressing the "unlock" button immediately and sprinting out of the car. She’s on the front porch and jumping in place before Azzi even has the chance to close the car door behind her.

“Alright, chill out,” Azzi mutters, brushing past her and turning the key into the lock. Paige pushes the door open the rest of the way and stumbles through the doorframe, kicking her shoes off. She makes it about five feet into the house before she drops to her knees and starts petting and hugging the two dogs racing around her.

Azzi locks the door behind her, and she can’t help the smile that overtakes her face when she sees Paige laid out on the ground, Stewie and Curry clambering over her to lick her face.

“My kids,” Paige coos, cradling Stewie in one arm and scratching Curry’s chin with her other hand. “Don’t worry, Daddy’s home now.”

Shaking her head, Azzi tears her eyes away from the scene and flops onto the couch. She pulls her phone out of her pocket and makes herself comfortable.

Paige stands up after a few minutes and stretches her arms above her head, groaning dramatically. Azzi catches a glimpse of her shirt riding up and her boxers peeking out before she pulls her phone closer to her face, fighting the heat creeping up on her cheeks. Paige doesn’t seem to notice, or if she does, she luckily doesn’t say anything about it. She moves to peek her head in the kitchen and the hallway before she reenters the living room.

“Nobody home?” Paige asks, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Azzi grabs a throw pillow off the couch and hurls it at her, but Paige catches it easily. “Stop. They went to a family holiday party thing I think.”

“And how the hell did you get outta goin’ to that?” Azzi feels the couch shake as Paige hops over the back of it and settles in across from her.

She puts her phone down and looks at Paige more fully then. “Like you said, no one can say no to this,” she explains, flashing her signature dimpled smile and pointing at it with both hands.

“I was jokin’ when I said that,” Azzi thinks she hears Paige grumble as she hugs the pillow she’s still holding to her chest.

Azzi goes back to scrolling on her phone, and she sees Paige throw the pillow up in the air and catch it a few times in her periphery.

She hears a heavy sigh, but she ignores it, opting to respond to a few texts from her teammates instead.

Then there’s another sigh, somehow more emphatic than the last, and the push of a foot against her own.

“Azzi.”

Maybe if I ignore her for long enough, she’ll stop, Azzi considers.

“Azzi.”

Just pretend you don’t hear her.

“Azzi Fudd.”

When has that ever actually worked, though?

“Azzi, please.”

Oh my fucking God, why did I let her in my house?

She clicks her phone off and drops it at her side, glaring daggers at Paige. “What?”

“Dude, I’m bored,” Paige complains.

“Dude, you literally do not have to be here,” Azzi points out.

“Entertain me, please.” Paige is practically begging now. “Aren’t you supposed to do that for your guests?”

Azzi closes her eyes and throws an arm over her face. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re extremely annoying?”

“Yeah, you. Multiple times today, actually.”

“I was so right about that.”

“Okay, but can we do somethin’?” Paige asks again, kicking at her foot. Azzi kicks back, sliding her arm off her face.

“2K?” she suggests, gesturing to the controllers on the coffee table.

Paige’s eyes light up and she’s up in a flash, grabbing the remote to turn the TV on. “Fuck yes. Imma be the Lynx, though.”

“Whatever you want.”

*****

“Damn, you letting me win now, Paige?”

“Bro, ‘course not.”

“What’s your excuse this time?”

“Not my fault you keep distractin’ me, Az.”

“Not my fault you can’t keep your eyes off me, P.”

“Shut up. One more, I swear. Then we can quit.”

“Only if you win though, right?”

“Bro, just play.”

“Fine.”

*****

It’s many, many, games later—the clock on the wall having ticked over to the A.M. hours long ago—before Azzi has to tap out, eyes bleary and energy drained.

“Alright, I’m done,” Azzi sighs, tossing the controller on the coffee table and standing up slowly to stretch her back.

“Finally givin’ up?” Paige challenges, raising her eyebrows at her. Amazingly, somehow, she doesn’t look tired in the slightest.

“No, I’m not 'giving up.' I’ll literally fall asleep if we play one more.”

“If you say so.”

“Paige,” Azzi whines, pouting at her. “I just want to go to bed.”

“Aight, let’s be done then,” Paige agrees, setting her controller aside and standing up to stretch out.

“Are you awake enough to drive home?” Azzi questions.

“Me? Imma be just fine,” Paige assures her, moving toward the door. She bends down to pick up her shoes and pulls the curtain aside with a finger to peer outside. “Yeah, it’s no problem—oh, shit.”

Azzi strides over, reaching for the curtain to open it. “What is it?”

“Uh, well,” Paige starts, voice slightly muffled behind the thick fabric. “There’s a—”

Azzi grabs hold of the curtains, yanking them away to reveal the scene outside. Her jaw drops.

“—blizzard,” Paige finishes.

A fresh layer of snow, several inches deep, covers the ground. The wind lifts it up, blowing it around wildly, creating near whiteout conditions. Azzi can barely see Paige’s car parked in the driveway, a mere ten feet away.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Azzi mutters, staring disbelievingly out the window.

Paige furrows her brow, seeming to think something over for a minute. “Nah, I’ll still drive home.” She sits down on the recliner, untying the laces on her shoe.

“Like hell you will,” Azzi scoffs.

Paige looks up at her, pausing her movements. “Bro, chill. It’s, like, a couple blocks.”

But Azzi is persistent, moving to guard the door, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’m not letting you go out in that.”

“I can drive slow.”

“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” Azzi retorts, readjusting her arms. “Just stay, please. It’s too dangerous.”

“If you’re sure,” Paige concedes, tossing her sneakers behind her.

“I am.”

“Cool,” Paige stands, stretching her arms again. “I got the couch then.”

Azzi rolls her eyes, punches Paige’s shoulder playfully. “Don’t be stupid, P.”

Paige brings up a hand to rub at the spot Azzi hit, wincing in mock hurt. “Ow. Stupid ‘bout what?”

“You can just sleep in my bed. You are a guest after all,” Azzi points out, referring back to what Paige had said earlier.

Paige wiggles her eyebrows for the second time tonight, and Azzi considers punching her again, harder this time. “You want me that bad, huh?”

“Oh my God, stop. Look, I’ll take the couch, you take the bed? That fine?” Azzi offers, rubbing at her eyes.

“That’s dumb. You’re not gonna sleep in your own bed?”

Azzi throws her arms up in the air exasperatedly. “What do you suggest then?”

“I’on see why we can’t both just sleep in the bed,” Paige shrugs, not really meeting Azzi’s eyes.

How the hell did we get here?

“Whatever, sure,” Azzi relents, even though every fiber of her being is urging her to do the exact opposite. “I’m too tired for this. My family is gonna be home soon and I wanna sleep at least a little before they barge in.” She turns away and starts dragging her feet down the hallway to her room, hearing Paige padding quietly behind her. She pushes the door open with her shoulder and immediately goes to her closet, searching for something more comfortable to change into.

In the corner of her eye she spots Paige, shuffling about the room, eyes roaming over her pink bed sheets, the assortment of unicorn stuffed animals on her desk, the rainbow decals on her mirror. “Haven’t really changed much, huh?

Azzi grabs a pair of fleece pajama pants and a T-shirt, chuckling. “I don’t exactly live here anymore.”

“Good point.” Paige nods her head, running a finger along Azzi’s trophy shelf. Her eyes spot one item in particular and she takes it off the shelf. She flips the medal over to study the engraving on the back. “‘2018 Minnesota State Tournament: Class AAAA Champions’,” she reads with a scowl on her face. “Still can’t believe you guys beat us.”

Azzi walks up to her and snatches the medal from her, setting it back in its place. “Still can’t believe you’re not over it. This was, like, five years ago.”

“Aw, c’mon now. That last foul call was bullshit and you know it,” Paige grumbles.

“I think you’re just mad I dropped 30 points on your ass,” Azzi teases.

Paige frowns, crossing her arms. “No one was helpin’ me on defense.”

“Uh huh. Look, I’m gonna get dressed and stuff,” Azzi calls over her shoulder on her way to the bathroom. She pauses in the doorway and points a finger at Paige accusingly. “No touching anything else.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige promises with a mock salute.

Azzi changes into her pajamas and gets ready for bed as quickly as her fatigued body will allow, which is to say not very quickly at all. By the time she’s done, she’s so drained that she’s sluggishly dragging her body back to her room.

She’s rounding the corner into her room, dirty clothes from the party in hand, when she happens to look up. She chokes on air, clothing falling out of her hands, and stumbles to regain her balance.

Paige is sprawled out on her bed, hair splaying across her pillows, the light of her phone screen lighting up her face.

But none of that is the issue here.

The issue here is that Paige is wearing a sports bra and pair of boxers and that’s it.

The lines of her hips are visible, her abs pulled taut, and Azzi suddenly feels like she needs to cover her eyes, unless she wants to start choking on air again. “What the fuck are you doing?” she squeaks out, hands covering her face.

She hears Paige laugh. “It’s hot as hell in here. I’on know why you keep the temp at, like, 75 degrees all the time.”

“So you had to take your clothes off?”

“It’s nothin’ you haven’t seen before anyways.”

“Paige.”

“Azzi.”

Azzi leans against the wall, dropping her hands from her face but keeping her eyes screwed tightly shut. “Can you—God, can you at least put a shirt on or something?”

I’m not sleeping a wink tonight if she doesn’t.

She hears the bed creak slightly and assumes Paige must be sitting up now. “If I gotta.”

Azzi takes that as agreement and blindly feels her way to her closet, searching for the closest T-shirt she can find and pulling it off the hanger. She tosses it behind her in the direction of the bed.

“Okay, Imma get ready too then, I guess,” Paige is saying, the sound of her footsteps becoming more distant as she exits the room.

Azzi expels all the air out of her lungs, finally allowing herself to open her eyes. With shaky legs she makes her way to the bed, tucking herself under the covers. She takes a few more steadying breaths.

Pull it together, Fudd.

Paige is back sooner than Azzi is ready for her to be, but she stops a few feet into the room and gestures at her shirt. “This funny to you or somethin’?”

Azzi takes a moment to actually look at the shirt she unknowingly picked out for Paige and barks out a laugh, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

The shirt has "St. John’s – State Champs" written across the chest in bold letters, her old high school’s logo below it.

“Okay, I promise I didn’t mean to pick that one,” Azzi swears, unable to contain her laughter.

“I’on believe you,” Paige grunts, sliding into the empty side of the bed. “You know I’d get beat up if anyone saw me wearin’ this, right?”

“Good thing it’s just me then, huh?”

“Guess so,” Paige grumbles, pulling the sheets up to her chin.

“Don’t worry,” Azzi says, smirking. “Your secret is safe with me, Cadet.”

Paige glares at her before rolling over and turning her back to Azzi. “I’m actually done talkin’ to you. Night.”

Azzi turns her bedside lamp off, encasing the room in darkness, save for a few bands of a dim streetlight poking through her blinds. “Night,” she echoes, settling to lay on her back.

She wills herself to sleep then, waiting for the exhaustion she’s been feeling for the past few hours to finally take over.

It doesn’t come.

It shouldn’t be this difficult.

But Azzi’s mind is racing, all thoughts on her former best friend stretched out beside her. Paige, lying in her childhood bed, clad in one of Azzi’s old basketball T-shirts and a pair of boxers, the warmth radiating from her enough to scorch Azzi’s skin even from half a foot away.

“Hey, P?” Azzi whispers, her gaze still glued to the ceiling.

She sees movement in her periphery, Paige angling her head back slightly in her direction. “Hm?”

Azzi swallows hard, attempting to dislodge the lump forming in her throat.

There’s been one question turning itself over and over in her mind all day. A thought that wouldn’t leave her head no matter how hard she tried to shake it out.

God, this is such a bad idea.

“Did you have a New Year’s kiss this year?” she hears herself ask.

Everything is silent then, and Azzi can’t think of many other times in her life where she’s felt as vulnerable as she does now.

The quietness stretches on for an agonizingly long amount of time. It lasts for so long, in fact, that part of Azzi begins to wonder if Paige might have fallen asleep.

“Nah,” Paige mumbles, breaking the silence. She turns fully back onto her side to face Azzi, resting her hands together underneath her head. Azzi feels her heavy stare piercing through the darkness and shivers. “You?”

Azzi shakes her head, sighs, “Me neither.”

She moves to face Paige, mirroring her position, her heartbeat thumping wildly in her ears.

Azzi wets her lips, locks her eyes onto Paige’s.

Fuck it.

“Did you want to have one?” she breathes out.

She doesn’t know what she’s expecting. Maybe for Paige to shove her playfully or smile at her or something like that.

But Paige brings her bottom lip into her mouth, waits a beat, then nods her head.

Oh.

She wants this, too.

Azzi isn’t sure which of them is leaning in, but suddenly Paige’s face is just inches from her own, her breath warm against Azzi’s lips.

“Are you sure?” Paige whispers.

Am I sure I want this?

Absolutely.

Am I sure we should be doing this?

Well...

Despite her doubts, Azzi swallows and nods her head.

Paige is the one to close the gap between them, hesitant, at first, and gentle, just the soft press of her lips against Azzi’s own. A tentative reunion, two aching souls finally coming back home to each other.

And then the kiss turns needy, hungry, and Paige is bringing a hand up to cup her face, sliding the other down to Azzi’s waist. Azzi does the same, tugs slightly to bring Paige to hover slightly over her. Paige is kissing her hard now, pressing her into the bed, exhaling heavily, making Azzi’s heart flutter uncontrollably.

Azzi makes a decision then, pulls back just slightly and uses her tongue to part Paige’s lips, shivering when she feels Paige sigh against her mouth. The action seems to spur Paige on further because she’s shifting again, slipping her leg in between Azzi’s, applying just a hint of pressure, building up a low heat there.

Paige is relentless, kissing her with such fervor that it makes her head spin. Azzi feels a thumb dip below the waistband of her pants, caressing against her hip, and for some reason that snaps Azzi out of the dizzy haze she's found herself trapped in.

Azzi breaks the kiss, lightheaded, because if she doesn't do it now she thinks they might never stop.

Paige rests their foreheads together for a moment. She leans back, shifts her body off Azzi’s, her pupils blown out and her chest heaving.

“There,” Azzi hears herself say, breath uneven. “Happy New Year.” Then she rolls away from Paige, heartbeat still erratic in her ears, shaking hands pulling the covers back over herself.

She feels the bed shift a minute later as Paige wordlessly turns away from her.

Azzi brings her fingers up to touch her mouth, the sensation still lingering there.

It’s hours before sleep finally finds her.

*****

Azzi wakes to the afternoon sunlight hitting her square in the face, and she pulls a pillow over her head to block it out. Groaning, she blindly sticks an arm out beside her, feeling for a warm body next to her to shake awake.

Her hand comes up empty.

She shoots up in her bed, panic swarming her as she scans across the empty room. Her chest tightens, her throat constricts.

Fuck, she’s gone.

Tears are just starting to prick at the corner of her eyes when the sound of boisterous laughter bounces off the walls of the hallway.

Curious, Azzi follows the sound, finding its source relatively quickly.

The sight is strange enough to raise Azzi’s eyebrows—her dad and Paige, seated on opposite sides of the dining table, laughing over empty breakfast plates.

Paige notices her first, nodding her chin towards her in acknowledgement. “Hey, Az.” She pats the chair next to her. “Sit.”

Azzi doesn’t move, eyes moving skeptically between her dad and Paige. “Hi. What are you guys talking about?”

“Oh, it’s nothin’,” her dad says, but the snickering between the two of them afterwards is saying something completely different.

“This.” Azzi points a finger back and forth between the two of them. “This I don’t like.”

“C’mon, we’re just messin’,” Paige assures, still grinning devilishly.

“Oh, I’m sure you are,” Azzi responds sarcastically, opening the fridge door and sticking her head in it, searching for something to settle her rumbling stomach. “So, what are we doing today?”

“Packing, I guess?” Paige replies.

Azzi picks her head up at that and closes the fridge. “Huh, why?”

“Got a flight to Connecticut in the mornin',” Paige shrugs, and Azzi’s heart drops to her stomach.

“You do?” she asks, failing to keep the sadness from creeping into her voice.

Paige looks apologetic, casting her eyes downward. “Yeah. I’m sorry. Forgot to mention it. Speakin’ of, I should head on out soon.” She stands, putting her dishes in the sink before clapping Azzi’s dad on the back. “Good to see you as always, Tim.”

He smiles up at her fondly. “You too, Paige.”

“Imma grab my stuff,” Paige says, brushing past Azzi into the living room. Azzi moves on autopilot, trailing behind her.

It takes Paige all of three seconds to get ready, having only really come here with her phone and the clothes she wore yesterday, which she must have changed back into at some point. Azzi watches her pull her sneakers on, shrug into her jacket.

“Guess this it then,” Paige starts, eyes looking anywhere but at Azzi.

Azzi wrings her hands together, trying to figure out where to go from here. “Well, uh, I guess I’ll see you around then, P.”

Azzi is going to leave it at that, moving her arms to give Paige a quick hug, but then Paige is grabbing her arm and pulling her in closer, lowering her voice. “Don't we need to talk 'bout somethin'?”

“Last time you said that you broke up with me.” Azzi pries Paige’s fingers off her arm.

Paige bristles at that, rubbing at the back of her neck nervously. “Okay, but still. We need to talk.”

“About?” Azzi asks, even though she already knows where this conversation is going. She looks at Paige expectantly.

“We kissed, Azzi. You don’t think we should talk ‘bout that?” There’s a crease between her eyebrows. “I mean, like, what does it mean, you know?”

There are two ways Azzi can play this. She can be honest, tell Paige that she lost hours of sleep over it, that it’s the only thing she’s thought about since she woke up, that it shifted her world off its axis. Can tell her that all those feelings she tried to push down have risen rapidly back to the surface, demanding all of her attention. Can lay it all out in front of them, knowing it could be months before the next time they see each other again.

And then there’s a second option.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” Azzi is saying, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly.

Maybe it's time for the ball to be in Paige's court now.

Paige shakes her head exaggeratedly, her face screwed up in utter confusion. “It doesn’t?”

“Not unless we want it to,” Azzi continues, making her expression as unreadable as possible.

“Well, do you?”

Azzi hums noncommittally, looking down at her nails. “Probably easier if we just forget about it, right? I mean, it was only one kiss.”

There’s conflict painted clear across Paige’s face, her mouth opening and closing several times like she can’t quite figure out how she’s supposed to respond to that. She bites her lip hard, so hard that Azzi is a little concerned that she’s about to draw blood.

“I—I, uh,” she stutters, and Azzi can’t remember the last time she saw her look this flustered. “No, yeah. For sure. Just a kiss.” She nods her head once, like she’s trying to convince herself.

“Good, I’m glad we agree,” Azzi replies, even if she doesn’t really mean it.

Paige scratches at the back of her neck again, clearly not anticipating the conversation to go like this. “Yeah. So...maybe I’ll see you in March or somethin’?” She offers a smile that doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

Azzi shrugs. “Maybe you will.”

*****

She doesn’t.

[loverangels]

head over heels

pairings: sirius black x fem!reader

synopsis: sirius loves visiting your record shop, for the vinyls and for you.

The tiny bell above the door jingled, and you didn’t even have to look up to know who it was. Sirius Black strolled into the record shop—again. You’d lost count of how many times he’d been here this month alone, but he always showed up with a grin that somehow managed to be both cocky and endearing.

Your mum had joked once that he must have the biggest vinyl collection in the city. But you knew better. Half the time, Sirius didn’t even seem to care which records he bought. He always spent more time leaning on the counter, chatting you up, than he did browsing the shelves.

“Afternoon, rock star,” he greeted, that signature lopsided grin firmly in place as he approached the counter.

You rolled your eyes at the nickname but couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at your lips. “Back so soon, Sirius? Didn’t I just see you yesterday?”

“What can I say? I have impeccable taste in music and an ever-growing collection to feed.” He winked, resting his forearms on the counter as he leaned a little closer. “And who better to guide me than the expert herself?”

“You’re ridiculous,” you muttered, grabbing the stack of new arrivals you’d been sorting through.

“Ridiculously charming, you mean,” he quipped.

You gave him a look, though your cheeks felt warm. “What are you after this time? Let me guess—something loud and obnoxious?”

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically, as if you’d wounded him. “You wound me, truly. I’m here for something... different.”

“Oh?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He grinned, eyes sparkling with mischief. “What’s your favorite album in the shop right now? Pick something for me.”

You rolled your eyes again but humored him, scanning the shelves behind you. You grabbed a record you thought he might actually like—something classic but edgy—and handed it to him.

He held the sleeve reverently, his long fingers brushing against yours as he took it. “Perfect. I’ll take it.”

“You didn’t even look at it,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Don’t need to. I trust your taste.”

That made your stomach flip, though you tried to ignore it. You busied yourself ringing up the record, but you could feel Sirius watching you.

When you glanced up, his gaze was softer, more thoughtful, like he was trying to memorize the curve of your smile or the way your hair fell over your shoulder. The moment he realized you’d caught him staring, his cheeks flushed pink, and he quickly looked away, pretending to be engrossed in a nearby display of CDs.

You bit back a smile. He was so confident most of the time that seeing him bashful was oddly endearing.

“Anything else?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light.

“Oh, definitely,” Sirius said, recovering quickly as he wandered over to the movie soundtrack section. He picked up a random CD and waved it at you. “What do you think? Too much John Williams in my collection?”

“You can never have too much John Williams,” you replied with a laugh. “But you’re not actually here for movie soundtracks, are you?”

“Caught me,” he admitted, his grin softening. “Maybe I just like the excuse to see you.”

His words hung in the air for a moment, and you felt your face heat up again. Sirius didn’t seem to mind your silence, though. If anything, he looked more confident, like he’d just scored a point in some game you hadn’t realized you were playing.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

Later that night, Sirius sat on the couch in his flat, staring at the ceiling while Remus flipped through a book and James played with a football in the corner.

“I’m an idiot,” Sirius declared.

“Yes, we know,” Remus said without looking up.

James laughed. “What is it this time? Forget to flirt with the cashier at the bakery?”

“It’s the girl at the record shop,” Sirius groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I swear, I was going to ask her out today. I even practiced. But then she caught me staring, and I panicked.”

Remus finally looked up, his expression equal parts exhausted and amused. “You’ve been talking about her for weeks, Pads. Just ask her out already. The worst she can say is no.”

James nodded, spinning the football in his hands. “Seriously, mate. If you don’t, I’ll do it for you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Sirius said, narrowing his eyes.

James smirked. “Try me.”

That was all the motivation Sirius needed. The next day, he walked into the record shop with a purpose.

You were behind the counter, sorting through a shipment of CDs, when the bell jingled and Sirius strolled in. This time, he didn’t pause to browse or make a cheeky comment. He came straight up to you, leaning casually on the counter like always—but his usual grin was softer, a little nervous around the edges.

“Hey,” he said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Hey,” you replied, tilting your head. “No new records to buy today?”

“Not exactly,” he said, shifting his weight. “I, uh... actually wanted to ask you something.”

You set the CDs down, giving him your full attention. “What’s up?”

Sirius hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “Would you want to go out with me? Sometime. On a date, I mean. Dinner, or coffee, or whatever you like. Your choice.”

You blinked, caught off guard by how nervous he sounded. For all his usual bravado, he was fidgeting slightly, his confidence faltering as he waited for your answer.

A smile spread across your face as you nodded. “I’d like that.”

His expression lit up, the tension in his shoulders easing instantly. “Yeah? When are you free?”

“Tomorrow, after I close up,” you said.

“Perfect,” Sirius said, his grin returning full force. “I’ll pick you up. Seven okay?”

“Seven’s perfect,” you agreed, feeling your own cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“Great. It’s a date.”

As Sirius walked out of the shop, he couldn’t stop himself from punching the air in triumph.

[hurlumerlu]

Thicker than

A short THK fic (AO3)

"I’ll explain later," said Kant, something Babe knew to translate by I’ll wait for you to forget about it. He didn’t see how he would, this time. "For now, just tell me you understood."

"I understood."

"So if Bison asks if you’re alright?"

"I say I managed to hide, and you found me before the bullies did."

"Good. Now tell it to me in different words."

"You know this isn’t my first lie, right? You don’t have to coach me through it."

"Humor me."

"I outran them and hid before you arrived."

"Good." Kant repeated. He wasn’t slowing down and it put Babe on edge: his brother never rushed, or more accurately never let it show when he did. Everything had been off since he’d asked for that phone call.

"What if I don’t play along?" That stopped Kant. When he turned, Babe almost took a step back. "I was only jo–"

"I’m sorry," Kant interrupted, "and it’s the last time I ask you something like this. But promise me you’ll lie."

"Yeah, okay. I’m not, like, allergic or any–"

"Promise me, Babe."

"I promise. You’ll explain later?"

"Sure. Come on, he must be there already."

The night got even weirder after that.

"Here’s what I still don’t get, though" said Babe. "You like him."

Kant sighed. "This ain’t really about me." A serious contender for Most Kant Answer Ever, though Babe hadn’t heard it in a while.

He set the dry plate on top of the others. "I think he likes you too."

"Believe it or not" – Kant was scrubbing a little too energetically. Babe had painted that glass when he was eight and, ugly as it was, his brother always washed it with the utmost care – "it ain’t really about him either."

That was a new one. Babe took the glass from Kant’s hand and rinsed it himself. "Who is it about, then?" Wet spoons were handed out to him without so much as a look. He hadn't even finished drying the glass. "Is this when you tell me that whatever you’re doing, you’re doing it for us?"

"You told me to stop saying that."

Babe remembered that argument. Of course, what he’d actually wanted was for his brother to stop thinking that way, but he’d thought that had been clear. Maybe it had been. He should still have been clearer.

"Are we not going to talk about the gun at all?"

"He’s had a rough life, you know." Kant replied in his worst parent-teacher meeting voice. "He just needs to unlearn a few things."

Babe gave up.

don’t wait 4 me tonite, said the text. leftovers in the fridge. If u want 2 invite Knot cool but no alcohol

Bison again? Babe texted back. He might not get an answer, but that wasn’t a reason not to try.

Well. A victory sign emoji was an answer, he supposed.

Where are you going?

😎.

Typical. Babe had read the work of some master wordsmiths, but he would never not be impressed by his brother’s ability to convey Mind your business without a word.

Have fun, then. If that’s indeed the goal.

In a true feat of human communication, the next 😎 he received felt even more pointed.

"Ah," said Kant. "You’re here."

"Sorry." Babe blinked against the flood of light. "Gave my bed to Knot. I didn’t think you’d come home tonight." Kant’s sheets didn’t smell like him – he had changed them this morning – but there was an undeniable comfort to sleeping in his room. And it was miles better than laying awake next to Knot, wondering what amount of incidental contact you could get away with before you fell into creep territory. "You had a good time?"

"Hm."

Kant hadn’t moved, fingers still on the lightswitch. He was, technically, looking at Babe. It didn’t feel like he was looking at anything at all.

Babe got up, feet against the cool floor. "Kant?" But he couldn’t ask are you okay: Kant always replied yes. "Is Bison alright?"

When he got pulled into a hug, Babe didn’t resist. He had so many questions, the list ever growing, yet with his brother clinging to him like this – like he hadn’t done in years, like it would be the last time, like a drowning man struggling to stay afloat – he knew he wouldn’t voice any of them.

He closed his eyes, inhaled, and clung back.

[bokutosbabe]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° i can still see you

( bachira meguru x gn! reader )

♡ a/n — for my new series :)

♡ content — bachira meguru x gn! reader, gn! reader, friends to lovers, established relationship, you can infer they're engaged at the end :) , mentions of bachira's demon, set before blue lock then goes to when he's playing pro soccer, made this with him being 20+ in my mind

♡ synopsis — Bachira Meguru didn’t need to be part of other people's world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

The sharp whistle of the coach’s signal echoed across the field, but it didn’t faze Bachira. He’d grown used to its bite, to the way it demanded more from him than he was allowed to give. His teammates moved like clockwork around him—predictable, synchronized, and utterly boring.

He saw opportunities they never did, tiny gaps in their defense that begged to be exploited. But no one ever passed him the ball. When he waved, calling for it, they ignored him or chose someone else.

“Stop trying to show off, Bachira,” one teammate sneered after a scrimmage. “This isn’t street soccer.”

Bachira didn’t answer. He never did. He just smiled, letting their words roll off him, though it stung more than he cared to admit.

From the bleachers, he caught sight of you, the only person who never looked at him like he didn’t belong. You sat with your chin resting on your hands, watching him intently like you always did, and when his gaze met yours, you waved.

The smile that tugged at his lips this time was real.

“You shouldn’t let them get to you, you know,” you said later, sitting cross-legged on the grass beside him. The team had long since cleared out, but Bachira lingered. He always did. It was as if he couldn’t leave the field until it felt like his, even if only for a moment.

“I’m not letting them get to me,” he replied, his voice light, but you saw the way his fingers picked at the edge of his shoelaces. “I don’t need them anyway. I’ve got my monster.”

“Your monster,” you echoed, leaning back on your palms. “What’s it saying today?”

Bachira tilted his head, like he was listening to something only he could hear. “It says I’m right. That I’m better off alone.”

You frowned. “Meguru, that’s not true.”

He shrugged, but the motion felt hollow. “Maybe it is. They don’t want me here. They think I’m weird, right? Maybe I don’t belong.”

The words were soft, quieter than he usually spoke, and they made your chest ache.

“You don’t belong with them,” you said firmly, and his head shot up to look at you. “You’re better than that.”

A laugh bubbled from his lips, and it was bright, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You always say that. Better than what?”

“Better than their small minds,” you shot back. “Better than this boring little team that doesn’t know how lucky they are to have you.”

His smile faltered for the briefest moment, replaced by something softer, something almost vulnerable.

“You really think that?”

You leaned forward, your voice steady and sure. “I know that. You’re not like them, Meguru, and that’s not a bad thing. One day, someone’s going to see what makes you special. Someone besides me.”

His laugh this time was genuine. “Someone besides you? Impossible.”

You smiled, nudging his shoulder with yours. “You’ll see. And when it happens, I’ll be the first one cheering for you. Always.”

Bachira’s golden eyes sparkled under the fading sunlight, and the grin on his face stretched wide. It wasn’t the same grin he used to mask his pain—it was the kind of smile he reserved only for you.

He didn’t say anything back, but the way his shoulder lingered against yours told you everything you needed to know.

The crowd erupted as the ball sailed past the goalkeeper, slamming into the back of the net with precision and flair. Another goal for FC Barcha, courtesy of Bachira Meguru.

The stadium roared with chants of his name, the commentators losing their minds over his second goal of the night. His teammates rushed toward him, arms outstretched, ready to celebrate, but Bachira was already moving, sprinting past them all.

His golden eyes scanned the VIP section, searching, and when they landed on you, his grin widened into something radiant, something that belonged to no one else but you.

He stopped in the middle of the field, ignoring the chaos around him, and pointed at his heart with two fingers, tapping twice. Then, he turned his hand and pointed directly at you.

You stood there, hands cupped over your mouth, tears already pricking at the corners of your eyes. The ring on your finger caught the stadium lights, sparkling like a star, and when you started clapping, the entire section followed your lead.

You were the first one to cheer for him—just like you always had been.

Bachira’s teammates finally caught up to him, tackling him into a celebratory hug, but his gaze stayed locked on you. Through all the noise, through all the glory of the game, there was only one person who truly mattered.

He didn’t need to be part of their world all those years ago. He had always been destined to make his own, and you had been with him every step of the way.

meguru bachira they could never make me hate you

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[imreidswifey]

The Profiler’s Heart -S.Reid Fanfic-

Words: 20k+

Summary: The Profiler’s Heart, is a heartfelt romance with Dr. Spencer Reid, the brilliant yet socially awkward FBI agent from Criminal Minds. What begins as a simple, chance encounter at a local coffee shop transforms into a deep and transformative relationship. Over time, Spencer slowly lets you into his world, keeping his newfound happiness a secret from his team as he struggles with his own vulnerabilities. Despite the challenges of his past—his mother’s schizophrenia, his painful memories, and the pressures of his demanding job—the bond between you both grows stronger.

A/n: As you may have noticed I have not been posting as much because I have been working on this!! It is a very long read so get comfortable (Around 20k+ words)

Warnings:

Mental Health Themes, Trauma & Emotional Struggles, Mature Themes & Emotional Content, Slow Burn Romance, Spoilers for Criminal Minds, Language: The story includes some strong language and emotional intensity in dialogue, Romantic Relationship Dynamics, Slow Development.

———————————————————————————-

The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as you pushed open the door to your favorite coffee shop, the bell above jingling softly. It was a small, cozy space, tucked away on a quiet street—a haven for anyone seeking a little peace. You’d been coming here for months, drawn to the warm lighting, mismatched chairs, and the faint hum of classical music playing in the background. Today was no different. You approached the counter, exchanging a quick smile with the barista as you placed your usual order, then made your way to your favorite seat by the window.

You had just settled in with a book when you noticed him walk in. He wasn’t entirely new to the coffee shop—you’d seen him a few times before—but he always seemed to come and go without much interaction. He was tall and lanky, his slightly unkempt hair giving him an air of quiet distraction. Today, he looked even more out of place than usual, wearing a sweater vest over a button-down shirt and a tie that seemed just slightly too tight. As he reached the counter, he fumbled briefly with his wallet before ordering in a low, hesitant voice.

“Black coffee, no sugar.”

He stood awkwardly while waiting for his drink, his gaze darting around the room before landing on your table. The coffee shop was unusually crowded today, and there weren’t many seats left. When his coffee arrived, he hesitated for a moment, then approached your table, holding his cup with both hands as though it might steady him.

“Excuse me,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the chatter around you. “Is this seat taken?”

You shook your head, offering a polite smile. “Not at all. Go ahead.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, lowering himself into the chair across from you.

He placed his coffee on the table and pulled a thick book from his bag. You tried not to stare, but the title caught your eye—An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations.

“Light reading?” you asked, tilting your head toward the book.

He glanced up, his lips twitching into a faint smile. “Adam Smith is… surprisingly engaging,” he replied, his tone measured and deliberate.

You raised an eyebrow. “That’s one way to describe it. Most people would’ve gone with ‘dense’ or ‘impenetrable.’”

His smile widened slightly, and for a moment, you thought you saw a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. It’s fascinating when you think about how his ideas laid the foundation for modern economics.”

“True,” you conceded, closing your own book and leaning forward slightly. “But do you ever read anything just for fun?”

He hesitated, as though the question caught him off guard. “I do,” he said after a moment, though his tone carried a hint of defensiveness. “But I suppose my idea of fun might be… unconventional.”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not judging. I mean, I’m sitting here reading 19th-century poetry for fun, so I’m probably not one to talk.”

His gaze flicked to the cover of your book, and he nodded appreciatively. “Emily Dickinson. Her work is deceptively simple but incredibly profound.”

“You’re a fan?” you asked, surprised.

“Of her conciseness, yes. She had a remarkable ability to convey complex ideas with very few words,” he said, then added, almost shyly, “Though I can’t say I’ve read all of her work. There are still… gaps in my literary knowledge.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the way he spoke—thoughtful, deliberate, as though each word had been carefully chosen. It wasn’t the kind of conversation you were used to having with strangers in coffee shops, but there was something refreshing about it.

For the next half hour, the two of you exchanged snippets of conversation between sips of coffee and moments of quiet reading. You learned that his name was Spencer and that he worked in a field he described only as “challenging.�� He asked about your interests with genuine curiosity, his sharp mind evident in the way he seemed to absorb every detail you shared.

When it was time for you to leave, you hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should say anything. In the end, you simply stood, offering him a small smile. “It was nice talking to you, Spencer. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

He looked up from his book, his expression softening. “Likewise. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You nodded and walked away, feeling an inexplicable sense of warmth. As you stepped outside, you glanced back through the window and saw him watching you, his book forgotten on the table.

You didn’t know it yet, but that moment was the beginning of something that would soon become a part of your routine—and, eventually, your life.

The coffee shop was quieter today, the usual mid-morning rush giving way to a lull that left most of the tables empty. You had claimed your usual spot by the window, your coffee steaming gently on the table, and a fresh novel open in your hands. You weren’t expecting to see him again so soon, but as the door jingled softly, you looked up instinctively.

There he was.

Spencer walked in with the same slightly awkward air, his satchel slung over his shoulder and his tie slightly askew. This time, though, he spotted you almost immediately. His gaze lingered for a moment, a flicker of recognition crossing his face before he moved to the counter to place his order.

“Black coffee, no sugar,” he murmured, just loud enough for the barista to hear.

You went back to your book, though your focus wavered slightly. When he approached your table, coffee in hand, you glanced up again.

“Mind if I join you?” he asked, his tone polite but hesitant.

You gestured to the empty seat with a smile. “Not at all. Looks like it’s becoming a habit.”

He sat down carefully, placing his coffee on the table and pulling a notebook from his bag. The book from last time was absent, but he seemed just as engrossed in whatever he was working on. For a few minutes, the two of you sat in companionable silence, the only sounds the faint rustle of paper and the clink of ceramic mugs.

It was Spencer who broke the silence first. “What are you reading today?”

You held up the cover for him to see. “It’s a mystery novel. Nothing as dense as Adam Smith, but it’s a fun read.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. “Mystery novels are interesting. They rely on a careful balance of misdirection and logic. Do you prefer ones with a twist ending or ones where you can solve the puzzle before the protagonist does?”

You considered the question for a moment. “I like the ones that make you think you’ve figured it out, only to completely surprise you in the last chapter. Keeps things exciting.”

He nodded, his fingers tapping idly against the edge of his coffee cup. “The element of surprise is important, but so is fairness. A good mystery should give you all the clues—you just have to know how to interpret them.”

“Is that something you’ve studied?” you asked, leaning forward slightly.

He hesitated, his expression shifting as though he were carefully choosing his words. “In a way. My work involves… patterns, logic, and deduction. It’s not exactly the same as a mystery novel, but there are parallels.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “That sounds fascinating. What do you do, exactly?”

He hesitated again, glancing down at his notebook as if it held the answer. “I work for the FBI,” he said finally. “In the Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Your eyes widened. “Seriously? That’s incredible. You’re a profiler, then?”

He gave a small nod, his expression modest. “Yes. We analyze criminal behavior to help solve cases. It’s… challenging, but rewarding.”

“That sounds like the kind of job that would keep you up at night,” you said, your tone curious but gentle.

He gave a faint smile, his gaze distant. “It does, sometimes. But it also gives me a chance to help people, which makes it worth it.”

There was a quiet intensity in his voice that made you pause. It was clear that his work was more than just a job to him—it was something deeply personal.

“Sounds like you’re pretty good at it,” you said softly.

He looked up, startled, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him. “I… try to be.”

The conversation drifted after that, touching on lighter topics. He asked about your work, genuinely interested in what you had to say, and you found yourself sharing more than you expected. There was something disarming about his quiet attention, the way he seemed to hang on every word.

Before long, an hour had passed, and you realized with a start that you needed to get going.

“I should probably head out,” you said, gathering your things. “But this was nice. I’m glad we got to talk again.”

Spencer nodded, his expression softening. “Me too. And… thank you for letting me sit here.”

You smiled. “You don’t have to thank me for that. Besides, I’m starting to think you’re better company than I expected.”

A faint blush crept up his neck, but he didn’t look away. “I’ll… see you around, then?”

“Definitely,” you said, giving him a small wave before heading out the door.

As you walked down the street, you couldn’t help but feel lighter somehow, as though the conversation had brightened your day in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Back at the coffee shop, Spencer sat for a moment, staring at the empty seat across from him. He pulled out his notebook and jotted something down—a brief note in his neat, precise handwriting.

For the rest of the day, he carried that moment with him, and though he didn’t say a word about it to anyone, his coworkers at the BAU couldn’t help but notice the faint smile that lingered on his face.

It was raining the next time you saw Spencer, a steady drizzle that painted the streets in a muted haze. The coffee shop was busier than usual, filled with people seeking shelter from the weather, and the hum of conversation blended with the rhythmic patter of rain against the windows. You were perched at your usual table, a warm mug in your hands, when the door jingled and Spencer walked in, shaking droplets from his hair.

He scanned the room, his gaze landing on you almost immediately. You raised a hand in a small wave, and his lips curved into a soft smile as he made his way over.

“Crowded today,” he remarked, his voice low but warm as he slipped into the seat across from you.

“Seems like everyone had the same idea,” you replied, gesturing toward the line snaking its way to the counter. “You might be waiting a while for your coffee.”

He glanced at the line, then back at you. “That’s all right. I’m in no hurry.”

There was an ease to his presence now that hadn’t been there before, a quiet comfort that made you smile. Over the past few weeks, your conversations had become more frequent, the once-occasional meetings in the coffee shop turning into something you both seemed to look forward to.

“Working on anything interesting today?” you asked, nodding toward the notebook he’d pulled from his bag.

Spencer opened it carefully, revealing pages filled with neat, precise handwriting and diagrams that looked more like they belonged in a science journal than a coffee shop. “Just some notes,” he said, brushing his fingers over the edge of the paper. “It helps me organize my thoughts.”

“Mind if I take a look?” you asked, intrigued.

He hesitated for a moment before sliding the notebook across the table. You skimmed the page, your brow furrowing as you tried to make sense of the densely packed information.

“This… is definitely not light reading,” you said with a laugh, handing it back to him. “Is this for work?”

“In a way,” he said, tucking the notebook back into his bag. “I like to stay ahead, so I do a lot of independent research. It helps when I’m working on particularly complicated cases.”

You nodded, impressed. “You really don’t stop, do you?”

Spencer looked at you, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose not. But I enjoy it. There’s always more to learn, and I find comfort in that.”

Something about the way he said it made you pause. There was a vulnerability beneath his words, a quiet admission that spoke to the way his mind worked—always racing, always searching for answers.

“Well, if you ever need a break from all that learning,” you said lightly, “you know where to find me.”

His lips quirked into a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The line at the counter finally thinned, and Spencer stood to get his coffee. When he returned, he carried two cups instead of one, placing one in front of you with a sheepish smile.

“I noticed you were almost out,” he said, gesturing toward your empty mug.

You blinked, surprised. “Thank you, Spencer. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged, his cheeks faintly pink. “It’s nothing. Consider it a… small token of appreciation.”

“For what?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“For… this,” he said, gesturing vaguely at the table. “Talking. Listening. It’s nice.”

You smiled, touched by his sincerity. “It is. I’m glad we met.”

For the next hour, the two of you fell into easy conversation, your voices weaving through the ambient noise of the coffee shop. Spencer told you about his love of obscure trivia and his penchant for collecting rare books, and you shared stories from your own life, finding common ground in unexpected places.

At one point, he hesitated, glancing down at his coffee cup as though gathering his thoughts. “Would you… be interested in going to the museum sometime?” he asked, his tone careful but hopeful.

You tilted your head, surprised but pleased. “I’d love to. Which one?”

“There’s an exhibit on mathematical paradoxes opening this weekend,” he said, his enthusiasm breaking through his usual reserved demeanor. “It’s fascinating how something can appear contradictory but still hold a deeper truth.”

His excitement was contagious, and you couldn’t help but grin. “Sounds like fun. Let’s do it.”

The smile that spread across his face was unguarded, and you realized then how rare it was to see him so openly happy. It was a side of him you hoped to see more of, and as the rain continued to fall outside, you felt a quiet certainty that this was the beginning of something special.

Unbeknownst to you, Spencer carried that same certainty with him when he left the coffee shop that day. For the first time in a long while, he found himself looking forward to something outside of work, and though he kept his happiness tucked away like a secret, it shone through in small, quiet ways that didn’t go unnoticed.

At the BAU, Penelope Garcia was the first to comment on the change.

“Spence, you’ve been smiling more lately,” she said one afternoon, leaning against his desk with a knowing look. “Something you want to share?”

He shook his head, his ears turning pink as he focused intently on the file in front of him. “Nothing in particular,” he murmured, but the corner of his mouth twitched in a way that didn’t escape her sharp eyes.

“Uh-huh,” she said, narrowing her gaze. “We’ll see about that.”

Spencer didn’t respond, but as Penelope walked away, he allowed himself the smallest of smiles, his thoughts drifting back to you and the quiet joy you’d brought into his life.

The BAU was a place where secrets rarely lasted long. The team’s job, after all, was to dissect behavior and unravel mysteries. As close-knit as they were, each member had an uncanny ability to notice even the smallest shift in one another’s routines. It was only a matter of time before they turned their collective attention to Spencer Reid.

It started with little things.

“Is it just me,” Penelope Garcia mused one morning, leaning dramatically against Derek Morgan’s desk, “or is our resident genius unusually… chipper lately?”

Morgan looked up from his case file, an amused grin tugging at his lips. “C’mon, Baby Girl. Reid’s always in his own world. What are you noticing?”

Penelope gestured emphatically with her glittery pen. “He’s been smiling. Like, actual smiles. And—get this—he whistled in the break room yesterday. Whistled!”

Morgan raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Whistling’s a crime now?”

“No, Derek,” she said with mock exasperation. “But it’s unusual for our dear Doctor Reid. He’s not exactly the whistling type. Something’s up. I can feel it.”

David Rossi, who had been quietly listening from his desk nearby, chimed in. “It’s true. Kid’s been humming, too. I caught him doing it while going through the case files last night.”

Emily Prentiss joined them, holding a mug of coffee and looking intrigued. “Wait. Reid? Humming? What’s next—Reid cracking jokes?”

“I wouldn’t rule it out,” Rossi said with a smirk. “Mark my words: there’s something—or someone—making him happy.”

Penelope’s eyes lit up at the possibility. “Someone? Oh, now this is interesting. What if he’s secretly dating someone and didn’t tell us?”

Morgan laughed, shaking his head. “You’re jumping to conclusions. Just because he’s smiling doesn’t mean he’s got a secret girlfriend.”

Penelope crossed her arms. “Oh, you think so? Then how do you explain the sudden wardrobe upgrade? He wore matching socks two days in a row last week. That’s not a coincidence.”

Emily snorted into her coffee. “Matching socks are the evidence we’re going with?”

“I have my methods,” Penelope said dramatically. “And my gut is never wrong. I’m telling you, there’s a mystery here, and I am determined to solve it.”

Rossi leaned back, a knowing look on his face. “Whatever it is, let him have his secret—for now. If it’s important, he’ll tell us.”

But Penelope wasn’t about to let it go that easily.

Meanwhile, Spencer was doing everything he could to keep his private life private.

He’d always been meticulous about compartmentalizing his personal and professional worlds, but ever since he’d started spending more time with you, it had become harder to maintain the separation. The team’s inquisitive glances and subtle comments hadn’t escaped his notice, and it was making him increasingly anxious.

During lunch in the break room, JJ sat down beside him, her expression casual but her tone careful. “So, Spence. Anything new going on in your life?”

He froze for a split second, his fork hovering over his salad. “Uh… no. Not really.”

“Nothing at all?” she pressed gently.

“Nope. Just the usual,” he said quickly, focusing intently on his food.

JJ raised an eyebrow but didn’t push further. She exchanged a look with Emily across the room, who gave her a subtle nod.

Spencer knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.

That evening, after a long day at work, Spencer met you at the coffee shop where it had all started. You were already seated at your usual table, a warm smile lighting up your face when you saw him.

“Hey, you,” you greeted as he slid into the seat across from you.

“Hi,” he said, his expression softening in your presence.

But you could tell something was bothering him. His brow was furrowed, and he kept fidgeting with the edge of his coffee cup.

“Everything okay?” you asked gently.

He hesitated, then sighed. “It’s my team. They’re starting to notice… changes in my behavior. Penelope, especially. She’s like a bloodhound when it comes to figuring things out.”

You tilted your head, concerned. “And that’s a bad thing?”

“No,” he said quickly. “It’s just… they’ll want to meet you. And once they do, they’ll start meddling. They mean well, but they can be… overwhelming.”

You reached across the table, covering his hand with yours. “I get it, Spencer. They’re your family, and you want to protect this part of your life for a little while longer. But…”

“But?” he prompted, his eyes searching yours.

“But maybe letting them in wouldn’t be such a bad thing,” you said softly. “From what you’ve told me, they sound like amazing people who care about you. I’d love to meet them someday—when you’re ready.”

He looked down at your hand on his, his expression conflicted. “What if they start analyzing us? Or worse, what if they don’t think I’m… good enough for you?”

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. “First of all, you’re more than good enough. And second, I can handle a little scrutiny if it means being part of your life in every way. Besides, I think they’d like me.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “They’d more than like you. They’d adore you.”

“Then what are you so worried about?” you teased gently.

Spencer let out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “I guess… I’m just not used to sharing this part of my life with anyone. It’s new for me.”

“It’s new for me, too,” you admitted. “But we’re figuring it out together, right?”

“Right,” he said, his smile growing.

At the BAU the next day, Penelope was on a mission.

She cornered Morgan in the bullpen, her eyes gleaming with determination. “I’ve been doing some digging, and I think I’m onto something.”

Morgan raised an eyebrow. “Digging? Garcia, you didn’t—”

“Relax,” she said, waving a hand. “I didn’t hack anything. I’m just observing. And based on my observations, Reid is definitely hiding something—or someone.”

“What makes you so sure?” Morgan asked, crossing his arms.

“He’s been leaving earlier than usual, taking lunch breaks outside the office, and—get this—he turned down a weekend trivia marathon to ‘run errands.’ Who turns down trivia, Derek?”

“Okay, you might have a point,” Morgan admitted, though he still looked skeptical. “But if the kid’s got a secret girlfriend, don’t you think he’d tell us eventually?”

Penelope sighed dramatically. “Eventually? Do you know how long eventually could take with Reid? We could all be retired by then!”

Morgan chuckled, shaking his head. “All right, fine. Keep sleuthing. But don’t push him too hard. The kid’s entitled to his privacy.”

Penelope grinned. “Oh, I’ll be subtle. Like a ninja.”

Morgan muttered under his breath, “Subtle is not in your vocabulary.”

That evening, Spencer found himself staring at his phone, your encouraging words from the night before echoing in his mind. He knew you were right—his team was his family, and they deserved to know about you. But the thought of their teasing, their endless questions, and their well-meaning meddling made his stomach twist.

After a few moments of hesitation, he opened the group chat.

Spencer: Can we all meet for dinner tomorrow? My treat. There’s something I’d like to share.

The replies came almost instantly.

Garcia: OMG, yes! Is this about what I think it’s about???

Morgan: I’m in. But if it’s not about what she thinks it’s about, you’re buying dessert too.

JJ: Sounds great, Spence. Can’t wait!

Prentiss: This better be good. Rossi and I are skipping wine night for this.

Spencer sighed, already regretting his decision, but there was no turning back now.

The next day, as the team gathered at a cozy Italian restaurant, Spencer felt his nerves building with every passing minute. But then he thought of you—your steady reassurance, your warm smile—and it gave him the courage he needed.

“Okay, Reid,” Morgan said, leaning back in his chair. “You’ve been acting all secretive for weeks. Spill it.”

Spencer took a deep breath, his gaze sweeping across the table. “There’s… someone I’d like you all to meet. Someone important to me.”

The table fell silent for a moment, and then Penelope let out an excited squeal. “I knew it!”

Spencer winced but pressed on. “Her name is [Your Name]. We’ve been seeing each other for a little while now, and… well, she means a lot to me.”

JJ smiled warmly. “Spence, that’s wonderful. We’re so happy for you.”

“Yeah, kid,” Morgan added, grinning. “It’s about time you found someone who makes you smile like that.”

“Thanks,” Spencer said, his cheeks turning pink. “I just… I wanted you all to know. And she’d like to meet you, too.”

Penelope clasped her hands together, her eyes shining with excitement. “When? Where? I need details!”

“Soon,” Spencer said, his smile growing despite himself. “But… promise me you’ll go easy on her.”

“No promises,” Rossi said with a smirk, raising his glass in a toast. “To Reid and [Your Name]. May we get to meet her soon—and may she survive this group.”

Laughter erupted around the table, and for the first time, Spencer felt a weight lift from his shoulders. He didn’t know what the future held, but he knew one thing for certain: with you by

The day had arrived, and Spencer was pacing his apartment like a man preparing for battle. He had gone over every possible scenario in his mind: what his team might say, how you might respond, and how much teasing he would inevitably endure. Despite your reassurances that everything would be fine, his anxiety hummed like static in the background.

“Spencer,” you said gently, stepping into his path and placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “Take a deep breath.”

He halted mid-step, looking down at you with wide, nervous eyes. “What if they don’t like you?”

You smiled softly. “Then they’d be the first people in your life to have terrible judgment.”

He let out a nervous chuckle, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease. “You don’t know them like I do. They’re going to analyze everything. And Penelope… she’s going to want to know everything about you.”

“Good,” you said, squeezing his arm. “I’m an open book. Besides, it sounds like she already likes me, and she hasn’t even met me yet.”

Spencer hesitated, then sighed. “You’re right. I’m overthinking this.”

“You? Overthinking? Never,” you teased, earning a small smile from him. “Come on, Spencer. Let’s go. The sooner we get there, the sooner you can stop worrying.”

The restaurant Spencer had chosen was cozy and unassuming, with warm lighting and a menu that promised hearty Italian fare. You arrived hand in hand, his grip tightening slightly as you walked through the door.

“Over here!” Penelope’s cheerful voice rang out, and you turned to see her waving enthusiastically from a large round table in the corner. The rest of the team was already seated—Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi, and Aaron Hotchner, all watching your approach with varying degrees of curiosity.

“Hi, everyone,” Spencer said, his voice quieter than usual. “This is [Your Name].”

You offered a warm smile, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement as six pairs of eyes turned to you. “Hi. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you.”

Penelope was the first to react, jumping up from her seat and pulling you into a hug before you could blink. “Oh my gosh, it’s so nice to meet you! I’ve been dying to know who’s responsible for putting that adorable smile on our boy genius’s face.”

“Uh, thank you,” you managed, laughing as you hugged her back. “It’s nice to meet you too.”

When Penelope finally released you, Derek stood, his expression warm and teasing. “So, you’re the one who’s been keeping Reid all to yourself. I’m Derek Morgan. You ever need anything—or if he ever gets on your nerves—you call me.”

“Nice to meet you, Derek,” you said, shaking his hand. “And don’t worry, Spencer’s been a perfect gentleman.”

“Of course he has,” Derek said with a wink. “The kid’s a saint.”

The introductions continued around the table, each team member greeting you with a mix of curiosity and warmth. JJ’s smile was kind and welcoming as she shared stories about Spencer’s quirks, while Emily’s dry humor had you laughing within minutes. Rossi was effortlessly charming, offering you a wine recommendation before the server even approached.

And then there was Hotch.

He was quieter than the others, his expression measured as he shook your hand. “It’s nice to meet you,” he said simply, but there was something in his steady gaze that felt like approval.

As the dinner progressed, you couldn’t help but be impressed by how much this group felt like a family. They teased each other mercilessly, but the underlying affection was unmistakable.

“So,” Penelope began, leaning forward with her chin propped on her hand. “How did you two meet? Was it one of those adorable movie moments where you bumped into each other and spilled coffee everywhere?”

“Not quite,” you said, glancing at Spencer, whose cheeks had turned pink. “We met at a coffee shop, though. He was sitting in the corner reading a book, and I… well, I couldn’t help but say hi.”

“Classic Reid,” Emily said, smirking. “Always with his nose in a book.”

“Hey,” Spencer protested weakly, earning a round of laughter.

“It worked out, though,” you said, smiling at him. “Because he said hi back.”

“And the rest is history,” JJ said warmly.

As the conversation continued, you found yourself feeling more at ease. Penelope’s bubbly energy was infectious, and Derek’s playful jabs at Spencer had you laughing until your sides ached. Even Rossi, with his sharp wit, made you feel welcome, sharing anecdotes about Spencer’s early days in the BAU.

But it was Hotch’s quiet observation that stuck with you the most.

“You make him happy,” he said simply when the others were distracted by a debate about dessert.

You glanced at Spencer, who was laughing at something Derek had said. “He makes me happy too.”

Hotch nodded, a faint smile touching his lips. “Good. He deserves that.”

By the time dinner ended, you felt like you’d known Spencer’s team for years. They walked you to the door of the restaurant, Derek and Penelope insisting on giving you a round of hugs before you left.

“Don’t be a stranger,” Penelope said. “We expect you to join us for trivia night sometime.”

“I’d love that,” you said, smiling.

As you and Spencer walked to the car, his hand found yours, his fingers intertwining with yours in a way that felt easy and natural.

“Well?” you asked, glancing at him. “How do you think it went?”

“I think it went… really well,” he said, his voice tinged with relief. “They love you.”

“And I love them,” you said sincerely. “They’re amazing, Spencer. It’s no wonder you consider them family.”

He smiled, his eyes soft as he looked at you. “Thank you for doing this. I know it wasn’t exactly a quiet night out.”

“It was perfect,” you said, leaning your head against his shoulder as you walked. “And now I understand why you were so nervous. They’re protective of you, but it’s only because they care.”

“They do care,” he agreed. “But I care about you, too. And seeing you with them tonight… it just felt right.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and when you reached the car, you turned to him, your hand resting lightly on his chest. “I’m glad we did this, Spencer. You don’t have to keep parts of your life separate anymore—not with me, and not with them.”

He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I know. And I’m grateful for that. For you.”

As the two of you drove home, the city lights blurring in the distance, you couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. You had taken another step forward together, and as you glanced at Spencer, who was humming softly along to the radio, you knew that this was just the beginning of the many adventures yet to come.

The case had hit Spencer harder than he had anticipated. It wasn’t the nature of the crime—it wasn’t even the investigation itself that had him on edge. It was the familiar feeling of helplessness, the weight of memories he had long buried surfacing unexpectedly. The case involved a series of abductions, and the helplessness of the victims—who had been taken from their homes, without a trace—was something Spencer couldn’t ignore. It brought back too many painful memories of the time when he had been kidnapped, the hours that had stretched endlessly as he fought to stay alive. It wasn’t the first time a case had triggered his trauma, but something about this one felt more personal. The terror in the victims’ eyes, the hopelessness in their families, was too close to home.

He had been quiet all day, retreating inwardly, the weight of his thoughts dragging him into himself. His usual sarcasm and jokes were absent, and his responses to questions were short and distant. Spencer wasn’t the type to show weakness, especially in front of his team, but anyone who knew him well could sense the shift. Penelope had been the first to notice, giving him a concerned look across the room as he sat staring blankly at his computer screen. Derek, always the observant one, had seen it too.

It wasn’t long before Spencer excused himself, claiming to need a break from the team’s discussions. He knew they’d want to talk about the case—everyone was anxious to make progress—but he couldn’t focus, couldn’t give them what they needed. Not now.

You had been waiting for Spencer at home, preparing dinner when he texted you that he would be late. You knew the team had been working a difficult case, but you hadn’t anticipated how much it would affect him. As you set the table, your thoughts turned to Spencer. Lately, you had noticed that he seemed more closed off than usual. He had always been a bit reserved, but it felt different now. More distant. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was bothering him, but you didn’t know how to help. You had tried talking to him a few times, but he always brushed you off with a smile or a joke.

When Spencer arrived home, it was later than usual. He walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his usual energetic stride replaced by a slow, weary gait. You had been waiting in the living room, a quiet concern in your chest as you stood to greet him.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, your voice gentle.

Spencer didn’t immediately respond, his eyes lost in thought as he dropped his bag on the floor and hung his coat. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the way his shoulders sagged as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

“Spencer?” you said again, a little softer this time, stepping closer to him.

He finally met your gaze, his eyes glassy, though he quickly tried to mask the vulnerability behind a forced smile. “I’m fine,” he said, though the lie was evident.

You stepped forward, reaching out to touch his arm, offering him the comfort you knew he needed, even if he wasn’t ready to admit it. “Spence, you don’t have to hide it from me. What’s going on?”

His eyes flickered away from yours, and for a moment, he seemed like he might retreat into his usual defenses. But then, without warning, he let out a long breath, the weight of the day settling on him. “I… I’m not sure I can handle this case. It’s bringing up too much. Too many memories I’ve tried to forget.”

You nodded, understanding immediately. Spencer’s past, his time being held captive, his struggles with addiction, and the emotional toll of the job—it was a lot for anyone to carry. You had seen glimpses of it in the months you had been together, but he had always kept the more painful pieces of himself hidden, buried beneath his intellectual armor.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you asked softly.

Spencer’s eyes briefly flickered to yours, as if measuring how much he was willing to share. After a moment of silence, he sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know how to explain it,” he murmured, voice breaking ever so slightly. “I just… I feel like I’m reliving it. The helplessness. The fear. It’s all coming back, and I can’t stop it.”

Your heart ached for him, but you remained quiet, giving him the space to continue.

“I thought I was over it,” he said, his voice quieter now, vulnerable in a way you had never heard before. “I thought I had it all under control. But this case… it’s like it’s ripping open old wounds I never knew were still there.”

You took a step closer, gently placing your hand on his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to carry this burden on your own.”

He looked down at your hand, then back up at you. The pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I don’t want to burden you with my problems. You deserve someone who isn’t broken.”

Your heart swelled with emotion at his words. “You’re not broken, Spencer. You’re human. You’ve been through so much, and it’s okay to feel all of it. I’m here for you. I’ll always be here, no matter what you’re going through.”

He let out a shaky breath, the weight of his emotions beginning to show on his face. Spencer had always been the one to hold it together, to be the strong one for everyone else. But in this moment, you could see that he was human, too, and that he needed someone to lean on just as much as the rest of them did.

“Tell me what you need,” you whispered, cupping his cheek gently. “Let me help you.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again, searching your face as though looking for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe understanding. Maybe even permission. “Just… stay with me,” he whispered. “Stay with me while I try to make sense of it. I don’t know how to handle this, but I don’t want to be alone.”

You nodded immediately, pulling him into an embrace. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt the full weight of his exhaustion. He didn’t have to say another word. You could feel the turmoil within him, the fear, the confusion, and the deep sadness that clung to him like a shadow. And as you held him close, you knew you would be the steady presence he needed to get through it.

“I’m right here, Spence,” you murmured into his hair, your voice steady. “You’re not alone. You’ll never be alone again.”

For a long while, neither of you spoke. You simply held each other, letting the silence comfort you both. Spencer’s breathing began to slow as he relaxed into your embrace, but you could feel the tension in his body—the tightness of unresolved emotions still lurking beneath the surface.

After what felt like an eternity, Spencer pulled away slightly, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t know what to do with all this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to let it go.”

“You don’t have to let it go,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “You just have to process it. And I’ll help you. We’ll do it together, okay?”

He nodded, his gaze softening. “Okay.”

Over the next few days, Spencer allowed himself to lean on you in ways he hadn’t before. He didn’t bury his emotions as deep, didn’t retreat into the quiet isolation that had once been his defense mechanism. You were there, offering him space to talk when he needed it, and offering silence when that was what he craved. You didn’t push him to get over it, didn’t try to fix him. You simply gave him the one thing he had needed all along: your presence, your unwavering support.

And slowly, he began to open up. He talked more about his past—the things he had never shared, the things he had never wanted to confront. He spoke about his time in captivity, the moments that still haunted him, and the way it had affected the person he had become. He spoke about his mother, his struggles with addiction, and how he sometimes felt like he was walking a tightrope between who he wanted to be and who he feared he might become.

Through it all, you listened. You didn’t offer solutions, didn’t try to change his perspective. You simply let him speak, giving him the safe space to express what had been locked away for so long.

One night, as you both sat on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder, Spencer spoke again, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his words barely a whisper. “Scared that I’m never going to be okay. That I’ll always be carrying this with me.”

You turned your head to kiss his temple softly, your hand gently tracing the lines of his jaw. “We’re going to figure it out together. You don’t have to carry it alone, Spencer. I’ll be here for you every step of the way.”

His eyes met yours, and for the first time in a long while, there was a glimmer of hope in them. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection for him. “I’ll never give up on you, Spencer. Not ever.”

And in that moment, as you held him close, you both realized that despite the challenges you faced, you were stronger together. Spencer had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, but now, he didn’t have to carry it alone. You were his support, his rock, and in return, he had begun to trust that he wasn’t just surviving—he was healing. Together.

The journey ahead wouldn’t be easy, but one thing was certain: you would face it side by side. And with each passing day, Spencer found himself thinking more and more about a future that was no longer clouded by fear, but illuminated by the love and strength you had built together.

The drive to the small town was quiet, the world outside the car slipping by in muted shades of gray and green. Spencer’s hand rested on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming lightly to a rhythm only he could hear.

His gaze was fixed on the road, but there was an undercurrent of anticipation in the air. You sat beside him, your hand resting on your lap, but your mind was elsewhere.

Today was different. Today, Spencer was taking you to meet his mother. Diana Reid. You had heard about her many times—the challenges Spencer had faced growing up, the deep bond they shared despite the complexities of her illness. Spencer had always spoken of her with such tenderness, but there was also a sadness there. A reluctance. As if meeting her, truly being part of that chapter of his life, was something he had only now begun to feel ready for.

You could sense the nervous energy radiating from him, even if he wasn’t overtly showing it. He had always been a man of intellect, his thoughts swirling around his cases, his team, his work—but today, it was personal.

“Are you okay?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the quiet between you. Spencer glanced over at you, offering a small, tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just… it’s a big step, you know?” You nodded, understanding completely. “I know. But I’m here, Spence. Whatever happens, I’m here.” He gave you a brief, grateful look before focusing back on the road.

The drive was longer than you expected, and as you neared the outskirts of the town, Spencer’s usual quick pace slowed. He turned onto a smaller, tree-lined street, eventually pulling up to a modest house at the end of the road. The house had a quiet charm to it—simple, cozy, the kind of place where the walls held memories and time moved at its own pace.

Spencer parked the car in front of the house, but he didn’t immediately get out. Instead, he sat there, hands gripping the wheel, eyes fixed on the house in front of him. You waited patiently, knowing this moment meant something significant to him.

“I’ve never really brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I want you to meet her. But it’s not easy for me. I…” His words faltered as he turned to you, his eyes soft and vulnerable. “I want you to understand why she’s so important to me. But I also want you to understand that it’s not always easy with her. Her illness…it’s complicated.” You reached over, placing your hand on his arm. “I know, Spence. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, for whatever comes.” Spencer let out a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out, holding his hand out to you. You took it without hesitation, your heart swelling as you followed him to the front door.

Spencer rang the doorbell, his finger tapping nervously against the frame. A few moments later, the door opened, and standing there was a woman whose face you had seen in countless photographs and heard about in Spencer’s stories. Diana Reid. She was dressed simply, her hair long and silver, her eyes slightly unfocused but kind. There was a certain fragility to her, a delicate air that made her seem more like a bird than a person. But her smile was warm, genuine, as she looked from Spencer to you. “Spencer,” she said softly, her voice wavering slightly. “It’s so good to see you, my boy.” Spencer smiled, his eyes brightening at the sight of her. “Hey, Mom,” he said, his voice gentle. “I brought someone with me today. This is my girlfriend, [Your Name].” Diana’s gaze shifted to you, and you offered her a soft smile in return. Her eyes lingered on you for a moment, searching your face. You could tell she was processing everything, trying to make sense of the new person standing in front of her.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said, stepping forward. Diana’s smile deepened. “I’m glad you’re here,” she replied, her voice soft but sincere. “Spencer doesn’t bring people around much, so this must be special.” Spencer chuckled lightly, though there was a hint of discomfort in his tone. “Yeah, well, I figured it was time.” Diana gestured for you both to come inside. “Please, come in. I’ve made tea. You’ll need it, with this weather.” As the three of you sat down at the kitchen table, you could sense the delicate dance taking place. Spencer and his mother—there was so much unspoken between them, so many years of history that only they truly understood. But as you watched them interact, you could see the love between them, even through the layers of complexity. Spencer was patient with his mother, always attentive, never rushing her. And Diana, in turn, looked at him with a quiet pride, her eyes softening whenever she spoke to him.

“Spencer tells me you’re very smart,” Diana said after a pause, her voice light and teasing. Spencer flushed slightly, but you could tell he was touched by his mother’s words. “Well, he’s a genius,” you said with a smile, nudging Spencer gently. Diana smiled, her expression softening even more. “I see,” she said. “You seem to make him happy.” Spencer’s gaze flickered to you, and for a moment, you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes. His mother had always been his anchor, the one person who truly understood him. And now, you were here—his two worlds, the most important parts of his life, coming together.

“She does,” Spencer said quietly, his voice thick with emotion. Diana’s smile widened, and she reached out to gently squeeze his hand. “I’m glad,” she said simply. “I know how hard it is for you, Spence. You deserve someone who sees you. All of you.” You squeezed Spencer’s hand, offering him a silent show of support. The rest of the afternoon passed with small talk and shared laughter. You learned more about Spencer’s childhood, his mother’s struggles with her illness, and the depth of their bond. As you got up to leave, Diana hugged you warmly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. “Take care of him,” she whispered. “He’s a good boy, but he needs someone who will help him believe that.” You smiled, a lump forming in your throat. “I will. I promise.”

On the drive back to your apartment, Spencer was quiet, but there was a peacefulness in the air. You could sense the shift in him, a weight lifted from his shoulders. “How are you feeling?” you asked, glancing at him. Spencer took a deep breath, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “I’m… I’m okay,” he said softly. “It wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.” You nodded, offering him a smile. “I’m proud of you, Spence.” He glanced over at you, his lips curving into a small smile. “Thanks. I think I’m finally ready for this… for us.” You reached over, taking his hand in yours. “Me too.”

The rest of the drive was spent in a comfortable silence, both of you reflecting on the significance of the day. When you arrived home, Spencer turned to you, his expression soft. “I’m glad we did this. I’m glad you’re here with me.” You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad too. I’m excited for what’s to come, Spence. For all of it.” That night, as you both settled into bed, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Spencer’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you close, and for the first time in a long while, everything felt right. The future stretched out before you, full of possibilities, and as you drifted off to sleep, you knew one thing for certain: together, you could face anything. The adventures, the challenges, the quiet moments—they would all be yours to share. And no matter what came next, you would face it as a team.

[jeonginslefthand]

Sing me to sleep 🛌 🎤

Pairing: Han Jisung x Reader Genre: Angst (with a bit of a happy end) Summary: You have a nightmare and your boyfriend Jisung comforts you the only way he knows how.  Warnings: Depictions of a panic attack A/N: First fic of the year! Just a small drabble of an idea I had in the vault with a New Year’s element (wanted to post this on New Year’s Day but didn’t have enough time to write 😅). Also such a sucker for angst but I barely write it.   Stray kids masterlist

~~~

You wake up breathing heavily, eyes pacing around your bedroom, head spinning as tears fall clouding your eyes. You look toward a sleeping Jisung and touch his arm, hand shaking as you try to find comfort. This wakes Jisung, and he quickly notices you in distress, pulling you closer to him as he strokes your hair.

“Hey hey! What’s wrong baby?” Jisung asks in a soft voice.

“A-a nightmare… y-you were gone… left without saying anything… and nobody knew where you were a-and… people forgot about you a-and…” you say in between sobs and shaky breaths. 

Jisung seems to hold you tighter. “Baby it’s okay. It was just a bad dream. I’m still here right?”

“Y-yeah… b-but it felt so real…” 

“You’ve always had a crazy imagination. And I would never leave you without a good reason.”

You stay silent as Jisung tries to comfort you with his words. You calm down a little bit but tears still flow from your eyes and they don’t seem to stop. Jisung notices you cling to him tighter, like it’s the last time you’ll ever hold him.

“Hey! I know what’ll make you feel better.” Jisung exclaims.

“W-what?” 

Jisung releases your grip from him and walks across the room to grab his guitar. He lays back on the bed next to you, holding the guitar on his chest.

“How about I sing for you? Maybe it’ll help you fall asleep!” Jisung suggests. 

“I don’t know…” you respond. 

“Come on!! Give me a chance. I’ll play… the calmest song you’ve ever heard, okay?” 

“O-okay…” 

“Alright! This is something I was working on last week with Felix. I think you’ll like it!” 

Jisung starts strumming and singing a comforting song that would soon be added to the other unreleased songs he’s shown you. Something about the song speaks to you and you become more focused on his lyrics. You become completely entranced by the music. The softness of Jisung’s voice complementing the soft strokes of the guitar strings puts you back in your dream world. Jisung doesn’t notice that you’ve fallen asleep at first and keeps singing, hoping that his song will give you a better dream for you to wake up to. 

That wouldn’t be the last time Jisung sang your troubles away. Whenever you were stressed or on the verge of freaking out, you would ask Jisung to sing to you at night. Slowly, it became a regular occurrence to the point where you couldn’t sleep without hearing Jisung’s soft voice. 

But that was almost a year ago now.

Now, you find yourself at your friend’s New Year’s Eve party, watching the fireworks outside as the clock hits midnight. It finally hits you that this is your first New Year’s without him. But you try to focus on the bright lights of the fireworks.

BOOM!

You look around at the couples sharing New Year’s kisses. You wish Jisung were here to share that kiss one last time.

BOOM! 

Your mind races back to your big fight with Jisung. The one that would make your nightmare come true.

BOOM!

The back and forth yelling. It felt like you both were completely different people. Letting months of anger and resentment take over both of you. Realizing that the spark between you two was gone. 

BOOM!

He left. Quietly. But not without saying goodbye and kissing your cheek with an “I still love you baby.” Thinking you were fast asleep. But you heard it. You felt it. 

BOOM!

He kept that promise… he didn’t leave without saying goodbye… 

BOOM! 

You wish you never said any of those things to him. You wish you two never had that fight. You wished Jisung was here with you right now telling you everything was okay, that he’s been right next to you all along.

BOOM!

But you know this isn’t a dream. It’s real and he is gone.

You tell your friend you’re not feeling well and catch a taxi back to your apartment. You get to your room and lay in your bed, crying yourself to sleep. You thought you would be completely over Jisung, but part of you still loved him no matter how hard you denied it. 

You pull out your phone and start playing one of Jisung’s songs, hoping you’ll fall asleep to one of them. You’ve been casually keeping up with his recent solo music and wish you dared to tell him how proud you were. All the late nights writing and singing to you were worth it.

You doze off listening to Jisung’s solo album when you faintly hear a knock. You open the door and see who it could be so late at night. But you stood at the door in shock as you couldn’t believe what you saw.

“Before you ask, this isn’t a dream,” Jisung says, holding your favorite flowers and his guitar. “Couldn’t spend New Year’s without you. Let me sing you a song baby, just like old times!”

~~~

If you liked this leave a like, reblog, and/or comment! I appreciate it and thanks for reading!! General taglist is also open! Leave a comment if you'd like to be added

[sillystarwrites]

Do you like dark asks? Cause I wanted to ask [based off a disenchantment scene] how would the tadc cast react if Jax, while pranking a reader with a glass bulb head, shattered it, which causes reader to flat out die. The light in their head goes out before nothing

A/N: THISSS FHSJDHDHSH consumes ask i love this and disenchantment sm. It’s been a while since I watched it tho 😔. Sorta made a new setup?? Idk what I’m doing, but I think it looks neat.

Type/Summary: tadc cast’s reactions to Jax pushing a prank too far and breaking the (gn)reader’s lightbulb head, killing them. Reader literally dies, so if you guys are sensitive to that, shoo shoo, we’ll have more stuff to feed you that won’t upset you soon

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

LIGHTS OUT!

Jax:

He was walking from his room, down past the vibrant landscape of the digital circus until he saw you sitting at the couch. He commonly pranked you, and it never hurt too much, so what if he broke your head? Surely Caine could fix it, of course.

He stealthily snuck behind you, attempting to be slow and steady, that wins the race, right? Until someone made eye contact with him. Ragatha. There goes slow and steady. Knowing she’d warn you, he shoved you quickly, cackling at your yelp until-

CRACK

Your head…shattered. The light, gone, now eternally dark. Was he maybe possibly scared as hell? Yeah. But he couldn’t just admit that, we’re talking Jax.

“Pfft, they’ll be fine!” he laughed, trying to be hopeful in his own way.

Later, when having discovers that no, you were not fine, and somehow…dead, he couldn’t stand himself. He barely even knew you outside of his pranks, but still. He can’t help but feel like the worst human being to ever human being. Which, those now pent up emotions, anger, grief, sadness, all go to his pranks. They get worse and worse, with his mental state too. He just can’t live with himself. He didn’t mean to, he really, really didn’t. Or did he? He can’t tell. He can’t ever tell. You’re gone. He can’t apologize. Everyone, except Caine and the NPCs, treats him like a monster. He’s heard their whispers, he’s seen their looks. He knows he is.

Ragatha:

She was relaxing, crocheting in the main area when he spotted Jax behind you. Just as she began to jump up, her cloth lips beginning to move, it was too late.

A loud CRACK sounded in the room, the deed done. She scrambled to get Caine, who was nearby, thankfully, but he couldn’t do much.

You’d always been more closed off, unless to the likes of Gangle, Zooble, or Pomni, so she couldn’t know you too well. That, of course, didn’t stop her from feeling guilty. She should’ve known. She should’ve helped. She should’ve done something.

She knew you were gone the moment the light was, all those bright ideas, thoughts, jokes, plans, evaporated into the digits of code in the circus. She couldn’t help but feel like she could’ve - no, should’ve - saved you.

She was furious with Jax, but also herself, neither of the two she’d ever forgive.

Caine:

He wasn’t around when it first happened, sitting in his rocking chair, with his favorite digital pipe when Ragatha ran over, panicking.

“What’s the matter, my dear? Are you all dying for a new adventure this quickly?” He asked, worried the morning was too quiet.

“No! No, no, y/n is hurt! Badly hurt!” She was speaking quickly, wasn’t that his thing? Something was definitely wrong!!

“Hurt? I’m on it, my radiant pineapple!” He joyously shouted, teleporting the two of them to you rather quickly, despite it only being a short run. 

Seeing you shattered on the floor was startling, nobody had played that game before, but nonetheless, he’d have it done quickly.

“I’ll fix them up in a jiffy, dear Rag-“ he attempted to reassure the doll as he snapped, but oddly enough, nothing happened. “That was just a fluke, I’ll have them fixed up in no time!”and so he tried again. And failed, again.

After several snaps filled the room, he was beyond worried now, “D-don’t worry everyone! I-I’m not sure what seems to be the issue, this should be working…”

“Then why isn’t it?” Zooble interrupted, irritated.

“J-just calm down, I’ve got it!” His snaps became white noise, he tried desperately for a good 30 minutes before floating above you. He decided to just…clean you up and shove you away, unsure of what else to try.

It was upsetting, losing a valuable guest such as yourself, and all the adventures seemed a bit less…lit up. Even worse, he didn’t get it. Why didn’t it work? 

Zooble:

They got there soon after Caine did, being with gangle and Pomni. They wish they stopped Jax, maybe then you’d still be there. 

After hearing Caine’s unexplained snaps, the trio walked out, confused until Zooble saw you. They couldn’t believe it. You. Shattered across the floor. It was fake, yes, but a terrifying site for those close to you.

After realizing what happened, they never forgave Jax. They refused to believe he ‘didn’t mean to’

“Come on, I didn’t mean to Zoobie, you know me!” Jax would try to explain, but they didn’t take it.

“Didn’t mean to my [boink sfx idk], Jax, sure you didn’t. Sure.” They would ignore, simply walking away.

They tried to adjust, attempting to ignore you even existed. Think red guy in the Death episode of DHMIS, if you get what I mean. Just trying to ignore you’re gone, ignore the problem and it’ll surely go away, right? Wrong.

Considering you two were close, they were used to you helping pick their Zooble parts. They always felt better when you did, but now it just didn’t feel the same.

It never would. 

Gangle: 

She always worried your bulb head would break, she just didn’t expect it to be like this. 

She walked out with Zooble and pomni, shocked at the sight. She was horrified, letting out a small squeak of surprise and panic, her mask shattering as she flinched.

“are they okay?” Was all she could ask, was all she would ask. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but she did.

She sobbed for hours, her mask breaking every time she tried to fix it for the next week or so. She just couldn’t believe it, no way, no way! This wasn’t fair.

Like Zooble, she struggled to believe Jax’s plea for innocence, her trust with him forever lost. 

She still had Zooble and Pomni, so they helped her as she helped them. After spudsy’s, she did realize the happy mask was pointless. What’s the point of forcing happiness? You’re not coming back, and that’s okay, it’ll be okay, right? Right. Right.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: sorry it’s missing Kinger and Pomni, I feel like I started repeating myself here 😭

[elliebean714]

Don’t know if you still doing tumblr but just in case. How about

The until dawn character’s find their lover (reader) crying because R told them they had a nightmare that they lost them to the Wendigos

Absolutely, I'd love to!💕 more character reactions plz! I love doing themm💖 haven't played the remake, I know theres a way for josh to survive now, but I don't know the details, so if this is inaccurate to that sorryyyy. love you Joshuaaaa. Also a new sam ending? But i dont know what makes it do special yet so, ya, nothing new in this lol. MORE SAM, ASH, EM, MIKE, AND JESS REQS PLZZZZ I LOVE WRITING THEM BUT I NEED PEOPLE WHO LOVE THEM TO GIVE IDEAS RRAAAAHHHHHH. (Ofc my boys joshhhhh, Chris and matt are always welcome, but I've written a good amount for them, not much for the others) small tw for panic attacks in Sam and Matt's. If i had to have a panic attack in front of any until dawn characters, they would be the only correct answers lmao.

Until Dawn Character Reactions

GN!Reader had nightmares about losing them

Angst With LOTS of Comfort, exactly what you'd expect lol

Josh Washington

It's nearly 3:00 am when you wake up, shaking and crying.

You look to see him in bed next to you, he's taken to staying over much more frequently since that night, your presence is one of the few things capable of getting him comfortable enough to sleep.

Josh wakes up soon after you've curled yourself into him, your arms wrapping loosely around his chest and his shoulder.

"Hey," he rubs your back gently "Hey, I'm here..." sitting up properly, he rubs his sleepy eyes before pulling you into his lap "take your time. Tell me what's wrong when you're ready"

You cry silently for a few minutes all while Josh holds you and kisses your head

Eventually, you speak up in a shaky voice "I had that stupid nightmare again. That one with you..." you trail off, taking a deep breath, his smell comforting you

"Y/N..." Josh's hold tightens subconsciously "I'm sorry." His voice drops to a whisper "I'm so sorry..."

When you feel him start to sob silently, you bring your face up to his, your fingers caress his cheeks

"No, no, no, no, shhh..." you kiss his forehead "I'm not mad at you, babe! Don't think that at all."

"You wouldn't be so hurt if I didn-" Josh starts

You interrupt him with a kiss "Shut up, you didn't know. You made a mistake, yeah, but you had no idea those monsters were up there." You pause, letting him calm down a bit before continuing "i get those nightmares about losing you because I love you. When that thing almost killed you- fuck... I've never been that scared in my life. I'm not going to ever get that image out of my head..."

He kisses your temple and plays with your hair while you speak. Once you finish, he speaks up "I have bad dreams too. Of you being in the lodge when it blew up. Or the monster taking your head off, or..." He sighs, cradling you "so many things, but we're okay. We made it out. It's going to get better eventually. We'll get through it together, baby."

Josh holds you for a few more minutes, until you've calmed down fully. He lays back down, and pulls you on top of him. You wrap your arms around each other, and soon after, you both fall into a blissfully dreamless sleep.

Sam Giddings

It was a normal date night at first

Ice cream and tea, then a nice walk through the park. Everything was perfect.

Your parents let her stay over, as they usually do. They absolutely adore her, and they see how much she brightens you up when she's around. And you seem to not have panic attacks as often anymore

But you still get them

Like tonight. You're watching some old show, cuddling under the covers when you drift off to sleep

It's only for a few minutes, maybe 15 at most, but stuck in the agony of your head, it feels like hours.

She's being chased by josh the psycho, she's trapped in the mine, she's still hiding with the Wendigo screaming at her in the lodge- she's being caught and dragged to god knows here, she's slowly losing her mind and starving, she's being massacred- nonononononononotsam pleasenotsam nonononononono-

"Hey, Y/N..." you feel her gently shaking your shoulder "Wake up, it's just a nightmare, I'm right here" her voice is soothing, assuring, but it does little to prevent the inevitable

Your head feels fuzzy, your heart is pounding, fuck- fuck- you sit up, "No- no, I cant- I can't breathe-" you clutch your shirt just above your heart in an attempt to anchor you to reality "sam- Sam, where are you?"

She puts her hands on your upper arms and hugs you from the side "I'm still here. You're okay, baby. You're going to be okay."

"I cant- sam- help me, please-"

"Okay, let's try counting to 10." She starts counting slowly and clearly, giving you something to focus on, her beautiful voice. After a few counts, you join in, it takes a while, but your breathing does eventually level out.

"Sorry- sorry that's so embarrassing" you let out an uneven breath as Sam shakes her head

"Shush, there's nothing embarrassing about it. Absolutely nothing." She kisses your temple "was it the regular nightmares again?"

"No, no, they were about you this time."

Sam lets you lay your head on her shoulder while she rubs your back "oh, honey..."

A comfortable silence falls between the two of you before she speaks up "I wish I could make them all stop. I wish there was some magical thing I could say and we'd be back to who we were before, but..." She sighs "I'm not going anywhere. I can't fix everything, but I won't leave you, Y/N. Someday all these horrible things will just be distant memories, I swear. I love you"

You kiss her, a small hint of a smile on your face "I love you too" then you both return to watching the show. It was a really good date night.

Chris Hartley

You'd taken to staying up late and studying together since you got into the same college, and by some miracle, the same dorm

Chris is typing away on his laptop while you're trying to memorise a paragraph from a textbook you've read a hundred times.

Fuck this is so boring- you rub your eyes, what time is it?? You yawn and check your phone: almost midnight

As if reading your mind, Chris stretches and yawns "God damn, its late, and I've gotta get this done tonight." He stands up "I'm going to grab some coffee, want some?"

"Be right back." He says after you nod, rubbing your weary eyes

After he's gone, you lie back on the bed, it'd be so good to sleep right now... maybe just for a couple minutes... you'll be up before he's back...

Then you hear a screech

You see a snowy night

You're stuck behind a door- this door

A huge explosion, or something similar starts the scene, Chris sprinting towards the door with a limp and the Wendigo is hot on his heels

Your hand is immediately on the handle, ready to pull it open, but when you try, it's locked... NO! You pull it again, c'mon, c'mon, OPEN-

"Y/N, help!" Chris pounds in the door "please- it's coming, help!" He looks over his shoulder at the monster as you attempt to open it, becoming more and more frantic "pleas-"

Four long, sharp fingers pierce his neck and pull his head off

"NO!" You wake up, shivering and in tears. Sitting up quickly, you see that Chris hasn't returned

Shit... you grab a tissue from the box on the bedside table to wipe your face. It's been a long since you had a nightmare... must be the lack of sleep

Chris comes back into the dorm while you're crying. "Hey, woah, what happened?" He puts the coffees on the desk then hurries over to check on you.

His thumb grazes over your cheek as he tries to get you to look at him "baby, what happened?"

"Nothing, nothing, I just..." you shake your head "I think I fell asleep for a minute." You sigh, taking a deep breath "and I had a nightmare, or something."

"Aw, jeez, I'm sorry" He guides you into a hug "Wanna tell me about it?

While you explain what you saw, he rubs your back and plays with your hair, you sigh, "It really freaked me out."

"Yeah, that uh... really messed me up too." Chris pauses "I didn't realise how much that scared you"

"Neither did i. I've been trying to forget, but..." you trail off, trying to think of a reason

"You're probably sleep deprived, we've been studying super hard since we got here," Chris scoffs "and I can't remember the last good night's sleep either of us had."

"So you think i should sleep through it?" You lift your head to look at him properly

He nods "it probably won't happen again tonight. And if it does, I'll be here to help you."

You shake your head "I need to study, I have a test soon and-" he laughs at you "what??"

"You and I both know you're just staring at the same point of the page for hours, there's no reason for you to stay awake. Just head to bed, ill finish my homework as soon as I can, then join you."

You try to protest, but what's the point? Reading that paragraph for another hour won't make it any clearer. Sleep might.

Chris takes your stuff off the bed and you crawl under the covers, it only takes a few minutes after Chris gives you a good night kiss to fall asleep. It's the best night's sleep you've had in ages. Finally things start making sense in class! Maybe this is why people talk about healthy sleep schedules all the time...

Ashley Brown

She likes to read you to sleep.

It's nice to share her love of reading and stories with you, and it's good practice for speaking aloud in a safe, loving environment

But it's mostly the way you snuggle up to her, hugging her loosely, and burying your face in the crook of her neck, your weight is her favourite security blanket.

Her fingers gently play with your hair as she reads, she's certain you're asleep by now, so she's just reading to herself, when she feels you stir

"N-no, ash- please-" you whimper

"Shh, shh, its alright, honey..." Ashley hums a gentle tune to soothe you, but it doesn't work, you continue to mumble and whimper

It only gets worse

She feels you burry yourself more into her neck, your breathing quicken and a few tears spill

"Aw, babe..." Ashley quickly marks the page and puts the book down, before fully paying attention to you "it's alright... its okay." She fiddles with your stray hairs and kisses your temple

A few moments pass "Ashley... no- no- not Ashley-" you sob helplessly in her arms while she continues to try to shush and calm you, becoming more desperate, until you finally wake up in a state of shock

You sit up, trying to give her space "sorry, I didn't..." you trail off

"Shh, c'mere, I miss you" Ashley pulls you back down on top of her "was it that nightmare? You seemed really distressed."

Your eyes flutter closed for a moment when her hands return to your hair. "Mhm... that one- in the tunnel. If I didn't go back for you..."

"Yeah, you totally saved my life." She comments, lifting your face a little so uou can see the deep appreciation in her eyes

"But- if I didnt- if I was late- Ashley..." tears prick at the corner of your eyes again "I don't know if I could live without you. I need you."

She kisses your nose "You're adorable. And I don't know what I did to deserve you, and I can't believe how lucky we both got! I mean how many times did we think we were going to die, but didn't?"

"Ash- I just saw it happen- I keep seeing it in different ways, the saw, the gun, the tunnel, the lodge- it feels like every time I close my eyes I'm watching you suffer, I can still hear you screaming sometimes when I'm alone- I just want it to stop- I want to be normal."

"I'm sorry, beautiful. I'm so sorry." She rubs your back "I think this is our normal. Being terrified of the dark, and being alone, and rounding corners, and silence. Being haunted by the things we saw, and what we didn't see. Feeling guilty, and angry, and depressed and anxious, and different. That's normal now. It's impossible to live with alone, but we're together. We have each other as constant reminders what we have, and what we lost. I don't know if it'll ever get better, but there's nobody I'd rather support and be supported by than you."

Ashley takes a deep breath, clearly unused to speaking that long. You smile "seems like the reading aloud has helped a bit"

She blushes, kisses you on the cheek and picks up the book again "Shush, dork." It takes you a minute to get comfortable, they might not ever go away, but waking up in her arms, on her couch all snuggled up is the coziest thing you can imagine. Your life is more livable, because she is in it.

Matt Taylor

The movie theatre was packed

It was the release night of some big action movie everyone had supposedly been waiting years for

He was significantly more excited for the movie, you just loved spending time with him

You and Matt sat along the isle, next to the stairs. It was dark, and cold, so you snuggled up into his side

A little over an hour into the movie, you doze off. You know you shouldn't, but it's so warm and comfy, and his heartbeat was such a soothing pulse, how could you resist?

It was a light sleep, you could still hear parts of the movie, like the screaming, the crashing, explosions... Matt-

Nononono-Getoffhim! Lethimgo- please-matt-nononononono-

The thing is dragging him along the mine shaft while he desperately looks for something- the flare gun Emily kept to herself- shit

You try to scream, try to move, but you're completely paralysed. Nonononono- fuck- stop- matt- nononononono- yourehurtinghim- please

A final scream leaves him, then you hear him start to choke on his own blood- MATTNONONONONONOSOMEBODYHELPHIM- you feel tears start to stream down your face

A huge explosion in the movie wakes you- itssodark- itssoloud- itssocrowded- shit- gottagetout-

You jump from your seat, sprint down the stairs and out the theatre.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-

People are staring- fuck-

There's nowhere to sit, nowhere to hide- fuck- you collapse against the wall

Stopstopstopstop- your heart beats way too fast, so fast you begin to think you're having a heart attack. You curl your legs into your chest and hide your face

Please stop staring...

You hyperventilate, you tap on the floor, you shake, shit- am I dying?

"Y/N! Oh my god, you scared me, honey." Matts voice cuts through the static

He places a hand on your shoulder and pulls it away immediately when you jump at the sudden touch "can you please get them some water?" You hear him ask some passer-by. Please stop staring.

You continue to shake "Matt- matt I think I'm dying- help me-" you lift your head, god- the world feels like its spinning- to look at him the best you can "I'm scared"

"I know, it's gonna be okay- thank you," he hands you the cold bottle of water the person just brought over "can you drink? Or are you breathing too hard? You could use it to cool yourself down...?"

Matt is so scared right now, this is the first time this has ever happened, at least in front of him. He has absolutely no idea what to do, or how to calm you down. "Could you- uh- do you- shit- I'm making this worse aren't I?"

You nod a little, making him laugh "s-sorry, c-can you breathe? Like," he imitates deep and relaxed breathing "can you try to do that?" You try to, you really try, but it's so hard to focus on your breath when it feels like your heart is going to collapse in on itself

"Hey, it's alright, can I touch you?" He waits until you give him permission to sit beside you and start rubbing your back "tell me what you need, what can I do?"

"Umm- umm-" your foot jitters against the floor "just- is anybody staring at me?"

Matt looks around for a few seconds "N-no, no, I don't think so. Hey, there's a seat over there, can you move?"

He helps you stand and shakily walk to the seat, your legs are so fragile they can barely hold your weight. "M'sorry- shit, I'm so sorry-"

Matt seems surprised by your sudden apology "Woah, babe, no! No, it's completely fine, just try to drink some water an-"

You shake your head "No, Matt, the movie, I ruined your night, I'm so sorry" you tear up, the guilt eating at you

"What the? Y/N, you didn't do anything wrong. You just- I don't know, but it's not your fault. Okay? And even if it was, it's a dumb movie, I'll live. I can see it again. You matter more." He rubs your back again

You take a slow sip of water "I- I fell asleep for a little bit. I... fuck- I saw that fucking thing..."

"What? What do you mean, what did you see, babe?" His hand finds your cheek, and his thumb brushes away some tears

"The- whatever that fucking thing on the mountain was." You answer, someone must've told you what it was at some point, but you can't remember in your state "I've been trying to forget- I don't know why I started freaking out, it just-" you take a deep breath "just came out of nowhere"

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at taking care of you," he laughs, trying to lightens the mood a little "I'll, uh, definitely look up how to calm you down in case that happens again"

"Thanks, babe" you scoff, leaning down to lay your head on his shoulder

After a couple minutes, he asks "Wanna go back home or get some ice cream?"

Emily Davis

No-one would say Emily was a particularly loving or affectionate person, but if you were a good partner she'd be sure to treat you very well. Spoil you even.

She wanted to reward you for being such a good S/O, so she's treating you a nice romantic getaway

A whole weekend! Staying in a fancy hotel, getting spa treatments, going shopping, expensive restaurants!!

Its perfect, so perfect it almost makes you forget the other weekend getaway..

Until you're both sound asleep... and that screech, that screech thats haunted you for months, starts another nightmare, the mine. Its always the fucking mine

You're both sprinting as fast as you can-

Stmbling over yourselves-

It's dark, confusing, shit- shit- how do you get out?!

Emily screams next to you, you turn to see the Wendigo has a hold on her- NO!

It sticks its giant sharp fingers into her eyes and-

You're suddenly back in your hotel room- okay- okay- okay- you take deep breaths to steady yourself...

The sound of her gentle breaths anchor you

It's okay, you're fine, she's fine, you're safe.

You left the bed to grab some water, but almost like she could feel your absence, Emily stirs from her sleep "Ugh, why are you up?" She yawns, rubbing her eyes

"I just had a bad dream, I'm fine" you sip the water and admire how adorable she is. "You're gorgeous"

"Mmh, I know." She hums, pleased "what kind of bad dream, babe?"

You shrug and take another sip of water "the mine one again."

Emily slowly get out of bed to sit beside you at the table "Me or you?"

"You. But it was over quickly. I think I'm starting to get used to them. Is that bad?"

She thinks for a moment, still waking up a little "No? I don't think so. They don't seem to freak you out as much anymore, which is good. Not a fan of you being used to watching me die though."

You scoff and sip more water "that's not what I meant, Cutie."

Emily rolls her eyes "I know, I know" she picks up your hand "I am glad you're getting better though."

"Awe, you're such a softie." You tap her nose, she looks away bashfully

"Whatever. Don't mention it to anyone or I'll kill you."

You giggle at her and kiss her cheek "Oh, I can keep secrets. You know that"

"Good pet." Emily gives you a head pat "now let's go back to bed. It's 2 in the morning"

She leads you over to the bed "do you want to be little spoon or big?

Mike Munroe

You're in the sanatorium with Mike guiding you and the Wendigos chasing right behind

He's shooting aimlessly to give you both more room, until you reach a locked door- shit

They're closing in- one grabs your arm, you scream- "MIKE!!"

In a moment he's pulled you out of its hold, but it takes him instead

"No!" You cry, the Wendigo slashes his neck and chest "Mike-" the life leaves his eyes as he bleeds out

The other Wendigo jumps on you and starts mauling yo-

You wake up in tears, shaking- "Mike..." you whimper, quickly picking up your phone to call him, after a few tries he finally picks up

"Y/N? You alright? It's 4 in the morning" His voice is groggy, husky.

"I had a nightmare- can you come here please?" You beg through tears.

"Come to your room in the middle of the night? Your dad will kill me." He jokes

"I'm serious, Mike. I need you" You implore

Hearing your desperate plea gives him pause "Okay, I'll head over then. Are you gonna be okay?"

"Mhm" you nod "ill open my window for you."

Twenty minutes later, you hear him climbing up to your window "Hi, gorgeous." He flashes his charming smile as soon as he sees you through the open window

"Hi..." you help him climb inside and wrap your arms around him once he's standing upright

"What happened, babe?" His hand goes straight to your back, rubbing in soothing circles.

"Remember when we were in the sanatorium?" You sniffle, still crying gently. "I just- had a nightmare about it. I saw you die- and- and then they went after me- it was so horrible."

"Oh, honey..." He guides you to the bed then starts petting your hair with his free hand "it's alright, I'm here. I won't let them get you" You can hear that smile in his voice

You roll your eyes "yeah, I know. In my dream you died protecting me."

"Sounds about right." He drops his cocky demeanour for a moment "I mean it, though." He gently pulls your face out of his chest so you can meet his gaze "I won't let anything get you. I'll always be here for you. I'll always protect you, Y/N. I love you."

"I love you too, Mike..." He brings you in closer for a kiss.

You guys lie in the bed and snuggle, and eventually fall asleep until-

The jingle of your alarm goes off, 7:30am. You wake up in Mike's arms, warm and cozy, you stay like that for a few more seconds before hearing your dad's footsteps down the hallway makes you fully alert

Shit- "Mike!!" You whisper, shoving him in an attempt to wake him "Mike you gotta get up, you gotta go!"

"Mmh- what? Oh, hi, beautiful..." He didn't properly hear you, he just sees the gorgeous person he's in bed with

"Mike! My dad's up, you gotta go, dummy!"

"Oh- Shit!" He quietly exclaims then jumps out of bed and hurries to the window.

"Wait-" he runs over to kiss you, "see you soon, gorgeous." Before sneaking out of your room

Jess Riley

Sleepoverrrr!!!!!

Omg you guys had the BEST night.

Junk food, old cheesy romcoms, prank calls, painting nails, cute shit like that

Pretty juvenile, but it made Jess happy so you absolutely were not complaining

You'd basically devoted yourself to making her happy after that night.

She was so scared, so traumatised and hurt, that you tried to shut out your own feelings in order to prioritise her, and it was working... until tonight.

Jess fell asleep in your arms around half way through the 4th or 5th movie of the night and you decided to turn it off and join her. It wasn't long until you were fast asleep and it all come flooding back...

You were stuck in the mines again, looking desperately for jess- jeez, you remembered spending hours down there searching for her, encountering the monster several times, almost dying in a million different ways

And it just kept getting worse, you finally found her- oh god- look at her- your heart breaks all over again, she was absolutely brutalised, covered head to toe in slashes, barely able to stand, barely able to talk, oh, baby...

You took her hand and guided her out of the mine, but that screech- that fucking screech- you froze, no- no- MOVE! You can't stay here, you gottamove-

The creature appears, MOVE, Y/N! MOVE, it jumps on Jess, you scream, "NO! Please- No-"

It lodges its fingers into her throat at rips her jaw off-

"NO-" you jolt upright, fuck- you take deep breaths- nonono- you look beside you, Jess is roused from her sleep next to you.

"Y/N...?" She mumbles

"Shh, Shh, I'm fine. Don't worry about me, go back to sleep, sweetheart." You pet her head gently, fingers grazing the scar

"What happened? You were yelling..." Jess sits up slowly, leaning against you

"I just got a bit of a scare in my sleep. I'm okay, you can go back to bed"

"Y/N..." She whines a little "Please tell me what happened. You never talk about anything."

Youd love to open up, but you need to be strong, she needs someone strong "Jess, I'm alright, I swear-"

"Please, I don't like when you're scared."

"I just- I had a bad dream, but I'm okay, you are what matters,"

"You matter too,"

You shake your head "babe, that night..." your fingers trail over her scars "you were so hurt, you need a strong partner"

"Honey, that's not-"

"Jess, you need someone who won't break down whenever they remember what happened to you. You need someone who- who isn't weak- you need someone who isn't scared, you don't need my problems" you say, desperately trying to not cry

"Y/N..." She takes your hand "I don't want a robot, I want you"

"You need someone to be strong, you're hurting so much, you shouldn't have to deal with my sad shit"

"Shut up, dork!" She cradles your face in her hands "I adore you! I want you to open up to me. I- I want you to relate to me. I already feel so alone, I don't need you hiding a huge part of your feelings from me. I need you, I need you to show me you're hurting too, I need you to show me in not alone."

You felt enormous guilt at her pleading and pulled her into a hug, "ill- ill tell you everything. I promise, I don't ever want you to feel like that. I'm so sorry Jessie. I love you."

"I love you too, cutie."

♡☆♡☆♡☆♡☆

~Elliebean714