#I had to get it out it’s been frustrating me for so long

[kbwrites]

Breaking up is hard to do!

synopsis: breaking up with the jjk men.

⚝characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami

⚝content: heavy angst, gaslighting(Gojo's), depression (Suguru's), mutual breakup(Nanami's)

⚝wc: 3.5k

Satoru Gojo

“Yeah so then Yuji popped out of the crate and surprised them all! You should’ve seen it baby!” Satoru wheezes holding his stomach as he recalls the event from the day.

No matter how hard you try though, you can only muster a small smile.

It had become really hard to do much else recently. With the weight of the hundreds of tasks at work taking its toll. Satoru looks over at you, waiting for a laugh—but it doesn’t come.

“Hellooo? Everything alright princess?” He questions giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

“Mhmm!” You nod.

He looks at you for another moment, unreadable expression on his face. Satoru shifts, clearly expecting more from you. “You sure? You’ve been quiet tonight. That’s not like you,” he says, his voice still light, but there’s a hint of curiosity now.

You try to hold back the frustration, but it bubbles up anyway. “I’m just tired, Satoru.”

“Tired? Seriously?” he mutters, pulling his hand away. “You work, what, a nine-to-five? You act like you’re running yourself into the ground.”

You blink, taken aback by his dismissive tone. “Satoru, it’s not just about the hours. It’s everything piling up, and—”

“Piling up?” He cuts you off with a scoff, already reaching for his phone. “Why didn’t you just say something sooner? You know I could’ve hired someone to handle that for you. I’ve got the money. You shouldn’t be stressing over... whatever this is.”

The words sting. You knew his mind would go there. It always does—like money could just make the exhaustion disappear, like hiring someone to take care of the smaller details would magically solve everything.

“It’s not about the money, Satoru.” you snap, trying to hold onto your patience. “I don’t need someone else doing my job for me. I just... I need you to listen.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Listen? What do you expect me to say? You’re tired. I get it. But don’t act like you’re drowning when I could have fixed this a long time ago. Hell, I could’ve bought you time off or flown you somewhere. You're sittin' here sulking like I can’t take care of things.”

You clench your fists, the exhaustion now compounded by frustration. “It’s not about you fixing things, Satoru. Sometimes I just need support—not your money.”

He stares at you, eyes narrowing. “Right. So you want to feel miserable instead of letting me help. That’s real smart, princess.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you shove clothes into your bag, the sound of zippers and drawers slamming echoing through the room. You can feel Satoru’s presence behind you, hovering, but you don’t stop. You can’t. Not after that.

“C'mon, princess.” he says, his voice exasperated, like he’s the one who's supposed to be annoyed. “What are you doing? Where do you think you’re going?”

You don’t answer, your hands moving faster, yanking more clothes off hangers, ignoring the sting behind your eyes. You’re so angry you can barely breathe.

“I’ll book us a trip,” Satoru tries again, a hint of desperation creeping into his usually arrogant tone. “How about Paris? We’ll stay at that five-star hotel you like, the one with the private balcony. You love that place.”

Your jaw clenches. “This isn’t about a vacation, Satoru,” you snap, stuffing the last of your things into the bag. “It’s not about your money or your fancy hotels.”

“Then what is it about?” he shoots back, his voice rising with frustration. “You’re acting like I haven’t given you everything. "What more do you want?"

You freeze, bag halfway zipped, your body trembling as you turn to face him. His icy blue eyes are wide, confused, and maybe even a little hurt, but you’re beyond caring. “I want you to see me!” you shout, the words tearing out of you, louder than you intended. “I don’t need you to throw money at the problem! I need you to actually understand what I’m going through!”

Satoru stares at you, speechless for once. His mouth opens, but no words come out. He looks almost... shocked, like he can’t comprehend that his money, his status, can’t fix this. That he can’t fix this.

“Do you even care?” you ask, your voice quieter now, but no less angry. “Do you care about how I feel? Or is it just easier for you to throw cash at me until I stop complaining?”

He’s silent, his gaze hardening as he crosses his arms. “I’m trying to help. What else do you want me to do?”

“I want you to listen!” You throw your hands up in frustration, feeling more alone than ever. “I don’t want your money. I don’t want trips or fancy dinners. I want you to care about me, Satoru. Not just the idea of me.”

His lips press into a thin line, but he says nothing. The silence is louder than any of his words.

As your hand grips the doorknob, ready to leave, Satoru’s voice cuts through the silence, sharp and bitter.

“Right, run off to Shoko’s.” he scoffs, his arms crossed defensively. “You always do this, don’t you? The moment things get tough, you bolt. Guess it’s easier to complain to her than actually deal with me.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, stopping you in your tracks. You turn slowly to face him, disbelief clouding your vision. He’s standing there, arms folded, arrogance in his posture.

“I always do this?” you repeat, your voice trembling with anger. “I’ve stayed through everything, Satoru!"

“You’re just like Suguru.” Satoru spits out, the words dripping with bitterness and desperation.

Your hand freezes on the handle. You weren’t expecting that. Slowly, you turn to look at him, and the mask of arrogance has cracked. His eyes are wild, wide with something close to panic. “Running away the moment things get hard,” he continues, his voice shaking slightly. “Is that it? Just gonna leave like he did?”

Your heart skips a beat, anger fading for a moment as something else stirs inside you. You’ve seen Satoru angry before, frustrated, even cold—but this? This is different.

“That’s not fair.” you say quietly, though the anger still simmers beneath the surface. “I’m not leaving because things are hard. I’m leaving because you’re not listening.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow, his lips pressing into a hard line. Then he snaps, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade, sharp and cold. “Well, fine. Go. I survived him abandoning me, I’ll survive you too.”

His words sting, burning through the air with a finality that makes your breath hitch. It’s a challenge, a defense—his way of masking the fear that’s clawing at him from the inside out. He’s pushing you away before you can leave, just like he’s done with everything else that’s threatened to crack his carefully controlled world.

You stand there, frozen for a moment, staring at him as his walls rise higher, shutting you out. This is what it’s come to. He’s too scared to let you in, too scared to admit that you leaving isn’t something he can just survive—that it’s something that terrifies him.

But he won’t say it. He won’t ask you to stay.

And that’s when you know.

Suguru Geto

You rest under the comfort of your blanket. How many days have you been in this bed? Three days? Four? 

The world was just too much right now, and your room was the only security available. It had been a week since Suguru vanished without a word, leaving behind nothing but unanswered questions and broken trust. Principal Yaga’s words still echoed in your mind—a whole village slaughtered, his parents among the dead. 

And not even a text.

You weren’t sure if he was even alive, maybe it would be better if he wasn’t. At least then you wouldn’t have to come to terms with the fact that the love of your life was now a wanted killer.

You took another tissue from the box, blowing into it and tossing the crumpled mess into the garbage can.

Satoru hadn’t responded either, was he okay? Did he know?

Your mind screamed for silence, for the thoughts to stop, but they kept coming, relentless.

“Angel?”

That voice… no it couldn’t be. You lower the covers from your face.

It was

“Hi baby...” his normally soothing voice does little to alleviate the ache in your chest.

“You…” your voice barely a whisper, threatening to break. “I thought you were dead.”

He moves closer, his footsteps barely making a sound on the floor, and you finally take him in. Despite everything, despite the horrors you’ve been told, he looks… normal.

How could he look so much like the Suguru you knew, the Suguru you loved, when everything inside of you was shattered?

Was this the same man who held you close? Whispered sweet nothings in your ear—promised to protect you with his life? 

“It’s me, (Y/N).”  he says softly, his voice cutting through the silence as if he had read your thoughts.

The tenderness in his tone feels like a knife twisting in your chest. How could he say that—so casually, so easily? Like everything was normal, like your world hadn’t come crashing down around you. You blink, trying to force the tears back, trying to find the right words, but nothing comes.

“Are you?” your voice is small, barely more than a whisper. Doubt lingers in every syllable.

He doesn’t respond to your question. Instead, his gaze softens, and without a word, he pulls the covers off of you. The cold air rushes over your skin, a stark contrast to the warmth you had buried yourself in, and for a moment you flinch, instinctively clutching the blanket before you let it slip from your fingers.

His eyes trace over your fragile form, and there’s something in them—a flicker of sympathy, regret, even—but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s the reason for your downward spiral. He knows it too. The weight of it presses on him, though he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he moves with a gentleness you hadn’t expected, sliding his arms under you and lifting you up as if you weighed nothing.

You want to protest, want to ask what he thinks he’s doing, but you’re too tired, too drained to fight. So you let him carry you. His arms are steady, and despite everything, you can’t help but melt in his embrace.

He takes you into the bathroom, the sound of running water filling the space as he sets you down gently. You can feel the cool tile under your feet as he kneels in front of the tub, turning the faucet on and testing the temperature.

You had so many things you wanted to say. You wanted to yell at him, curse him, ask him why. But you couldn’t.

He dips his hand under the stream, adjusting the temperature until it’s just right. His movements are deliberate, methodical, as if this is the only way he knows how to show you any kind of care right now.

You stand there, numb and silent, watching him. The man who destroyed your world, now kneeling before you, acting as though he can piece it back together with something as simple as a bath. It feels absurd, almost cruel, but at the same time, you don’t have the strength to stop him.

Suguru rises to his feet, his presence towering yet calm as he began to undress you. Gentle hands pulling his t-shirt off of you, the one you had been clinging onto for days.

His hands brush lightly against your skin as he lifts the shirt over your head, sending a shiver down your spine.

He had seen you in this state before, many times. But this….this was different.

Suguru guides you to the shower, washing your body with a gentleness you missed so deeply.

You close your eyes, letting him take care of you, even though you don’t understand why or how he can. The silence between you grows heavier with every passing second, filled with words unspoken and emotions too tangled to sort out.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water. “Why are you here, Suguru?”

His hand pauses for a moment, the washcloth resting against your skin. You can feel the weight of his gaze on you, but when he answers, his voice is low, steady, like he’s speaking more to himself than to you.

“Because I….I love you” His voice almost too quiet, as if he’s afraid to say the words out loud.

“Then why, Suguru?” your voice trembles, almost breaking under the weight of your next words. “Is it true? You killed those people?”

The washcloth falls from his hand, splashing into the water as the silence between you deepens. He doesn’t speak right away, and the hesitation in his silence is an answer in itself.

You swallow hard, the air thick with the weight of the truth you already know but can’t bear to accept.

“They were… in the way,” he finally admits, his voice low, almost hollow.

You step out of the shower, the warm water sliding off your skin in slow rivulets. Without thinking, you reach for the towel, wrapping it tightly around yourself like armor.

This isn’t the man you loved, the one who spoke of protecting the weak, of valuing life. Yet, there’s something so heartbreakingly familiar in the way he says it—like a twisted version of the Suguru you knew, now wrapped in darkness.

“But those were people, Suguru,” you say, your voice fragile, as if you’re trying to reach the man you once knew beneath the monster he’s become. “Innocent people. How could you…?”

He takes a deep breath, stepping closer to you, his hand brushing against your skin, cold and distant. “Because this world is broken.” he murmurs. “And I need to fix it. I had to do it. Can’t you see that? We—sorcerers—we’re meant for something greater. And they… they were holding us back.”

You shake your head, tears brimming in your eyes. “I don’t understand, Suguru. I don’t understand any of this.”

He steps closer, his hand cupping your face gently, as though trying to reassure you with his touch. "Come with me." he whispers, his voice softer now, pleading. “Run away with me. Together, we can build something new. You don’t have to be a part of this broken world anymore. We can leave it all behind.”

Before you can respond, his lips press against yours, a kiss that’s both gentle and urgent, as though he’s trying to pour every unsaid word, every plea, into this one moment. It’s the Suguru you remember—the Suguru who once made you feel safe, loved.

But the reality of who he’s become crashes down on you.

You pull away, your hands pressed firmly against his chest, creating a wall between you. “No.” you whisper, your voice breaking. “I can’t.”

For a moment, Suguru just stands there, staring at you, his dark eyes searching yours for something—some kind of understanding, some sign that you’ll change your mind. His hand lingers on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant, as though he’s trying to hold on to whatever connection is left.

But then, slowly, he withdraws, his hand falling back to his side. He straightens up, his expression hardening as he steps away from you, giving you the space you so desperately need. The softness in his eyes fades, replaced by the cold determination you’ve seen before.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice quiet, but there’s a sharp edge to it now. “One day, you’ll understand. When you see what I’ve seen, when you finally understand the truth about this world—you’ll come around. I know you will.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and without another glance, he turns and walks toward the door, leaving you standing alone, trembling in the silence.

Nanami Kento

Kento was an honest man. There was nothing he ever kept from you. Other people might view him as a hard shell, but you could read him like a book.

So when he came to bed that night, holding you just a little tighter than usual—you knew something was up.

You shifted slightly in his embrace, his grip tightening instinctively as if he feared you might slip away.

“Kento?” you asked softly, your voice breaking the stillness of the room. 

“I’ve decided to talk to Gojo tomorrow.” he said quietly, his voice steady but with a hint of resolve. “I want to return to being a sorcerer.”

The words hung in the air, sinking into you like lead. You stiffened, a sharp sting blooming in your chest as you processed his decision.

“Are you seriously considering this?” Your voice trembled with a mix of hurt and disbelief. “You know what that life entails. You’ve seen the consequences. Are you really willing to go back to that danger?”

Kento’s silence was heavier than any response he could have given. His arms, though still holding you close, seemed distant now, as if they were reaching out from across a chasm of uncertainty.

“I’ve thought it through,” he said finally, though his tone lacked the conviction he tried to project. “I need to do this for myself. I can’t keep pretending I’m satisfied with where I am.”

The last words echoed in your ears their weight sinking deep into your heart. “So you’re not satisfied with me?” you whispered, barely able to speak past the knot forming in your throat.

Kento’s eyes widened in shock. “No, that’s not what I meant—”

“Then what is it, Kento?” you demanded, frustration and hurt sharpening your words. “We have something good here. You have a good job. You left Jujustu High for a reason! What about Haibara—”

At the mention of Haibara, Kento’s face hardened. His eyes, which had been searching for the right words, now burned with anger and frustration. “Don’t.”

Your eyes widen at his tone. He sighs, trying to catch himself. “This…isn’t about him, or his fate. It’s about my own path, my own choices. You think I’m risking everything without knowing the cost?”

 “And what do you expect me to do, Kento?” Your voice cracked, raw emotion rising as you slid out of bed, unable to lie still any longer. “Sit at home and worry about you? Not knowing if you’re going to come back in one piece? I can’t live like that! I can’t live every day with the fear that you might not come back, that you might be hurt or worse?”

The silence that followed was suffocating. You paced the room, your emotions boiling over, while Kento sat still, his gaze following you but offering no solace.

“You’re asking me to accept a life where every day is a gamble with your safety!” You stopped, turning to face him, your chest heaving with emotion. “How am I supposed to do that? How am I supposed to pretend everything’s okay when the reality is that you might not come back to me? This isn’t just about you, Kento. It’s about us, our future!”

Kento ran a hand through his blond locks, frustration etched into every line of his face. “I’m not asking you to pretend it’s okay. I’m asking you to understand that this is something I need to do for myself, even if it means risking everything.”

You blinked, tears blurring your vision as his words sank in. “And what if everything we have is the cost?”

The question lingered, echoing in the space between you. Kento rose from the bed, standing tall before you, but the weight of the moment seemed to bow his shoulders.

He stepped closer, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. His eyes, filled with a deep sadness, searched yours, looking for understanding that he knew might never come. “I love you,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You need to know that.”

You shook your head, your voice breaking. “But that isn’t enough… is it? It never will be…”

There was a heavy silence between you, the weight of your words pressing down on both of you.

“I… can’t watch you throw your life away, Kento.”

He took a deep breath, the sound heavy with resignation. "Then… we’ve both made our decision."

His hands, which had held you with such tenderness, felt distant as you pulled away. You took a step back, a sob catching in your throat.

He opens his mouth, but no words come out with a trembling breath, he stepped forward and gently pulled you into his arms. The embrace was tender, filled with the weight of finality.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent one last time as if trying to imprint it into his memory. The warmth of his body, once a comfort, now felt like a dagger in your chest.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered, his voice strained. The words were barely audible, but the sentiment hung heavy in the air.

Kento lingered for a moment, his hand sliding from your back to gently cup your face. His thumb brushed away the tear you hadn’t realized had fallen, and his expression softened with a promise you weren’t sure either of you could believe.

“I’ll come back,” he whispered, his voice strained but resolute. “Somehow… I’ll find my way back to you. One day.”

You clung to him for a moment longer, feeling the ache of goodbye in every fiber of your being, before he slowly pulled away. Leaving you.

[sturnioz]

hear me outtt waking up to shy!matt pressed against you, arm over your stomach and he’s just touching you and then starts fingering you from how horny he was

tw. somnophilia [please communicate with your partners if you ever want to try this out. communication is always important.]

the room is dark, too dark, the only light coming from the moon streaming through the small gaps in the curtains, casting long shadows on the bed.

matt lays quietly, his body tense as he stares up at the ceiling, his heart pounding in his chest.

he can't sleep, he finds it too difficult to close his eyes. he's restless, antsy, and most importantly, he is incredibly fucking turned on.

he isn't sure on why he's feeling the way he is — the entire day was fine. perfect, even. he had woken up with you by his side, he spent the day with you and his brothers, going out shopping, grabbing a bite to eat, then relaxing and watching a movie as soon as they got home.

but the second you both climbed into bed? fuck, he was hard — painfully fucking hard that he wanted to cry.

his cock presses against the fabric of his boxers, his tip sticky with precum that dampens the material, creating a darker patch that grows bigger and bigger each second.

matt whines quietly, his head rolling to the side, watching you peacefully sleep, your breathing steady. pressing his lips together tightly, matt slowly moves closer to you until he can feel the warmth radiating off your body, and his cock twitches, causing his hips to jerk slightly.

with a deep breath, matt reaches out, his hand trembling slightly as he places it on your hip, peering at you to see if you stir awake at his touch, but unfortunately, you remain asleep.

he whines again, feeling the tears of frustration prickle in the corner of his eyes as he begins to stroke your skin, tracing his fingertips across the curve of your waist before dipping lower, his cock throbbing.

"baby?" he whispers softly, leaning in closer, his face inches away from yours. he frowns as he watches you murmur softly in your sleep, your eyelids fluttering as if chasing after dreams.

god, he didn't want to wake you up. you look so peaceful sleeping. but he needed you. he needed you so fucking bad that he can't help but slip his hand beneath the waistband of your panties, his fingers touching the warm, damp heat of your pussy.

matt's lips part with a silent gasp — the wetness coating his fingers sending his mind reeling. his shuffles in closer, dropping his head down in the crevice of your neck as he slips a finger inside your opening, swallowing thickly at the feeling of how tight and hot you felt around him.

he closes his eyes as he whimpers quietly in your ears, slipping another finger inside while he ruts his hips against your thigh, seeking friction for his cock as he pumps his fingers faster, curling them to hit that spongy spot inside you.

matt struggles to hold back any longer as he raises his leg to lay it across yours, grinding harder against your thigh — the sensations sending sparks of pleasure zipping down his spine, making him gasp and shudder against your neck.

his movements grow more urgent, more desperate, and he can feel himself teetering towards the edge as his balls tighten.

he expected to cum soon, to paint your thighs and finally get the release he's been craving. what he didn't expect was to feel a hand wrap around his sensitive cock, grip firm yet gentle, stroking him with a steady rhythm that makes his body tense.

"o-oh, fuck... m'sorry, m'sorry—" matt whimpers as he buries his face further into your neck, panting against your clammy skin as he halts his fingers that are still wedged deep inside your cunt. "m'sorry, i-i couldn't... i can't—"

"shhh, s'okay," you drawl sleepily, reassuring him as you roll your hips over his fingers, "keep going... let me take care of you too."

matt sniffles and pathetically nods, continuing to finger you, his fingers easily slipping in and out of your slick folds as your hand moves on him, your thumb rubbing over his tip to coax some noises out of him.

the wet sounds of your pussy being fingered and you jerking him off fills the room, mixing with the light gasps and whines he makes, his breath hot against your skin.

his body trembles as he feels your grip on him tightly, and he lets out a choked cry as his hips repeatedly buck involuntarily, hot spurts of cum coating your hand and dripping onto your thigh, the sight being enough to topple over the edge and clench around his fingers, feeling your ride his fingers, walls spasming and quivering as you cum alongside him.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us II

Summary:

Aemond learns about his impending fatherhood as things get a little heated in his office with Y.N and he seeks the support of his brothers before he confesses all to Alys.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Features a Flashback Memory, Swearing, Fingering, Alcohol Consumption, Infidelity, Mild Violence, Kissing, Oral Sex (F & M Recieving), P in V.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 7177

A.N - I used Zac Gabriel as the face claim for Daeron.

A.N - Most of the story is already written, as I start a new job on Saturday :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole @toodlesxcuddles @mamawiggers1980 @minttea07 @nommingonfood

Y.N stepped into Aemond’s office, her breath catching at the sight of him sitting on the edge of his desk, arms folded, his head cocked slightly to the side, a smirk playing on his lips.

Gods, look at him.

His fitted black suit clung perfectly to his lean form, the eye patch and his long silver hair tied half-up in that effortless way. Her eyes flicked down to his lips-those lips and the way they-

No. Not here. Not now.

“Y.N. What a pleasant surprise,” Aemond greeted, his voice smooth as he gestured toward the leather sofa. She smiled nervously, walking past him, aware of his gaze lingering on her.

She crossed her legs as she sat, and Aemond's eye darkened briefly with memory—of how her skin felt beneath his fingers, the taste of her, the way she came undone in his arms.

The way those perfect tits of hers bounced as she rode him.

His cock stirred involuntarily, and he had to shake his head to rid himself of the thoughts.

Aemond took a deep breath and sat next to her, trying to maintain composure. Silence stretched between them, the tension palpable.

“Y-You have a nice office,” Y.N. said, breaking the silence.

“Thank you-” Aemond replied, his gaze never leaving her. “-So what can I do for you?” His tone was light, but she could sense the underlying curiosity.

Oh gods. Here we go.

Y.N. took a deep breath, gathering her courage. “I-I’m p-pregnant.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable. Aemond stared at her, stunned into silence.

His usually sharp mind blanked as he tried to process what she had just said to him.

He sat there, motionless, expression unreadable, his mouth hanging open slightly.

“Aemond?” Y.N. waved her hand in front of his face, concerned. “Did you hear me?”

Aemond blinked, snapping out of his daze. “D-Did you just say-that you’re pregnant?”

“Y-Yes” replied Y.N.

“How?” asked Aemond cringing internally at his own idiocy as he knew how babies were made.

What a fucking moron you are Targaryen.

 “Well, we didn’t use protection,” Y.N said quietly.

Aemond groaned in frustration, running a hand down his face. The reality of his actions settled over him like a weight.

That night had been intoxicating—too good, too overwhelming for either of them to think clearly. The alcohol didn’t help, and neither did her tight wet cunt wrapped against his cock. He had lost all control.

He was utterly shameless in his need to feel her like that again, but now wasn’t the time for that.

He took her hand instead. “Forgive me for asking, I know you and Jace broke up, but was there any-”

“-It’s not Jace’s,” Y.N. interrupted quickly. “I’m eight weeks along-and I haven’t been with Jace in months,” Y.N. continued. “-I haven’t been with anyone else either. You were the last”

A possessive thrill shot through Aemond, knowing she hadn’t been with anyone else since their night together.

Aemond swallowed, still trying to wrap his head around it.

A child. Their child. A piece of him and her together. Growing inside her right now. His seed had taken root inside her womb.

Fuck he was getting hard.

“I came to tell you because it’s the right thing to do,” Y.N. said, her voice steady. “But I won’t force you to be involved. If you don’t want anyone to know, then I’ll keep it a secret.”

Aemond’s grip tightened around her hand, his eyes flashing with anger. “You want me to forget you’re carrying my child?” His voice was low and dangerous. “That’s not happening”

“I can do this on my own,” Y.N. replied firmly. “I’m perfectly capable.”

“So, you’re keeping the baby?” Aemond asked, and Y.N. looked hurt by the question.

“Of course I’m keeping the baby,” she snapped, her eyes stinging with emotion. “Would you rather I have an abortion?”

“No!” Aemond quickly said, his tone softening. “That’s not what I meant-I just-I never thought I’d have children. And now-this-” He ran a hand over his face, overwhelmed.

His composure slipped as he reached up and wrenched off his eyepatch, throwing it on the sofa.

Y.N. stared at the sapphire in his eye socket, her breath hitching at the sight of him.

Even in this vulnerable moment, Aemond was breathtaking. His raw beauty had always left her speechless.

“We should get married,” Aemond blurted out.

Y.N. gasped, shocked. “We can’t. What about Alys?”

Aemond stood up abruptly, pacing the length of the office, frustration rolling off him in waves.

Damn it. He was in a relationship, and not only had he cheated, but now Y.N. was pregnant.

“I’ll tell Alys-” Aemond said, taking a deep breath. “But I want to be involved. In everything. The baby, the appointments, all of it. I won’t run away from my responsibility-”

Y.N. nodded, relieved that he wanted to be there. She reached into her handbag and pulled out the scan photo. “I only have one copy-” she handed it to him.

Aemond stared at the tiny figure, a smile tugging at his lips.

Their baby. His baby. A tiny person that he helped to create.

He handed back the scan photo as Y.N. took out her phone and seconds later, his phone buzzed with a message. He opened it to find a picture of the scan.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I mean it, Y.N. I want to be there. For you and our baby”

Y.N smiled and stood up, slowly smoothing the wrinkles out of her skirt.

“Where are you going?” asked Aemond.

“I’ve said what I needed to say. Now, I’m starving, and I need pickles.”

Aemond grimaced “Pickles?”

 “The baby makes me want them” laughed Y.N

Before she could leave, Aemond reached out, gently placing his hand on her stomach. Y.N. smiled at the touch.

They were so close, and Aemond couldn’t resist as he leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a slow, passionate kiss. His hand slid around her body, pulling her close as the kiss deepened.

He slowly backed her up against the door, lifting her slightly as she moaned into his mouth, feeling the hardness of his cock pressing into her.

His hand slowly moving under the fabric of her skirt, skimming the soft flesh of her thigh before his fingers rubbed her pearl over the cotton material of her knickers.

“Already so wet for me” groaned Aemond.

“A-Aemond” breathed Y.N.

“Does it feel good baby?” asked Aemond.

“Oh-Aemond-yes-please” whimpered Y.N as he moved her knickers aside and slid two of his long fingers inside her.

“It’s been so long since I last felt you” whispered Aemond as he curled his fingers inside her.

“So long-oh yes” replied Y.N moving her hips in time with Aemond’s fingers.

“Are you going to come already? I can feel you clenching” muttered Aemond, his fingers still moving inside her.

“Yes-Yes. I-I’m going to-” whimpered Y.N

“Shhhh-” urged Aemond as he surged forward his lips on her muffling her scream as her peak exploded, her cunny clenching around Aemond’s fingers.

A sudden knock at the door broke the moment, and they pulled apart, breathing heavily.

Aemond lowered her gently back to the floor, his forehead resting against hers for a brief second.

“Let me if you know if you need anything,” whispered Aemond as he removed his fingers and then put them in his mouth, his tongue swirling around his fingers, savouring the taste of her.

“I-I w-will” muttered Y.N as Aemond pressed a quick kiss to her lips.

Aemond watched as she smoothed out her clothes and left the office a little wobbly legged.

Once she was gone, Aemond poked his head out of his office and barked at his assistant, “Hold my calls for fifteen minutes.”

With a heavy sigh, he pulled out a bottle of whisky from his desk drawer, taking a long drink.

Holy shit. He was going to be a father. Y.N. was the mother of his child and he'd just fingered her in his office.

What the fuck was he doing?

Aemond sat alone in his office, staring out the window at the sprawling city below, but his mind was far from the towering skyline.

His fingers drummed idly on the armrest of his chair, the familiar hum of work barely registering.

Instead, memories of that night played out vividly in his mind, as if they had happened just moments ago-

He leaned against the lower bar at the Dragon's Den, swirling his drink, trying to convince himself he was here to unwind.

Aegon and Daeron had practically dragged him out, insisting he needed to loosen up after weeks of work.

He had reluctantly agreed, not because he wanted to, but because the constant pressure at Targaryen Inc. had left him worn thin.

It was actually Helaena’s text that had first piqued his interest. She had casually mentioned that she was going clubbing with Y.N.

He hadn’t given it much thought at the time, but now, as he scanned the room and his eye landed on her, he felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

Gods, that dress-those legs. He wondered what it feel like to have his head between them.

She looked absolutely incredible, more beautiful than he remembered. His heart stuttered in his chest, and his grip tightened around his drink.

He had known Y.N. for years, ever since school. At first, she had been just Helaena’s annoying friend—always around, always talking.

He couldn’t stand her back then. Or so he’d told himself.

But then one day, something shifted. She stopped being annoying, and he found himself thinking about her far too often.

A stupid, insecure kid who hid behind sarcasm and cruelty because he couldn’t handle the fact that she made him feel something.

His eye injury had left him insecure about his appearance, and he’d been too much of a coward to admit how he really felt. Instead, he was a prick to her.

Always keeping his distance, always lashing out. But that didn’t stop him from thinking about her constantly.

Didn’t stop him from fucking his fist at the thought of her, imagining what it would be like to touch her, kiss her, have her.

So pathetic.

But she’d gone off to a different college, and by the time she came back, everything had changed. He’d started working at Targaryen Inc., and Alys had entered the picture.

She had gotten involved with Jace, his strong-bastard nephew. Aemond clenched his jaw at the memory, the bitter taste of jealousy rising in his throat.

Of all the people she could have been with, it had to be him-

Aegon elbowed him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Stop staring at Y.N.,” he laughed, clearly enjoying Aemond’s discomfort.

Aemond scowled, pushing Aegon away. “I’m not staring at anyone. Get lost.”

But Aegon wasn’t buying it. He smirked, clearly amused by the whole thing. A group of girls walked past them, giggling, shooting flirtatious glances in their direction.

Daeron, who had been quietly sipping his drink, sighed. “There are some lovely women here tonight.”

Aemond barely registered his younger brother’s comment. His gaze flicked back to Y.N., who was still across the room, laughing with Helaena.

She looked radiant, so effortlessly beautiful it hurt. He wondered if she’d noticed him, or if she was too wrapped up in whatever she was talking about.

Daeron leaned closer. “Aren’t you with Alys? I’m not sure she’d approve of you staring at other women.”

Aegon chimed in with a chuckle. “You know Alys is all wrong for you.”

Aemond sighed heavily, the conversation grating on him. “Give it a rest.”

His brothers never missed an opportunity to remind him of how ill-suited Alys was. Maybe they were right. Maybe they weren’t.

It didn’t matter, not when Y.N. was here, looking like that, making it impossible for him to think of anything else.

Then Daeron had to open his mouth, “Isn’t Y.N. dating our nephew?”

Aemond muttered an insult under his breath, something about Jace’s strong parentage.

Aegon, ever the instigator, laughed. “I don’t see a ring on her finger.”

Aemond drained the rest of his drink, rolling his eyes. “Just because you have the morals of an alley cat doesn’t mean everyone else does”

But even as he said it, his gaze wandered back to Y.N. Then, their eyes met—across the dancing crowd, over the flashing lights.

For a moment, the noise of the club faded away. She looked at him, really looked at him, and the connection between them was instant.

There was something in her eyes, something that made his pulse quicken. And then he smirked, unable to help himself.

Daeron, clearly enjoying the scene, downed the rest of his drink. “Watch and learn brother” Before Aemond could stop him, he was already making his way over to Y.N., striking up a conversation.

Aemond watched, feeling the familiar surge of jealousy tighten in his chest as Daeron led her to the dance floor.

Damn that dress and how she looked in it.

All Aemond could think about was what she might be wearing underneath it—if anything at all.

He wanted her. Badly. Wanted to pull her close, kiss her, feel her body pressed against his, sink his cock into her.

Aegon leaned in, laughing. “Daeron seems to be making progress.”

Aemond scoffed, unable to tear his eye away from Y.N. “Not for long.”

He had seen it—her glances, the way she looked at him over Daeron’s shoulder. That look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know.

Finishing his drink, he set the glass down with determination. He wasn’t going to sit on the sidelines any longer.

As Daeron danced with her, Aemond pushed his way through the crowd, locking his gaze on her.

That night, every sense of control he had possessed was gone. That carnal, desperate urge overtook him, and Alys—everything else—became a distant memory.

It was reckless, it was wrong, but he didn’t regret a damn thing.

The next morning, as he watched Y.N. walk around her kitchen in her little shorts and tank top, that fire ignited in him all over again.

Sure, he could blame the alcohol, but deep down, he knew the truth—they had always had something.

Something more than physical attraction. Something that went deeper, beyond lust.

She had always matched him intellectually, always pushed him, always knew how to get under his skin.

Even back in school, when she critiqued his every answer in class or challenged him, she had ignited something in him no one else ever had.

Not even Alys.

When he first started dating Alys, the allure had been there—an older woman, the mystery of it all. But it had eventually soured.

He’d wanted to end things, but his grandfather Otto had convinced him to keep her around, considering her ties to Larys Strong.

His feelings for Alys were muted and shallow. He’d settled because he never thought he’d have a real chance with Y.N.

But now, everything had changed. Y.N. was pregnant with his child. They’d kissed and gods help him he’d fingered her in his office, and if they hadn’t been interrupted, he was sure he would have had her bent over his desk.

She had infiltrated his mind, his body, his every waking thought.

Gods, he was so screwed.

Aemond sat across from his brothers at the dining table in his penthouse, the three of them surrounded by hastily opened containers of Chinese takeout.

For a while, they ate in silence, the occasional clatter of forks and slurping of noodles the only sounds in the room.

“So,” Aegon began, leaning back in his chair, “-What was the big emergency that you needed to invite us over for?”

Aemond finished chewing and wiped his mouth with a napkin, eyes flicking between his brothers. He let out a slow breath, bracing himself before speaking. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

Daeron, mid-swig of his beer, sprayed it everywhere in shock, while Aegon choked on his spring roll, coughing violently.

Aemond sat there, watching as they both struggled to recover, stone-faced.

When Aegon finally caught his breath, he croaked, “Are you being fucking serious?”

Aemond nodded. “Yes.”

Daeron blinked, wiping his mouth. “How did that happen?”

Aemond gave him a deadpan look. “Surely I don’t have to explain the dynamics of sex to you, little brother.”

Daeron wrinkled his nose in disgust. “Eww, no thanks-”

“So, she’s pregnant?” said Aegon his face a mix of disbelief and amusement.

Aemond, clearly growing impatient, shot up from his seat. “Yes, she’s pregnant! There’s a baby growing inside her, and I’m the fucking father!”

Daeron, still processing, blurted out, “Haven’t you heard of condoms?”

Aegon burst into laughter, nearly knocking over his plate. “Oh, for all the lectures I’ve had to endure from our mother over the years about safe sex, and it’s my little brother who didn’t wrap it before he tapped it. Now he’s having a baby out of wedlock—Mother is going to kill you.”

Aemond narrowed his eye at Aegon. “Try not to sound so happy about it.”

“I’m going to enjoy it because, for once, it’s not my fault,” Aegon shot back with a grin, leaning forward in his chair, clearly enjoying himself.

Daeron, laughing now, pointed at Aegon. “It was your idea to go to the club, so technically it is your fault.”

Aegon jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow. “Shut up”

Daeron, still grinning, shifted the tone. “It’s not just mother you should worry about. What about Alys?”

Aegon jumped on that immediately. “Maybe mother will be happy to have a grandchild, especially knowing Alys isn’t the mother.”

Aemond shook his head, not wanting to think about the impending confrontation with Alys. It was a situation that grew more complicated by the second.

Daeron’s expression turned curious as he asked, “Is that why Y.N. was at the office today?”

Aemond’s eyes sharpened. “How do you know she was at the office?”

“I saw her leaving,” Daeron shrugged. “She seemed a little flustered.”

Aegon’s face lit up, noticing the shift in Aemond’s expression. “What happened?”

“N-Nothing,” Aemond muttered, eye narrowing in warning.

Aegon, giddy with excitement, leaned forward, voice teasing. “Did you fuck in your office?”

Daeron, now laughing along with Aegon, added, “Did you?”

Aemond took a long swig of his beer, then sighed. “No. We didn’t, but we almost did. We kissed—and I may have had my hand under her skirt, but we were interrupted.”

Aegon raised his beer in mock sympathy. “Aww, how unfortunate for you. But come on, you can admit it now—you’ve got a thing for her.”

Aemond’s patience snapped. “I do not!”

Daeron chuckled, shaking his head. “Yes, you do. You’ve had a face like a wet weekend since you slept with her, and now you’re positively glowing. Just admit it.”

Aemond set his beer down a little too forcefully. “I like that she’s intelligent and I like her smile.”

Aegon scoffed, almost choking on his drink again. “That’s not the only reason you fucked her. Let’s face it—she’s better for you than the wicked witch of the west.”

Aemond ignored Aegon’s jab, reaching for another beer with a sigh. “Hurry up and finish your food. Alys will be round soon, and I’d rather not have an audience when I tell her.”

Aegon made a dramatic face of mock horror. “Don’t be a spoil sport.”

Daeron nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you could at least video it, so we have enough evidence to give the police when she kills you.”

Aemond growled at Daeron, but his younger brother just exchanged a look with Aegon before the two of them burst into laughter.

Aegon shook his head, grinning wide. “I’m not rushing my food and giving myself indigestion just so you can panic over telling your girlfriend you’ve knocked up another girl—oh man, I can’t believe I said that. It’s so scandalous.” He laughed harder. “You dirty dog!”

“Aegon, duck!” warned Daeron.

Aegon moved just in time to avoid the remote that Aemond hurled at his head.

Laughing even harder now, Aegon got up, grabbing his jacket. “Perhaps we should go, Daeron. Mr. Sensitive over here looks like he’s about to have a hernia.”

Daeron stretched and stood up, finishing his beer. “Fancy a quick stop for a stronger drink before we head home?”

“Sure, why not?” Aegon slung his arm over Daeron’s shoulder as they headed to the door. “After Aemond’s baby bombshell, I think we both deserve one.”

Aemond, fists clenched, shouted after them, “Get out!”

Their laughter echoed through the hallway as they left, waiting for the lift, still teasing him as the door closed behind them.

Aemond stood in the middle of his penthouse, his heart racing as he received a text from Alys: “On my way over, be there soon. Can’t wait to see you. xx”

Panic set in immediately. The place was a mess after his brothers had left, the takeout boxes still scattered across the dining table and the remnants of their impromptu meal cluttering the space.

He could already hear Alys’s voice in his head, scolding him if she arrived and found the place looking like a pigsty.

Plus she would likley nag him about eating take out and not eating the proper food to keep his body fit, even though he worked out regularly.

Without wasting a second, Aemond rushed into action. He grabbed the empty takeout containers and tossed them into the trash, wiped down the table, and hurriedly washed the dishes.

The sounds of clinking plates and running water filled the otherwise silent kitchen. He could feel the pressure mounting, not just from the impending arrival of Alys, but from everything that had built up over the past few days—weeks, even.

Once the place was spotless, he sat down on the edge of the sofa, bouncing his leg anxiously as he waited.

His thoughts raced. How would he tell her? How could he possibly explain what had happened, not just with Y.N., but the baby?

He barely had time to dwell on it before he heard the familiar ping of the lift doors opening, followed by the clicking of heels on the polished floor.

The door unlocked, and in walked Alys, arms laden with shopping bags. Aemond immediately stood up, hurrying over to take the bags from her.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips in gratitude and moved to sit on the sofa. Aemond placed the bags down beside her before asking, “Did you enjoy your shopping trip?”

“I did,” Alys replied as she slipped of her heels “I saw Helaena.”

Aemond’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, right. Everything okay?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but panic surged through him.

He prayed that Helaena hadn’t mentioned anything about Y.N. His sister didn’t know about the baby-yet, but she did know that he’d spent the night with Y.N.

“She was-muttering to herself and walked off before I could say hello,” Alys said, her tone dripping with mild annoyance. “Honestly, she’s so weird.”

Aemond’s patience, already stretched thin, snapped. “You know I don’t like it when you insult my sister.”

Alys smiled, standing up and walking over to him, her hands moving slowly over his chest as she offered an apology.

“I’m sorry darling” Her hands slid lower, and she pressed her body against his. “You seem-a little out of sorts. Maybe I can help with that,” she whispered before kissing him.

He kissed her back out of reflex, but it felt wrong, his mind, traitorously, drifted to Y.N.

Aemond remembered how she had looked in his office when he had his hand in between her legs, how wet she was and the sounds she made as she climaxed.

A flash of heat surged through him, and his cock began to get hard, and Alys mistook his sudden flare of arousal as desire for her.

She managed to undo his belt, but the instant her fingers began fiddling with his buttons, reality snapped back into place.

Aemond recoiled, pulling away from her.

“What’s wrong?” Alys asked, her voice sharp as she watched him hurriedly button up his trousers and wrench off his eyepatch.

He caught the brief look of disgust she gave when she glanced at his sapphire eye—so different from Y.N., who had told him he was beautiful, making him feel seen in a way Alys never had.

But he couldn’t think about Y.N. right now, not with Alys standing in front of him, waiting for an explanation.

He ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of what he had to confess. Turning to the drinks cabinet, he pulled out a hidden pack of cigarettes, lit one quickly, and took a long drag.

“I thought I told you to quit that,” Alys said, her voice tinged with irritation.

“I need it” Aemond muttered, exhaling smoke, trying to calm his nerves.

“You’re acting strange,” she noted, suspicion creeping into her voice. “What’s going on?”

Aemond took another drag before stubbing out the cigarette, steeling himself. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Alys crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “What is it?”

He exhaled slowly, avoiding her gaze. “Do you remember when you were in America with Larys?”

“Yes,” she replied, her voice guarded. “Why?”

“I went out with Aegon and Daeron while you were gone,” Aemond began, feeling the weight of the confession build in his throat. “Helaena was there-with Y.N.”

Alys’ expression darkened at the mention of Y.N. “What have you done, Aemond?”

He swallowed hard. “I had too much to drink. Alys, I’m sorry, but I-I slept with Y.N.”

For a moment, the room was silent. Alys stood frozen, processing what he had just said.

Then, in a flash of fury, she picked up a vase and hurled it at him.

“You did what?” she screamed.

Aemond ducked, the vase smashing against the wall behind him.

Before he could react, she grabbed another smaller vase and hurled it at him, her eyes blazing with rage.

“How could you do this to me?!”

He dove behind the sofa, barely dodging the second vase as it shattered on the floor.

“It was a drunken mistake,” he lied through gritted teeth.

The truth was that it hadn’t felt like a mistake at all.

It had been incredible, and he’d thought about it every day since. He wanted it to happen again, even though he knew it was wrong.

Gods, he was a terrible person.

Alys’ voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you have feelings for her?”

Aemond stood slowly from behind the sofa, his gaze hard. “No.”

Another lie.

He did have feelings for Y.N. He always had, even before Alys.

Alys stepped closer, her voice trembling. “Was it just once?”

“Yes,” muttered Aemond.

Another lie, he had his hand between her legs today.

She took a deep breath, her anger momentarily subsiding as she considered the situation.

“Maybe we can-work through this-”

Aemond cut her off, his voice low. “-There’s something else I have to tell you.”

Alys’s eyes narrowed in suspicion again. “What else could you have possibly done?”

Aemond took another breath, the words heavy on his tongue. “Y.N. is pregnant.”

In anticipation of Alys throwing something else at him, Aemond instantly dropped to the floor, hiding behind the sofa again.

He peeked over the back of the couch and saw Alys standing there, her face drained of colour.

“How do you even know it’s yours? She’s seeing your nephew.”

Your nephew too, if the rumours are true.

“No, she’s not,” Aemond replied as he stood up, feeling his frustration rise. “They broke up months ago. The baby is mine.”

Alys’ expression twisted with disgust and hurt. She pulled on her heels and reached into her bag, pulling out the keys to his penthouse, and throwing them onto the floor.

“I’m leaving.”

“Alys, I’m sorry. It was an accident—”

“Oh, what happened?” she snapped sarcastically. “You tripped, and your cock  just happened to land inside her?”

Aemond grimaced, unable to respond.

Alys’ voice cracked as she asked, “Is this because I can’t have children?”

Against his better judgment, Aemond stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. “No, that was never an issue.”

She buried her face in his chest, sobbing. “How could you do this to me? I love you.”

Aemond rolled his eye, his inner voice immediately chafing at her words.

Loves my name more like.

After a moment, Alys pulled away, her face hardening.

“It’s over,” she said, her voice shaking but firm as she gathered her shopping bags and left without another word.

Aemond winced as she slammed the door.

Well, there’s no going back now.

Y.N. sat curled up on her sofa, watching Jaws on the television, the tension building in the movie as she readied to take a bite of her pizza.

Just as the shark loomed on screen, a loud knock at the door startled her, making her jump. She quickly checked the time—8:30 PM.

“Who the hell is visiting at this time?” she muttered under her breath.

If it was Jace, she swore she was going to kill him. She was sick of the barrage of text messages he’d been sending.

One moment, he was apologetic and sweet, the next, angry and demanding. She hadn’t replied to a single one all day.

Peering through the peephole, her stomach flipped when she saw long silver hair on the other side of the door.

“Oh, bugger,” she mumbled, her hand hesitating on the door handle.

What was Aemond doing here?

She opened the door, and before she could say a word, Aemond blurted out, “I told Alys.”

Y.N. blinked in surprise. “Oh-you’d better come in, then.”

Aemond stepped inside, and as he passed, she wrinkled her nose at the faint odour of whiskey that clung to him.

He didn’t seem drunk, just tense and slightly dishevelled. He flopped onto the sofa, immediately eyeing the pizza box.

Without asking, he reached over and snagged a slice.

“Oi! That’s mine,” Y.N. scolded.

“But I’m hungry,” Aemond shot back with a smirk.

“You have a perfectly good penthouse. Bugger off and get your own pizza.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a lazy grin. “Yeah, but you’re not in my penthouse.”

Y.N. couldn't help but smile at the awful attempt at whatever the hell that was supposed to be.

She sat down beside him, shaking her head. “Don't steal my chips.”

Aemond pouted dramatically. “Aw, come on. Don’t be stingy.”

With a smirk, Y.N. poured a generous amount of garlic sauce over the chips, thinking it would deter him.

Aemond laughed, stuffing a handful into his mouth. “Joke’s on you. I like garlic sauce.”

He licked the sauce off his fingers, and for a moment, Y.N. stared at him, feeling unexpectedly flustered.

She quickly cleared her throat. “So, uh-how did Alys take the news?”

Aemond sighed, leaning back against the sofa. “She threw a couple of vases at me-and then ended things.”

Y.N. felt a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

Aemond shook his head. “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I’m the one who pursued you, even though I had a girlfriend.”

His gaze shifted to the flowers sitting on the side table. “Who are those from?”

Y.N. sighed. “They came today. From Jace.”

At the mention of his nephew’s name, Aemond’s eye narrowed, a spark of irritation flashing across his face.

“What does that twat want?”

“He keeps asking me to get back together with him,” Y.N. said, rolling her eyes. “-he knows about the baby-just not who the father is.”

“Oh, really?” said Aemond smugly.

 “Don’t you go telling him either.”

“Would I?” laughed Aemond wriggling his eyebrows.

“I can’t even begin to imagine how that conversation will go-” Y.N. sighed. “It’s not like I can call him up and say, oh, Jacey, you know that I’m pregnant? Well, your uncle Aemond is the father. Yeah, the same uncle who’s eye your brother carved out when you were kids, and the same uncle who you got into a fight with five years ago at a family dinner because he made a strong toast”

Aemond sniggered, remembering the altercation with Jace and the satisfying feeling of breaking his nephew’s nose.

Y.N. glanced at him and then at the pizza. “Want another slice?”

Aemond shook his head. “Nah, I’m good.”

Y.N. cheered and immediately began eating with gusto, “I’ve. Just. Been. So. Hungry. Lately” each word followed a bite of pizza.

Aemond sat there, watching her with a soft smile, thinking about how lovely she looked—even with a smear of pizza sauce on her cheek.

When she finished, Aemond grabbed the empty boxes and tossed them into the bin. When he returned to the sofa, he was chuckling softly.

“What?” Y.N. asked, confused.

“You’ve still got tomato sauce on your cheek,” Aemond said with a smirk.

Before she could wipe it off, Aemond leaned in and kissed her cheek softly, running his tongue over the sauce.

The unexpected gesture made Y.N. gasp, and when she looked at him, their faces were mere inches apart.

The air between them grew thick, hot, and charged with unspoken desire. There was no hesitation—no denying what had been building between them.

Their lips collided in a passionate, heated kiss. Aemond wrapped his arms around her, lifting her easily into his lap as her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist.

Y.N.’s fingers tangled in his silver hair, pulling him closer as the kiss deepened, fiery and intense. Aemond stood, still holding her, and carried her effortlessly toward the bedroom, their mouths never parting.

Aemond’s lips never left Y.N.’s as he lowered her onto the bed, their breaths ragged and hurried, the heat between them building to a fever pitch.

His hands roamed her body eagerly, fingers brushing over the soft fabric of her p.j shirt before slipping underneath.

Y.N. gasped into his mouth as his touch sent shivers racing down her spine, her own hands moving to tug at the hem of his shirt.

In a flurry of movement, Y.N. pulled his shirt up, and Aemond broke the kiss just long enough for it to come off before their lips met again, more demanding this time.

His own fingers worked quickly on riding her of the strappy shirt she wore. The cool air hit her chest as her shirt slid off her shoulders, but it was quickly replaced by the warmth of Aemond’s body as he pressed closer to her.

Y.N. arched into him, her hands moving with purpose, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt, pushing it aside with urgency.

Aemond groaned, feeling her touch so close to where he needed her, but his focus was on her now.

His hands slid down to the waistband of her shorts, pushing them down in one smooth motion, her legs helping to kick them off entirely.

Fuck she wasn’t wearing any knickers.

The intensity in his gaze as he looked at her, bare beneath him, made her heart race even faster. She pulled at the waistband of his trousers, and he quickly complied, standing just long enough to let them fall to the floor, his shoes kicked off hastily.

As soon as he was back over her, their bodies pressed together, skin to skin, Y.N. let out a low moan at the feeling of his warmth, the weight of him against her.

His lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping gently, while his hands slid down her sides,

“Let me take care of you” muttered Y.N as she placed kisses along Aemond jaw and then down his neck, making sure to gently nip and suck his skin as she went.

She carried on moving down, pausing as she reached his chest, she grinned as she took one of his nipples into her mouth, her tongue teasing it before she bit down.

“FUCK” moaned Aemond.

“Do you like that?” asked Y.N as she moved across and gave his other nipple the same

“Oh. Gods-” whimpered Aemond as she moved further down his body, her tongue and teeth grazing his pale skin.

When she reached the trail of hair from his belly button down to his cock, she pressed her nose against him and giggled when she felt the hair tickle her skin.

Aemond lost his senses the moment Y.N’s warm, wet mouth quickly wrapped around the head of his swollen cock.

Her tongue gently moving around the tip – tracing the ridges and licking off that drops of pre-cum that had started to leak out.

“Fuck, Y.N!” groaned Aemond as he threaded his fingers through her hair.

Y.N ran the flat of her tongue along Aemond’s length, tracing every hard inch of him.

Aemond knew it would push the limits of his control, but he did not care. He just had to watch his cock disappear into Y.N’s mouth and see it come back out, shining with her spit.

Her head moving back and forth, her perfect pink lips stretched around him.

“I’m not going to last if you carry on” Aemond admitted.

Y.N smiled slightly and began moving faster, also using one of her hands in rhythm with her mouth. 

“It feels so good-that’s it” groaned Aemond.

Y.N responded to his statement by relaxing the back of her throat, and swallowing as much of Aemond’s cock as she could, whilst her other hand cupped his balls.

“Shit-Y.N. I’m going to come. Oh, fuck, I’m coming!” shouted Aemond as he exploded.

Y.N took every last drop, swallowing his warm seed and licking him clean.

When he recovered, Aemond saw Y.N’s self-satisfied smile.

“Was that to your liking?” asked Y.N.

“Y-Yes. Now get up here and ride my face until I’m ready again” gasped Aemond.

“Are you sure?” whispered Y.N

“Get up here-now” ordered Aemond, his cock already twitching with interest.

Y.N hovered above Aemond’s face; her knees splayed on either side of his head.

“Such a pretty pussy" breathed Aemond as he ran the flat of his tongue along Y.N’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it. Let me hear you” 

“YES. It feels so good” whimpered Y.N.

“FUCK” growled Aemond.

“Ooooh A-Aemond-just like that” shrieked Y.N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y.N "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds, his nose bumping against her pearl.

“Oh" whimpered Y.N; her chest heaving as she began to gently roll her hips against him.

“That’s it, ride my fucking face” groaned Aemond.

Y.N was giving off a slew of loud swear words, moans, and pleas, that surely her neighbours would hear.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. Come for me baby, come for daddy” moaned Aemond.

Finally, he felt Y.N’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Y.N’s back arched taut as a bow and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at Y.N’s centre as she came.

After a few minutes, Aemond gently urged her to move down, so she was hovering above his cock.

Her hand wrapped around him, running the head of his cock along her warm wet folds.

“Your such a tease” moaned Aemond as his hips jerked involuntarily.

“But it feels so good” replied Y.N as she slowly moved down on his cock, so only the tip of him was inside her.

“P-Please” whimpered Aemond.

“Uh-uh” said Y.N shaking her head from side to side.

After a few minutes Aemond couldn’t take it anymore and seized Y.N’s hips, before sheathing his hard cock into her soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" screamed Y.N.

"Gods. You feel so good-missed you-missed this-" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Y.N, her tone bordering on desperate as she rolled her hips against his.

Aemond started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of Y.N squeezing his cock.

“P-Please” whined Y.N as Aemond began teasing her pearl with his thumb.

“That’s it-take all of me”

“OH-MY-“ shrieked Y.N.

“You like that?” groaned Aemond his other hand grasping her hip.

"Faster, please" begged Y.N.

“Like this?” replied Aemond as he gave a quick deep thrust.

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Y.N.

Her hands ran along his arms, over his shoulders and down his chest, digging her nails into his pale skin.

“Gods, Y.N" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond" whispered Y.N "Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me”.

Aemond knew exactly what Y.N was doing, and he couldn’t help himself.

Y.N wanted faster, and he was going much faster now, his feet planted on the bed to give him more leverage and his pace increased with every filthy word that dropped from Y.N’s luscious lips as he thrust into her.

“Aemond-I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Y.N.

Y.N looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond then withdrew, ignoring Y.N’s whimper of protest as he rolled her onto her back and quickly sheathed himself inside her again.

She wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, drawing him closer as he began to thrust inside her, his cock reaching deep inside.

“I-I’m going-to come” moaned Aemond.

“Yes-oh don’t stop-please Aemond” whined Y.N.

That, combined with how glorious Y.N felt, pushed Aemond over the edge, the heat shooting across his abdomen. His cock throbbing and twitching as he spilled his seed.

Aemond shifted slightly, adjusting his position so he could wrap an arm around Y.N.'s waist, pulling her closer.

His hand instinctively splayed across her stomach, fingers resting gently against the tiny curve there, a silent acknowledgment of the life growing inside her.

He stared down at her in the dim light, watching as her eyes fluttered shut, her breathing softening into the slow, rhythmic pattern of sleep.

For a moment, Aemond couldn't move. He could still feel the lingering electricity between them, the intensity of their passion moments ago still hanging in the air.

But there was something more now—a quiet sense of peace as he held her, his thumb absentmindedly stroking small circles on her stomach.

His mind wandered to the future, to the child they were now tied together by, to the uncertainty of what would come next.

Y.N. shifted slightly in her sleep, turning toward him, her head resting against his chest. Aemond closed his eye, letting out a slow breath, feeling the weight of everything, yet feeling more grounded than he had in a long time.

He held her a little tighter, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head before resting his cheek against her hair.

TBC

[pastryfication]

hii please could you do another leclerc sister! reader imagine where arthur gets dropped by ferrari or dosent get a seat and he’s upset and reader and charles comfort him? x

the weight of the world

pairing: leclerc sister!reader x leclerc brothers note: thank you for requesting!! as an older sister, this was very easy to write.

the news hit like a harsh punch to the gut. arthur had been dropped by the ferrari driver academy, and without a seat for the next f2 season, it felt like everything he had worked so hard for was slipping through his fingers.

your childhood house was eerily quiet as you entered, the rooms filled with the heavy silence of disappointment. arthur had withdrawn from everyone, retreating to the living room where he sat, slumped against the couch, his head buried in his hands.

you hovered near the doorway, watching him from afar. his shoulders were stiff, his body rigid with the weight of what had happened. arthur had always been resilient—he fought hard for everything, just like all of you had, but today, he looked fragile, like the world had finally caught up to him, and the cracks were starting to show.

you walked in quietly, lowering yourself onto the couch beside him. “arthur?” you called softly, careful not to startle him.

he didn’t respond. his hands stayed tangled in his hair, and his eyes were focused on the floor. his breathing was shallow, and you could tell he was trying to hold everything in, but his walls were crumbling, slowly but surely.

“i’ve failed,” he muttered, his voice rough and barely audible. “i’ve let everyone down.”

your heart clenched at the sound of his voice, raw and laced with pain. you reached out gently, placing a hand on his back, rubbing slow circles. "arthur, you haven’t let anyone down. this is just a setback.”

he shook his head, his jaw tight. “but i have. look at everything charles has done. he’s won in f2 and now he’s winning races in f1. and me? i can’t even secure a seat for next year. i’m nothing compared to him.”

the self-doubt, the frustration—it was all spilling out now, years of pressure building up, finally breaking through. arthur had always been chasing something, always pushing himself to live up to the expectations placed on him, the ones he thought came from others, but really, they came from inside him. he had built his entire career trying to prove that he belonged, not just to himself but to everyone watching. and now, with ferrari dropping him, it felt like confirmation of his worst fears.

“you are not a failure,” you said, your voice firm but gentle. “you’re on your own journey, arthur. it doesn’t matter what charles is doing—this is your path, and one setback doesn’t change how talented you are.”

arthur glanced up at you then, his eyes rimmed red, glossy with unshed tears. the sight reminded you of the little boy who would come crying to you in the middle of the night because of a nightmare, and your heart clenched painfully. “but what if . . . what if i never make it?” his voice broke slightly, and it was like a punch to your chest, hearing him voice the fear that had clearly been gnawing at him for so long. “what if this is as far as i go?”

before you could respond, the door creaked open, and charles stepped into the room. you glanced at him briefly, noticing the concern etched across his face. he had rushed over the second he heard, but now, seeing arthur like this, he hesitated. charles wasn’t used to comforting people like this—he supported you in different ways, always the one who fought through his pain in silence, pushing forward no matter how bad things got.

he stepped forward cautiously, unsure of what to say, his usual confidence nowhere to be found. he looked at you, almost as if asking for guidance. this wasn’t a situation he could fix with strategy or motivation; this required something softer, something more emotional.

charles crouched in front of arthur, placing a hand on his knee. “arthur,” he began quietly, his voice tentative, “you haven’t let anyone down.” there was a small hesitation in his words, as though he was uncertain how to reach his brother in this moment. “i know it feels bad now, but this isn’t the end.”

arthur barely reacted. he didn’t lift his head, didn’t shift his position. it was as if the weight of the news had pinned him in place. charles was trying—he always did—but it was clear he wasn’t sure what to say, or how to truly reach your brother.

you moved closer to arthur, your heart breaking at how still and defeated he seemed. “arthur,” you whispered, your voice soft, coaxing him out of his shell. “come here.”

at first, he hesitated, but then the dam broke. he turned toward you slowly, collapsing into your arms as his body trembled with silent sobs. his grip was tight, desperate, like he was afraid you’d let go if he didn’t hold on hard enough. you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close, holding him as he cried. your hand rested on the back of his head, and you gently ran your fingers through his hair, whispering soft reassurances.

charles watched, his face full of concern and helplessness. he stayed where he was, not quite knowing what to do next. comfort didn’t come naturally to him in moments like this. he was used to being the one who kept everything together, but seeing arthur like this—seeing him so vulnerable—made him unsure of himself.

you met charles’ eyes over arthur’s shoulder, giving him a small, encouraging nod. arthur wasn’t ready for advice or tough love right now. he just needed to feel like he wasn’t alone, and you understood that.

charles heart warmed as he watched you. the way you instinctively knew how to ease arthur’s pain, how you could make him feel safe with just your presence—it was something he wasn’t sure he could ever do as easily as you. charles cared deeply for his siblings, but watching you now, he realized how much of a rock you were for your younger brother—how much of a rock you were for him too. your patience, your quiet strength—it was something he admired more than he could put into words.

arthur clung to you like a lifeline, his body shaking with the effort of holding everything in for so long. “i’ve let you all down,” he choked out between shaky breaths. “i’ve failed, especially you, charles. you’ve done so much for me, and now . . . now i’ve ruined it.”

charles shifted, his brow furrowed. “arthur, you’ve never let me down. not once,” he said, his voice softening as he found the right words. “you’re not in competition with me. you’ve already accomplished so much, more than you give yourself credit for. i’ve never compared you to me, and neither should you.”

arthur shook his head against your shoulder, still clinging to you. “but you’re always so strong. i don’t know if i’m like that. i don’t know if i can come back from this.”

you held him tighter, rubbing his back soothingly. “you are strong,” you murmured. “you’re stronger than you realize, arthur. just because your path is different from charles’ doesn’t mean it’s over. it’s okay to feel lost, but we’re here. we’ll figure it out together.”

charles nodded, stepping forward and gently placing a hand on arthur’s back. “you don’t have to figure everything out right now,” he said, his voice calmer now, less unsure. “we’ll take it one step at a time. i believe in you, arthur, and so does everyone else.”

arthur sniffled, his grip on you loosening slightly as he pulled back to look at both you and charles, his eyes still filled with doubt, but there was a flicker of hope. “i just . . . i don’t want to disappoint you guys.”

“you haven’t,” you whispered, brushing a tear from his cheek. “and you never will. we’re proud of you no matter what—charles, lorenzo, mum and i are always proud of you. always.”

charles leaned in closer, his hand still on arthur’s back. “you’ve got so much more to give, arthur. this is just a bump in the road. you’re going to come back stronger, and when you do, we’ll be right here with you.”

as charles looked between you and arthur, something stirred inside him. it struck him how lucky arthur was to have you, and how lucky he was too. not everyone had a sister who could hold everything together like you did, especially when things fell apart. there was a strength in you that charles knew he could never replicate, and it made him admire you even more. he made a mental note to tell you later—how grateful he was, how much he admired how you cared for arthur, how you seemed to know exactly what he needed, even when he didn’t.

arthur leaned into you again, this time not out of desperation but for the comfort you were offering, knowing that no matter how hard things seemed right now, he wasn’t alone.

and he would never be alone. not as long as he had you.

[dollarbils]

i like you better with me | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

context. billie’s tired of chasing you to break up with him. what happens when you do, but struggle to regain her trust?

warnings. smut, angst, mean billie lowk, hella teasing, strap 🙈

part 1, part 2

your desperate. pathetically desperate. she’s been dodging your calls for days. you’d do anything to get her back which is what prompted the hasty drive to her house. the knock on her door was surely quieter than the continuous thump of your heart.

“billie!” you called, noticing the kitchen window was open so she could hear you. after a long pause, the door opened. but it wasn’t an invitation to come inside.

“what?” she asked, seeming unsurprised at your surprise turn-up.

“can we please talk?” you pleaded and she hesitated opening the door wider, for you to come in. she hesitated forgiving you without an apology like she’d done so many times.

“it depends. are you here to apologise?” you furrowed your brows, confused.

“for what?” she widened her eyes at you, as if you were stupid, and shut the door in your face. you knocked on it incessantly for the next thirty seconds before she gave in and opened it again.

“would you stop that?” she huffed, you could tell she was tired of your shit. it made you feel awful, and revealed all the reasons you should be here to apologise.

“I’m so sorry bils, genuinely. please let me in so that we can talk.” you were a rejection away from getting on your knees.

“i don’t wanna talk.” she said childishly, but however waiting for a response instead of shutting the door again.

“please give me another chance, i really need you to hear what i have to say.” it took her a while, but she was as weak as you. and she opened the door, letting you into her house, but back into her heart as-well.

“well?” she shut the door and perched herself up on the back of her couch.

“i miss you billie, and i’m so sorry.”

“are you now? because i’ve heard that before.” she wasn’t taking you seriously and she had every right not to but it was frustrating.

“come on billie, you know i still love you, i told you. i want to be with you. properly. we didn’t do it right last time. give us a chance to do it right.” you approached her, her position meaning she was a few inches beneath you. her eyes were wide and behind them, her head was spinning with contradictory thoughts. you looked at her in adoration and she folded.

“i fall for this shit every time.” she reached for your face and brought your lips to hers in a soft kiss. it wasn’t what you expected but when she smiled into the kiss, a weight lifted off your shoulders.

“ask me the question.” she stood up as you spoke, pulling you into her arms. she smiled, knowing exactly what you meant.

“did you break up with him?” her words were a whisper on your lips. a silent promise you made to her that you’d failed to keep for too long. she held her breath as you spoke, drowning in anticipation.

“yes.” her smile slowly began to widen, chuckles coming out because she couldn’t believe it. her lips leaped onto yours, this time more passionate, more desperate.

“for you.” you added in between kisses and she groaned into your mouth, it was sweet. so sweet, but you couldn’t help but want more.

“mm, you taste so good baby.” she commented when she pulled her tongue out of your mouth, licking your swollen lips.

“need you so bad.” you whined into her ear as her mouth did unholy things to your neck. she pulled you harder against her waist, wanting you to feel her. you quickly became aware of what was underneath her jeans and it made you tingle.

“been waiting to fuck you properly for so long.” she kept her mouth on the skin of your jaw while she spoke, devouring the taste of your skin.

“finally can,” she blabbed on, “my girl.” her words made you grow more desperate for her, feeling the ache in your heat. it’d been present for days.

“billie.” you repeated her name every time she sucked your skin, snaking her arms around your lower body, caressing your ass.

“i like you better with me.”

“me too.” you confirmed when her hand came to the back of your neck, providing warmth and comfort.

“mh, you like the sex.” she chuckled on your skin. and you grabbed her face bringing it up to yours before speaking.

“so do you.” she tilted her head looking upwards in animation of thought. “only with you though.” you added.

“i see what you’re doing, it’s too late to act cute.” she took your bottom lip in between her teeth, biting down softly. she pushed her hips into yours again, reminding you of her position. you couldn’t stifle the groan it caused. you were pulled into her bedroom as she removed your shirt. her hands were never in the same place as she let herself discover your body all over again. she leaned on you, the strap beneath her jeans digging into your heat. you were whining for her to do something other than kiss you.

“patience baby.” she smiled kissing your face.

“you always say that shit.” you whined when she made no move to satisfy you. you rolled your hips back and forth on her clothed dick and she laughed on your skin, her teeth grazing sensitive places. she let it happen for a while before gripping your hips to stop them from moving. she slid your sweatpants off, along with your underwear. she was painfully slow with it too.

“please billie.” she kissed across her stomach, finding every last bit of skin she hadn’t touched yet, before finally moving lower. her breath was on your heat, her lips inches from your clit. she made an effort to blow softly as she watched you squirm and clench on nothing. your whines were getting louder as she still refused to touch you where you needed her. she was so turned on watching you writhe at nothing but her breath. she moved away completely and came back up to your face.

“you’re gonna look so pretty sitting on me.” she whispered seductively before pulling you close to her and flipping you over, having you straddle her. she spread her legs so that you could feel her through her jeans.

“you’re making a mess on my jeans baby, are you gonna take them off?” you looked at her hesitantly, before pulling them off quickly. your eyes widened at the size of her and she smirked.

“can you take it?” she asked, watching your eyes wander the strap. “baby?” she called for you again and you nodded.

“what are you waiting for? do you need me to do everything?” she teased before you gathered the courage to line her up with your entrance. she watched your face as you sunk down on her, the strap disappearing slowly. you got half way before you stopped and she raised her eyebrows.

“i thought you said you could take it? is it too much?” she said in a condescending voice, it made you flush in embarrassment.

“no.” your voice was reduced to merely a breath, her affect on you evident in your expression.

“then take it.” she pulled your hips down onto her as your vision became blurry and your head started spinning. you’d never felt this full. the weight of your body pressed down on her perfectly as she groaned. you felt incapable of moving your own hips.

“move or i’ll do it for you.” she threatened as you looked at her.

“i thought you wanted me to be patient.” you replied, a slight rasp in your voice, and her mouth was agape, in shock of your clap back, as she rolled her tongue across the inside of her cheek. she showed off her strength as she lifted her hips until you were fully off of her. she ignored the fact you were wincing and whining before she pushed you back down on her strap, filling you up again without any warning. the moan that left you was guttural and she bit her lip as she heard it.

“fuck, billie.” a few tears spilled free from your eyes as she rolled your hips back and forth.

“you look so pretty crying on my dick. i like you a lot better with me.” her words were a ruse for what was to come. and the sweet undertone wasn’t about to fool you.

[xshimaeraxx]

okay ik that the fandom LOVES making logan the one who’s the cat-like mutant in the relationship and i LOVE that and it is so canon but like

hear me out here! catboy!! wade!!

a wade who was a mutant long before francis got his grubby little hands in him, wade who was a mutant but it wasnt crazy regenerative abilities or an inability to stay dead/immortality or super-human strength, but a wade who was (still is) a mutant who had the abilities of a fuckin’ cat

a wade who has semi-night vision, not entirely but good enough to help out on jobs; a wade who has lil pinprick pupils like a cat’s and who hisses damn near 24/7 on bad pain days (bc chronic pain-having wade has my entire heart and i will go to the grave w this hc alr); a wade who purrs when happy or in the middle of slicing someone’s head off during a job; a wade who has a cat’s heightened senses- hearing, sight, taste, smell, all of that; a wade who has a cat’s un-fuckin’-canny ability to jump from heights that would’ve killed a human and have at most a small, gone-in-a-day bruise; a wade who has tufts of kitty-cat fur on his elbows and on + behind his knees

and then francis comes along, and the torture happens, and he loses his looks, and then the fur grows back bc fuck but he’d thought he’d lost his og mutation when francis torture mcgee had triggered this new one, had lost the one thing that ness might still recognise him for,,,

and then the start of d&w happens, and during the birthday scene wade’s purring, happy, quietly (so quietly no one hears it half the time, and when they do they assume it’s the faulty heating of wade & al’s shitass apartment, but ness looks at him with a pleased, proud little smile when the sound starts back up after the others’ initial investigation for the source of the sound proves fruitless and it, he gets louder, purely for the way ness’s smile gets wider, prouder in a way that is purely, unabashedly so ness wade wants to go other and kiss her, right then n there) yes but he’s still purring like he hasn’t since pre-cancer-diagnosis him & ness (and also bc francis’s little angel-killer had found the sound annoying as all hell [bc wade also purrs to self-soothe bc I Say So)and so he’d rarely done so since, half out of new-born habit, half out of some primal, hard-learned fear he still hasn’t managed to completely shake, even years later)

and then the honda odyssey scene happens, and wade’s purring, purring, purring, loud and proud and rumbling and happy and he’s also hissing playfully at logan- a motion logan doesn’t notice due to how distracted he is putting his claws thru wade’s left thigh and christ, kittycat, how long’s it been since you had a good hookup for you to be THIS tense?- and logan only notices after wade’s pinned him and his minorly blood-soaked grin freezes; doesn’t drop, but freezes.

wade’s purr stutters a tad, doesn’t stop. he asks, licking the blood off of his cheek underneath his mask and for some reason logan’s sharp eyes follow what he can see of the movement underneath wade’s mask: what’s wrong, peanut, cat got your tongue?

are you- are you fuckin’ purring? asks logan, and the sound abruptly stops, and then deadpool’s stabbing him through the gut with not one word and then they’re fighting again, and while logan notes the moment to think about later, wade also doesn’t say another word other then excited/frustrated grunts and little “haha!”s for the next half hour, and for some reason that about takes up the majority of logan’s attention until he finally, finally, punches wade’s already-broken nose literally not even a millisecond after he’s broken it hard enough that it actually takes a few seconds for wade’s healing to kick in, and for some reason he feels strangely relived when wade lets out a muffled-by-blood ugh! foulplay, wolvie, foulpla-

logan interrupts him via stabbing wade and a like you don’t play just as foul as i do, bub, and wade stabs back in response with some quippy comment or another, and by then the fight’s back on, deadpool-typical quips and all.

like. when i say catboy wade, here, do you see my vision. do you see what i’m imagining. dO YOU SEE IT I SAY

[geotjwrs]

Hey there so I want to request a jenna ortega x male reader who is her childhood friend, jenna has a crush on him, and drops a lot of hints, but he is oblivious as he doesn't believe jenna would do be in love with him

me too

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

Jenna laughed as she wiped the flour off her hands, glancing at Y/N, who was kneading dough at the kitchen counter. They were spending a Saturday afternoon doing something that had become a tradition between them—baking. Ever since they were kids, Jenna and Y/N had these little moments together. Over the years, their friendship grew stronger, yet one thing remained unchanged: Y/N was oblivious to Jenna’s feelings, even though she had been dropping hints for what felt like forever.

“Jenna, you’re gonna get flour everywhere,” Y/N teased, flicking some flour in her direction.

“I’m already covered in it, what’s a little more?” she giggled, her eyes lighting up as she watched him laugh in return. She loved seeing that smile. It made her heart race every time, but she played it off like it was just part of their usual banter.

“So, are you ever going to admit that I’m better at this than you?” Y/N smirked, his hands skillfully shaping the dough.

“Ha! As if!” Jenna rolled her eyes, stepping closer to him. “I taught you everything you know, remember?”

“Well, that’s true…” Y/N said with a grin, focusing on the dough. He didn’t notice how Jenna stood right next to him, her face mere inches away. She stared at him, biting her lip slightly, waiting for him to look up, hoping for just a moment where he might notice the way she looked at him. But he didn’t.

“Ugh, you’re so dense,” she muttered under her breath, turning away before he could hear her.

“What?” Y/N asked, confused. He raised an eyebrow and looked over at her, but she was already busy with something else. Jenna shook her head, brushing off her frustration. She could never stay mad at him for long. Not when she knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose.

Still, she had been waiting for years. Ever since they were kids running around on the playground, Jenna had known there was something different about Y/N. He wasn’t just her best friend; he was the person she wanted to spend every moment with, and as they grew older, those feelings only deepened. But no matter how many times she hinted, he never seemed to pick up on it.

They spent the rest of the afternoon baking cookies, sharing jokes and stories from their childhood. It was comfortable, like always, and that was part of the problem. Jenna didn’t want to ruin what they had, but the longer she waited, the harder it became to hide how she felt.

Later that evening, they sat on the couch, a movie playing in the background, though neither of them was really watching it. Jenna leaned her head on Y/N’s shoulder, feeling the warmth of his body next to hers. She had done this before, but tonight, it felt different. There was a nervous energy in her, like she was waiting for something to happen.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice soft.

“Yeah?” he replied, glancing down at her with a smile.

“Do you ever… I don’t know, think about what it’d be like if things were different?” Jenna asked, her heart racing in her chest.

“Different how?” Y/N asked, clearly not understanding what she was getting at.

Jenna sighed, sitting up and pulling her knees to her chest. She stared at the TV, though her mind was racing with thoughts of how to phrase it. How could she get through to him without just flat-out confessing?

“Like, if we weren’t just friends?” she said, her voice quieter now, almost afraid of what he might say.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking his head. “I mean, you’re my best friend, Jenna. I can’t imagine us being anything else.”

Ouch.

Jenna forced a smile, even though that response felt like a punch to the gut. She had expected it, but it still hurt. She nodded, pretending like she was okay with it, but inside, her heart was breaking a little.

“Right… best friends,” she echoed, feeling the weight of those words sink in.

Y/N seemed to notice something in her tone and frowned. ���Hey, are you okay? You seem… off.”

Jenna shook her head quickly, not wanting to make things awkward. “No, no, I’m fine. Just… tired, I guess.”

“Okay…” Y/N said, though he still looked concerned.

The rest of the night was quieter than usual. Jenna couldn’t shake the disappointment that settled in her chest. She had been so close to telling him how she really felt, but once again, he didn’t pick up on her hint. Why was he so clueless?

A few days later, Jenna found herself scrolling through her phone, lying on her bed. She was still thinking about that conversation, replaying it over and over in her head. Should she have been more direct? Maybe if she just came right out and said it, things would be different.

A notification popped up on her screen. It was Y/N.

Y/N: Hey, you busy?

Jenna bit her lip, staring at the message. She could feel her heart rate increase just at the sight of his name.

Jenna: Not really. What’s up?

Y/N: Wanna hang out? I was thinking we could grab dinner.

Jenna hesitated. Normally, she’d jump at the chance to spend time with him, but after everything that had happened, she wasn’t sure if she could handle another night of subtle hints and missed opportunities. Still, she couldn’t say no to him.

Jenna: Sure. What time?

Later that evening, they sat across from each other in a cozy little diner, the sound of clinking glasses and murmured conversations filling the air. Y/N was telling her about something funny that happened at work, but Jenna wasn’t really listening. She was too busy thinking about how she could finally break through that thick skull of his.

“Jenna? You okay?” Y/N asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Sorry, I was just… thinking,” she replied, playing with the straw in her drink.

“About what?” he asked, leaning forward with that curious expression she knew so well.

Jenna took a deep breath. This was it. She had to say something. She couldn’t keep waiting for him to figure it out on his own.

“Y/N, have you ever wondered why I’ve been dropping all these hints lately?” she asked, her voice steady but her heart racing.

Y/N frowned, clearly confused. “Hints? What do you mean?”

Jenna sighed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Of course, he didn’t know. He never did. But this time, she wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.

“All the times I’ve said things like ‘what if we weren’t just friends’ or leaned on you a little longer than normal? The way I always want to spend time with you? Y/N, I’ve been trying to tell you something, but you’re so… dense,” Jenna said, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

Y/N blinked, processing her words. “Wait… are you saying…?”

Jenna groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Yes! Y/N, I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. But you never seem to notice.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Jenna peeked through her fingers, seeing the shock on Y/N’s face. For a moment, she regretted saying anything. What if she had just ruined everything?

“You… like me?” Y/N asked, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

“Yes, Y/N. I’ve liked you for years, and I’ve been dropping hints, but you never picked up on them,” Jenna said, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety.

Y/N stared at her, still processing everything. Jenna could see the wheels turning in his head as he thought back to all the moments they’d shared over the years. Slowly, realization dawned on his face.

“I… I didn’t know,” he said quietly, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t think someone like you would feel that way about me.”

Jenna’s heart softened at his words. She reached across the table, taking his hand in hers. “Y/N, you’re my best friend. Of course, I feel that way about you. I’ve been waiting for you to realize it.”

Y/N looked up at her, his expression softening. “I’m sorry, Jenna. I didn’t mean to be so clueless. I just… never thought you’d see me that way.”

Jenna smiled, squeezing his hand gently. “Well, now you know. So… what do you think?”

Y/N smiled back, his thumb brushing over her hand. “I think… I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

Jenna’s heart skipped a beat at his words, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she finally felt like everything was falling into place.

They walked back to Jenna’s place, hand in hand, the cool evening breeze brushing against their skin. For once, there were no missed hints, no awkward silences. Just the two of them, together, finally on the same page.

As they stood outside her door, Jenna turned to Y/N, a soft smile on her lips. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Y/N grinned, stepping closer to her. “Yeah. But first…”

Before she could say anything, Y/N leaned down, pressing his lips to hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It was everything Jenna had been waiting for, and more.

When they finally pulled apart, Jenna couldn’t help but laugh. “Took you long enough.”

Y/N chuckled, his arms still around her. “Better late than never, right?”

Jenna smiled, resting her head against his chest. “Yeah. Better late than never.”

Finally, after all the hints and missed opportunities, they had found their way to each other. And this time, there was no going back.

[wooziorgans]

moon song || ljh

warnings: post breakup au. ex idol!reader. reader has an implied suicide attempt(s) in the past. reader is implied to do something akin to relapsing at the end of the fic. ed talk. lots of pressure that comes w being an idol. clubs. drinking. seungcheol hates y/n for leaving. leaving the idol industry behind. seeing your ex after four years. hurt w very little comfort. right person, wrong time.

word count: 4.2k

a/n: vent piece mostly. abt my frustration of still being sick, abt my frustration of not seeming to get better, abt how it never seems to stop. abt all of my wasted potential as a person. all of it, none of it, everything and nothing at all. i am so tired.

please read with caution. this is just a lot of emotions all in one place.

The loud bass that hits your head as soon as you enter the club makes your head pound immediately. It’s been four long years since you’ve even been in this part of Seoul, let alone been in a club with this group of ex-colleagues.

Ex-colleagues is certainly one way to put it. They were all so much more, and you know that this is just an excuse for all of them to get drunk. You wonder briefly if Jihoon’s here. He never used to drink, but then again, he didn’t do a lot of things until you were in the picture. You wonder how much has changed now that you’re not.

The memory of him burns like a hot iron branding your back, and you head to the nearest table of refreshments to grab a drink. If he’s here, you’ll need all the alcohol you can get your hands on. Maybe that makes you no better than anyone else; no better than the scene you so desperately needed to leave four years ago. It doesn’t matter anymore.

You’re no longer apart of it. What you do now won’t cost you your career. If the night ends with you passed out in an alley way simply because you saw your ex at an album release party for an album he produced, so be it. He never comes to these things anyways.

At least, he didn’t when you knew him. You haven’t known Jihoon for a long time. It’s been four years after all; a lot can change in a week, let alone four years.

Like your decision to leave the K-pop industry. You had mulled over it for weeks, before you brought it up to anyone, and you didn’t go to Jihoon first. He was the last person you told. At least, officially, that you were leaving.

All those years of work as a trainee, just for it to be nothing. All of the tears, the angry screams into your pillow, the poverty your company forced you into in the first few years of your career because it was boarding on bankruptcy. All of this wasted potential. Maybe you could’ve been someone great.

You were, for a few years. Your group took off, and the first few years of success made all of the hard work feel like it was worth something. But as the saying goes, too much of a good thing won’t be good for long.

The pressure started to build, and it built until it boiled over and you were found on the verge of doing something terrible in your bathroom by your boyfriend and your manager after a week of unusual silence. Jihoon never was a crier, but god did he sob as he held you in the back of the ambulance. He had never begged for anything the way he begged for you to talk to him.

Please, god, please talk to me Y/N. Please, baby. I can’t— I can’t lose you.

It’s funny, really, how things work out. You dug yourself so deep into this hole of despair from the pressure of being an idol, that the only way out of it was to completely separate yourself from that life and start over.

After terminating your contract, you broke up with Jihoon. Or, you didn’t break up with him, only told him that you needed to take a break while you sorted yourself out. After being on a break for four years, is it still just a break? Or are you broken up at that point?

Both you and Jihoon know the answer to that.

Three years of no social media, no articles about you, none of your old friends reaching out to check in on you because they held a contractual obligation to be nice to you in the hallways. Three and a half years out of the spotlight. Three and a half years of peace, of healing, of sorting your life out and learning how to breathe again.

It’s been four years without Jihoon, and you didn’t really think much about the consequences that potentially sharing a space with him would have. But now they’re suffocating. All you can think about is the potential possibility of him being here, which, he wouldn’t be, right? He hates these kinds of gatherings. He used to skip his own release parties to watch shitty romance movies with you on the couch in his studio.

Does he have someone new to watch romance movies with? Or has he given up romance altogether? You know from the first few months, updates provided by Soonyoung, that he didn’t take the distance very well. You know that he missed you, and he worried about you constantly. You know you’re spiralling, and you know all those years of therapy will be for nothing if you don’t pull yourself out of it.

You don’t have to do that, because Seungkwan does it for you. “Y/N? You came!” He seems elated that you’re here, off his rocker, probably drunk.

“Of course I came! It’s your first album as BSS, Seungkwan.” You smile, and it’s not forced at all. You have completely forgotten how easy it is to fall into banter with Seungkwan. It’s almost like you never left in the first place.

Except something in his eyes seems off. That’s your first red flag to turn around and get the fuck out of this club, but you don’t. “My god. It’s been so long. How are you doing?” With anyone else, the small talk would’ve taken you out back and killed you. It’s different with Seungkwan.

Different how? He was one of the only people who consistently checked in on you when you first left. As you settled into your new life, the texts became less frequent; now, four years later they’re hardly anything to notice, but he’ll still send you a text on every holiday, and he’s wished you happy birthday every year since you met him.

“I’m doing a lot better. I’m… I’m good.” You laugh softly. Seungkwan smiles at you.

“That’s good. I’ve missed having you around— of course I don’t expect you to come back into this scene, but it would be nice to see you sometime.” Seungkwan squeezes your shoulder softly and smiles wider.

“Yeah, of course. I know I’ve been gone, but I’ll make it less hard to get a hold of me. I’ve missed all of you, truth be told.” You smile back. “I’ve just… been doing a lot of healing and I think it’s about time I finally start reconnecting with people. Is everyone here?” You ask.

“Oh, yeah. We’re all here! I kind of spilled that I invited you so everyone decided to come just in case you showed up.” The depth of all doesn’t really seem to cross Seungkwan’s mind; he’s certainly not thinking about Jihoon right now, or Seungcheol for that matter. You’re pretty sure Seungcheol would punch you if he caught sight of you. Maybe Jihoon would too. You have no idea how Jihoon even feels about you.

“Even, uh, Jihoon?” The smile falls from Seungkwan’s face.

“Oh. Yeah. He’s here too.” Seungkwan swallows when he sees your face shift. “You… he-he wants to talk to you. It’s not my place to really say, but he’s not mad. I think he just wants closure.”

So maybe Jihoon wouldn’t punch you. That’s a bit of a relief.

“Oh my god! Y/N! You came!” It’s Seokmin, very clearly drunk. You didn’t keep in contact with him, though he did send you a few paragraphs over text as he wished you all the best, telling you to reach out if you ever needed anything. You didn’t take him up on the offer.

“I did!” You smile, tilting your head as you look up at Seokmin.

“Can I have a hug?” He’s already opening his arms and you slide right into them. His hug is firm and warm. You’ve missed Seokmin a lot more than you cared to admit. Seungkwan grumbles about how he should’ve asked for a hug and you laugh, pulling him into one.

You catch up with Seokmin briefly before he’s being pulled away by someone you don’t know. You stick with Seungkwan, talking about your life, the album, avoiding the subject of Jihoon.

And then you turn your head at the bright sound of laughter, and you see him. You see him, and he’s not the same mess he was when you left him with no promise of when you’d see each other next. He’s not the scared man in his early twenties who had no idea if you were going to die on him. He’s not the man who stayed with you in the hospital for days on end.

He’s not the producer you knew who’d slide his headphones over your ears as he pulled you into his lap. He’s not the warm hand that held yours because you forgot your gloves again. He’s not the hushed giggles at four in the morning, or the hurried kisses, or the soft whimpers and praises as you tangled yourselves in his bedsheets.

Jihoon isn’t yours anymore.

You had hoped he wouldn’t be such a sore subject for you anymore, but seeing him in all of his glory four years later… god does it fucking hurt. You’ve done a lot of healing in the last four years, but in that time you never really had the time to process the loss of Jihoon.

Soonyoung spots you, and that’s when you know you’re doomed, because if Soonyoung is distracted, Jihoon always notices the thing that catches him off guard. You try to pull your eyes away from Jihoon, but you can’t. You swear he’s gotten more beautiful in the last four years.

He’s gotten bigger, physically— far more muscular. You can see the curve of his pecks through his shirt, one that isn’t even tight against his body. Jihoon’s always been a big fitness buff, but it appears he’s put more effort into himself. His biceps strain against the fitted sleeves of his long sleeve black shirt.

Jihoon’s face looks different too. He still has the same round cheeks you used to always pinch and prod at. His jawline is still soft, but it’s more defined. His eyes are bright, and the bags under them are still there. You wonder briefly if he’s ever gotten rid of them; if the skin under his eyes has ever matched the rest of his milky complexion.

His hair is longer than you’ve ever seen it. Dark and flowy, it’s reflective and healthy, half tied up with what would be his undercut hanging freely. A few pieces frame his face. It looks soft and healthy. Jihoon looks soft and healthy.

He’s smiling as he scans the crowd to find what Soonyoung is distracted by, and then he spots you. The smile is wiped off of Jihoon’s face faster than your brain can even register it. Seungkwan stiffens beside you, hand finding your shoulder to steady you as you stumble briefly, but the pull between you and Jihoon is too much.

Both of you start moving towards each other, pushing your way through the crowd. “Y/N.” His voice comes out in a breath, chest heaving and then he’s there, right in front of you, after four years.

You don’t know what to say, can’t process the fact that he’s in front of you, as beautiful as ever. “Jihoon,” you echo, “hi.” You can’t help the small smile that threatens to pull at your lips. The tension on Jihoon’s face eases, but he doesn’t smile back.

“Hi. How are you doing?” Jihoon asks, and if it was anyone else, it would’ve been a sad attempt at small talk. It’s Jihoon, so you know he’s asking how you’re doing now, if you’re better. A part of him is asking if you still feel like killing yourself. The answer to the last part is no.

“I’m… better. A lot better.” You laugh awkwardly. “I wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t doing okay.” Now, Jihoon actually does smile at you, and though it’s small, it’s still there.

“You look a lot better. Healthier. I’m glad.” Jihoon takes a sip of his drink as he looks down at you. He’s right; you’re much healthier now. There’s solid meat on your bones, your thighs touch and your ribs don’t show anymore. Your face has filled out, cheeks full and round. Your eyes don’t look as though they’re sunken into your skull, they’re brighter now; they seem to shine with life in a way they never have before.

Jihoon takes you in properly, and god, you’ve gotten so much more beautiful since the last time he saw you. It hurts. It hurts a lot to see how good you look now, without him. He knows it’s a lot more complicated than that, but it still hurts nonetheless.

You look healthy, like an actual person and not a skeleton, and you were never that way when you were an idol. You were never like that when you were with Jihoon.

“Oh, um, thank you. Should we… should we sit? We have a lot to talk about.” You laugh again to hide your nerves. Jihoon can still read you, and he knows you’re brimming with nerves. He knows you’re a little scared, probably more than a little, and he is too.

You’ve never breached the subject, hardly even talked about your breakup. Jihoon doesn’t like to think about it. He just doesn’t. He doesn’t like to think about how much worse you were doing, even if it destroyed him. The breakup was harder on you, tenfold, and you went through it alone.

“I- uh. Yeah, yeah, we can go sit. It’s probably about time we talk.” Jihoon laughs nervously, closing his eyes for a second. He wordlessly starts walking towards the vacant booths of the club. You follow close behind.

Jihoon sits down, and you take a seat across from him. It’s silent for a few moments. Both of you are staring at your cups, not drinking, just swirling your liquids of choice.

Jihoon speaks first, but he can’t look at you. “Why’d you have to leave me?” He asks, and his voice breaks softly as he says it. You certainly weren’t expecting that as the first question he asked, but you don’t really know what else he would’ve asked.

“I… I had to leave everything that had to do with being an idol behind. You… you included.” It’s a shitty answer, but you can’t think in Jihoon’s presence.

“I understand that, but I would’ve been there for you. I would’ve helped you get help. You didn’t have to do it by yourself, Y/N. I loved you; I would’ve done anything to make sure you were safe.” Jihoon’s bites at his lip, eyes sparkling in the low lights of the club. He looks like he’s about to cry, and god does it break your heart.

He loved you, past tense. It’s jarring. It stings, but what else did you expect? For him to still want you? That’s unrealistic and completely unfair to expect from him.

It hits you then that you might still be in love with him. That makes this next part so much harder.

“I know. I know, but it made sense to me at the time. I can’t- I can’t rationalize anything that I did at that time in my life. None of it makes sense, but I made a lot of choices that I regret and I can’t go back on them now. It’s too late for that and I’m- I’m so sorry for everything I put you through, Jihoon. All of it; everything, god, I’m so sorry.” You spill, and the soft burn in the back of your throat makes it hard to speak as you try not to cry. “You didn’t deserve to deal with any of it.” You whisper softly.

“Y/N,” Jihoon whispers back, “I forgave you a long time ago. I just want closure.” Closure. Jihoon wants closure, meaning he wants to move on. The tears in his eyes shine brightly, though they don’t fall, but he’s crying nonetheless, and that makes you feel worse.

“I don’t deserve that though. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for just leaving you. Seungcheol still hasn’t forgiven me; why the hell would you?” You swallow hard, and that seems to break the dam as the first few tears slip down your cheeks.

“Seungcheol has his own issues. We never told him the full story, and maybe that’s why he’s still… iffy about the whole thing. But I forgive you. I just, I want to stop hiding from you. I don’t want to be worried about running into you somewhere and not knowing what to say. I still care about you, so much, and, god does it fucking kill me to still worry about you when you’ve never made an effort to reach out to me.” Jihoon’s always been blunt, so you should’ve expected this, but it makes you feel worse; guilty. “I would’ve answered your calls, in a heartbeat. You know I would’ve.” Jihoon blinks, and the first few tears fall down his face.

“I couldn’t. I couldn’t bring myself to call you after so long. I spent six months in and out of the hospital, and after that I had to get back on my feet. By the time I even had time to think about calling you, it’d been a year, and to me that was too late.” You close your eyes and exhale deeply, fingers twitching.

Jihoon used to hold your hands when you were upset to stop them from twitching so much. He used to pull your head close to his chest and wipe your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He makes no effort to do so now. Jihoon can’t even look at you properly.

He’s focused on picking at the calluses on his palms. Some things never change.

“You- six months? Y/N, fuck, I had no idea. I knew it was bad but, shit, really?” Jihoon’s voice breaks fully, and all you can do is nod. “How many more times? How many times did you—?” He can’t finish his sentence. His throat closes up.

“Four.” Jihoon has nothing to say in reply. He can’t, not with the deep hurt that settles in his chest, so you elaborate. “I really just wanted to die. The media was on my ass for the first year and it was just bad. I spent the next year after that in a rehabilitation program to fix my relationship with food and it helped a lot. I found a good therapist and I’m still seeing her. It’s helped a lot. I’m- I’m clean.” You pick up your cup, hand shaking, and take a large drink to calm your nerves.

“I’m really glad that you’re healthy now. Really, god, that’s such a relief.” Jihoon’s tears are steady now. He wipes at them with his sleeve. You mutter a soft thank you.

Outside of the booth, the noise has been blocked out by your conversation, but you hear something peculiar. It’s Seungcheol, his voice is loud and booming. He’s angry.

“What the fuck are they doing here?! Seriously, why did you even invite them?” Both you and Jihoon look up at the same time to see Joshua and Mingyu trying to deescalate the situation. Seungkwan is yelling back, face red as he tries to block Seungcheol’s view of the booth you and Jihoon are sat in.

“No, I’ve fucking had it with all of you. Defending them for just fucking leaving Jihoon without a word. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why would you bring them here?” Seungcheol is drunk and looking for a confrontation with you, and that’s enough of a threat to have you and Jihoon standing as he tries to usher you out of the club without Seungcheol seeing.

“Fuck, you should probably go.” Jihoon pulls you close to him, shielding you from Seungcheol’s view. You nod, walking fast beside him as you push your way through the crowd.

“Yah! You, get the fuck back here!” Neither of you listen as you push your way out of the door. You make the mistake of looking behind you to see Joshua and Mingyu physically holding Seungcheol back. Wonwoo is there now too, standing in front of him to prevent him from walking.

The outside air is cold and bitter. You shiver as you pull out your phone to order a ride. You and Jihoon are completely silent. He’s standing so close to you that you can feel his body heat radiating off onto you.

“I’ll wait with you. How long?” He asks, voice shaky.

“Two minutes.” You only have two minutes left with Jihoon. It’s so finite, the time you’re spending with him. If only you had more time.

You’re not afforded that luxury as you shiver beside him. “Can I- is it okay if I—?” You nod, unsure of what he’s asking. It’s a yes either way. Jihoon pulls you into his arms in a tight, warm hug. His hands don’t find their way into your hair, or rub your back. He just holds you. It’s all he can do.

Both of you ignore the mutual swell of warmth in your chests. You’re still in love with him, you know that, and that’s why the car seems to show up in no time. Your phone chimes as the car pulls up in front of the club as you reluctantly start to separate yourselves.

There’s so much you didn’t get to talk about. You tell him so. “We, fuck, I had so much more to say. I had so much more to explain. You, god, you were the right person, Jihoon. Everything else was just so wrong.” You thought the weight would’ve been lifted off your chest, but it only hurts more. You close your eyes as you turn away.

“Y/N, fuck, don’t do this to me right now.” Jihoon whispers, eyes filling with tears once again.

“I’m sorry Jihoon. I love you. I’ll see you around.” You open the door to the car.

“I, yeah. Take care of yourself.” Jihoon can’t look at you, no way in hell can he look at you as you close the door and drive off. He stands still in the cold, watching as the car disappears from his sight. He leans against the wall, head falling back as the tears start pouring freely.

As he pushes the door to the club open, it hits him hard, fills his whole body as a bone deep love for you settles. And it hurts, god does it hurt. Seungcheol’s calmed down, but the snide remark that slips past his lip doesn’t even register in Jihoon’s brain. All Jihoon recognizes is his tone, and that’s enough.

“I’ll punch you right in your fucking mouth, Seungcheol, I swear to god. Shut the fuck up.” Jihoon hardly ever makes threats, but when he does it has everyone going quiet. Seungcheol, Joshua and Mingyu stop in their tracks. There’s been enough drama for one night.

Jihoon grabs a new drink and chugs it, before he goes to grab his coat. He needs to get out of here before the sob building in his throat bursts.

You manage to keep your tears at bay until you enter your apartment. You find yourself in the bathroom, against the cold tile and the porcelain of the bathtub. You don’t do anything, just sit there and breathe as the tears flow freely.

It wasn’t supposed to end like that. You were supposed to have more time to reconcile with Jihoon. You and bathrooms have seen a lot of hurt. Most of your bad decisions are made in bathrooms. You don’t do anything, you just sit there for a few minutes as you cry.

Nothing happens the next night. Or the night after. A week after the release party, Jihoon still plagues your mind and that’s when you crack. Your old manager turned friend answers the phone.

“Hi. You okay?” Yena asks softly, voice ridden with sleep.

“Drive me to the hospital? I think I need stitches.” You laugh nervously. The adrenaline has worn off and all you feel is regret.

“Y/N.” She sighs, but it��s not disappointment. She’s seen a lot of things with you, and supported you through all of them. You’re the reason she quit being a manager and went back to university. You made her realize the idol life isn’t as glamorous as it seems, and you’ve formed a very solid friendship over the past five years. “You know they’re gonna keep you for a few days, right?”

“Yeah. I know. It was impulsive. Like, I’m fine now. I just couldn’t stop thinking.” You sigh.

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be on the way. Cold water and pressure until I get there, yeah?” You laugh softly.

“Already on it.” The call disconnects soon after, and you look up at the mirror. Briefly, you imagine Jihoon standing behind you in a much different situation than the one you’re in now.

His thick arms are wrapped around your waist, head leaning against yours. He’s smiling in your vision. You smile softly in your reflection, though it’s strained. The blood on your hands pulls you out of it.

a/n: i wrote this when i was going through it. i’m fine now but i seriously can’t do angst like i used to so i might write a part two or something where they end up back together.

[paigesfuturewifey]

authors note! IM SORRY FOR BEING MIA college was kicking my ass (still is) and i’m trying my hardest not to crash out but here is an angsty fic :D

this is also heavily inspired by she wouldn’t be gone by blake shelton IK IK country music sue me it is unfortunately part of my roots so yes here she is

“i’m sick of this caitlin!”

you two had been going back and forth for a while about this, both too stubborn to admit who was in the right and who was in the wrong.

it’d been two months since caitlin went first pick in the wnba draft. two months of caitlin continuously forgetting about your date nights, two months of caitlin lagging hours on end and then eventually responding to your messages with one word replies, two months of wondering if caitlin would be home from practice at a decent hour or if you’d go to sleep in a cold, empty bed.

two. fucking. months.

of course, you understood the fact that caitlin’s job required almost all of her undivided attention and you were extremely proud of her and all her accomplishments.

but being second priority to her job was taking a toll on your mental health.

you were tired of being alone all the time. the sacrifices you made, picking up everything and moving to indiana with caitlin to be with her, felt pretty fruitless when you had barely seen her in your own apartment.

caitlin’s response came low at first as she rubbed her temples, “what do you want me to do?” and then she repeated it louder, throwing her arms up in frustration, “what do you want me to do?!”

“i want you to be here! you’re never here anymore, caitlin! i’m alone ALL THE TIME now!”

“that’s not fair. i’m doing this for us! for— for you!”

you shook your head, pointing an accusatory finger at her. “no. no. not for me. this is what you wanted! you wanted this! i didn’t—“

“i didn’t ask you to move to indiana with me!”

the statement felt like a slap to the face. caitlin, of all people, knew how hard of a decision it was to move to indiana. to be away from your family. your sister, your parents.

caitlin never pressured you into it, of course. she was insistent that if you had decided to stay in iowa, you’d make long distance work. but when you ultimately decided to stay with, whom you thought was the love of your life, caitlin couldn’t of been more happier.

the two of your popped a bottle of champagne in celebration and spent the night talking, laughing, planning your futures together.

a bittersweet memory that seemed so distant at the moment.

as you narrowed your eyes, you felt a tear roll down your cheek, followed by three or two more. “you know what, caitlin? you’re right. you didn’t ask. but it was a sacrifice i was willing to make for you!”

“you’re not the only one making sacrifices—“

the mere start of the sentence had you letting out a laugh, putting your hands behind your head as you paced back and forth. “you’re not listening.”

“i am listening—“

“no! you’re hearing me but you’re not listening to me!”

silence fell upon the two of you, both contemplating your next words because you both knew you guys were pretty close to crossing lines that couldn’t be uncrossed.

you placed your hands on the counter, leaning on it while hanging your head low, letting the tears drop onto the floor. “i can’t do this anymore,” you finally let out in a small whisper, but it hit caitlin in the gut. “i don’t want a life where i spend more time waiting for you than being with you.”

“you don’t mean that. please baby, stop.” caitlin’s warm hands were suddenly around your waist, leaning her head on your shoulder and kissing softly. “let’s just go to bed, yeah? i promise, i promise things will be different, okay? i’ll make more of an effort. i’ll try and get home on time for dinner. i know things aren’t easy right now, but i can’t lose you. we’ll figure it out, i’ll— i’ll try harder. okay?”

but even when those words eased your mind a little, you both knew the promise wouldn’t be kept.

so it wasn’t really a shock to you when you sat at the dinner table, candles lit and your meal sitting in front of you with the empty chair across from you.

you cooked caitlin’s favorite meal, wore her favorite set underneath your clothes that was her favorite color. you looked at the clock, and when it read 10:30, you scoffed.

you were fed up. you were well over your boiling point.

and, so, when caitlin entered your guys’ apartment at midnight, her heart ached a little at the sight of your untouched meals at the table, and candle she assumed was lit at one point.

she rubbed a hand over her face, quickly walking to your shared room. then she froze in her spot.

your side of the room was empty. from your nightstand being stripped of its decorations, to your side of the closet being completely empty.

the suitcases you used for when you guys planned vacations were gone. along her your toothbrush, makeup, hair products, basically everything that made your shared apartment shared was gone.

caitlin wasted no time picking up her phone and clicking your contact, holding the phone to her ear. she anxiously waited, suddenly feeling as if her whole life was falling apart.

voicemail. she tried seven more times. all went straight to voicemail.

her mind immediately went straight to denial, there was no way you picked up and left, right? you always said you would, but caitlin never believed you. never truly believed you.

or maybe she just didn’t listen to you.

she snatched her keys from the table, leaving the apartment and shutting the door loudly behind her. she bet all her money that her neighbors hated her.

that’s how she ended up in her car, speeding down the highway on a rainy night, frantically calling all of your shared friends.

she started with your mom, driving down the road at 90 miles an hour and switching lanes like an absolute maniac. she’d gotten honked at at least four times already.

“caitlin.” your mom greeted, though judging by her cold and and distant tone, and her use of caitlin’s full name instead of cait, caitlin could tell the news had no doubt got back to her.

“do you know where she is, mrs. l/n?” her question came right off the bat, figuring she had no time to waste in finding you.

your mom’s answer was quiet. and caitlin learned your families habits quickly enough to know that when she went quiet, she was lying. “please—“

“i’m afraid i can’t speak with you now, goodbye caitlin.”

then the line went dead.

with her left hand on the steering wheel, she punched the middle with her right and threw her head back.

her next call was kate because you three all had been very close throughout your iowa college years. kate always understood you in a way that made caitlin jealous.

and for a while, she she was a topic of argument in your relationship because caitlin constantly needed reassurance that she was the one you wanted.

there was clearly a rift in caitlin and kate’s friendship after, but after the move to indiana, they seemed to be mending their friendship. until now.

kate answered on the first ring with a hard question. “what’d you do, clark?”

“kate, i— i fucked up. she’s gone. i don’t know where she went. her stuff’s gone, her clothes are gone, she’s gone.”

“damn it, caitlin. you always do this shit— you drove her away, again.“

“do you know where she is?” caitlin demanded, arriving to her first destination.

“no.”

“you’re lying.”

“no i’m not—“

“i should’ve figured you wouldn’t help me find her. you’ve always been pathetically in love with her, ever since college.” caitlin scoffed out bitterly.

“caitlin—“

“know what? no. you’ve always been on her side, since day one. i can’t even do this right now—“

“you’re frustrated with yourself, about driving y/n away, so your picking a fight with me.” kate spoke calmly, fueling caitlin’s anger.

“don’t fucking psycho analyze me, right now martin.” with that she abruptly ended the call, getting out of the car and walking into the ice cream shop the both of you loved dearly.

after that, she went to your favorite coffee shop, after that, nalyssa’s apartment, then aliyah’s, then the hotel near your apartment.

she held her face in her hands, finally letting the sobs ripple through her. she suddenly realized how under appreciated your voice was. she was forgetting how sweet it was, how beautiful it was when you hummed her to sleep.

she was forgetting your voice already.

and she realized that she should’ve fought harder. should’ve told you how much she loved you, cherished you, needed you.

maybe, just maybe, if she had done that, you wouldn’t be gone.

safe to say caitlin didn’t find you that night, and no one told her where you might’ve went.

[sxcretricciardo]

rivals forever - M.V

•

The roar of the engines reverberated through the paddock as you walked with purpose, helmet in hand, the unmistakable scent of burning rubber and gasoline filling the air. You had come a long way to get here, breaking barriers as one of the few female drivers in Formula 1, and not just a token driver either—one of the best. You were a force to be reckoned with, consistently competing at the top of the grid, and now, one of the sport’s fiercest rivalries was between you and Max Verstappen.

Max had always been competitive, but so had you. The tension between you two was legendary, lighting up the paddock and thrilling fans worldwide. Both of you fought for every inch on track, trading positions, dueling wheel-to-wheel, and sometimes crashing out in spectacular fashion. Today had been one of those days.

The race had been intense—fast corners, aggressive overtakes, and then the inevitable collision. Neither of you gave an inch. You knew Max wouldn’t. You weren’t the type to back down either. The moment it happened, the sound of carbon fiber crashing echoed in your ears as both of your cars went sliding into the gravel trap, ending the race for the both of you. The frustration was palpable. DNF. Both of you were out.

You slammed your helmet down as you made your way back to the paddock. Max was already there, pacing like a caged lion. His fiery blue eyes locked onto you the moment you entered.

“Are you kidding me?” he spat, closing the distance between you.

You weren’t in the mood for this. “You turned in on me!” you shot back, your voice rising as adrenaline and anger pumped through your veins. “I had the inside line. You didn’t leave any room!”

Max’s jaw clenched. “It’s racing. You don’t just expect me to let you through. You’ve done this before!”

“Oh, I’ve done this before?” You stepped closer to him, not backing down. “What about you? You can’t handle anyone getting past you, can you? Your ego can’t take it.”

“You crashed into me!” Max was livid now, the two of you standing toe to toe, noses nearly touching, the tension sizzling between you.

“Maybe if you didn’t drive like an idiot, we’d both be finishing races,” you hissed.

For a moment, the air crackled with the possibility of something more—more anger, more fighting, more...something. But before either of you could escalate it further, team members pulled you apart, ushering you away, telling you to cool off. But the fire was still burning inside.

Later that evening, the team dinner was subdued, everyone clearly annoyed by the race result, especially the fact that their two top drivers had knocked each other out. You had a drink, then another, trying to shake off the frustration of the day. But it wasn’t working.

Before you knew it, you found yourself in the hotel bar, nursing a whiskey on the rocks. You weren’t surprised when Max appeared at the other end of the bar, also drinking. The bartender gave you both a wary glance but said nothing. The rivalry between you two was the talk of the season, and everyone knew it.

For a while, you ignored each other, focusing on your drinks. But the bar wasn’t that big, and after a couple more rounds, Max made his way over to your end, sitting beside you with a sigh. “Hell of a race,” he muttered.

You snorted, still annoyed. “Hell of a crash.”

Silence stretched between you for a few beats before Max chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, you drive me crazy.”

“Good,” you said, taking a sip. “That’s the idea.”

You both laughed, the alcohol loosening the tension between you, though the competitive fire still smoldered just beneath the surface. As the night wore on, the bar emptied, and the conversation grew easier. You talked about racing, life on the road, the pressures of being at the top. And, of course, the rivalry.

Max looked at you, his expression softening slightly, the alcohol clearly making him more relaxed. “You’re good, you know. Really good.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re only just realizing that?”

He grinned, leaning a little closer, his voice dropping. “I’ve always known. Maybe that’s why you get under my skin so much.”

There was a beat of silence as his words hung in the air. You felt your heart race, but this time, it wasn’t from anger or adrenaline. You weren’t sure if it was the drinks, the long hours, or something else, but the tension between you had shifted. What had started as competition and rivalry now felt like something...more.

Before you could overthink it, Max leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, and just like that, the fire between you ignited in a different way. The kiss was rough, urgent, a release of all the tension that had been building between you for months. Neither of you stopped to question it.

Somehow, you made it back to the hotel room, clothes discarded in a blur, the intensity between you never wavering. The night was a haze of passion, both of you giving as good as you got, just like on the track. It was fast, heated, and undeniable.

The next morning, you woke up tangled in the sheets, Max’s arm draped across your waist. For a moment, you didn’t move, your head pounding slightly from the drinks, your body sore from both the race and the night before. You turned your head to see Max still asleep, his face softened in the morning light. It was strange, seeing him like this, without the cocky smirk or the intense focus he always had at the track.

And then, as if sensing your gaze, his eyes fluttered open. He looked at you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

You felt a strange warmth spread through your chest, something you weren’t used to feeling when it came to Max. “Morning,” you replied softly.

For a moment, the world outside the room didn’t exist. There were no races, no rivalries, no expectations—just the two of you, lying there, wrapped up in each other. But reality wasn’t something you could escape forever.

Max propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching yours. “Last night...”

“Yeah?” You weren’t sure where this conversation was going, and a part of you didn’t want to know.

“I meant what I said. You get under my skin,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “But I don’t think it’s just the rivalry. I think it’s more than that.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What are you saying, Max?”

He sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. “I think I...I like you. More than I should, considering we’re supposed to be fighting for the championship.”

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. You hadn’t expected this. But then again, you hadn’t expected last night either. “I think I like you too,” you admitted, the words feeling foreign but right at the same time.

Max smiled, leaning down to kiss you again, this time slower, softer. It felt different from last night, more tender, more real. When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours. “So what now?”

You chuckled, tracing a finger along his jawline. “We’ve got a race next weekend, don’t we?”

He laughed, the sound vibrating through you. “Yeah, we do.”

“And I’m still going to fight you for every point,” you teased, though there was no malice in your voice.

“Good,” Max murmured, his lips brushing against yours. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

The next race weekend was just as intense as the last, but something had changed between you and Max. On track, the rivalry was as fierce as ever—neither of you gave an inch, still battling for every position, still determined to come out on top. But off the track, things were different. The stolen glances, the secret smiles, the late-night rendezvous—it was a secret neither of you were ready to share with the world yet, but it was there, simmering beneath the surface.

As the season went on, the world continued to watch your rivalry, none the wiser to the fact that, behind closed doors, things had shifted. And by the time the final race of the season rolled around, Max had already slipped a ring onto your finger, a private promise that no matter what happened on track, you were in this together.

A year after that first night in the hotel, you stood hand in hand at the altar, surrounded by family, friends, and teammates, the rivalry still very much alive but now accompanied by something far deeper.

Max smiled at you as you exchanged vows, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “We might fight on track,” he whispered as the officiant pronounced you husband and wife. “But off track...you’re mine.”

You grinned, pulling him in for a kiss. “Always.”

[ninyard]

do you perhaps have any thoughts on kevin telling wymack about kayleigh's letter? it's just so interesting to me and i'm so sad we didn't get to see it :(

SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG <33 I wanted to do this justice and although i feel like there's a different way it could've gone, I feel like this is... one of the options at least

-

Kevin's hands shook so badly when he knocked on his coach's office door, that the first knock of knuckles on wood hardly made a sound at all. That could've been a sign to walk away, but instead he knocked again. David looked up from whatever papers he was rummaging through to see Kevin in the doorway, and he sat back, waiting for him to explain his presence.

It was an age before Kevin found his voice, "Do you have a minute?"

"Am I going to regret it?" Wymack crossed his arms over his chest and rolled his chair over to get a better look at him, while he shut the door behind him.

"Are you busy?" Kevin asked instead, and stepped into the room so slowly he felt like he was barely moving at all.

"I'm always busy," He answered, his eyes following Kevin as he sat down. "But right now, no, I'm not. Everything okay?"

Kevin looked at the floor, his cheeks burning with an unyielding anxiety that he couldn't control, worse for every second longer that he looked into Wymack's eyes without telling him the truth.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." Kevin tried, sitting forward in the chair across from his desk. "But I don't know where to start."

"Are you quitting?"

Kevin exhaled through his nose. "No."

"Is it Edgar Allan related?"

"No, it's not."

"Is anyone dying?"

"No, Coach."

Wymack held out his hands and shrugged his shoulders with a pout, "So, what's there to be worried about?"

Kevin hesitated before looking up at him. He really has no idea. Guilt burnt it's way up his throat, guilt for what he was about to say, for what he was about to do.

Do or die. Now or never.

Kevin took another deep breath and prepared himself for the worst.

"It's about my mom."

David paused for a second before shifting in his chair, a twitch in his eyebrows as he tried to read Kevin's face.

"Okay,” Wymack said. “What do you want to know?”

“No, it’s…” Kevin sighed in frustration. A part of him wished he'd written a script, or perhaps left the letter anonymously on his desk for him to find later. Anything that would save him from having this conversation unprepared. Unprepared still, even after he'd spent years thinking about how he would say it. But that wasn't fair, and the longer he waited, the worse it would be.

At least it was easy to forgive his silence when he didn't physically have the letter in South Carolina, but Neil had pulled away the safety net of distance by delivering him the letter, and he couldn't put it off any longer..

“I actually want to tell you something.”

Wymack didn’t understand, and it was written all over his face - he knew that Kevin never really knew his mom, and what he knew he hardly remembered, and what he remembered only existed in flashes and feelings. What could Kevin possibly tell him that he didn't already know?

It was a moment before he made any movement, but looking at Kevin, he held a hand up and raised his eyebrows, "Well?"

"My mom wrote me a letter," Kevin started, as Wymack slowly leaned back into his seat. "I don't know when, or if I was supposed to even see it, or..." Kevin reminded himself to breathe. "She wrote about you."

David exhales a short laugh from his nose, "And what did she say?"

He smiled like he was waiting for a joke to come, like he knew exactly what she could've said. Kevin wasn't sure if there was something in the look on his face, but as he felt every drop of blood in his body draining down into his shoes, David's small smile faded.

"Can I just give it to you?" Kevin said, after another agonising minute of trying to find the right thing to say. "And I don't know how I want you to react, David, I don't know how you're going to feel or what you're going to think. You don't have to say anything, okay? Please don't."

Wymack straightened up again, his smile gone and replaced with an uncomfortable frown. He repeated Kevin, an inquisitive statement, "You don't want me to say anything?"

"Or do, I don't know." Kevin took the letter from his pocket, and it was only then that he realised just how badly he was shaking. David's eyes flickered down to the practically vibrating piece of paper in his hands. "Just... Don't feel like you have to, I guess."

David extended his hand Kevin's way again, but Kevin felt frozen in place. His heart was pounding in his throat, like this was one of the biggest secrets he'd ever kept being spilled out, right in front of his eyes. And it was just that, really, something he'd kept buried deep. This secret was his mother's, not his, and perhaps that made it worse. She decided to keep David in the dark, her burden to bear that he was left out of the loop, but now, Kevin sat there, the truth in his hands, doing his mother's dirty work.

There was no going back once he handed that letter over. There was no pretending he didn't know, there was no more blissful ignorance. Kevin knew that handing over that letter would change Wymack's life - it would turn everything he knew about himself, and Kayleigh, and Kevin on it's head. In just a minute or two more, he would be a father. It would change his relationship with Abby, his relationship with Kevin. It would posthumously change his relationship with Kayleigh, because once Kevin handed it over, he would be a dad, and she had kept that from him. But right then, before the paper left Kevin's hands, he wasn't. For a moment more, he had no idea what the words trembling in Kevin's hands said. It was hard to soak that in when he could barely focus at all.

"You're freaking me out now, kid." David leaned forward, an awkward laugh behind his smile. He was just about able to reach the paper that Kevin held, but he hovered his hand over it instead. "May I?"

When Kevin meekly nodded, he took the letter, and Kevin's stomach finally gave out. He brought his hand up to his mouth to cover the gag that threatened to leave his lunch on the floor. David didn't notice. He sat back instead, smiling as he read the writing that he recognised, the tone just like how she used to speak, presumably.

"She-" He started, a joke or a memory on the tip of his tongue, and Kevin knew where in the letter he was. He knew where he had gotten to, because David's smile was quickly wiped away as he froze, still like a mannequin, exhaling a breath through his now open lips. His eyes were frantic as they skimmed over words that were almost meaningless after what he'd just read.

He flipped the page over, probably waiting to find "Just kidding!" written on the back. But it wasn't there, and he wouldn't find it, and the words wouldn't change no matter how many times he reread them to make sure. Kevin already knew that to be true.

After far too long, he quietly asked, "Where did you get this?"

"She left it with the Master." Kevin swallowed, his mouth dry. "I found it a few years ago."

"A few-" David said, like he'd been punched in the stomach. His words were cut off in his throat as he tried to find something to say. "Who..."

Kevin shoved his shaking hands under his thighs, and bit the inside of his lip to stop himself from crying. He could feel all of these bottled up feelings bubbling in his chest, but when he said he didn't know how he wanted David to react, he meant it. That didn't mean that he wasn't hurt by the silence that fell over the room, that he wasn't hurt by the worry that painted over his face. David wasn't smiling, but he wasn't angry. He wasn't happy, or upset, either. His face was unreadable. Maybe it would be easier if his feelings were clear. Maybe rage would be easier to swallow than shock.

"Jesus," David sighed, and ran a hand down his face. He dropped the letter on the desk, shutting his eyes for a moment.

"You don't have to say anything," Kevin said again, his voice shaking now too, and finally he looked up. Finally he looked into Kevin's eyes, only visible for just a second until they filled with tears that he couldn't hold back. "I just... thought you deserved to know. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," He nodded and looked up at the ceiling. Kevin wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand. He didn't look back at Kevin when he quietly asked, "Who else knows?"

"Jean, Riko," Kevin put a hand on his chest. Any longer and his heart would be on the table in between them. "And... Neil. But he hasn't told anyone, I promise."

"You told Neil?" It was almost angry, but more tired than anything else. Like all his energy had been sucked out of him by reading just a few words on a page.

"No, Coach, I didn't," Kevin was quick to clear up the assumption. He sniffed, and David pursed his lips as Kevin tried to talk through the tears that spilled down his cheeks, unstoppable, guilt filled. "He found the letter over the holidays and he brought it back here with him. I'm sorry."

David sighed again, and after a long and terrible pause, he said, "Kevin, I need a minute."

Kevin tried to find just an ounce of something in his words, a speck of relief, or reassurance, or anything that would make Kevin feel even just a little bit better about the decision he'd made. His hand was forced, in a way, twisted behind his back as Neil pushed him into Wymack's office to tell him the truth.

"Okay," Kevin agreed, and picked the letter up to replace it back into his pocket. "I'm sorry."

"Stop that," David clicked his tongue and waved him off. "I just need time to think."

Kevin nearly tripped over his own feet trying to get up. He crossed the room, the weight of the conversation left unspoken pulling him back, begging to be understood and spoken about and explained over and over. But he had to go. David needed space, and he needed time. It wasn't fair to expect anything else from him.

The door had just about closed before he had sighed again.

"Kev," He crossed his arms, and Kevin turned to look at him, holding the door open with an outstretched hand. "We'll talk later."

"Sure." He nodded with a teary exhale. He wasn't sure if what he felt was relief or not, but it was something, as it always was. Perhaps it was just the reassurance of a conversation to be had, instead of a topic that would be buried and forgotten, living on through his mother's faded handwriting and the very few people who knew.

"Just not right now," David clarified with a weak and desperate smile.

"Okay." Kevin's lip trembled. "Thank you, Coach."

David looked between Kevin's eyes for a moment longer before he gestured to him that that was all. He reached for the phone in front of him as Kevin quietly shut the door. The door was too thick and the ringing in his ears too loud for him to eavesdrop on what was being said or who he was talking to. Kevin used the collar of his t-shirt to wipe his eyes again.

They'd talk about it later.

Kevin did the only thing that he knew he could do, and he jogged down to the court. Andrew would kill him for being on the court without gear, a practice racquet in his hands that hadn't been stored away earlier. Coach would kill him for firing shots without a helmet on, but still Kevin dropped a ball in his net, and with his left hand, he fired towards the goal until it lit up red, until all that was left in his head was red lights and loud buzzers, and the bouncing of a ball against plexiglass.

[reidmania]

opposites attract | s. reid

summary; spencer would give the world to be your person, even after you argue that you two are too different.

warnings; fem reader, pining!spencer, lowkey pining!reader, bombshell!reader, rejection, reader is described as confident and more of a black cat, insecurities, doubting, a bad date mentioned, happy ending, spencer lowkey gets frustrated, reader has tattoos.

an; messy and switches perspectives whoopsies. Idk how many words, a lot. Too many.

Two years. That was how long Spencer had been a complete and utter mess. Two years since his brain didn’t quite function the same, he remained intelligent, sure, but god so incomplete. Two years since you started at the BAU, two years since he met you.

You were out of his league. He had decided it the moment he laid eyes on you. You were stunning, absolutely perfect in anyones gaze. You were everything he could ever want and more, not just physically. Your laugh, your voice, the way you spoke to everyone around you, gentle, warm. The way you sat quietly in the corner most days, not because you felt out of place, nor shy, not because you didn’t enjoy being there, but just because no matter where in a room you were, your presence was known. Especially to Spencer.

He tried to pretend that he didn’t fall completely in love with you the first time the two of you ever had a conversation and you spoke to him with a smile, listened to him, he tried to pretend the scent of your perfume didn’t make him lightheaded, and the sight of your tattoo that he only saw on occasion’s didn’t make him wonder if you had more, what made you get it, was there meaning?

Spencer wanted to know everything about you, he wanted to live in your brain and know your every like and dislike, what made you smile a little wider, what made you unable to stop laughing, what your favourite drink was, what colour you liked the most, where your family was from, your middle name.

Spencer would stop the world to know you.

That was impossible to hide, even two years later. He tried, so many times to get your attention, to be the subject of your fascination. It didn’t help that every-time you looked in his direction his skin grew ten temperatures too warm and his head spun.

He tried asking you out, twice. Sort of.

The first time was too subtle, too rambling and hidden in the mix of stutters and hot cheeks, fidgeting hands. Because you were looking at him, with a gaze so intense and caring, patient.

How was he ever suppose to talk when you were looking at him like that? Like there was something that made him worth the gravity the warmth in your eyes held.

“Would you date me?” It was blurted out on a Tuesday afternoon, you were standing beside him as the buzz of the bullpen had calmed down, your gaze was focused on reorganising the files on his desk, his gaze was on you. You were reorganising because you didn’t like the way he had done it, and it had been ‘bugging’ you for weeks.

Spencer loved the way his files were organised, but he loved you more.

It was stupid, he didn’t even mean to say it. It was out of place leaving his lips and he knew it the moment your head turned towards him and a sweet laugh left your lips, not mocking him, god you would never. It was a laugh of shock, confusion, maybe even surprise.

“Are you asking me out?” You asked, raising your eyebrow slightly as you met his eyes. His cheeks heated before he could help it, eyes went wide because he had no idea what he was doing.

“What- I- no.” His voice was an octave higher, a tell sign he was nervous, if you needed any more tell signs between the fidgeting of his hands, his bright pink cheeks and his avoidant gaze. You smiled as you shook your head, looking back at the files on his desk, he watched your hand as your ran your finger along them once they were organised neatly, anyone else he might’ve cringed at the sight, but it was you.

“I don’t think so” You had mumbled in response and Spencer felt the world shift into an imbalance. You said it so casually. He didn’t know if his heart was beating too fast or if it was breaking. You turned your head back to look at him, a frown on your lips when you saw the frown that had snuck its way onto his features before he could even realise.

“Not because you aren’t great. Or attractive. You are — You definitely are. I just think we are too different.” You said. His eyebrows knitted together as he met your eyes. He hated the fact you were frowning, he hated the fact he was frowning. He hated what you had just said, god he loved you.

“Right” he didn’t know what to say.

“Spence” You spoke through a warm huff of laughter, shaking your head as you twisted your body to face him fully, your hip leaning against the desk as you crossed your arms over your chest. He watched your hair fall down the sides of your face, over your shoulders. He wondered if you had changed your shampoo since the last time, the only time you had hugged him a few weeks ago, when he had gotten the chance to breath it in, and then it was all he thought about for weeks.

You smiled at him and it was contagious, despite the ache in his chest and overwhelming sense of illness in his stomach, you were smiling. “I think you’re amazing, i always have” you started and his cheeks warmed more. “But we are complete opposite’s.”

He wanted to argue you. Say that he could change and be more like you, more like the guys he had seen pick you up after work, he could be whatever you wanted. He could be someone. Someone to you.

But he didn’t.

That was the last time Spencer had attempted to ask you out, you never bought it up. You never questioned it again, you didn’t push you ask why he wanted to know. Spencer remained sickeningly in love with everything about you, you remained pretending to not notice.

Why were you here? You couldn’t quite remember or find the time to think about it properly between the noise surrounding the fancy restaurant you were in and the sickening long rant the boy in front of you was going on. Something about a business, something about saving it, something egotistical and sickeningly boring.

The date starts out fine. It’s all small talk at first—work, hobbies, the usual pleasantries. But soon, you realize that Mark has a lot to say. About himself. A lot.

“And then I closed the deal,” he says, recounting some work story about how he single-handedly saved his company from financial ruin. He leans back in his chair, smiling like he’s just told you the most fascinating thing in the world. You nod politely, but your mind starts to wander. His voice fades into the background as you think about something else, someone else.

Spencer.

You wonder what he’s doing right now. Probably at home, curled up with a book, or maybe he’s watching a documentary. You can almost picture him, pacing around his apartment, muttering facts to himself about some obscure topic that no one but him finds interesting. But you love that about him. He’s so passionate about everything, even the things that most people would overlook. And he’s never trying to show off. He just loves sharing what he knows.

You try to pay attention to the guy in front of you, you really really do. But god he is so boring. You wonder how quickly you could get one of your friends to come save you from this horror of a date. You wonder how long you would have to hide in the bathroom for before he disappeared.

Mark’s voice pulls you back to reality. “So, what do you think?” he asks.

“Hmm?” You blink, realizing you’ve missed the last five minutes of whatever he was talking about.

“I was saying,” he repeats, a little slower this time, “I just think it’s amazing how people like me can juggle so many things at once. Don’t you think?”

You smile, but it’s strained. “Sure, that’s impressive.”

As the date drags on, you start to notice little things. Like the way Mark talks to the waiter, snapping his fingers for attention, barely looking up from his phone when the waiter brings the food. He doesn’t say thank you. Not once. It’s subtle, but it grates on you. You find yourself cringing, wondering if anyone else notices.

He was much more interesting when he asked you out a few nights ago at a bar, when you were drunk. Why had you agreed? Maybe drunk you saw something sober you didn’t. Or maybe drunk you just saw a male who was conventionally attractive and made you laugh. You wondered how low the bar was

You didn’t have a lot of time to wonder before you heard your name from behind you, your head spun and you almost cried with gratefulness when you saw Penelope standing there, a wide grin on her face, and then Spencer standing beside her, he offered you a gentle shy wave that made your heart warm.

“Oh my gosh! Do you guys want to come sit?” You asked, praying they said yes, praying that Penelope noticed the wide urgent look in your eyes and understood that you were begging. You were genuinely begging for a conversation about anything other than Mark’s biggest accomplishments.

“Oh- We don’t want to interrupt.” Spencer mumbled, looking between you and Mark, the two of you sitting opposite sides of the booth you were in. You noticed the look in Spencer’s eye, you knew what it was. He didn’t want to sit there while you were on a date with someone else. Clearly he misread the urgency in your gaze.

“No! Mark doesn’t mind? Do you mind Mark?” You asked, spinning your head around to face Mark who was confused on the two people and why they were talking to you. Why they had interrupted him. You had to hold back the urge to roll your eyes.

“Uh..” he started, you cut him off. “He doesn’t mind. Come sit.” You shuffled over to make room for the two.

Penelope slides into the booth beside you, while Spencer takes the seat across from you, next to Mark. He looks nervous, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, but he offers you a small, shy smile.

“What are you guys doing here?” you ask, trying to suppress the excitement bubbling up inside you.

“Oh, we were just nearby, and I figured we’d grab something to eat,” Penelope says.

Spencer fidgets with his napkin, glancing at you, then back at the table. “I-I was telling Penelope about this, uh, documentary I watched the other night. It’s about the history of the subway system in New York. I think you’d really like it.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nods, his eyes lighting up as he starts to explain. “Yeah, it’s fascinating, actually. They had to navigate all these geological challenges, and the engineering behind it is incredible. I know you mentioned once that you’re interested in architecture, and I thought you might appreciate how they designed the stations.”

You stare at him for a moment, surprised. You don’t even remember telling him that you liked architecture, but he did. And now, here he is, rambling about a documentary he thinks you’d enjoy, not because he’s trying to impress you, but because he genuinely thought you’d find it interesting.

Meanwhile, Mark is looking more and more uncomfortable, clearly not enjoying the conversation. He cuts in, talking over Spencer to launch into another story about himself, but you’re barely listening anymore. Instead, you’re watching Spencer, noticing how different he is from Mark. Spencer, who’s always so considerate, who listens more than he talks, who looks at you like you’re the most important person in the room, even when he’s nervous.

And then there’s Mark, who hasn’t asked you a single question all night, who’s rude to the waiter, and who’s more interested in hearing himself talk than getting to know you.

“I think I might head off..” Mark muttered, clearly annoyed at the fact you had not only been interrupted on your date, but also frustrated that you were paying more attention to Spencer than him. You couldn’t care less.

“Oh okay! Have a good night” You smiled, sickeningly nice as he shuffled his way past Spencer to leave the table. He glanced at you once, not saying anything before he walked away.

“He was an asshole!!” Penelope bursts out into laughter the minute Mark was out of earshot, you immediately joined her laughter while Spencer remained quiet, shuffling around on the now empty side of the booth.

“Those are the type of guys you go out with?” He asked, his voice was quiet, almost offended. You wish you understood why when you stopped laughing at met his gaze. You opened your mouth to talk as the tension around the table grew.

“Hey! Don’t judge!” She gasped out, pointing her finger dramatically at Spencer, clearly not noticing his underlying feelings and why he had even said anything, you did. “It’s slim pickings out here!!”

Spencer hummed, tapping his fingers against the table as he avoided meeting your gaze. You frowned slightly. Soon enough the conversation fell back into rhythm, flowing like it did any other time. They ate, you paid since it was your date. Then Penelope left.

You stood outside of the restaurant, looking around the busy streets. “How are you getting home?” Spencer asked, his gaze meeting yours as you tilted your head upwards to look at him, you couldn’t not smile. It was impossible not to smile around Spencer.

“Uh- Walking. I walked. It’s really not far.” You nodded to support your words as you buried your hands inside the warmth of your pockets. You had been in a state since Spencer had gotten there, a state you couldn’t quite explain. Silently lost in thought, a state of confusion? Maybe realisation.

“I’ll walk you home. Its late.” He said it like it was a no brainer. Like it was the most obvious thing for him to do. No date you had ever been on had offered you walk you home.

Every time Spencer speaks, you feel yourself softening, smiling without even realizing it. His nervous energy, the way he fumbles over his words, it’s all so endearing. He’s not trying to prove anything to you. He just wants to share the things he loves with you, and it’s the sweetest thing.

“Okay.” You breathe out the silent agreement before your feet find rhythm next to Spencer’s as you walk down the street, the post lights causing an orange glow across the ground, across his face.

“Theres a study.” Spencer started, his breathe coming out warm against the cold air causing a fog of steam to follow his breath, you watched it for an moment before your eyes flickered to the side of his face, you’re still walking, his gaze doesn’t meet yours.

“That uh— Shows that opposites attract, it’s more of a theory, since scientifically it doesn’t actually work like that — although negatives are attracted to positives if you’re looking at electricity — but uh- People believe that a lot of people are attracted to people opposite them, because each person offers something the other lacks, making the relationship feel more complete.. Majority of relationships that are built off of opposites work better than people who are too similar because theres more of a balance.. its chaotic but, it uh — it works.”

He was nervous. You could tell. Your breath hitched slightly as he spoke, as he brought it up again. Your mind tried to process the overload of information he had mumbled out. You tried to process it.

“So scientifically we wouldn’t work.” You huffed out. He laughed. Genuinely laugh, it was breathy and quiet but genuine and it made your heart warm.

“Technically— but theoretically—”

You cut him off, a rare occurrence, “I thought you were a science guy.” You mumbled.

He was quiet for a moment before he spoke. “I think I am just a you guy.”

You didn’t know what to say. It was sweet in a way that your brain couldn’t process. He was going against everything he believed to be correct because he wanted you?

“I thought data and statistics are the most reliable source of information.” You mumbled the response, words he had said, probably months ago. Why were you fighting him on this? Why were you fighting yourself on this? You weren’t sure.

“Sure; most of the time. But they are subjective. Especially when talking about psychologically. Each couple, each set of people — they’re different.” He said, his gaze didn’t meet yours. You pulled your eyes away to focus on the street in front of you. You were getting closer to your house, yet part of you wanted to stay right here.

“You think we could work?” You asked. It was a whisper.

He paused, you could see him nod in your peripheral. “I do. I’d make it work, i’d do anything.” Maybe it came out more desperate than he had intended, you found it sweet.

You found him sweet.

“Spencer” you paused your movements and his stopped with yours. His body turned to face you as you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading, desperate, hoping. It almost made your heart ache at the slight fear in them, that you were going to maybe reject him again.

But you found him sweet.

“Id date you.” You answered the question he had asked maybe months ago now, you didn’t realise until now that you had conveniently stopped outside your house. You turned your head to look at the front door before back at Spencer.

“Can i- uh- Will you- I-“ He stuttered and your heart warmed at his nervous attempt to ask you out.

“Yes.” You answered gently, saving him the hassle. Maybe being different was a good thing. Maybe you could beat the statistics that proved otherwise.

Maybe opposites did attract.

[sturniolo04]

The Confession 1 C.S.

Fwb!Mean!Chris x Fwb!Fem!Reader

A/N: I tried something different :)

*Really long you have been warned.

I dont even know how I ended up in this position. One minute my best friend Madi thinks she likes both Matt and Chris and the next she is 100% Matt. Me and Madi are super close I mean we practically grew up together and when we met the triplets in Boston everything changed, our circle grew just a little bit bigger. Lately, I haven't been the best friend to Madi just because I have been neglecting to confess to her about my secret crush on Chris and I am not the type to run over her if she knows she likes Chris because who am I to tell her she can't like him especially since I haven't told her that I did.

its about 1:50 in the morning and by this time Madi had walked all the way to a park and found a bench to sit and bawl her eyes out she couldnt figure out why she was feeling this bad whether it was that she couldnt articulate how she hurt Matt and Chris or if it is was because she cant choose between chris and matt she knows them both equally for a long time. sighing looking down at her phone finally deciding to call the one person she knew is always there. Holding in my tears as the dial tone rings hoping she wasnt asleep yet.

"Hello Madi"

jess speaks into the phone

"Jess"

she states through choked tears

"Madi what's going on love what happened" 

"i messed up really bad and i dont know what to do"

she exclaims letting her tears fall

"Madi"

"I like chris and matt and ive might have messed up our friendship"

"no madi you didnt okay i promise you didnt they are still your friends and they love you"

you quickly reply feeling that heavy feeling in your chest again as she still thinks she like chris.

"i dont know"

she replies through a fit of tears

"its okay promise try to get some sleep and you will feel so much better tomorrow i promise"

you reply reassuring her.

"okay goodnight"

she sniffles out

"goodnight i will see you when you get back home "

she hung up from jess and sighed out once more calming her nerves proceeding to walk back to the house. as she made her way into the driveway sitting back on the concrete driveway where the night officially started 

"MADI"

you exclaim softly seeing her sitting on the driveway

"hi"

she replies quietly as she turns around to look at you

"i was so worried are you okay"

you ask again.

"im sorry"

you sigh squatting down and hugging her then sitting down next to her

"i fucked things up didnt i"

she huffs out

"what no well i mean chris and matt are not speaking to each other currently but i mean whats new"

you sigh out since madi basically confessed to both of them on the same night and them both finding out in this driveway tonight.

" but it was my fault im the reason they are mad at each other"

"no no youre not okay they are just being them okay they will grow up"

you reassure her

"but i mean i told you had feelings for chris too"

you state smirking trying to shake the heavy feeling in her stomach at that sentence.

"jesss"

"you know i love you"

you say side hugging her

'well im going to bed you think youre going to be okay"

"yeah thanks j" 

"okay"

you say standing up and walking back into the house as madi rests her head on her arms positioned on top of her knees as someone comes and sits next to her quietly

"hi matt"

she speaks softly out noticing his presence

"hey"

"im sorry"

"why you were just being honest" 

he sighs out

"i do really like you" 

she confesses again

"no madi you and chris are perfect and honestly it makes he was at least able to communicate how he feels about you without being oblivious about it im not the one you need madi you are way out of my league and im okay with that honestly"

he sighs out rambling

"what the actual fuck matt stop youre  out of my league why do you just automatically assume your not good enough" 

she exclaims frustrated standing up and wrapping the blanket you had brought her getting upset

"madi no youre not out of league okay just stay"

he says pulling her hand down a little as she sighs and sits back down as matt pulls me into him connecting our lips guiding her on his lap in the process. He tangled his fingers through her messy hair as he continue to make out with her. Her hands wrapped around his neck tightly as he stood up carrying her back into the house. shepulled away quickly he closed the door behind them and set her back on her feet.

"Matt if-if"

she trails of whispering

"wait"

he stops her as he pulls his and her shoes off leaving them downstairs as he swiftly picks her up again by her thighs taking her upstairs to her room quietly being sure not wake up anyone especially Chris. Matt leans back in after setting her on her bad standing in between her legs attempting to connect their lips again but madi halted him in the process.

"matt..seriously come on"

she giggles out as he sighs out stares at her as she bites her lip slowly.

"yes madi you were saying"

he chuckles out

"matt if- if we do this"

she trails off motions towards them

"no one can know yet"

"okay"

he kind of chuckles at the concept

"im serious matt"

she exhales out looking at him as his face softens at her response

"at least until i figure out how to tell" 

"chris"

"yeah because"

"i know i know"

he sighs out moving himself from in between her to next to her laying on her bed. 

"jess' mom might be coming to boston"

"what that so cool"

"yeah she called her when i walked off tonight"

"oh" 

"yeah"

"well im going to go"

he states standing up

"where"

she states worried

"dont worry just in the other room with chris maybe so you can get some sleep"

he chuckles out giving madi a forehead kiss as he walks out of her room.

Madi wakes up the next morning mentally face palming herself considering well she basically made out with Matt after literally confessing to both brothers she has feelings for them. she rolled out of bed hoping everything will return to normal. she shower and put on this And head downstairs to be met with the face of the one and only

"good morning"

"whats up how are you feeling"

"better just like jess said"

"jess"

"i talked to her last night after everything"

"oh okay hey madi listen forget everything i said last night i was just being stupid it was nothing"

he states quickly realizing he also confessed that he liked you.

"chris i dont think it was nothing you dont have to lie about it"

"no im being for real"

"christopher"

"what im serious"

"okay then sound cool"

she states heading back upstairs

"where are you going"

"to wake up matt and everyone else"

Chris couldnt understand why he said that he literally let her get away again. His thoughts were soon interrupted the sound of jess's doorbell ringing. He went over and opened the door to reveal

"oh hi there i was- where is jess"

jess mom trails off

"she's upstairs um"

he trailed off kind of awkwardly since he had no idea that this jess's mom as what sounded like jess's laugh approaching the bottom of the stair case. I turned to see jess walking down with Nick and Madi being carried down the stairs by matt. the lady at the door cleared her throat as they all snapped out of their trance looking in that direction

"Mom"

she exclaims running over and hugging her

"mom"

Chris questions

"yeah.. mom this is chris, matt, nick and then you remember madi"

she trails off as chris waves his hand

"Hi you all"

she says with a raised eyebrow smiling

"jess; mom"

she exlcaims hugging her after jess

"hey madi"

"when did you get here" 

madi asks her

"last night when jess called"

Madi looks over at jess standing next to her as she shrugs her shoulders a little not wanting to talk about last night at all due to the fact she still felt the pit in her stomach of guilt of even allowing herself the like chris and not trust madi enough to even tell her that you liked him.

"so mom do you want to come on in then"

she states as madi and her both step aside to let her in

"how long are you going to be here for"

"just the weekend"

"maybe we can all go somewhere and just hang out for a little bit maybe grab dinner does that sound good guys"

she asks everyone

"im fine with that"

nick agrees nodding his head

"mom"

you question her

"sure plus i want to see all there is about Boston since this is my first time up here"

"well the triplets can definitely help point out those key spots since they've grown up here"

"literally"

chris chuckles out admiring jess' laugh slightly

"cool so do want me to ride with you"

"umm.. im going to ride with jess and her mom is that okay"

"uh yeah of course" 

madi and you grab your shoes and they all head out the door.

"soo"

she trails off looking the mirror at the two girls in the backseat of the car

"what's going on with you and Matt Madi"

"uhh"

" yeah i was going to ask about that i mean i knew you guys made up because i saw him come outside after i left you after you came back home"

"umm i dont know what you guys are talking about"

"are you sure because i remember clearly you being carried down the stairs by him this morning"

"in a skirt too at that madii"

you exclaim dragging out the 'i' in your best friend's name

"oh come on what is that suppose to mean just because we made up doesn't mean we are dating"

"so your telling me he hasnt tried to make a move on you after everything that happened yesterday evening"

she asks as madi kind of stares off into space getting flashbacks to last night of literally her and matt making out in her driveway

"oh my god he totally did didnt he"

"what no jess no" 

"madi"

jess's mom exclaims trying to get an answer out of her

"OKAY maybe we might have made out in the driveway at like 2 in the morning"

"MADISON"

you exclaim at your best friend with your jaw dropped

"what i mean its wasnt like terrible"

she shyly replies.

"that you made out with your bestfriend the best friend you liked for literally ever or that he was actually good at making out"

"OH MY GOODNESS"

madi exclaims embarrassed

" just asking"

"OH MY GOD NO"

"it was definitely the second option"

you giggle out

"shut up Jess"

she exclaims pushing some of her hair behind her ear opening her phone

"just make sure you do and know what your heart wants madi" 

"of course always"

Taglist

@dirtylittleheart333 @stayingstromboli @wh0resstuff @mintsturniolo @spicymuffins03 @emely9274

[criminal-act7]

The Worst

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Blk reader

Genre: angst and nothing but angst. Smut is just a bonus.

Summary: You left the BAU 4 years ago in pursuit of a new career. You and Spencer made the long-distance work until you couldn’t. Two months after the breakup, Spencer and you meet up for closure.

Warnings: unprotected sex, oral sex (f), fingering

Notes: it's been so long since I've written smut, so I'm kinda rusty. Low key I had Don't Smile by Sabrina carpenter in mu head now. I hope you guys enjoy!

Two days ago, everything was perfect. You had returned to D.C. to visit your old friends and colleagues at the BAU, and of course, to see your boyfriend, Spencer Reid. It had been two years since you left the BAU to study music theory in the Twin Cities, and now you were about to start teaching in Minneapolis. While you missed Spencer dearly, and he missed you, too, the long-distance visits hadn’t been enough. But this time felt different. 

Spencer surprised you with a romantic dinner, and just when you thought it couldn't get better, he proposed. You had dreamed of this moment for so long, knowing Spencer’s cautious nature meant the timing had to be just right. But when he finally asked, your answer was easy. Yes. Of course, yes.

Now, curled up in his arms on the couch, you feel the warmth of his presence, the joy of being together again. But tonight, as Spencer begins to talk about the future, you realize that your dreams may not be as aligned as you once thought.

“You’re not serious right now,” you say, disbelief threading through your voice.

“I am,” Spencer replies, his gaze steady on yours. He gently brushes his fingers across your knuckles.

“Spencer, I can’t just drop everything and move back to D.C. I just started teaching in Minnesota.”

“I know, but if we act now, we can get this amazing house—”

“Wait, what? You’ve already been looking at houses?”

He averts his eyes for a moment, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. “I found one. It’s perfect for us. There’s even a wishing well in the backyard. We’re getting married, Y/N. Why not plan for the future?”

“We got engaged two days ago! Spencer, we have time. We don’t need to rush.”

“I know,” he says, his voice softening, “but I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. Besides, we don’t know what could happen.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I get it. I used to work at the BAU, I understand. But I don’t want to give up teaching. This is something I love.”

“You don’t have to give it up,” Spencer says, leaning forward, trying to bridge the gap between you. “You could teach in D.C. or even Virginia.”

You shake your head, already knowing where this conversation is headed. “Spencer, I’m not leaving Minnesota. These kids need me. Music gives them a creative outlet. It helps keep them out of trouble.”

He pauses, his voice quiet now. “What about me?”

Your heart tightens at his words. “What about you? We text every day, we talk on the phone, and we video chat when we can.”

“It’s not the same,” he murmurs, his thumb grazing the back of your hand. 

“If you miss me so much, you could come to Minnesota,” you offer with a hopeful smile. 

“And do what? Teach?” He lets out a small laugh, but there’s no real humor in it.

“You’d make a hot professor,” you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but it doesn’t land. 

“I don’t want to teach, Y/N. That’s your dream, not mine.”

“And that’s exactly why I’m staying in Minnesota,” you reply. “This makes me happy. I’m finally doing something meaningful, something that fulfills me.”

“You were doing meaningful work before,” Spencer argues, his voice rising slightly. “You saved lives. You were a great profiler.”

“And how many lives did we lose? How many victims never got justice?” Your voice wavers. “I wasn’t happy in that life, Spencer. Not like I am now.”

He exhales, his frustration evident. “So, how do we make this work? You in Minnesota, me in D.C.?”

“I don’t know,” you admit quietly. “I thought we’d figure it out.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t just ‘figure it out.’ What, do you think we can hop on planes every weekend, or after I finish a case?”

“Well, if you didn’t have this all figured out, why did you propose?” you ask, feeling the tension rise between you.

“Because I did have it figured out!” he snaps, his voice sharp. “You’re the one who changed the plan, refusing to come with me.”

“I didn’t refuse,” you say, your tone turning defensive. “I just can’t drop my life because you want me to live yours.”

“We’re in a relationship, Y/N! You’re not single anymore. I’ve always supported you. Why can’t you do the same for me?”

“I’m not saying you haven’t supported me. But why should I give up my dream for yours?”

“Because I don’t think you’d be happy long-term!” Spencer exclaims. “You never mentioned any of this before. Then suddenly, you tell me you’re teaching in Minnesota, out of nowhere.”

You stare at him, the weight of his words settling in. “You don’t think I’d be happy?” he looks you in the eyes, his gaze starting into your soul.  

“Not in the long run. No.”

“And who’s to say I’d be happy with you?” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Spencer’s face falls, his expression pained. “What do you mean?”

“You think I’d be happy moving to D.C., working at the BAU again, getting married, having kids? That’s your plan, Spencer. Not mine.”

“I thought that’s what you wanted,” he says, his voice faltering. “We talked about this before we even started dating—marriage, kids, everything.”

“That was seven years ago. We’ve both changed. I’ve changed.” you pointed at yourself as you tell him the truth.  He realized that too of course the distance away from him was going to change him. 

His face hardens, hurt mixing with anger. “Then why did you say yes?”

“Because I love you, Spencer,” you say, your voice cracking. “And because I thought maybe, somehow, we could still make it work.” you cry as tears fall down your face.

“But how can we, if you’re across the country?” The silence that follows is thick, heavy. You both know the answer before it’s spoken.

“We can’t,” you whisper.

“So… that’s it? We break up?” His voice is hollow, as if he’s already accepted the outcome.

“I—I think we have to,” you say, tears stinging your eyes.

He nods slowly, his jaw tight. “Alright.” You reach for his hand, but he pulls it away gently.

“Spencer… I’m sorry.” you let out a sob trying to wipe your tears away. 

“Me too.” he says getting up to go into his room and you stayed on the couch crying as you knew he was doing the same. Neither of you wanted this outcome but you also didn't want each other to be miserable. 

The next morning, you woke up before Spencer. Quietly, you packed your things, your heart heavy with the weight of last night's conversation. You had booked an earlier flight back to Minnesota, hoping to slip out unnoticed, to avoid another painful confrontation. 

As you approached the front door with your bag in hand, you paused, glancing toward the bedroom—the one you had shared with him so many times before. To your surprise, Spencer was awake, sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes red and swollen from a sleepless night.

"I thought you'd at least have the courage to say goodbye," he says, his voice low and rough. He looks just as broken as you feel, like neither of you have gotten any rest.

“Spencer…” you start, but the words don’t come. He doesn’t look at you, staring at the floor instead. Now he was angry seeing you sneaking into his room to leave the ring and some note. 

“Just… leave the ring and go. Please.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you reach for the ring on your finger. Slowly, reluctantly, you pull it off, feeling the cool metal slide away from your skin. For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the symbol of the future you had once wanted so badly.

Tears blur your vision as you gently place the ring on the nightstand beside him. "I'm sorry," you whisper, knowing it’s not enough. Without another word, you turn and walk out the door, leaving behind the life you thought you would share. 

That was the last time you saw Spencer. The breakup was rough on both of you. No matter how much time passed, reminders of him lingered in your life. A month later, a couple of boxes from Spencer arrived at your doorstep—your things from his apartment, meticulously packed and sent back to you. It was everything you had left there, down to the smallest items. The gesture felt like a final goodbye, a clear sign that he had moved on. Yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. You still had his things. A couple of his shirts, some books, and photos. They haunted you in the quiet moments when you were alone, a reminder of a future that would never be.

Your friend Cassie had advised you to collect his things and move on. “You need closure,” she told you, gently pushing you to take the steps toward healing. But you didn’t at first. You couldn’t. Then, without telling you, she set you up on a date.

His name was Scott. He was a high school English teacher, loved to read, worked out, and was just coming out of his own messy breakup. On your first date, you clicked in a way that surprised you. It felt easy with him, natural. The two of you saw each other a few times, and before long, it had been a month of dates, good conversation, and the start of something promising. But there was one problem.

Every time you went home, Spencer’s presence was still there. His shirts hanging in the closet, the photos of you two tucked in drawers, even old messages you hadn’t deleted. Sometimes you would sit in silence, imagining what his life was like now, wondering if he had moved on in the same way. You’d catch yourself thinking about texting Garcia to ask how he was, but you stopped yourself. Your former colleagues—your friends—were all still close to Spencer. You couldn’t bring yourself to reach out. Not after what happened. You figured it wasn’t your place anymore.

One evening, after a date with Scott, Cassie sat with you in your apartment, and you confessed the nagging feeling you couldn’t shake.

“I feel stuck,” you admitted, pushing Spencer’s shirt aside in your closet. “Every time I try to move on, it’s like he’s still here.”

Cassie nodded, understanding. “You need closure. Real closure. Get rid of his things, talk to him if you need to, but you can’t keep holding onto pieces of him if you want to move forward.”

Her words sunk in, and you realized she was right. So, you broke things off with Scott—kindly, letting him know it wasn’t fair to either of you while you were still processing your past. Then you sent Spencer a text, asking if the two of you could meet to talk. You weren’t sure if he would reply, or if he’d even want to. But you needed to try.

Spencer had tried to move on after the breakup. On the outside, he seemed fine—throwing himself into work, keeping busy with cases. But back at home, it hit him harder. The apartment was eerily quiet without you there. Your photos, the calendar you’d hung with important dates for the both of you, the clothes you left behind—all were reminders of a life that wasn’t his anymore.

What broke him the most was the engagement ring. He found it on the floor after you left, a painful symbol of what could have been. After a sleepless night, he called Derek to vent about it.

“You have to start moving on, man,” Derek had said over the phone. “It doesn’t have to be today, but the sooner you let go, the better you’ll feel.”

So, with Derek, J.J., and Garcia’s help, Spencer gathered all your belongings, packed them into boxes, and sent them to you. It felt like closure at the time, like he was making a step toward healing. He thought he was done with it. Done with you.

Until your text came.

At first, he didn’t recognize the number. It was a message from someone he thought he had put behind him, someone he wasn’t prepared to hear from again. The message explained that it was you, asking if you could meet up to talk.

Spencer stared at his phone for a long time. He felt his heart tighten in his chest, fear rising up. He didn’t want to see you. Getting rid of your things was one thing, but seeing your face—he couldn’t handle that. Not now, not after the progress he had made. So, he never replied.

---

Time has a strange way of healing, but also of leaving scars. Neither of you contacted the other again. A month after you sent that text, you realized you didn’t need to hear his voice to get the closure you sought. You packed up his things and put them away then, you tried to forget.

But life, as it often does, has its own plans.

Two months later, Spencer found himself heading to Minnesota. He never imagined he’d end up there, of all places, in the middle of February. You had moved on in your own way, and by then, you had nearly forgotten that you once asked to meet up. You had put the past behind you—or so you thought. But some things refuse to stay buried.

“Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans against Spencer’s hotel door. They had just finished a case today and the team was leaving Spencer had decided to stay another day. No one needed to question why he needed to as they knew the answer.  

“Yes, I think it’s time,” Spencer replied, though his voice wavered ever so slightly.

J.J. leaned forward, her face full of concern. “Do you think it’s wise to meet with her after she contacted you two months ago?”

Spencer sighed, running a hand through his hair. “No, probably not. But she said she wanted to talk, and I should at least hear her out.” J.J. exchanged a glance with Morgan, but neither of them said anything. They both knew Spencer was the kind of person who needed closure, even if it hurt. Pulling out his phone, Spencer dialed Garcia’s number. It rang twice before her familiar voice came through the line.

“You have reached your tech goddess. How may I help you today?” Garcia chirped, her usual brightness evident even over the phone.

“Garcia, can you check if Y/N has a new address?”

There was a pause. “Wait… you want to see Y/N? Are you okay, Reid?” Her voice softened with concern.

“Yes, I’m okay to meet with her,” Spencer replied, but the hesitation lingered beneath his words.

Garcia was quiet for a beat before she said, “Are you sure *she’s* okay to meet with you? I know she asked to meet you, but that was two months ago, and—”

“I know,” Spencer interrupted gently. “I’ll call her before I show up.”

Garcia let out a long breath. “Alright, if you say so. I don’t know if this is a good idea, but her address is still the same. I’ve sent it to you. Good luck, and please, be safe, okay?”

“Thank you, Garcia,” he said, appreciating her concern. 

“This is a bad idea, right?”  Morgan questioned as he watched Spencer walk out the door going off to see you. A bad feeling coming onto him.

“Oh, it is,” J.J. agreed, crossing her arms.

It was an ordinary Thursday night, or at least it started that way. You sat on your couch, a bottle of wine nearby, your laptop on your lap, grading papers turned in by your students. The TV was on in the background, playing a movie you’d seen a hundred times. The cold Minnesota winter had gifted you a snow day, so you decided to get some work done now and relax later. 

That plan was interrupted when a knock echoed through your apartment. Setting your laptop aside, you paused the movie and stood, walking to the door. When you opened it, you blinked in confusion. 

There stood Spencer Reid, bundled up against the cold, his breath visible in the frosty air.

"Reid, what are you doing here?" Your voice was flat, surprise and confusion mixing with a slight edge.

“I came to see you,” Spencer said, shifting nervously on his feet. “I know it’s been a while, but I got your text and thought… why not?”

You stared at him, brow furrowed. “Reid, that was *two months ago*.”

“I know I’m late,” he said quickly, his eyes flicking to the ground before meeting yours again. “But I just finished a case, and I thought—”

“Thought what?” you interrupted, your tone sharper than you intended. “Look, I know I texted you first, but that was then.”

Spencer’s face tightened, a flash of frustration crossing his features. “Well, I wasn’t ready to see you *then*, that’s the issue. You want what you want when you want it.”

You folded your arms, eyebrows raised. “Who doesn’t?”

The tension hung between you for a moment before Spencer sighed. “Look, I didn’t come here to fight, Y/N. Please, can we just talk?”

You paused, considering. After a long breath, you relented. “Fine, you’ve got 30 minutes.”

“Give me 15,” he bargained, his voice quieter, almost pleading.

“You have 10 minutes," you replied, stepping aside and motioning for him to come in. "Starting now."

Spencer shifted nervously, hands shoved deep into his coat pockets, snow still clinging to his shoes. You stepped aside, allowing him to enter. He walked in slowly, glancing around as if expecting something to have changed, but your apartment was much the same as it had always been—warm, cluttered with books and papers, and smelling faintly of the lavender candle you always burned.

You crossed your arms, leaning against the doorway. “Alright, ten minutes. Start talking.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I didn’t respond right away because… I wasn’t ready. After everything that happened, I had to figure out how to deal with it. Losing you—losing us—it messed me up more than I realized. I thought sending your things back would help me move on, but it didn’t. I needed time, and I’m sorry I didn’t answer you earlier.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I get it, Spencer. But you don’t get to just show up here months later and expect me to drop everything. I’ve been working on moving on, too.”

“I know,” he said quickly, looking down at the floor. “I’m not here to mess that up. I just… I thought if we could talk, maybe we could get some closure. Properly this time.”

“Closure?” you repeated, a touch of bitterness in your voice. “And you think showing up unannounced is the way to do that?”

He winced, realizing how it must have looked. “I didn’t plan it well, I know. But I’ve thought about you every day since the breakup. I’ve wondered if we could’ve handled things differently, if we could’ve made it work.”

You stood there, feeling your heart race. Part of you had longed for this conversation, this chance to get clarity on what had happened. But now that it was here, all it did was stir up emotions you thought you had buried.

“You think about it now?” you asked, voice quieter. “You’re the one who packed up my things and sent them back like we were just some temporary fling. That hurt, Spencer. It felt like you had already moved on.”

Spencer’s face softened, regret written in his eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to feel that way. I thought it would help you… and me."

You shook your head, pacing a bit to release the tension building inside. “I’ve been trying to move forward, Reid. I was even seeing someone And you know what? I liked him. He’s a good guy, but I couldn’t fully be with him because I kept holding on… to us.”

Spencer looked at you, his expression tightening at the mention of Scott, but he quickly pushed it aside. “I’m not asking for anything other than to talk. I don’t expect us to get back together. I just didn’t want us to leave things the way we did.”

You stopped pacing and looked at him, really looked at him, noticing the weight he carried in his eyes. “So, what do you want from this conversation, Spencer? What do you need?”

"I just wanted to talk to you to see if we could I don’t know be friends again"

"Are you serious?" you said, your voice sharp with disbelief. "I wanted it to work so badly, Spencer. I uprooted my life to try and meet you halfway, but it was like you couldn’t see that."

Spencer’s expression tightened. "I didn’t feel like you were meeting me halfway. You were building a whole new life in Minnesota, and I felt like I was barely a part of it. You didn’t tell me about your teaching job until you had already accepted it."

"I didn’t think I needed to ask your permission to follow my dreams," you shot back, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I wanted to do something for me, something that gave me purpose."

"And I get that," he said, his tone softening, "but I was supposed to be part of your life too. I felt like you were pulling away, like every decision you made was just... you choosing a life without me in it."

You sighed, the weight of his words sinking in. "I wasn’t trying to choose a life without you, Spencer. I was trying to find a life where we could both be happy. But it felt like every time I chose something for me, it meant choosing against you."

Spencer rubbed his hands over his face, clearly torn. "I wanted you to be happy too. I just... I wanted to be part of that happiness. But I didn’t know how to balance your dreams with mine."

“I know. And that’s why it didn’t work.” You shook your head, the sadness creeping back in. “We both wanted to be happy, but we didn’t know how to make that happen together.”

“So now what?” Spencer asked, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “You came here for me. We talked it out. I’m done talking. I have your things. I can ship them out tomorrow.”

“You still have my things?” he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice.

“I can’t forget you, Spencer. Unlike you did,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

Spencer looked at you, his eyes pained. “That’s my girl! Still can pull the verbal punches!” he says sarcastically as he watches you disappear into the hallway. 

“I’m not your girl anymore!” you snapped, feeling a surge of frustration. As you look through your closet for Spencer’s box. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer said quickly, his tone apologetic as you came back into the room. Once you find it you look at your room one last time and then you see it. That Sanrio plush Cinnamonroll, it was the first birthday gift Spencer had given you. You loved the thing and still do. 

“Here’s your things,” you said, handing him a box filled with his belongings.

He reached on top of the sealed box and grabbed the small cinnamon roll plush. “This was a birthday gift... You’re really giving this back?”

“Yeah,” you said, tears threatening to spill. “It’s the last reminder of you, Reid.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry. But whether you like it or not, we’ll always have a part of each other in our hearts,” Spencer said softly.

“I know,” you replied, trying to hold back your tears.

“And I’m never going to forget you,” Spencer added, his voice breaking.

“I know that,” you said, your own voice trembling.

“But I have to do what feels right,” Spencer said. “And so do you.”

“Yeah…” you agreed, wiping away a tear.

Without warning, Spencer stepped closer and kissed you gently. The kiss was full of unresolved feelings, the pain of the past, and the hope of what could have been. It was a goodbye you both needed, but it was also a reminder of what you once had.

As the kiss ended, you both pulled away, your eyes locked with his. The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the weight of everything unsaid and everything you both had shared.

Spencer took a deep breath, his face etched with sadness. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Spencer,” you whispered, watching as he walked out the door, taking a part of your heart with him.

Thirty minutes later, as the storm outside raged on, Spencer found himself knocking on your door again. The wind howled, and snow battered against the windows. His team had left an hour ago, and he’d been unable to reach his hotel due to the worsening weather. With nowhere else to go, he found himself back at your doorstep.

When you opened the door, Spencer’s heart sank at the sight of you still crying. His own emotions surged as he took in your tear-streaked face. Without a word, he pulled you into a fervent kiss. It was a kiss filled with all the words you both hadn’t said, all the pain you hadn’t fully expressed.

"I'm sorry-" kiss "I didn’t mean-to comeback I just- fuck" he tried to explain himself but he couldn’t stop your lips from meshing with his. This was messed up and you both knew you just didn't care. The kisses become more passionate as he pushes you against the door, grabbing your hips pinning you. Kissing down you neck as you let out a heavy sigh finally able to think.

"Spencer what are we- fuck what are we doing?" You ask as Spencer brings his hands under your  and grabs hold of your breasts. It turned him on knowing you had no bra underneath this shirt the whole time. 

Pulling up your shirt over your head he answers "what feels right" he says going back to kissing you this his tongue slides his way into your mouth. Your body wanted no need for this as you decided to speed things up Spencer had another approach. He quickly slipped his hand inside your panties, feeling how aroused you were. 

"Fuck-" He groans the tip of his fingers running against your slick folds as  you moan. "You're so wet for me" you couldn’t respond to him as he pushes his fingers inside you both groan. You move your legs wider and you need more as he pushes in deeper, your hips pushing against his hand. His fingers curl up inside you, as you start to whine. Pushing them in and out second by second driving you crazy and he didn't want anything but that. 

"Fuck I forgot how good you are at this" you let out as Spencer says nothing getting onto his knees then pulling down your shorts along with your underwear. You stared at him as he completely removed his hand from your pussy. Before he could say anything he brought one of your legs onto his shoulders before completely devouring you. Groaning at the taste of you, he missed this he missed you. The sound of your moans were music to his ears as he licked in-between your folds. Your hands going into his hair hoping he'd push his tongue into you. That was all Spencer needed; he never forgot how to please you. He knew your ticks inside and out. His pants felt so strained against his cock bust first he wanted you to cum on his tongue for him and only him.

"Ohhh god Spencer!" You cry as he pushes his tongue into you feeling it tense up inside you making your thighs clench in response. His tongue moves vertically and then wiggles slightly pulling you into this back and forth of need and desire.  The pleasure makes you feel dizzy, pulling on his hair tighter. Spencer lets out a groan sending a vibration through your very core. He licked your clit with long, slow strokes, his tongue pushing inside you as he ate you out aggressively. He used his hands to spread your lips apart, giving him better access to your pussy.

"Spence, ohhh yes! Yes!" Spencer loved how responsive you were, your hips bucking against his face as he continued to devour you. He felt your hands grip his hair tightly once again, pulling him closer. He could barely breathe, but he didn't care. He just wanted to make you come on his face.

"Spencer!" You screamed his name as Spencer felt your body tense, he gripped your hips tightly, holding you down as he continued to ravish your core. He felt your body convulse, your thighs quivering as you shattered against his mouth. He lapped up your juices, cleaning you up before helping you back onto your feet. He wasn't done and you weren’t either.

The two of you kiss passionately as you move to the bedroom as you both try to get Spencer’s clothes off. His vest, shoes, and belt laid in a trail towards your bedroom. When he finally gets into your bed you both couldn't help entangling your bodies together.  Both of your moans and groans fill the room as you grind against one another. Spencer knew how worked up you get when it came to clothing. He wanted to watch you squirm under him, beg him to fuck you. Maybe beg him to take you back. But you were impatient tearing his shirt as buttons flew everywhere. You then changed your positions as you sat on top of him kissing his neck and down to his chest.

He looked at you surprised as then at your body. He pictured you riding him for the last time. Admiring how pretty you look and starting picturing you crying as you reached your climax coming apart for him. Even after all this time you were still so pretty to him. Like a goddess, his goddess. If this was the last time he couldn't ruin you like he wanted to, he wanted to make love to you once last time.

Flipping you back over onto the bed he gets up and starts removing his clothes. While he does this you can't help but wonder was this right? Whatever this was, it was messy and complicated and I thought this was one night. What's going to happen tomorrow? 

"Spencer, are you sure you want this?" You ask as Spencer looks at you.

"Y/n I just had oral sex with you 5 minutes ago and you're asking me if I want this?" Your heart starts beating faster as he moves closer to the bed. That look he gave you as he slowly walked towards the bed. 

"I-I know but-" "But what baby?" You don't say anything as the grabs onto your ankles and pull you towards the edge of the bed. 

"Spencer tomorrow-" he cuts you off looking at you in the eyes, his body pressing against yours as his fingers trails down your thighs and back to your pussy. Touching your folds running circles on your clit before dipping it inside of you again. His fingers pumping in and out of your hole until he had enough.  

"Fuck tomorrow I want to make love to you tonight" he says kissing your lips once more as you let him push his cock inside you. All doubts expelling in thoughts as all you could think about Spencer putting his dick inside you. Spencer groaned softly as he slowly entered you,  he missed this he missed you. Pushing inch by inch gives you both time to readjust. Laying kisses down your neck, his hands cupping your boob's as he kisses those too. Sucking on your nipple as he thrusts inside you. 

"So good you feel so good baby" he whispers in your ear, setting a steady pace. His hips snapping against yours as he fucks you. 

"Ahh- I miss this so much" you moan out as Spencer doesn’t say anything going a little faster as he looks you "you're so fucking pretty" he groans as you run your fingers in his hair pulling him into another kiss. His hips moving faster feeling you clenching around him. Your legs wrapping around his and his hands starting to grip your hips. The bed creaking and the frame hitting the wall but you both didn't care. 

Spencer buried his head into your neck as his thrusts had  gone harder and faster. You were milking him clenching around him, you were close he knew it. He needed you to cum all over his cock. 

"Spence- Spence please!" You cry as Spencer looks up at you in awe "shhh you don't have to beg baby, I'm here" he groans as he shifts his weight and it drove you crazy.  Keeping with that angle he thrusts harder and harder making you do nothing but cry and scream his name.

"Look at me baby" you look Spencer in the eyes, something in the way that he looked sent you over the edge. You came around his cock and in a few more thrusts he couldn't take it anymore. You felt his cock twitching inside you. 

"Spencer cum for me please" Spencer tried to pull out but you quickly pulled him back in. He let out a cry as he came inside you for the first time in a long time. 

The two of you didn't stop there, you both couldn't keep your hands off each other. On your floor, the dresser, in the shower, and in your bed again. Both leaving marks and scratches behind on one another. You didn't know how tomorrow was gonna go but that was something you wanted to deal with in the morning.  

The next morning, Spencer woke up first. The soft light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on your face as you slept beside him. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to feel happy. Being with you again, in this quiet, peaceful moment, felt right.

But then the weight of reality sank in.

Nothing had been solved. If anything, last night had made things even more complicated. The storm outside may have passed, but the one between you both still raged, unresolved. Spencer stared at the ceiling, the feeling of unease growing. 

He gently slid out of bed, careful not to wake you. As he stood by the window, staring out at the snow-covered streets, Spencer’s mind raced. How could he go back to D.C. after this? Could he even walk away again, knowing what had just happened between you.

"Good morning, pretty boy," you say, looking up at Spencer with a sleepy smile, your hair a mess. He stares at you, noticing the faint hickies on your neck and the light bruising on your chest. You seemed happy about last night, and that only made the guilt gnaw at him even more.

This couldn't work. He knew that. 

"Y/N, we need to talk," he says quietly, his voice laced with uncertainty.

You roll onto your side, propping your head up with your hand. "I know, Spencer. Look, I miss you like crazy. And I know we hooked up last night, but... give me a year or two, and I'll come back. I could teach in D.C., or Virginia—wherever. I just want to be with you."

"I can’t," Spencer interrupts, his voice tense.

Your face falls, confusion clouding your expression. "What? Why not?"

He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Y/N, last night was... great, but I think we shouldn't have done it."

It hits you like a punch to the gut. "No," you whisper, disbelief setting in. "You're not doing this to me."

Spencer looks at you, his face pained. "I think last night was just... spur of the moment. We were both emotionally vulnerable, caught up in everything. I think the only reason you're so quick to compromise is because of the sex."

"Are you—" You sit up, fury bubbling in your chest. "You're an asshole, Spencer. You know that?" You shake your head in disbelief. 

"I want you to be happy," he says, his voice soft but firm.

You let out a bitter laugh. "That's rich."

"I'm serious. I don't want you to make a decision based on one night of meaningless sex."

"Is that how low you think of me? You think this was *meaningless* to me?" Your voice cracks as the anger mixes with hurt.

"No, it’s not that. But you love teaching here, and I don’t want you to come back for me and wake up one day realizing you’re not happy with your life. You deserve more than that." You couldn’t believe this, you couldn’t believe he was here saying this to your face. Here you thought you could make your relationship work again.  Hold onto the love you once shared. Thinking that you could compromise yet here Spencer was breaking your heart all over again.  

"Get out of my apartment," you snap, your voice cold, the betrayal clear.

"Y/N, at least understand—"

"No!" you cut him off, your eyes flashing with anger. "You said everything you needed to say last night. Now leave." He wanted to say something else, he wanted you to know that he loved you and that he was letting you go because he did. "Go!" You screamed, making him jump as you threw your pillow at him and missed. 

Spencer stands there for a moment, his eyes searching yours for any chance to explain, but the message is clear. He quickly gathers his things, his heart heavy with sadness as he walks out of the room, the door closing behind him with a final, painful thud.

[pdriesta]

"you don't need no air, you can just breathe me"

pairings — judexblack!girl

genre —fluff, celebrity romance, music video shoot

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 8k

summary — under the city lights of osaka, y/n's music video shoot transforms into a canvas for her profound, all-encompassing love for jude. from playful karaoke sessions to tender kisses, their chemistry is palpable. as they document their romance on camera, they're prepared to take their love public, revealing to the world just how deeply they’re in love.

an — when i tell you i'm obsessed with this song. i knew i had to write about it. this fic is based on the music video of tyla's, breathe me. i would suggest watching to get the vibes of the fic.

masterlist

it all started with a chance meeting—her cousin, one of jude’s teammates, had invited her to madrid for a weekend getaway, thinking she needed a break from the chaos of her rising fame. she had just finished her second world tour, and her voice was everywhere, on every radio, every playlist, but her heart? her heart felt heavy, weighed down by the pressures of being in the spotlight, by always being seen but never really understood.

it was supposed to be just a casual dinner after one of jude’s matches, nothing serious. but from the moment they locked eyes, something clicked. she remembered how shy he had been at first, his usual confidence seeming to falter as he stumbled over his words when they were introduced. she had laughed—softly, the kind of laugh that made his heart race. and from that night on, they were inseparable. not in the obvious, bold way. it was in the quiet moments, the late-night calls when they’d stay up talking about everything and nothing. about music, football, life, dreams. he’d send her snippets of songs he’d found, songs that reminded him of her, and she’d stay on the phone with him while he described in detail the feeling of scoring a goal in front of thousands of fans.

their connection grew over time, a slow burn of longing, affection, and undeniable chemistry. he’d fly out to see her whenever he had a break in his schedule, slipping into her life like he’d always been there—helping her pick out studio outfits, sitting quietly in the corner while she recorded, offering encouragement when she was frustrated. she never had to explain anything to him. jude just understood her in ways no one else ever had.

they made long distance work in a way that felt easy. it wasn’t perfect; there were challenges, but they both cared enough to try. jude made her laugh in moments where she felt like breaking down from the pressure, and she gave him a sense of peace, a place to escape the noise of his own fame. no one really knew about them—whispers, sure, but nothing confirmed. she liked it that way, liked having something that was just theirs. no media frenzy, no cameras in their faces, just… them.

and then one day, after months of dancing around it, jude had asked her to be his girlfriend. they were in london, staying at a little hotel she loved for its vintage charm, and he had looked so nervous. she remembered the way his hands had fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie, the way he had stared at her for a beat too long before finally blurting it out. “i want to be with you… properly. no more ‘friends’ thing. just… us.”

she had smiled, that soft, secret smile she saved just for him, and said yes. and from that moment, they were it for each other.

it had been weeks since they’d last seen each other in person—weeks filled with endless phone calls, facetime sessions, and voice notes, but it wasn’t the same. she had just wrapped up her album launch in her home city, a huge milestone that marked her rise to superstardom. the long flight straight from the launch party to madrid felt like a blur, but she couldn’t care less. she was finally going to see jude.

the moment she stepped through the door of jude’s house, the smell of she smelt dinner from the kitchen and smiled to herself, dropping her bags by the entrance and heading towards the source. there he was, standing by the stove, his back to her as he stirred a pot of something on the burner. she stood there for a second, just watching him, the domesticity of it all filling her chest with warmth. how did she get so lucky?

“i missed you,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet.

jude turned around immediately, his eyes lighting up the second he saw her. without a word, he crossed the room in two long strides and pulled her into his arms, holding her so tight it almost took her breath away.

“you’re here,” he murmured into her hair, his voice thick with emotion. “god, i missed you so much.”

she clung to him, feeling the steady thud of his heartbeat against her chest. “missed you too. so much.”

they stood like that for a moment, just holding each other, the rest of the world fading into the background. no paparazzi, no cameras, no pressure. just them. finally, jude pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on her waist as he looked down at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“you didn’t have to fly out so soon,” he said, his thumb brushing over her hip. “you just finished your album launch—you must be exhausted.”

“and miss out on cooking for my hard-working boyfriend?” she teased, her smile widening. “you need a proper meal after all that training. besides, i wanted to be here with you.”

he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “you’re amazing, you know that?”

“i know,” she said with a playful grin. “now, let me help. what are you making?”

“it was supposed to be a surprise,” jude admitted, a sheepish look crossing his face. “but, uh… you know i can’t cook. i need your help with the rice.”

she laughed, shaking her head as she moved to the stove, taking over the rice. it didn’t take long before they fell into an easy rhythm—her stirring the pot, him chopping vegetables at the counter. they chatted about everything and nothing, catching up on all the little details they hadn’t been able to share over the phone. it felt natural, comfortable. like home.

as they cooked, jude kept stealing glances at her, unable to stop the smile from spreading across his face. god, he’d missed her. missed her laugh, missed her voice, missed the way she made everything feel so easy.

“so,” he started, watching her as she plated the food, “congratulations on finishing the album.”

she turned to him, her face lighting up. “thank you. it still doesn’t feel real, you know? like, after all these months… it’s finally done.”

“i’m so proud of you,” he said, his voice soft but full of sincerity. “i know how much work you put into it.”

she felt her heart swell at his words, warmth spreading through her chest. “you helped me more than you know,” she admitted. “all those late-night calls when i was stressed out… you were there through it all.”

“of course i was. i’ll always pick up no matter the time, ” jude said, stepping closer to her. “i wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

there was a beat of silence as they stood there, the weight of their shared experiences hanging in the air. it had been a long road—balancing their hectic schedules, making long-distance work, supporting each other through the highs and lows. but somehow, they’d made it. they were stronger because of it.

as they sat down at the table, jude watched her, something unreadable in his eyes. she looked up at him, raising an eyebrow.

“what?” she asked, her voice teasing.

he grinned, leaning back in his chair. “i have a surprise for you.”

“another one?” she laughed, already feeling spoiled just by being with him.

“yeah,” he said, his grin widening. “i know how much you’ve been wanting to take a break, and, well… i thought now would be a good time.”

she tilted her head, curiosity piqued. “okay, go on.”

“we’re going to japan,” jude blurted out, unable to contain his excitement any longer.

her eyes widened, her fork clattering against her plate as she stared at him in disbelief. “wait, what?”

“i booked us a trip,” he continued, his grin now fully stretching across his face. “to celebrate your album launch. you’ve been talking about japan forever, so i thought… why not?”

she blinked, her heart racing as she processed his words. “japan? like… actually?”

he nodded, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “yep. we leave in two days.”

without thinking, she launched herself across the table and into his arms, her excitement bursting out of her in a flurry of kisses. “jude, you didn’t!”

he laughed, wrapping his arms around her tightly, holding her close. “i did. anything for you.”

she pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes shining with tears of joy. “i can’t believe this. i’ve always wanted to go…”

“i know,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “and now we get to go together.”

she kissed him again, her lips lingering against his as she whispered, “thank you.”

“you deserve it,” jude murmured, his lips brushing against hers. “all of it. and now, we get to have some time for just us.”

they stayed like that for a moment, lost in each other, the excitement of the trip already buzzing between them. finally, she pulled back, a wide grin still plastered on her face.

“okay, i need to pack,” she said, already getting up from the table.

“oh no, you don’t,” jude said, standing up and pulling her back into his arms. “you’re staying right here”

she laughed, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leaned into him. “you’re terrible.”

“you love it,” he teased, kissing her softly. “besides, we’ve got two days. plenty of time to pack later.”

she sighed, knowing he was right but still feeling the urge to get everything ready. but as his lips brushed against her neck, his hands slipping under her shirt, she decided packing could wait a little longer.

“fine,” she murmured, her voice breathless, “but only because you’re distracting me.”

“good,” he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck, “that’s the plan.”

she could still feel the lingering warmth of jude’s embrace from earlier as they sat on the floor of his bedroom, surrounded by open suitcases. after dinner, they hadn’t even bothered finishing, too caught up in the excitement of their upcoming trip to japan. it was something they’d talked about for months—her dream destination, a place she’d always wanted to visit for the culture, the food, the fashion, and now, the two of them would get to explore it together.

she was still buzzing from the excitement, barely able to focus on packing as she sat across from him now, folding clothes with a distracted smile on her face.

"japan, jude!" she grinned, still giddy from his surprise. "i can't believe you did this."

he chuckled, watching her with that soft, adoring look that always made her heart skip a beat. “how could i not? you’ve been talking about it forever.”

“but still…” she leaned forward, her hands cupping his face. “thank you.”

his eyes softened, and he gently brushed his thumb over her cheek. “anything for you.”

they stayed like that for a moment, their foreheads resting together, their breaths syncing. the world outside felt distant, irrelevant compared to the warmth they shared in that little bedroom. he made everything feel so easy, so right. she didn’t want to hide that anymore.

“jude,” she started, her voice a little quieter now, “i’ve been thinking…”

he pulled back slightly, searching her eyes, sensing the shift in her tone. “what’s on your mind?”

she hesitated for a second, gathering her thoughts. “i don’t want to hide us anymore.”

his brow furrowed, surprise flashing in his eyes as he stilled, hands lightly resting on her hips. “what do you mean?”

“i mean…” she bit her lip, her heart pounding. “i’m tired of pretending like we’re just friends. everyone already suspects something, and i don’t want to keep this a secret. i want the world to know about us. i want to be with you—fully. no more hiding.”

he studied her for a long moment, his expression softening, concern flickering in his gaze. “are you sure? you don’t have to do this because of pressure or anything. i’m okay with how things are, as long as you’re comfortable.”

her heart melted at his words, at the way he always put her first. she smiled, her hand sliding down to rest on his chest. “i know you are. but i’ve thought about it, and i’m ready. besides…” her eyes twinkled with mischief, “i want you to be in my next music video.”

his face lit up, his earlier concern dissolving into excitement. “wait, what? seriously? i can finally be in one of your videos?”

“yep,” she grinned, loving the way his excitement bubbled up, the way he could never hide how happy he was. “i want you in the next one.”

“which song?” he asked, already running through ideas in his mind.

“breathe me,” she said, her voice soft and full of meaning.

his expression changed in an instant, turning tender and sentimental. “that’s my favorite,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “you know how much that song means to me.”

before she could respond, jude picked her up and gently tossed her on the bed, his arms wrapping around her as he buried his face in her neck, peppering her skin with kisses that sent a thrill through her body. “my beautiful, talented girlfriend,” he whispered against her skin, his voice warm and full of pride, “and now the whole world will know she’s mine.”

she laughed, trying to wiggle out from under him, her heart swelling with affection. “you’re so possessive.”

“you love it,” he teased, his lips lingering at the sensitive spot just below her ear, making her toes curl.

“maybe i do,” she admitted, her fingers threading through his soft curls, tugging lightly in a way she knew he loved. his breath hitched against her neck, and she felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect she had on him.

they stayed like that, tangled in each other, their suitcases long forgotten on the floor. jude’s hands roamed her sides, his touch sending warmth through her with every brush of his fingers. his kisses grew slower, more deliberate, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. she sighed into him, her body relaxing under the weight of his love, feeling the world around them blur into nothingness.

“jude,” she whispered, her voice soft, breathy. “what about packing?”

he grinned against her skin, his breath warm as he kissed the spot just below her ear again, his favorite spot. “forget it. packing can wait.”

she smiled, knowing full well they’d regret it later when they were rushing to pack last minute. but right now? none of it mattered. all that mattered was him—the way he made her feel like she was the only person in the world, the way he looked at her like she was everything he had ever wanted.

he kissed her again, this time on the lips, slow and deep, his hand cupping her jaw as he tilted her head back slightly. she melted into him, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer until there was no space between them. she could feel his heartbeat against her chest, steady and strong, grounding her in the moment.

“i love you,” he murmured against her lips, his voice soft, full of sincerity. “so much.”

her heart swelled, the words wrapping around her like a blanket of warmth. she pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, her thumb tracing his jaw. “i love you too,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

he smiled, leaning down to kiss her again, and she knew—no matter what, they’d be okay. they’d face the world together, hand in hand, no more hiding, no more pretending.

just them. together.

the next two days blurred together in a mix of tangled sheets, stolen kisses, and whispered confessions. it was as if the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of them, making up for lost time. they hadn’t been apart for that long, but being in each other’s arms again felt like they were rediscovering something they’d been craving for weeks.

y/n spent her time meticulously double-checking packages, ensuring everything they needed for the trip to japan was in order, while jude would laugh at how organized she was, teasing her every time she opened her meticulously crafted itinerary.

“it’s been my dream forever,” she’d say, her eyes bright with excitement, “and you made it happen. my baby made it happen.”

he couldn’t help but smile at the pride and joy in her voice. she had been riding a high since the moment they got back together—he loved seeing her like this, full of light, full of excitement. the exhaustion from her long flight seemed to disappear in the wake of her adrenaline-fueled happiness.

the night before their flight, she could barely sleep. her mind was too busy buzzing with thoughts of their upcoming adventure, her excitement bubbling over to the point where she couldn’t contain it. just before dawn, she woke jude up by straddling him in bed, her knees on either side of him as she bounced excitedly.

“jude, wake up!” she whispered loudly, her hands on his chest, her grin wide.

he groaned, still half-asleep, but when he cracked open one eye and saw the look on her face, he couldn’t help but laugh. “what time is it?” his voice was groggy, heavy with sleep.

“time to go to japan!” she beamed, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “come on, get up! we have to get ready.”

he wrapped his arms around her waist, keeping her firmly in place, even as she squirmed on top of him. “you’re too energetic for this early,” he mumbled, but the smile on his face betrayed his words.

“come on, jude,” she giggled, leaning down further until her face was inches from his. “aren’t you excited?”

“i’d be more excited if i got a few more hours of sleep,” he teased, but when she pouted at him, he gave in, lifting his head to kiss her gently. “fine, fine. i’m up.”

they got ready in their sweatsuits, her braids knotted on the top her head, his curls wild and unruly, both looking far too casual for the excitement of the adventure ahead. they skipped breakfast, their — mainyly y/n’s — nerves too high for eating, and after a short ride to the airport and a whirlwind of travel logistics, they were on their way.

the first few days in japan felt like a dream.

jude watched her, amazed, as she lit up at every turn, her eyes wide with wonder, soaking in every detail of the places they visited. they wandered through bustling markets, she dragged him through every boutique she could find, and he snapped photos of her at every chance he got. she had insisted on buying a digital camera for the trip, wanting to capture every moment, every memory, and it hadn’t left his hands since.

“stop,” she laughed, playfully swatting at him as he pointed the camera at her for the hundredth time, snapping a candid shot of her mid-laugh.

“never,” he grinned, lowering the camera just slightly to catch her eyes. “you’re too beautiful not to capture.”

her cheeks flushed, a smile tugging at her lips as she playfully rolled her eyes. “you’re too much sometimes.”

they walked hand-in-hand through the streets of tokyo, exploring temples, visiting art galleries, and trying every food stall they could find. one evening, as the sun set over the skyline, they found themselves in a quiet park, surrounded by cherry blossom trees in full bloom. the petals fell like soft pink snowflakes, covering the ground in a delicate blanket, and she stood in the middle of it all, spinning slowly, her face lifted toward the sky, eyes closed as she let the moment wash over her.

jude, as usual, couldn’t help but snap a picture.

“you’re obsessed,” she teased when she caught him, her voice light with affection.

“can you blame me?” he said, walking over to her and pulling her into his arms. he kissed her gently, the soft petals falling around them like confetti.

their days were full of exploration, but the nights were intimate, a contrast to the busy city around them. they’d return to their hotel, collapsing onto the bed in fits of laughter or quiet exhaustion, and he’d hold her close, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder, her neck, her jaw.

one night, after a long day of sightseeing, they returned to their room, y/n still riding high on the joy of everything they’d seen. she was bouncing around the room, too excited to wind down.

“you’re like a kid on christmas,” jude said with a laugh, watching her flit around.

“i can’t help it!” she grinned, “everything here is just so perfect. i don’t want it to end.”

“well, we’ve still got a few days,” he said, walking over and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her against him.

she let out a soft hum, leaning back against his chest, tilting her head to the side to give him better access as he kissed her neck. “we should go to the baths tomorrow,” she said softly, her voice almost dreamy. “it would be so relaxing…”

“whatever you want,” jude murmured against her skin, his hands running up and down her sides, sending a shiver through her.

her breathing hitched slightly, her body responding to his touch. she turned in his arms, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him into a slow, deep kiss. their movements were languid, unhurried, like they had all the time in the world.

they made love slowly that night, the city lights casting a soft glow through the windows, illuminating the room in shades of gold and pink. every touch, every kiss felt more meaningful, more intense, like they were imprinting the memory of this trip into each other’s skin.

afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, her head resting on his chest, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on her back.

“i’m so happy,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “this trip, everything… it’s all perfect.”

he smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “i’m glad. you deserve this.”

they drifted off to sleep like that, wrapped in each other, the weight of the world feeling light and far away.

the next morning, she woke up before him, as usual. the sunlight filtered in through the curtains, casting a soft glow on his face. he looked peaceful, his chest rising and falling steadily with each breath. she watched him for a moment, her heart swelling with love for this boy who had made all her dreams come true.

unable to resist, she straddled him again, just like she had done before their flight, her fingers gently tracing the lines of his jaw.

“wake up, sleepyhead,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him softly.

he groaned, blinking his eyes open, a sleepy smile spreading across his face as he realized what was happening. “again?” he teased, his hands instinctively settling on her hips.

“can’t help it,” she grinned, leaning down to kiss him again, her heart light with the joy of knowing they had so much more time to explore, to make memories, to just be together.

and in that moment, nothing else mattered. just them, their love, and the promise of more adventures to come.

jude burst through the door of the karaoke parlour with a grin so wide it practically lit up the room. y/n was perched on his back, arms wrapped loosely around his neck, her laughter echoing in the small space as he carried her inside effortlessly. she had tried to walk, but jude had insisted, saying something about conserving her energy for the important things—like singing.

"i'm perfectly capable of walking, you know," she teased, resting her chin on his shoulder as her fingers played with the collar of his hoodie.

"oh, i know," jude replied, flashing her a wink in the mirror as they passed by. "but where’s the fun in that? besides, i gotta keep my girl close."

her heart fluttered at the casual way he said it, like it was the most natural thing in the world. and to him, it probably was. they had been inseparable since landing in japan, and with every passing hour, he found more ways to remind her just how much he adored her.

"we're supposed to be shooting a music video, not messing around," she said, her voice half-scolding but filled with warmth as she tightened her grip on him.

"who says we can’t do both?" he chuckled, adjusting her on his back as he carried her further inside, the neon lights reflecting off the polished floors. "besides, you look cute up there. the cameras will love it."

she rolled her eyes playfully, but the blush on her cheeks gave her away. jude always knew how to make her feel like she was the center of his universe, even in the middle of all the chaos.

they reached the private karaoke room, and her manager, waiting by the doorway, shook his head with an amused smile. "you two look ready. just be yourselves, have fun, and don’t worry about the cameras. this is the first scene, so let’s make it a good one."

"no problem," jude responded, setting y/n down gently. she slid off his back, her feet touching the ground with a light thud, but he didn’t let go of her. instead, his hand immediately found its place on her waist, fingers brushing the fabric of her shirt

“you ready?” he asked, his eyes full of excitement.

she smiled up at him, feeling the electric buzz of the moment. “always.”

and with that, they stepped inside the cozy karaoke room, neon lights casting a soft, colorful glow over everything. jude, ever the gentleman, let her lead the way before pulling her back into him, wrapping his arms around her from behind as they took in the vibe of the place.

the energy in the karaoke bar shifted as the lights dimmed further, casting a neon glow across the small space. the hum of excitement lingered in the air, and y/n felt her heart race in time with the music that was about to fill the room. this wasn’t just another part of the music video shoot—it was a reflection of them. and in a place like this, with jude by her side, the lines between acting and reality blurred effortlessly.

“okay, just be yourselves, have fun, and let it feel natural,” her manager reminded them with a smile before leaving them to their own devices.

as soon as the door closed, jude grabbed one of the microphones, his signature mischievous grin already in place. he was a ball of playful energy, and y/n couldn’t help but match his excitement. he tugged her toward the couch, pulling her onto his lap before she could even protest.

“jude!” she laughed, settling into him, her back pressed against his firm chest as his arms wrapped around her waist possessively.

“what?” he raised his brows innocently, the mic still in hand. “i’m just getting comfortable.” his fingers gently traced patterns along the curve of her waist, his warmth radiating into her skin even through the fabric of her clothes.

she rolled her eyes, half-heartedly swatting his chest. “you’re going to be a distraction.”

“that’s the plan, baby.” he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her neck, sending a delicious shiver down her spine. “besides, i know your song better than you do. someone has to carry this performance.”

y/n opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the familiar beat of her song filled the room, and jude jumped right into the first verse, completely stealing the moment. his voice was loud and exaggeratedly dramatic, deliberately off-key just to make her laugh. and it worked.

she tried to hold it in, but his enthusiasm was too infectious, and she burst out laughing, her body shaking against him as she grabbed for the mic. “jude, give me that! it’s my song!”

but he held the mic just out of reach, his grin widening. “oh, you mean our song?” he teased, pressing a quick kiss to her temple before continuing to belt out the lyrics like he was performing a sold-out concert. “i’m doing you a favor, really. don’t want you to get tired singing the whole thing.”

y/n couldn’t help but laugh, settling back into his embrace as he sang the first verse, but when the chorus hit, she grabbed the mic back and joined in, their voices blending in a mix of playful harmony. jude’s offbeat delivery was charming, the kind of over-the-top ridiculousness that only he could pull off, while her smooth vocals carried the melody.

they were completely in sync, leaning into each other, both singing along to her words, their bodies touching in subtle but intimate ways. jude’s hand rested low on her hip, his thumb tracing small circles that sent warmth through her body. her fingers absentmindedly played with the curls at the nape of his neck as she sang, feeling the familiar comfort of his touch, the way his presence always seemed to calm her nerves.

as the lyrics flashed on the screen, jude continued to tease, taking over the mic every chance he got, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered the words, his voice sending a thrill through her.

“i know you love it when i sing your songs, baby,” he murmured between verses, his breath warm against her skin. “can’t help myself.”

she shook her head, her smile softening as she glanced back at him. “you’re impossible.”

“you love it,” he shot back, his voice low, his gaze locking with hers in a way that made her stomach flip.

maybe she did. his energy was intoxicating, pulling her into his orbit without even trying. she turned slightly in his lap, her hands finding his chest as they both continued to sing, the playful atmosphere morphing into something more charged, more intimate.

jude’s fingers played at the hem of her shirt, his touches light and teasing, sending jolts of warmth through her body with every brush of his fingertips. the lyrics of her song spilled from his lips, but there was something about the way he sang them that made her heart race.

“you’re making this hard to focus,” she whispered, her voice soft and laced with affection as she leaned closer, her lips hovering near his.

he smirked, his hand sliding up to cup her face gently. “maybe i’m just giving you some inspiration.”

before she could respond, he pulled her closer, his lips brushing hers in a soft, lingering kiss that made her forget about everything else—the cameras, the crew outside, even the song playing in the background.

she deepened the kiss, her fingers curling into his shirt as she let herself get lost in him, in the way his hands felt on her skin, the way his lips moved against hers. it was the kind of kiss that made her feel like they were the only two people in the world, and she had to remind herself that they were supposed to be filming a music video, not getting completely caught up in each other.

when they finally pulled away, breathless, jude’s forehead rested against hers, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “see? told you i’d make it memorable.”

she bit her lip, fighting the smile that threatened to take over. “you always do.”

the second verse started, and y/n picked up the mic again, this time determined to actually sing her own song. she sang the words softly, her voice steady, and as she did, she could feel jude’s eyes on her, watching her with that soft, adoring gaze that always made her heart skip a beat. he didn’t need to say anything—his touch, his closeness, and the way he looked at her said everything.

when the chorus came back around, he joined in again, this time matching her tone more seriously, their voices intertwining perfectly. he pulled her even closer, his hand resting low on her hip, grounding her in a way that made her feel like nothing else mattered but the two of them.

they were wrapped up in each other, the music flowing around them, their voices blending together like they had been doing this forever. and in a way, they had. this wasn’t just for the cameras—this was them, this was real, and it felt perfect.

by the time the bridge came around, jude was back to being playful, his lips brushing her ear as he whispered the lyrics along with her, his hands exploring the curves of her body in a way that was subtle enough to stay out of the shot but still made her heart race.

as the final notes of the song played out, y/n turned to face him fully, her knees on either side of his legs, her hands resting on his shoulders as she smiled down at him, her chest still rising and falling with the remnants of their playful duet.

“you’re the worst,” she teased, though her voice was filled with affection.

he grinned up at her, his hands resting on her hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into her skin. “the worst, huh? i thought i was your muse.”

“you are,” she admitted softly, leaning in to kiss him quickly, her lips barely grazing his. “but that doesn’t mean you get to steal my spotlight.”

he chuckled, pulling her closer so that her forehead pressed against his. “you’ll always have the spotlight, baby. i’m just here to support you.”

they stayed like that for a moment, the intimacy between them palpable as the world outside their little bubble felt distant and unimportant.

the music video crew could’ve been filming for hours, but y/n barely noticed. with jude by her side, everything felt like a dream—a perfect blend of laughter, music, and playful touches. every time she sang a verse, he’d find some way to distract her, whether by stealing the mic or trailing kisses along her jawline.

and when he wasn’t singing, he was watching her, his eyes never leaving her as she sang the words she had written, words that felt all the more special because he was there, right beside her.

the streets of osaka buzzed with life, the vibrant energy of the city wrapping around them like a warm embrace. jude and y/n strolled hand in hand, their fingers intertwined as they navigated through the crowd. the neon lights from the shops and street vendors painted everything in a kaleidoscope of colors, casting a soft glow over them as they walked.

jude’s arm draped protectively around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close. every so often, he’d lean down and press a quick, affectionate kiss to her temple, his lips brushing her skin with a tender warmth. y/n’s head rested against his shoulder, her smile bright and carefree as they moved together through the bustling streets.

“this place is incredible,” y/n said, her voice filled with excitement as she took in the sights and sounds of osaka. she reached up to gently squeeze jude’s hand, her eyes sparkling with joy. “i’m so glad we’re here.”

“me too, baby,” jude replied, his tone soft and affectionate. “i wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, especially not without you.”

he guided her around a particularly crowded corner, the arm he sling over your shoulder guiding you, his touch firm but loving. whenever they encountered a bump or a tricky step, jude was quick to steady her, his concern evident as he made sure she was safe and comfortable.

“watch your step here,” he said, his voice filled with a mix of playfulness and care as he helped her over a small uneven patch in the pavement. his hand lingered on her waist for a moment longer than necessary, his touch a reassuring presence.

y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the way he always seemed to anticipate her needs. “i’m not going to trip, you know. but thanks for looking out for me.”

“always,” jude said, his smile warm and genuine. he wrapped his arms around her from behind, pulling her close and resting his chin on top of her head. “besides, i like having you this close. makes me feel like i’m doing something right.”

they continued their leisurely stroll, moving past street vendors selling everything from colorful trinkets to delicious-smelling street food. jude’s protective nature was evident as he scanned the surroundings, making sure no one intruded on their personal space. every now and then, he’d glance down at y/n, his gaze soft and full of affection.

as they walked, jude playfully lifted y/n off her feet, spinning her around in a circle before setting her back down gently. her laughter rang out, a clear, melodic sound that made jude’s heart skip a beat.

“jude, stop! you’re making me dizzy!” y/n laughed, trying to regain her balance as she looked up at him with a playful grin.

“just making sure you’re having fun,” he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief. he reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his touch tender and intimate.

“i am,” she said, leaning into him as he wrapped his arms around her again, their bodies pressed close together. “i’ve never had so much fun just walking around.”

they wandered into a quaint little alleyway, where the atmosphere felt more intimate and personal. the soft glow of paper lanterns hung above them, casting a warm, golden light. jude and y/n continued to walk, their bodies perfectly in sync, their shared smiles and stolen glances making every moment feel special.

at one point, y/n stopped to admire a small, handcrafted item at a street stall. jude watched her with a loving gaze, his hands tucked into his pockets as he observed her fascination with the delicate piece. he stepped closer, his presence a comforting shield as he stood beside her.

“you should get it,” jude suggested, his voice low and gentle. “it’ll be a nice memento from our trip.”

“you think so?” y/n asked, looking up at him with a soft smile.

“definitely,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek. “anything that makes you smile is worth it.”

the vendor handed y/n the item with a warm smile, and jude watched as her face lit up with happiness. he couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride at the sight of her joy.

throughout their exploration, jude kept his camera ready, capturing every moment. “seriously, y/n,” he’d say, showing her a photo. “you look incredible. how do you manage to be so beautiful all the time?”

y/n would laugh, her cheeks flushing slightly. “you’re too much, jude. stop making me shy.”

“it’s true,” he’d reply, his gaze affectionate. “you’re always beautiful. i just want to remember every single moment with you.”

as the evening drew near, the city lights began to sparkle even more brightly, and jude and y/n found themselves at a charming little café. jude opened the door for y/n, his hand on the small of her back, guiding her inside with a loving touch.

“i think we’ve earned a little break,” jude said, his voice warm as he led her to a cozy corner table.

“i agree,” y/n said, slipping into the seat with a content sigh. she looked up at jude, her eyes full of affection. “thank you for making today so perfect.”

“anything for you, baby,” jude replied, his voice full of sincerity. he leaned in to kiss her softly, their lips meeting in a tender, intimate moment that spoke of their deep connection.

as they settled into their seats, jude’s protective instinct remained evident, but it was clear that his concern was born from love and admiration. with every touch and glance, jude made sure that y/n knew how much love he had for her.

the night’s air in osaka was filled with the tantalizing aromas of street food as jude and y/n found a cozy spot on the curb in front of a bustling food truck. the city’s neon lights flickered around them, creating a vibrant backdrop to their simple yet perfect moment.

they sat close together, their knees almost touching as they shared an assortment of delicious street food. jude held a skewer of yakitori, and with a playful grin, he offered it to y/n.

“here, baby, try this,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

y/n took a bite, her eyes widening in delight. “oh my gosh, that’s amazing!” she exclaimed, leaning in to give jude a quick peck on the cheek. “you did well.”

jude chuckled, his gaze soft and affectionate. “well, I guess it’s not just the food that’s amazing.” he picked up a piece of takoyaki and offered it to y/n with a teasing smile. “open wide.”

y/n giggled, taking the bite and savoring the rich, savory flavor. “you know, if you keep feeding me like this, i might just get used to it.”

“oh, I’m counting on it,” jude replied, his voice low and flirtatious. he leaned closer, brushing his lips against y/n’s ear. “i love taking care of you, baby.”

y/n shivered slightly at his touch, a smile spreading across her face. “you’re always take care of me,” she murmured, her cheeks flushing.

jude’s fingers brushed against y/n’s as he took a sip from his drink, their hands lingering together for a moment longer than necessary. he gazed at her with a look of adoration, his thumb gently caressing her hand.

“you know,” jude said softly, leaning in to press a tender kiss to y/n’s neck. “you look absolutely beautiful, even with street food smeared on your face.”

y/n laughed, her heart fluttering at his affectionate gesture. “oh, stop it,” she teased, playfully nudging him with her shoulder. “has anyone told you, you’re quite the charmer, “bellingham?.”

“i can’t help it,” jude replied, his eyes sparkling with warmth. “you’re just so perfect, baby. i can’t help but let you know how much i adore you.”

they continued to feed each other, their playful banter punctuated by affectionate touches and teasing kisses. jude would occasionally lean in to press a soft kiss to y/n’s temple or brush his lips against her cheek, making her heart race with happiness.

“jude, you’re making it hard for me to eat my food,” y/n said with a playful pout, trying to hide her smile.

“that’s the idea,” jude said, his voice full of affection. “i’d rather have you focused on me.”

as they finished their meal, jude wrapped an arm around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close. they sat together, enjoying the warmth of each other’s presence and the vibrant energy of the city. jude’s fingers gently played with y/n’s hair as they watched the world go by, their hearts full of contentment and love.

the taxi ride back to the hotel was bathed in a soft, golden hue from the streetlights outside, the cityscape slipping past as jude and y/n shared an intimate moment. they were still wrapped in the magic of their music video shoot, the camera capturing every tender glance and playful touch.

as they settled into the back seat, jude pulled y/n close, their bodies pressed together in the confined space. her head rested on his shoulder, his hand gently caressing her cheek. the rhythm of their breaths mingled with the hum of the taxi, creating a cocoon of warmth and affection.

y/n leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear as she began to lip-sync the lyrics of her song, her voice a soft murmur against his skin. “breathe me, baby,” she sang for the camera, and the leaned in so her lips grazing his earlobe. “can you feel how much I need you?”

jude's breath hitched at the intimate touch, his eyes locked on hers as he cupped her face in his hands. “every word you sing,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion, “makes me fall for you even more.”

y/n’s eyes sparkled with mischief and love as she pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. “i’m so glad you said yes to being in this video,” she murmured, her fingers trailing down his chest. “it’s been perfect.”

jude’s smile widened, his lips finding hers again in a slow, passionate kiss. “anything for you, baby,” he said against her lips, his hands sliding to her waist. “you make everything perfect.”

the taxi swayed gently as jude’s hands roamed her back, pulling her further into his lap. y/n’s fingers threaded through his hair, their kisses growing deeper and more urgent with every passing second. the city lights flickered outside, casting a soft glow on their entwined figures.

“for the rest of my life, allow me to show you just how much I love you,” jude whispered, his lips trailing down to her neck, his breath warm against her skin. “you’re mine, and I’m never letting you go.”

y/n shivered at the heat of his words, her fingers gripping his shirt as she tilted her head back, offering him more access. “i’m yours,” she whispered breathlessly. “always.”

the taxi ride became a passionate, private moment where the world outside ceased to exist. their connection was palpable, their love evident in every touch, kiss, and whispered promise. as they finally arrived at the hotel, their hearts raced with anticipation, knowing they had shared a moment that was as intimate as it was unforgettable.

the night was drawing to a close as jude and y/n returned to their hotel, the city lights of osaka twinkling in the distance. the atmosphere in the hotel lobby was serene, a stark contrast to the bustling streets they had explored earlier. the final scenes of the music video were set to be filmed in the quiet, intimate setting of the hotel.

as they entered the elevator, jude and y/n positioned themselves in the corner, the camera crew ready to capture the last moments of their shoot. jude’s arm was wrapped around y/n’s shoulders, pulling her close as they began to sing the final lines of y/n’s song, “breathe me.” their voices harmonized perfectly, the lyrics echoing softly in the confined space.

y/n leaned into jude, her head resting against his chest as she sang the poignant lyrics. jude’s gaze was soft and adoring as he looked down at her, his fingers gently brushing her cheek. their intimate performance was filled with passion, their connection evident in every touch and glance.

“you don’t need no air” jude murmured, his lips brushing against her temple as he sang. “you can just breathe me, breathe me.”

y/n smiled up at him, her eyes shimmering with affection. “you make it so easy to sing this song.”

jude’s playful side emerged as he gazed at y/n with a mischievous grin. without warning, he scooped her up into his arms, lifting her effortlessly. her laughter rang out, a bright, melodious sound that filled the elevator.

“jude, what are you doing?” y/n giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her.

“just making sure you’re comfortable,” jude teased, his voice warm and filled with adoration. “and maybe getting one last chance to show off my strong arms.”

“oh, really?” y/n playfully challenged, her eyes twinkling. “i didn’t realize you were so confident.”

“i’m always confident when it comes to you, baby,” jude said, his voice dripping with affection.

as they continued their playful banter, jude’s kisses grew more lingering. he pressed his lips to y/n’s neck, his breath warm against her skin. her eyes fluttered shut, a shiver of pleasure running through her.

the elevator doors opened, and jude carried y/n down the hallway, their laughter and teasing filling the space. the camera followed their every move, capturing their loving interaction.

as they reached their hotel room, jude kicked the door open with a gentle slam, his arms still wrapped around y/n. the room was bathed in soft, warm light, creating a cozy and inviting atmosphere.

“careful, baby,” jude murmured as he lowered y/n to the floor, his hands lingering on her waist. “i don’t want to drop you.”

“don’t worry, i trust you,” y/n said, her voice filled with affection. she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender kiss. jude’s hands roamed her back, pulling her closer as their kiss deepened.

“this has been amazing,” y/n whispered against his lips, her eyes full of love. “thank you for making it so special.”

“anything for you, baby,” jude replied, his voice thick with emotion. “you’re my everything, you know that.”

with a final, lingering kiss, jude broke away just enough to look into y/n’s eyes. “now that the cameras are off and i i’ve got to show how much i love my beautiful, talented girlfriend. i think this next part should be for my eye’s only.”

y/n’s smile was a mixture of excitement and anticipation. “oh? and what do you have in mind?”

jude’s eyes sparkled with mischief and love. “you’ll see,” he said, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “but for now, let’s just say that the night is ours.”

as the door to the hotel room locked with a soft click, the final scene of their music video came to a close. jude and y/n remained in their embrace, their hearts full of the love and passion they had shared throughout the day.

with a final, affectionate kiss, jude guided y/n towards the plush bed, their laughter mingling with the gentle hum of the city outside. the world outside faded away, leaving them wrapped in their own little bubble of happiness, ready to enjoy the rest of their night in each other’s arms.

© PDRIESTA 2024

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[warping-realities]

What She Wants

I know I promised the previous one would be the last one for a while but I had a video that I not use in one of the last stories and ended up creating a shorter one just so as not to waste it. I hope you like it.

Cherisse was pissed off. At her old schoolmates and at herself. The five-year reunion was coming up next weekend, and she was gonna have to show up all alone. She never really gave a damn about this kind of stuff, always focused on her career. But then, why the hell did she lie about having a boyfriend? She knew why—those bitches Brenda and Destiny with their pathetic little housewife lives and their useless husbands loved to say that because she was a bodybuilder, no guy would wanna date her. I mean, what kind of dude would go out with a woman bigger than him? That thought made her wanna scream, but those bitches had a point. Even the male bodybuilders ended up choosing curvier, less muscular women, which really pissed her off. The fact that she was so close to becoming a big star in the bodybuilding scene should’ve been enough to ease her doubts, but it wasn’t. In reality, she was so fed up with everything that she dropped her apartment key on the floor of the hallway in the tiny building she lived in, thanks to her job as a Personal Trainer. At least for now, since she had contracts lined up with several big brands by the time she stepped on Olympia stage in a few months, which was what she should’ve been worrying about. Frustrated and angry, she picked up the key from the floor and stood up, only to see David, her neighbor, walking by. The blond thin and extremely cute guy worked at a nearby coffee shop and was always super polite to her, even though any flirting attempts on him had been shot down.

She knew she couldn’t make him like her or… could she? Remembering the times she got shot down by the guy, combined with the frustration about the upcoming event and the possibility of being ridiculed by her old classmates… all of that lit a fire inside her that made her decide to take action. She’d been warned a bunch of times not to mess with her gift, that it could spiral out of control and come with a high price, but she was tired of being the good girl, tired of being humiliated. It was time to think about herself. She will get what she wanted.

….

After a long day at the coffee shop, all David wanted was to flop down on the couch in his tiny one-bedroom apartment and chill, and maybe, just maybe, look for a hookup on Grindr. After throwing on a tank top and some shorts, he was about to head out of his room when he heard a noise—there was someone else in the apartment. Creeping up to the door, he was freaked out and jumped.

“Cherisse, what the hell! What are you doing here? What you want?

“What I want, David? I want my boyfriend!” The muscular black woman replied, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

“What? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Yeah, I want my boyfriend, David. My boyfriend who loves me and would do anything for me!”

“Cherisse… you’re out of your min…” David started to say, cutting himself off as a weird sensation flooded his body, like he was about to choke, making him gasp for air. Then he was shocked to hear his own voice while his mouth moved on its own.

“But that’s what you already have, babe.”

“Not enough! I want my boyfriend, bigger, more muscular, and stronger than me.”

The choking feeling hit him again, this time harder, along with a dizzy spell that made David wobble for a second. After a few seconds, he seemed to recover. With his giant biceps and powerful pecs on display, he looked a few inches shorter, with shaved hair and a square face, wich smiled to Cherisse.

“Stronger and more muscular for sure, and two inches taller!”

“No, I want more! I want my bodybuilder boyfriend, way bigger than me, my boyfriend with beautiful dark hair and a darker skin.”

In an instant, the bodybuilder David underwent a transformation, turning into a caramel-skinned version with brown eyes and well-kept dark hair and beard, maybe of Latin descent.

“Much better! Take off those shorts and pose for me, David!”

He obeyed, stripping down to just his underwear and flexing his powerful muscles for his girlfriend to see.

“Yummy, but I still want more.” She commented licking her lips without noticing the change in her voice and vocabulary. “I want my boyfriend with delicious choclate skin as dark as mine. My professional bodybuilder boyfriend, Mr. Olympia material boyfriend. My boyfriend who fulfills all my needs and will accompany me to my school reunion, and make all the jealous bitches shut up they skunk mouths. Now come, come to me, my love,” she said, as the uncontrolled power took over completely.

As the muscular giant, who minutes ago had been a gay dude just looking for a casual hookup, walked from the bedroom door towards her, with each step he took, he grew larger while his skin darkened to a chocolate tone. His pecs looked like two slabs of meat, his abs lost some definition, but his arms swelled to the size of tree trunks. As sweat dripped down his body, his black wavy hair transformed into small curls in a stylish cut with shaved sides, while his underwear turned into gym shorts, and the tiny apartment room morphed into a spacious mansion living room.

While all this was happening and the power dominated Cherisse’s mind, she didn’t notice that her short hair, which had fallen out due to steroid use started to grow back in beautifull well manteined curls while her voice gained an airy melodious tone. As the former David grew bigger, she shrank, her powerful muscles becoming smaller but defined, while her glutes became curvier and her breasts softer. Then, as the monstrous off-season bodybuilder stood smiling in front of her, her clothes evaporated, leaving her in a tiny bikini that showcased all her perfect curves. Finnaly the whirlwind of power seemed to reach its peak before fading away forever while the reality reset.

The smile on the behemoth's face quickly vanished when he noticed his girlfriend posing in the middle of their living room.

“Can I ask what the hell you’re doing, Cherisse?”

“Babe… I… I thought you’d be back later.”

“I decided to surprise my girlfriend, and guess who’s getting surprised? Don’t tell me you’re back to that ridiculous idea of competing in Bikini Fitness. I’ve already been clear with you about that. You don’t need to work, especially not by exposing your body; I’m the one who takes care of all my wife’s needs.”

“Wife? What do you mean?”

“Well, that was the surprise I was gonna pull on you, but it looks like…”

“Stop being silly, I was rehearsing, yeah, but it was just for you, my love.”

“Now you’re talking like my future wife,” he replied, with his smile returning.

….

That weekend, Cherisse was bursting with joy. As her boyfriend parked the car, she rushed over to meet her old school friends, Brenda and Destiny, in the garden of the beautiful restaurant they class picked for the high school reunion. After some kisses, hugs, and excited squeals, Brenda looked at her curiously.

“Is that on your finger what I think it is?”

“Yup!!! He proposed to me!!”

“So, we’re finally gonna meet your boyfriend… sorry, your fiancé?”

“Yeah, look over there,” Cherisse said, making her friends look at the handsome specimen of a man strutting confidently towards them—300 pounds of pure muscle covered in a beutifull chocolate skin, wearing a light gray suit with a vest and a shirt whose last buttons could never stay closed, showing off a gorgeous chest. All of this was topped off by a rugged face that could make knees weak.

“Girls, this is Deshaun, my fiancé,” she said, knowing the others would be dying of envy.

Later, as her friends walked in, Deshaun pulled her close.

“Are you happy, my love? I know how important this reunion was for you.”

“Happy? I’m totally fucking ecstatic, babe. I showed those bitches who’s the best. I’ve got the best house, the best body, and the best man. What more could I want?”