#I’ll be honest now that I don’t feel that pressure to do all these I think I’ve gotten worse

[slaytheday12]

Omg I had the cutest idea for a fix for Walker and if I'm being honest I just didn't want to write it myself 😂

But, hear me out, Walker and reader aren't dating but they're hanging out on like TomTom live and the chat keeps shipping them together and they like secretly like each other.

Idk I think it would be cute, don't feel pressured to make it PR anything. Love you ❤

Chat knows best

Walker adjusted his phone on the stand, his easy smile as his live stream began. You sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, a little more nervous than you cared to admit. It wasn’t your first time joining his live, but every time you did, the chat seemed to erupt with shipping the two of you.

“Hey, everyone!” Walker greeted, waving to the camera. “Hope you’re all doing good tonight. And look who’s with me, Y/N decided to crash the party again.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, nudging him. “Yeah, because you begged me to join,” you teased.

The chat instantly exploded.

“Y/N AND WALKER TOGETHER AGAIN 😍” “Okay but are they dating yet?” “Besties or something more? 👀”

Walker laughed, glancing at you. “They’re starting already,” he said under his breath.

You smirked, leaning closer to the screen. “You guys have no chill, huh?”

“STOP FLIRTING, OMG.” “Just date already!” “They’re literally soulmates, I’m calling it.”

Walker cleared his throat, scrolling through the flood of comments. “Alright, let’s try to keep it semi-normal tonight. We’re here to hang out, answer some questions, and maybe argue over movie rankings.”

“Which I’ll win,” you added confidently, earning a laugh from Walker.

The two of you started answering questions, most of them harmless. But every now and then, a comment would pop up that made your cheeks heat.

“What’s your dream date?” “Are you guys secretly dating? Be honest.” “They HAVE to like each other. Look at them.”

Walker hesitated as he read one of the questions aloud. “Uh… ‘If you could go on a date, where would it be?’” He looked at you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. “Any thoughts?”

Your stomach flipped, but you kept your voice steady. “I don’t know… maybe something fun, like a theme park. Rides are a great distraction.”

“Solid choice,” Walker said, nodding. “I’d go for something low-key, like a picnic on the beach or something.”

The chat immediately lost it.

“OMG HE WANTS TO TAKE HER TO THE BEACH.” “STOP, THEY’VE DEFINITELY TALKED ABOUT THIS.” “Walker, just confess already!”

You laughed nervously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Your fans are… relentless,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the blush spreading across your cheeks.

“They’re passionate, that’s for sure,” Walker said, rubbing the back of his neck.

The live continued, but the energy felt different. Every teasing comment or playful glance only added to the undercurrent of the unspoken energy. By the time Walker ended the stream, both of you were flushed and grinning.

“That was… intense,” you said, leaning back against the couch.

“Yeah,” Walker agreed, his voice a little quieter now.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence wasn’t awkward, but more like you were both reflecting on something.

Walker broke the tension first, glancing at you with a small, hesitant smile. “You know… they’re not entirely wrong.”

You blinked, your heart skipping a beat. “What do you mean?”

He looked down, fidgeting with the hem of his hoodie. “About me liking you,” he said softly. Then, as if he couldn’t stop himself, he looked back up at you. “I’ve been wanting to say something for a while, but I didn’t know how. And, well, leave it to the live to push me over the edge.”

You stared at him, your mind racing. He liked you?

“Walker,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “For the record… they weren’t wrong about me, either.”

His eyes widened slightly, a grin spreading across his face. “So… does this mean we’re giving them what they want?”

You laughed, your heart lighter than it had been all night. “I guess we are.”

Walker reached for your hand, his fingers brushing against yours. It was a small gesture, but it felt like the start of something so much bigger. And for the first time, you didn’t mind the chat being a little too nosy. After all, they’d just given you the push you both needed.

A/N: not me completing a request in one day.... can u tell i have to much time on my hands lol. send me request pretty please with a cheery on top. also thank u for the request love u moreee

Tags: @izzystylinson, @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[quibbs126]

Raspberry x Princess fankido? :3

Sorry this took a bit, this is Coralberry Cookie

So I chose Coralberry because it was an alternate name I had for Princess Cookie, and I thought might as well. She doesn’t have to have the raspberry naming scheme since she’s royalty

Coralberries:

I originally made her hair closer to the hot pink of coralberries, but at some point I changed it to look more like Princess and Raspberry. I made her hair super fluffy to try and imitate the bunches of coralberries. Though I probably should have made them segmented instead. Ah well, if I ever do a redesign. I think with her design, I wanted to keep her wearing a dress, since the women of the Hollyberry family all seem to wear one, but I wanted to make it more simplistic a something a bit more viable to wear out in the field (I mean aside from the bright colors) to better fit her character, since I don’t imagine she would just go out in frilly dresses, even if that seems to be a viable thing in the Hollyberry Kingdom, she seems more practical. Though I did want to add at least a few elements of fancy clothing, like the neck tie and bow. Also she has a fancy outfit, she just only wears it on fancy occasions. I was originally going to give her a little crown like Princess, but then I changed her hair a bit and it didn’t fit anymore, so later I just replaced it with a bow to give her something on her head. I was also going to give her hints of the leaves in her design as well, but I couldn’t get them to look fit anywhere. I realize I probably could have made the bow green, but since there’s no green anywhere else on the outfit, I chose to just make it white for a consistent color scheme. Although now I’m considering changing her outfit colors to incorporate more green and possibly blues like Jungleberry

Anyways, onto Coralberry. I’ll be honest, I again don’t have much for her. She’s a fencer like Raspberry and I imagine her being a warrior who goes out fighting villains and helping the people. Maybe not an avid adventurer, mostly staying in the Hollyberry Kingdom, but still going out often. I also imagine she takes her royal duties more seriously than Princess did in her youth, having more of an understanding what her status really means and the responsibility that comes with it, probably coming from Raspberry’s side

Hmm sorry, I think that’s about it. But regardless I hope you like her!

Edit: I tried giving her a blue/green outfit, I think it turned out nice. More blue than I was planning, but it still looks neat. Though I think the original probably works better for the more consistent color scheme

[bloomzone]

ALRIGHT, let’s keep it REAL for a second. You know the drill—you're on your phone, thinking, "I'll just scroll for a minute," but then one TikTok turns into 20, and before you know it, you’ve wasted an hour or two, and your to-do list is still staring at you, untouched. We’ve all been there. You didn’t even mean to procrastinate, but somehow, scrolling has become your default LIKE UR LIFE DEPENDS ON IT. Now you’re sitting there, realizing you’ve literally accomplished nothing, and you’re feeling the pressure creeping up. The guilt sets in, and suddenly the task seems way bigger than it actually is. It’s like time got stolen from you, but the problem is, you let it happen. And that’s okay—we’ve all been there, but let’s talk about how we can stop this cycle and get back on track.So how do we actually break this HABIT and get YOUR SHIT TOGETHER ? First, time-blocking is a solid strategy. HEAR ME OUT Don’t think you need to study for hours straight. Start small—set a timer for 20-30 minutes where you focus only on your homework, then take a 5-10 minute break. You’ll be surprised how much you can get done in those short bursts, and the breaks will keep you from feeling burned out. NEEEXT get your phone out of your face SERIOUSLY, put THAT SHIT it in another room or at least out of reach while you’re working the temptation to check social media is too strong, and if you don’t see it, you won’t even remember it’s there. Also, let’s be honest, a lot of us scroll because we’re avoiding something. So, try this: break your tasks into super small chunks. Instead of saying “I need to finish this whole chapter,” say “I’ll do the first page, then the next,” and slowly build from there. Turn off notifications, too. If you know a text or Instagram notification is going to pull you away from your work, MUTE THAT SHIT ! Your friends and memes can wait. And finally, remember YOUR FUCKING DREAMS UR GOAAALS LIKE GUUURL U WANT TO BE A RICH WORK FOR IIIIT ..When you're tempted to procrastinate, think about why you're putting in the work. Whether it’s to feel less stressed or to actually enjoy your weekends because you’ve gotten stuff done, reminding yourself of your end goal helps you push through the urge to scroll. So yeah, it’s not about being perfect—just about taking small steps every day. You don’t need to be working 24/7, but get focused when you need to, and trust me, you’ll see the difference !

© bᥣoom >⁠.⁠<

[drefear]

‘Nasty’ By Russ

Summary: Miguel finds something out about you through your recent music choices.

TW: praise, jealousy, smut, praise p in v fantasy, masturbation

You and Miguel started dating fairly recently, and he was so happy about it. He told Jess by accident while discussing you beating up an anomaly, and he just laughed and said ‘I knew it.’

His heart explodes when you’re around and can’t help but see stars.

You’re sitting with Jess and Gwen when he is about to ask you about a report you filed when he hears a conversation he was not prepared for.

“I never even knew he existed.” Gwen said to you, making you laugh.

“Oh, she loves him. It’s almost obsessive.” Jess emphasizes and you blush, rolling your eyes.

“I just- I like- it’s like-“ you stutter and Gwen nods.

“I get it, he’s kinda hot and he’s obviously got some skills, so imagining what he could actually do in bed is totally fair.” That was it, Jess’s words made Miguel’s blood boil. Who else were you trying to sleep with?

His eyes perked up as he walked away and passed you to his office area. You two weren’t in a committed relationship, he had no claim over who you thought about or saw when you weren’t with him, yet it made his blood boil and tension appear between his shoulder blades. He’d long forgotten about the question he was going to ask you about as he summoned you to where he was.

You two were mature adults, you could discuss your feelings without being childish and assuming the worst. Plus, Miguel technically already knew the answer to the question, or so he thought.

You walked up with a bounce before seeing the stress between his eyebrows and frowning gently, something he disliked on that beautiful face of yours. “What’s wrong?” You spoke softly and placed a hand on his arm.

“I need to ask you something and I don’t want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable, but I just need to know the truth.” He prefaced and you felt a knot of anxiety form in your gut. “Are you seeing anyone else?” He searched his eyes over your features and found nothing to give away your thoughts until a bright smile formed on your lips and you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “This isn’t funny.” He huffed like a petulant child, which made you giggle more.

“Miguel O’Hara, are you jealous?” You teased and poked his bicep, making his nose twitch in self awareness which turned into embarrassment. “No, I’m not seeing anyone else. Who could compare to you?” You smiled wider and slid your hand up his arm to his shoulder, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck. His hand fell to your hip and he sighed happily at your touch, but confusion was still evident in his expression. He hummed and you smirked, “Are you? Because if so, I’ll fight her for ya.” You teased and he let out an exasperated chuckle.

“No, not at all. I’m all yours, now dame un besita.” He demanded and you obliged, giving him a soft and sensual kiss.

Letting go of him, you walked towards the door, “How about we hang out tonight? Stay in and order tacos?” You mused and he nodded, sitting back and sighing. You still felt like something was wrong, but you’d discuss that later when you two were alone and could focus without the hovering threat of work surrounding you.

Once you were gone, Miguel instructed Lyla to dig into you and find any other man you could be seeing. Once your glow faded from his presence, the idea hit him hard like a punch to the chest. You’d just lied to him, to his face, and with a smile.

Never once while dating you had he gotten the impression that you were a liar. Actually, he’d found that sometimes you were too honest, so this was more than shocking to him.

He was so focused on some of the videos Lyla had been finding that he didn’t even hear Jess approach from behind him and start asking questions.

“Earth to O’Hara!” Her hand waved in front of his hand and he snapped his eyes to her, relaxing once he realized who it was. “What’s got you so zoned out?” She peaked over his shoulders to see the videos of you being flirted with in a coffee shop, then sighing in disappointment. “Stalking? Really?”

“She lied to me.” He deadpanned and swiped to another video, frustration setting on his lips.

“About what?” Jess inquired in surprise and he glared at the pregnant woman to his side.

“You already know, don’t play dumb.” He hissed, then gained a cold glare from Jessica, “I heard you talking with her and Gwen about another guy in the cafeteria earlier.”

“Another guy?” Jess gapped and then doubled over, laughing so hard she felt tears forming. “You are so stupid sometimes!” She choked out.

“Que?” He flashed an angry expression, bewildered at her name calling.

“That wasn’t about a guy she met, it was about some singer she was listening to. He released a song in her universe and she’s all hot from the lyrics.” She explained, smiling still. “You were worried about her fucking around with some other dude? No, she was talking about how she was imagining you.” She waved her hand and turned to leave, “It’s called Nasty by Ross, by the way. Give it a listen, if you want to know what she likes.” She let out a few more laughs before shutting the door behind her, leaving Miguel speechless.

His hands flew to his keyboard without a second to spare and he lowered the speakers. What did she mean by hot?

As the chorus rang out quietly, he realized what she meant.

Oh.

His tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth as the words made his imagination come to life.

“Show me where you wanna take it

Grab the headboard, hold on tight

I think we 'bout to break it”

His eyes widened as he felt himself twitch against his suit, the technologically woven fabric straining against his half hard erection.

You liked this…?

He had touched himself to the thought of you before, but he never imagined if you’d been into anything specific. You came off as a girl who liked things simple, and for lack of a better word, vanilla. He thought you’d prefer missionary and soft “oh god” moans, nothing too drastic. Something he’d feared was scaring you away with his fantasies of biting you and drilling into you hard on his kitchen counter, or fucking you over his balcony.

So this was a very welcomed change.

His head ran wild with the ideas of what you’d want him to do. Listening to how this singer directed the song, it seemed like you wanted someone dominant with a gentle touch, you wanted to hear how good you could make him feel, you wanted him to give you a display of his strength while still keeping a calm head and fucking you until you fell apart on him. Soft, but firm.

He couldn’t help but inwardly break a bit to the visualization that formed behind his eyes, your delicate fingers toying with your clit as he watched, face creased as your nose scrunched from the tension you’d started in yourself, grinding into your cute little hands as his slowly guided his hand up and down the shaft of his dick.

He’d bend down just to flick his tongue against you. Just once. Just a tease, a taste, a smell.

God, how he wanted to smell that pussy. To inhale your scent until he was completely overwhelmed and covered by it, then moving to shove his tongue into your aching core and retracting it.

He wanted to watch you clench and grip around nothing, your body practically calling out to him without making a sound.

Miguel wanted to shove his tongue so deep inside you that you’d think it had a mind of its own.

His hand reached out to his desk as he sat down in a chair he almost never even used, letting the blue around his groin dissipate and freeing his cock as it slapped against his abdomen. His fingers pressed a few buttons to close his doors and have his watch on ‘do not disturb mode.’

“She said, "Spank me, that's the only way I learn"

I said, "Okay, good girl, good girl"

His tongue licked his lips as he thought of you from behind, face in his pillows as he caressed his hands up your ass, then planted a smack against your smooth skin. He’d watch the muscle jiggle and redden from the impact of his slap, admiring the soft mewls you’d make for him. Words fell from his mouth like dripping honey.

“That’s it, good girl, buena niña,” He mumbled and let out a relaxed sigh.

“I know everyone wants a pretty girl like you

You look so good when you put me inside you

Listen

There ain't nothin' like that moan when the tip's in

Good God

Look at you, you're doin' such a good job”

The song painted a vivid picture for him about how you wanted him to treat you, to love you. He inhaled sharply as he saw the image of your ass in the air, pussy fully exposed for him as he nestled the head of his cock against your folds and rubbed against you a few times, gathering your sticky mess to soak him before pushing in just the tip. The hiss he let out when he saw this in his head was almost pornographic, groaning as he rutted into the fist he didn’t know that he wrapped around his cock. More aware now, he spit into his palm and continued rubbing himself as he completely indulged. His mind continued its dreams of you, gripping his headboard as he pushed into you and bent down so your back was completely pressed to his chest, his lips kissing the underside of your jaw and whispering in your ear, whispers he didn’t know he was speaking out loud.

“Taking my cock so good, mi amor, such a perfect cunt for me to sink into, like a champ.” He growled and felt his lips twitch, so close to cumming at the idea of you pushing backwards and wanting to take more of him.

“Girl you're mine now, you were made for me

Cum for me baby, you don't gotta wait for me,”

Miguel’s fangs dug into his bottom lip as he tried to muffle his loud animalistic sounds, thinking about you so asking and tightening around his cock, fucking your through your orgasm as he watched a creamy ring form around his dick. The vision made his saliva pool on his tongue and he swallowed it, along with his words.

“Te ves tan hermosa así, solo para mí.” He grunted in Spanish and felt the tension growing in his dick, his orgasm briefly blinding him as ropes of cum shot from his cock, more than usual as he heaved in heavy pants.

You were so fucking beautiful and as he opened his eyes again, his spent still dripping down his own abdomen, his sight caught the current video feed of you.

You, hiding in a corner as you listened with your ear pressed against his office wall and your hand in your suit as you touched yourself.

“No fucking way.” He whispered to himself, catching his breath once more. Miguel looked around and had an idea. Poking his watch a bit, he called you.

“Y-yes?” Your voice was shaky, which he smiled at darkly.

“I need you to bring me some towels. I had a spill in my office.” He spoke, leaning back and watching the cameras ss your body shook and he could hear you gasping through your receiver.

“Be there soon…” you whimpered and he just laughed.

“Just get here quick, so I can replace that hand in your pants with my face, ok pretty girl?” His voice dropped and you let out a moan.

“Y-yes…!” You nodded frantically and swung to get what he needed, making him smile as he leaned back once more in his chair.

Part 2

[mrsfancyferrari]

Our Love Is Strong

Summary: You weren't going to let your eating disorder destroy your relationship until it did.

Song: Only Love Can Hurt Like This by Paloma Faith

Author’s note: From someone probably has an eating disorder but disguises it being a picky eater, I really wanted to write this. Happy ending. Please like, reblog and share this! <3

Word count: 5.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

You and Lando Norris had just gotten into a serious relationship, and you couldn't be happier. The chemistry between you two was undeniable, and you had both been looking forward to building a future together.

However, there was one thing that you had been hiding from Lando - your biggest secret, your eating disorder.

As an F1 driver yourself, maintaining a slim figure had always been a priority. You had become accustomed to following a strict diet, limiting your food intake to the bare minimum.

Your career as a racing driver had ensured that your body was in peak physical condition, and a diet was not a major concern since you hardly ate anything in general.

However, Lando was growing increasingly concerned by your lack of appetite. He noticed that you were frequently skipping meals, and he couldn't help but notice the weight of your body diminishing.

“Are you not going to go eat more?” Lando asked you, not looking up from his phone.

“I’m full,” You answered as usual, “I’m going to be at the gym if you need me,”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Lando questioned you, concerned of your health.

“Yeah everything is okay Lando,” You said with a small smile, walking towards the door.

“Why do you insist that everything is fine when I can clearly see that you are troubled? You know I'm here to listen and understand what's really going on.”

You immediately stopped in your tracks, not turning around to face him.

“Don't shut me out please - let me in so I can help. I know you've been through a lot, but keeping your feelings bottled up isn't healthy. Please, talk to me. I want to support you, but I can't do that if you won't be honest with me.”

You kept quiet, afraid that your voice would betray you if you spoke. You didn’t want that. You could hide your secret. You hid it from your family and friends so why shouldn’t you hide it from your boyfriend?

“I'm on your side, Y/N. All I ask is that you trust me enough to open up. Together, we can work through whatever is weighing on your mind.” Lando begged, standing up from the chair and slowly walking to you.

“I’ll be in the gym if you need me,” You repeated quietly before rushing out of the room, leaving Lando in a distressed state.

You’ve been spending more time at the gym lately and less time with Lando. It's a conscious decision you made to avoid him as much as possible, as you don't want to discuss the topic of your eating habits.

Lando has always been concerned about your diet and weight, and it's become a point of contention between us. You appreciated his concern, but you feel that it's your own personal matter, and you don't want to be constantly scrutinized or lectured about it.

By spending less time with him, you were able to focus on your own fitness goals and personal growth without the added pressure.

“Congratulations Y/N! Your weight has gone to 140.0 pounds,” Your physician said, looking at the weight scale that you stood on. “Is your new diet doing good for you?”

“Umm yeah it does help,” You lied, standing off the scale after they recorded your weight.

Lies. You hardly ate the new diet. You wanted to get to the weight you were to told to get to in the quickest time so you could help your team out more that you would not be weighing down the car.

“Great, now tell me do you get any dizzy spells recently?” The physician asked, not looking up from their board.

Yes, almost everyday.

“No, I don’t get any dizzy spells,” You lied again.

“Do you ever feel cold or tired?” The physician continued.

“Nope, I feel fine,” You answered, wanting the questions to stop.

The guilt was creeping up on you slowly.

The physician smiled warmly as they reviewed the test results. "I'm pleased to say that everything looks perfectly normal," they announced, their voice exuding a reassuring tone.

"However, I would recommend making a few adjustments to your diet. Let's go over a plan that will help you feel your absolute best."

The physician proceeded to outline a balanced, nutritious regimen, tailored specifically to address any minor concerns and ensure your continued good health.

You were happy that they didn’t notice your pale skin, clammy hands and the slight ribs showing through your skin.

“Make sure to take a lot of water and stick to this new diet and I’m sure you’ll be lighter in no time,” The physician instructed.

You nodded while remembering nothing she says. You wouldn’t be needing it anyways, you have your way of losing weight.

When you left the doctor's office, you saw Carlos waiting for his own appointment. You approached him and said, "Carlos, fancy seeing you here. How are you doing?"

Carlos looked up and replied, "Oh, hey there! I'm doing alright, just waiting for my turn to see the doctor. I've been having some issues with my back lately, and I figured it was time to get it checked out. How about you, how did your appointment go?"

“It went great! Just a usual checkup,” You said, lying through your teeth.

You started to feel lightheaded, and a sense of unease crept up your spine. As you stood there, the room seemed to sway slightly, and you couldn't quite focus your eyes.

This was no ordinary feeling – something was clearly amiss. Recognising the signs of potential dizziness or even a more serious medical issue, you knew you needed to act quickly.

Taking a deep breath, you steadied yourself and began to assess the situation more closely. Was this a temporary bout of lightheadedness, or could it be a sign of a more underlying condition? Your mind raced as you considered the various possibilities, each one more concerning than the last. However, you refused to panic.

"Whoa, I'm starting to feel a bit lightheaded," you muttered, placing a hand on your forehead. "I haven't felt this way in a while."

Carlos looked at you with concern. "Are you alright? Maybe you should sit down for a moment." Hr guided you to a nearby chair and helped you ease into it.

"I'm not sure what's causing it," you replied, taking a few deep breaths. "It just came on suddenly. Do you think I should get some water or something?"

“I think you should go back into the doctor’s office to get checked out,” Carlos stated, worriedness written all over his face.

“No, no, I just forgot to drink water today,” You said, trying to regain your vision.

Carlos immediately ran over to the water dispensers, taking a cup of water before walking back to you worriedly

Carlos hurried over to the water coolers, quickly grabbing a cup and filling it with water. As he rushed back to where you were standing, a look of concern was etched across his face.

“Here you go,” Carlos said, handing you the cup of water and you took it, grateful for his actions.

“Should I call Lando to come pick you up?”

“No!” You immediately yelled, the name of your boyfriend making you jump. He would force you to go back to the doctor’s office and remove you from the race.

“I mean no, I’m meeting up with him after this so there is no point calling him,” You lied with a strained smile on, sipping on the cold water.

Carlos gave you a long stare to find anything he could use to bring his best friend into it but he found nothing.

“Carlos Sainz,” The physician called in from their office and Carlos looked annoyed to have to leave you but he saw nothing wrong with you.

"See you later, Carlos," you said, bidding farewell to your colleague in a polite and courteous manner. You then rose from the cool, metallic seat and made your way out of the building, your departure marked by a sense of professionalism and civility.

Carlos gazed at you intently one final time, his eyes conveying a sense of determination, before turning and walking towards the entrance of his physician's medical practice. . . .

Lando looked from his phone to you who was asleep in your shared bed, worried about his girlfriend.

You have been getting paler for the past few days, and he couldn't help but feel concerned. He knew how important it was for you to rest and recover, but he couldn't help but worry about your well-being.

As he watched you sleep, Lando couldn't help but feel a sense of relief.

He was grateful that you were getting the rest you needed, and he vowed to do everything in his power to ensure that you felt better soon. . . .

The qualifying race was fast approaching, and the pressure was on for both of you. You, struggling with an eating disorder, knew that your performance was being watched closely.

Charles, noticed your increasing fatigue and tried to speak up, but you brushed it off and pushed yourself harder, determined to secure more points.

You were exhausted when you bumped into Charles. "Hey, Charles."

Charles greeted you with a smile, "Hey, my friend. I noticed you've been looking a little tired lately. Are you okay?"

You were obviously guarded with your emotions, "I'm fine, thanks. Just focusing on qualifying."

Charles gently replied, "I noticed that too. The drivers are noticing too. Are you pushing yourself too hard?"

You ignored Charles' concern for you, "No, I'm perfectly fine. I just need to give my best on the track."

"Are you really sure? I've noticed that you haven't been eating much lately. Something isn't right."

"That's none of your business, Charles. I'm fine, really. Just leave me alone and focus on qualifying."

Charles wasn't going to give up easily as he firmly said, "No, it's not right, and I'm not going to leave you alone. I care about you, and I can't sit by and watch you suffer in silence."

You were beyond angry now. Why couldn't he ignore you like everyone did?

"You have no right to judge me! You don't know anything about my personal struggles."

"It's not about judgment. It's about caring. I care about you, and I don't want you to suffer in silence. Please, talk to me." Charles begged.

You weakly said, "I...I don't know what to say."

Charles had an understanding look on his face. "It's okay. I'm here for you. Just remember that it's okay to ask for help."

You answered, voice breaking, "Okay, Charles. I'll think about it."

Charles was patting your back, "Take your time. I'm here for you, no matter what."

You looked up, "Thank you, Charles."

Your eating disorder started when you were young, unable to afford good food. Growing up in a low-income household, you often went without proper nutrition, which led to a distorted relationship with food.

As you pursued your racing dreams, the pressure to maintain a certain physique only exacerbated your struggles with food. The constant focus on qualifying and securing points overshadowed your well-being.

The constant pressure to maintain a certain physique in the racing industry, coupled with the intense focus on qualifying and securing points, created a toxic environment that overshadowed your well-being.

The distorted relationship with food, stemming from your childhood experiences of not having access to proper nutrition, became even more challenging to overcome as you pursued your racing dreams.

However, being in a relationship with Lando only added to the pressure you felt. Seeing how other drivers' partners looked perfect and put-together, you couldn't help but compare yourself and feel inadequate.

The desire to fit into that mold and meet those expectations only fueled your eating disorder further, as you believed that achieving that "perfect" appearance would make you more worthy of love and acceptance.

It was a vicious cycle that seemed impossible to break. . . .

It was a crisp morning as you made your way through the paddock, the cool air sending a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the growing sense of fatigue that was creeping up on you, chalking it up to the nerves of the impending race.

As you approached the pit, the dizziness hit you like a wave, causing you to sway slightly on your feet. you brushed it off, determined to push through and focus on the task at hand.

The mechanics were bustling around, making final adjustments to your car, and you knew you needed to be at the top of your game.

Despite the warning signs, you climbed into the cockpit, your movements feeling sluggish and uncoordinated. The familiar rush of adrenaline was absent, replaced by a heavy, lethargic feeling. You shook your head, trying to clear the fog, but it only seemed to worsen.

As the race began, you struggled to maintain control of the car, your reactions slow and your concentration wavering. The other drivers pulled ahead, leaving you trailing behind, unable to muster the energy to keep up.

You knew you were putting yourself and the team at risk, but the thought of admitting defeat was too much to bear.

By the time the chequered flag fell, you had finished well outside the points, your body and mind utterly spent.

As you returned to your garage, you sat in your car, gasping for breath, feeling completely drained and unable to move. Your body ached with exhaustion, and even lifting your hand to wipe away the sweat on your brow seemed like an impossible task.

The physical and mental toll of the race had taken its toll on you, leaving you in a state of utter exhaustion. The disappointment and frustration washed over you, knowing that you had pushed yourself to the limit and still fell short of your expectations.

You stumbled out of the car, your legs wobbly and unsteady. The pit crew rushed to your side, concerned expressions on their faces as they tried to offer support.

Ignoring their pleas, you continued to wander aimlessly with your helmet on, the voices around you becoming a distant blur.

The weight of disappointment and frustration settled heavily on your shoulders, as you struggled to come to terms with falling short of your own expectations.

As you stumbled aimlessly with your helmet on, your vision began to blur and darken. Colors and shapes merged together, and you could barely make out the faces of the concerned pit crew.

Panic set in as you realized that your body had reached its breaking point, and your vision was giving out completely.

The world around you faded into darkness, leaving you disoriented and overwhelmed.

As you collapsed on the ground, the pit crew rushed to your side in a frenzy of concern and alarm. Their voices blended together, a cacophony of worried shouts and urgent instructions.

Some knelt down beside you, gently trying to rouse you, while others hurriedly called for medical assistance. The team's collective panic was palpable as they desperately tried to understand what had happened and how to help you.

As the medical team arrived, the pit crew stepped back, their faces etched with worry and fear.

They exchanged glances, silently conveying their shared concern for your well-being. The atmosphere in the garage had shifted from anticipation and excitement to a somber and tense mood, as everyone anxiously awaited news of your condition.

Another thing that the pit crew was worried about was your boyfriend, Lando Norris, and his reaction to your condition.

They knew that he would be furious and distraught when he found out what had happened. They understood the immense pressure he put on himself to perform well, and they feared that he would blame himself for your collapse.

They braced themselves for the storm that was about to come, hoping that they could provide him with the support he needed to navigate through his own emotions.

A staff member had come up to Lando and whispered something to him. "Lando, we need to talk. Something has happened to Y/N. She collapsed after the race and the medical team is attending to her right now."

Lando was shocked by the information. "What? Is she okay? What happened? Why wasn't I informed earlier?"

"We're still waiting for more updates, but it seems like her body gave out under the pressure. The doctors are doing everything they can. We didn't want to distract you during the race." The staff explained to him

"I can't believe this. I should have been there for her. She always puts so much on herself. I need to see her, now." Lando said, walking towards your paddock garage.

The staff member immediately followed him, not wanting him to make any rash decisions in public. "We're making arrangements for you to visit her at the hospital, Lando. Your focus right now should be on her well-being."

Lando paced back and forth, his anxiety growing with each passing second. He couldn't stand the thought of you being alone in the hospital, fighting for your well-being.

As he waited for the car to arrive, he replayed the events of the race in his head, desperately searching for any signs that he might have missed.

A car finally came to pick up Lando and take him to the hospital. As he got in, he couldn't shake off the feeling of guilt, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently during the race to prevent your collapse.

The drive to the hospital felt like an eternity, each passing moment filled with worry and self-doubt.

He finally arrived at the hospital and approached the reception desk, his voice trembling as he asked the secretary for your name. The secretary looked up and said, "May I ask your relationship to the patient?"

Lando took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves, and replied, "I'm her boyfriend, Lando Norris. Please, I need to see her right away."

The secretary nodded sympathetically and quickly located your name on the computer.

"She's in room 305 on the third floor. Take the elevator to your left," she said, pointing in the direction.

Lando thanked her and hurriedly made his way towards the elevator, his heart pounding with a mixture of fear and hope.

As Lando stepped into the elevator, he couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that he had finally found your room.

The journey up to the third floor felt like an eternity, each passing floor filled with anticipation and worry.

As Lando stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor, he couldn't help but feel a surge of relief and anticipation. Room 305 was just down the hallway, and he quickened his pace, eager to see you and reassure himself that you were okay.

The door to the room swung open, revealing a scene of medical equipment and monitors, but what caught Lando's attention was the sight of you lying in the hospital bed.

His eyes filled with tears as he approached you, gently taking your hand in his.

As Lando looked at you lying in the hospital bed, he noticed a tube attached to your mouth. The tube was connected to a ventilator, helping you breathe and providing the necessary oxygen to support your recovery.

The soft hum of the machine filled the room, a constant reminder of the critical role it played in keeping you stable. Lando's heart ached at the sight, knowing that you were relying on this lifeline for every breath.

It snaked its way from your mouth to the ventilator, securing your connection to the vital support system.

Lando couldn't help but feel a mix of gratitude and helplessness as he watched the gentle rise and fall of your chest, synchronized with the rhythmic breaths the machine facilitated.

"I'm so sorry, I should have known," Lando whispers to himself, his voice filled with regret. He pulls up a chair beside the bed and holds your hand tightly.

Lando gently brushed a strand of hair away from your face and whispered, "I promise I'll be here for you, every step of the way. We'll get through this together." . . . .

You regained consciousness shortly thereafter, but you were weak and disoriented. The room seemed unfamiliar, and it took a moment for your eyes to adjust to the bright lights. As you looked around, you saw Lando sitting beside you, his eyes filled with relief and concern.

He gently squeezed your hand and said, "You're awake. I've been so worried. How are you feeling?"

"How did I get here?" you slurred, your voice still groggy from the effects of the sedation.

Lando's face softened with a mixture of understanding and sadness as he explained, "You collapsed after the race, but don't worry, you're in the hospital now and the doctors are taking care of you."

As Lando spoke, fragments of memories began to flood back into your mind. You remembered the intense pressure building up inside you during the race, the struggle to breathe, and the overwhelming fatigue that consumed your body.

You looked at Lando, tears welling up in your eyes, and whispered, "I pushed myself too hard, didn't I?"

Lando's voice cracked with emotion as he replied, "You gave it everything you had. But now, the most important thing is that you focus on recovering. We'll figure out the rest together."

Before Lando could say anymore, a doctor came into the room looking serious. "I'm glad to see you awake," the doctor said, addressing you. "We need to talk about your condition and the next steps for your recovery."

The doctor's words hung in the air, and Lando's grip on your hand tightened as you braced yourself for the difficult conversation that was about to follow.

"From your tests, you have been heavily malnourished, causing you to collapse," the doctor stated, his voice filled with concern. "We will need to address your nutritional needs and closely monitor your progress. A team of specialists will be assigned to create a personalized recovery plan for you, focusing on restoring your strength and replenishing your body."

The doctor's words hit you like a punch to the gut. He explained that your collapse was a result of severe malnourishment, as your body had been deprived of essential nutrients for an extended period of time.

Tears streamed down your face as you realized the extent of the damage you had done to yourself, and Lando's eyes mirrored your pain as he vowed to support you in your recovery journey.

"Before I continue, is there any mental health condition that I should know about?" the doctor asked, his voice gentle and understanding. You paused for a moment, contemplating whether to disclose your struggles with your eating disorder.

You looked over at Lando, taking a deep breath before speaking. "Yes," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

"I've been battling an eating disorder for years."

Lando's expression softened even further as he gently squeezed your hand, silently assuring you that he would be there for you every step of the way.

The doctor nodded, his eyes full of empathy. "Thank you for sharing that with me," he said.

"It's important that we address both your physical and mental health in your recovery plan. I will make sure to involve the appropriate specialists who can provide the necessary support and guidance. Remember, you don't have to face this alone."

The doctor then excused himself from the room, leaving you, Lando and the unbelievable tension that hung in the air.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He finally asked after the uncomfortable silence took over the room.

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength to respond. "I didn't tell you because I was ashamed," you admitted, your voice trembling. "I felt like a burden, like I was letting you down. I didn't want you to see me as weak or broken."

You tried to apologize, explaining that your eating disorder was deeply rooted in your past and that you had struggled to overcome it.

You explained how it had started as a coping mechanism to deal with the pressures of being an F1 driver, but it had gradually taken over your life.

Lando's eyes softened as he reached out to wipe away a tear from your cheek. "You're not weak or broken," he said firmly.

"You're strong for sharing this with me. And I want you to know that I love you no matter what. We're in this together, and I'll do whatever it takes to support you in your recovery."

The weight on your shoulders began to lift as you realized that you didn't have to face this battle alone. In that moment, you knew that with Lando by your side, there was hope for healing and a brighter future ahead.

He had witnessed firsthand the toll that an eating disorder could take on this relationship, and he was determined to help you overcome it. Lando had seen how it strained communication, eroded trust, and created a sense of helplessness.

But he also believed in your strength and resilience, and he was committed to supporting you every step of the way.

He knew it would be a journey filled with ups and downs, but he was ready to face it together, knowing that love and understanding could make all the difference in your recovery. . . .

Lando had been worried about your well-being for months, even when you had been diligently treating your eating disorder. There were times when you would try to skip meals, but Lando always seemed to know.

One afternoon, Lando came home from work, eager to share his latest Quadrant video. He saw you sitting at the dinner table, eating slowly. Your hands trembled slightly as you struggled to swallow each bite.

Lando approached you cautiously, his heart heavy with concern. "Hey, beautiful," he said softly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. "How are you doing?"

You turned to look at him, your eyes filled with a mix of vulnerability and hope. "I'm okay," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. "But Lando, I think I'm still struggling."

Lando nodded, understanding the pain behind your words. "I know, my love," he said, his voice full of empathy. "But you're doing so well. You've made so much progress."

You sighed, feeling a mix of frustration and despair. "I know," you said, your voice breaking. "But sometimes, it's still so hard. Sometimes, I just...I forget."

Lando leaned closer, his voice filled with reassurance. "I understand," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "But I'm here for you, every step of the way. And I promise, I'll never give up."

You smiled, grateful for his unwavering support. "Thank you, Lando," you said, your voice filled with emotion. "You always know what to say."

Lando leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper. "But you know what else?" he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You tilted your head, curious as to what he had in mind. "What's that?" you replied, your heart pounding with excitement.

Lando leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching yours. "I promised to give you a kiss once you finish your food," he whispered, his voice filled with anticipation.

You blushed, your heart racing. "You're going to keep that promise?" you asked, unable to hide the anticipation in your voice.

Lando nodded, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I will," he promised, his voice filled with determination.

You turned back to your food, determined to finish what was on your plate. With each bite, you focused on the feeling of the fork in your hands, the rhythm of chewing, and the taste of the food on your tongue.

After what seemed like an eternity, you finally finished your last bite. You looked up at Lando, your eyes filled with a mix of relief and anticipation.

"Can I have the kiss now?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Lando smiled, his eyes filled with tenderness. "You have it, my love," he said, his voice filled with love. He leaned in, his lips softly landing on yours, a gentle kiss that spoke of his unwavering support and love.

As you pulled away, your eyes met his, filled with a mix of joy and gratitude. "Thank you," you said, your voice filled with emotion.

Lando leaned in again, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're welcome," he replied, his voice filled with warmth.

Suddenly, Lando grabbed you by the under your thighs and carried you up to his chest. You let out a gasp, but he quickly reassured you, "Don't worry, I've got you."

Your heart raced with surprise and excitement as you looked into his eyes. "What's gotten into you?" you asked, a hint of laughter in your voice.

Lando grinned mischievously, his eyes sparkling. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," he replied, his voice filled with adoration. "And maybe have a little fun while we're at it."

"Wow, you really know how to surprise me," you said, a playful smile on your face. Lando chuckled, his arms securely holding you.

"I thought a little spontaneity would spice things up," he replied, his voice filled with excitement.

You leaned in closer, your lips almost brushing against his ear. "Well, you certainly succeeded," you whispered, a mischievous tone in your voice.

Lando's eyes widened with anticipation as he listened to your whispered words. He leaned in closer, his voice filled with excitement. "Oh, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve," he replied, a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

As Lando leaned in closer, his hunger for your lips evident in his gaze, you felt a surge of electricity between you.

With a swift movement, he closed the remaining distance and hungrily captured your lips in a passionate kiss, igniting a fire within you that burned with desire and anticipation.

Your lips were crushing together, devouring each other's with an insatiable hunger that left you breathless. The intensity of the kiss sent shivers down your spine, as if every nerve in your body was on fire.

It was a kiss that spoke volumes of the raw passion and desire that existed between you, leaving you both craving for more.

Lando pressed you against the wall, his body flush against yours, intensifying the heat and desire between you. The rough texture of the wall against your back only heightened the sensations as his lips continued to explore yours, leaving you both lost in a world of passion and longing.

Your skin tingles with heat as Lando's lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of fiery kisses in their wake.

Every touch sends a jolt of electricity through your body, making you feel alive and consumed by the intensity of the moment.

The warmth spreads from your lips to the rest of your body, as if a fire has been ignited within you, melting away any inhibitions and leaving you completely lost in the passionate embrace.

"Let's go to the bedroom," Lando whispered in your ear, his voice filled with desire. The words sent a thrill through your body, fueling the fire of anticipation that had been building between you.

Without breaking the kiss, Lando effortlessly scooped you up into his arms, carrying you with ease as he navigated towards your shared bedroom. The anticipation and desire in the air were palpable as he laid you gently on the bed, his eyes locked with yours, promising a night of passion and fulfillment. . . .

Your love story may not have been an easy one, but it is a testament to the power of love and the resilience of the human spirit.

Your eating disorder may have threatened to destroy your relationship, but in the end, it served as a catalyst for growth and a deeper understanding between you two. . . .

[russo-woso]

Snap || Leah Williamson x reader

Request | Masterlist

Part of the Mini Williamson universe

Summary You snap at Leah due to the hormones

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Go sit, baby. I’ve got this.” Leah told you as she pointed to the simple pasta you were making.

You were doing two separate pastas, one that was just plain pasta and sauce, obviously for Leah.

And the other one was a lot more colourful and had a lot more flavour, obviously for you and depending on which one she wanted, Ami too.

You’d been in such a bad mood all day, exhaustion creeping up on you, your back aching, and your bladder being kicked every minute.

The last thing you wanted to do was cook dinner, let alone two separate dinners.

Although Leah was amazing at stuff, football, being a mum, and an incredible wife, she was no good at cooking, and was one of her downfalls.

“You cant cook, le.” You pointed out, stirring the pasta sauce.

“I can try. Go sit down.” Leah repeated, trying to take over what you were doing.

“Leah, you can’t cook. Let me do it.” You snapped angrily, taking back the spoon.

“Baby, you’re tired. Go rest, I’m sure I can do it.” Leah said softly, but you weren’t in the mood to keep discussing it.

“Fine. Good, I’m glad you’re cooking. Now you’ll know how it feels like to cook two separate meals every night because you don’t know how to eat normal food. You don’t know how it feels to have your wife come home from work and just sit down and eat, complaining that training was hard. My day was hard too, Leah. I had to look after a two year old, work from home whilst 35 weeks pregnant. I’m exhausted, Leah. I’m so so exhausted.” You snapped again, tears threatening to spill.

Leah was taken aback, you’d had your fair share of arguments over the years but she’d never seen you this honest.

“I’m going to bed.” You sighed, turning round and waddling up the stairs.

You laid in bed as the tears streamed down your face.

You were angry at yourself for saying all of that.

You knew how good Leah was and you made her feel so bad.

You knew how hard training was on her, and she didn’t deserve all of that shouted in her face, and although you exaggerated a bit, it was all the truth.

A small knock was heard at the door, as Leah peeped her head in.

“Can I come in?” Leah asked hesitantly, a bowl of pasta in her hands.

“Of course. It’s your bedroom too.” You replied, sitting up against the headboard.

Leah’s heart broke at the sight of your red and puffy eyes, clearly seeing the evidence of your tears.

“I’m sorry, I snapped. I shouldn’t have—” you began but Leah softly shushed you as she could see you were getting emotional again.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry. I put so much pressure on you every day when you’re so vulnerable carrying our baby. I’m so thankful for everything you do and I don’t let you know that. I’m sorry.” Leah said as she hugged you. “I promise, I’ll start doing cooking, I’ll take cooking lessons if it means I get to help you. I’ll do whatever. You’re carrying our baby and looking after Amelia, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“Thank you, le.” You told her. “The hormones got to me, and I took it out on you. Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry, baby. I get it. Now, can you rate the pasta? I think it’s okay.” Leah asked and you nodded, a small smile appearing on your face.

You took a bite out of the pasta, humming as you tasted it.

“It’s nice, very nice. I think you should cook more often.” You joked, getting another forkful.

“I will, I promise.”

[dorabellingham]

Do you still love me?

warning: none

characters: jude x reader

summary: where he is being extremely cold and distant with you, but you can't stand this situation anymore

request: yes!

may contain spelling and translation errors!

The last few weeks had been strange for you. Jude, usually affectionate and present, was cold and distant. He would come home late from training, eat dinner in silence, and spend more time on his phone than with you. At first, you thought he was just tired, but as the days went by, the feeling that something was wrong became unbearable. He no longer hugged you like before, his kisses were quick and devoid of emotion, and even the small gestures, like intertwining his fingers or smiling at you for no reason, had disappeared. You felt like a shadow inside your own house, and the pain of not knowing what was happening consumed you. On a particularly silent night, you sat on the couch while Jude was in the room. Your chest felt heavy, the lump in your throat threatening to spill over into the tears you had been holding back for days. But this time, you couldn't ignore the discomfort. Getting up, you went to the bedroom and stopped at the door. Jude was sitting on the bed, staring at his phone. He didn't even notice your presence.

—Jude....

You called, your voice firm but full of emotions.

He looked up, surprised, but quickly looked away, as if eye contact was something he couldn't sustain.

—What's wrong?

You walked into the room and closed the door behind you, crossing your arms.

—What's wrong? Jude, I should be the one asking this. What's going on with you? With us?

He frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the conversation.

—Babe, it's nothing. I'm just... dealing with things.

—What things, Jude Victor? You barely talk to me, barely look at me. I feel invisible inside our own home!

Your voice broke at the end, and you hated showing vulnerability, but you couldn't hold it in any longer.

Jude sighed, running a hand over his face.

—I didn't want you to feel this way. It's just... football, the pressure, the media... it's all suffocating me, Y/n. And I don’t want to burden you with this.

—So you decided to push me away? —You asked, your voice now calmer, but still full of pain. —Jude, I’m here for you. I always have been. But you shutting me out, treating me like I don’t matter, is far worse than any problem you’re facing alone.

He finally looked at you, and you saw something you hadn’t seen in days: regret.

Jude was silent for a moment, your words echoing in his mind. He knew he had done wrong. He was so lost in his own insecurities that he didn’t realize the impact his behavior had on the person he loved the most.

—You’re right... —He admitted, his voice low. —I was being an idiot. Not because I don’t love you, but because I didn’t know how to deal with all of this. And in the process, I ended up hurting you. I’m sorry, sweetie.

You crossed your arms, still hesitant.

—I need more than an apology, Jude. I need you to be honest with me. That you trust me, like I trust you.

He stood up and walked over to you, gently holding your hands.

—I know. And I’m going to do this. I never wanted you to feel this way, and I promise I’ll make up for every moment I made you doubt our love.

You looked up at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears, but there was something in your expression that said you wanted to believe.

—It’s okay, babe. But please don’t do it again. I’m not as strong as you think I am.

He pulled you into a tight hug, his hand gently stroking your hair.

—You’re the strongest person I know, Y/n. And I’m going to earn your forgiveness.

The next day, Jude woke up earlier than you and started making a special breakfast. He made waffles, fruit, and even tried an omelet, although he burned it a little. When you came downstairs, still half asleep, you found the table carefully set and your husband waiting with a shy smile.

—That’s a start!

He said as you sat down, surprised.

Over the next few days, Jude made sure to show you how much you meant to him. He took you out to dinner, wrote you sweet notes that you found scattered around the house, and even taught you how to make her favorite dish. But most importantly, he began to open up more, sharing his anxieties and fears, showing you that he trusted you.

One night, as you lay together, he held your face and said:

—I promise I’ll never let you feel alone again. You’re the best part of my life, my love.

And in that moment, you knew that despite your flaws and mistakes, the love you shared was strong enough to overcome anything.

[vrystalius]

hi vry!!! i hope you’re doing well and feeling better🫶🫶 i wanted to pretty please request a lil something for sanemi taking care of his partner while they’re sick? 😩 i fell incredibly ill last night for no good reason LMAO and i know you’ve been under the weather too so hopefully this is right up your alley. also no pressure, please take your time and take care!!! 🩷🩷🩷

Aggressive healing

You returned home sick after a gruelling mission that took you all the way up to a cold mountain. Sanemi now resulted to becoming a doting (and a little pissy) husband.

Pairing: Sanemi x gn!reader

You were tucked into your marital bed, multiple stacks of blankets, probably all you and your husband own, spread over your body to keep you warm. A damp, cool towel was placed on your head and replaced by a fresh one by the hour and a bowl strategically placed right next to you on the mattress, just in case you get sick and don’t make it to the bathroom. A large glass of water with a straw was placed right next to a lukewarm cup of herbal tea you didn’t drink. You were just about to mumble a quiet thank you for the glass of water before Sanemi made you shut your mouth as quickly as you opened it.

“You still haven’t drank the damn tea? You know that I’m keep brewing this shit up for you and not for myself, right??”

While he was scolding you, his hands were angrily tucking you tighter into bed, trying to be gentle while doing so. You pouted at him.

“I don’t like it, tastes disgusting. It makes me even more nauseous.”

Sanemi rolled his eyes slightly and moved the straw from the glas of water to the cup of tea in case you wanted to drink it anyway. To be honest, it was making him a little anxious how you were resisting his treatment. You didn’t want to take any pills Shinobu prescribed, the tea was yucky, you were too hot beneath the blankets, too cold when a single one is removed, you still forgot to drink normal amounts of water and barely ate anything nutritious without him dishing up something for you. It’s like you want to stay sick on purpose!

He sighed while he crossed his arms over his chest, staring at your form being tucked in so tightly. You shifted your position a little, glancing back at him.

“Why do you refuse my treatment, huh? Just let me do my duties as your doting husband.”

“I can take care of myself! My doting husband can go back to his hashira duties instead.”

The wind hashira rolled his eyes at that again with a groan, running his fingers through his white hair that is now probably turning grey from your current condition alone. He snatched the damp towel from your forehead without a warning and gently slapped your cheek with it in timing with every word he said.

“Stop. Being. Stubborn. with. ME!”

Groaning, he headed to the bathroom to wet the towel again before ungracefully slapping it back onto your forehead. You let out a whine.

“I’m not gonna be gentle and kind no more. I’m nursing you back to health even if I have to force the damn medicine down your throat.”

Sanemi leaned over you, staring down at you with big eyes, making you cower beneath the multiple layers of soft blankets. He placed a small kiss on your forehead before messing up your hair a little with an annoyed sigh.

“I’m making you a soup. Don’t care if you don’t like it, you’ll eat every single bite. It’ll be good for you. I’ll even make you a warm bath after.”

💠

I hope this was to your liking, I rewrote this twice because I had three different ideas on what to do or l write 😭 I settled on the aggressive-caring-Sanemi, sorry if this is a little short! :,) And also thank you for your request!! I hope you’re doing better now and/or get better soon! <3

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves, physically and mentally!!

[eideticmemory]

BETTER OFF AS LOVERS | SPENCER REID

Three years after ending your relationship with Spencer Reid, you find yourself representing him in court on federal murder charges.

Word Count: 12k.

Warning/Includes: MAJOR CW for Spencer’s dilaudid arc and graphic mentions of drug use. Prison!Spencer, Lawyer!Reader. Bounces between the past and present through bold italics. Mentions of murder, prison, and violence. A little bit of smut.

Because both you and Spencer are compulsive overachievers, it’s been hard to ignore each other. He saves a kids life every other week and your quick wit has taken you to the (very near) top of the DC law food chain. He picks up a newspaper, you’re smiling arm in arm with the district attorney. You turn on the TV, he’s up there declaring national manhunts. It’s hard to avoid each other, but you have both tried so, very hard.

So hard, in fact, that when Spencer is lying in a jail cell, waiting for any sign of life to shine through the bars, he is not even thinking about you. He’s thinking about his mom. His job. His future. His very recent past. But not you. And even though he doesn’t realize it in the moment, it’s a blessing. He should’ve taken the moment to be grateful.

When Emily comes up to his cell, he hops up and all the thoughts stuck in his head rush out in word vomit. Why isn’t she in the office? How is the office? How’s his mom? And once he learns that everything else is perfectly fine, he remembers that he, alone, is fucked.

And Emily’s very good at that soft voice, that everything will be okay voice, but she doesn’t know that. Not really. Spencer knows that she doesn’t and he swallows himself in self pity, saying, “I don’t even have a lawyer.”

“About that…” Emily says before a beat can pass. “I, um…I made a call…”

Spencer tilts his head at her.

“I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”

You’re eating lunch when you get the call. You have a sandwich held in your mouth as you scribble notes on a legal pad which you promptly cross out.

“Miss [y/l/n]?” your receptionist announces herself at the door.

You drop your sandwich, “Hey,” you smile. “Yes?”

“You have an Emily Prentiss on the line for you. Do you want me to patch her through?”

Your smile drops, you can’t help it. Your heart sinks to the very bottom of your stomach and you have to clear your throat, remind yourself to breathe.

“No,” you shake your head. “No,” you stand to your feet. “No, thank you. I’ll answer her in here.”

You close your office door behind her. You close the blinds. You stare at the blinking light on the phone for what feels like hours. You take a seat at your desk, you stare some more. Then you pick up the phone.

“This is [y/n].”

“Hi, [y/n]. It’s Emily Prentiss.”

“Emily…” you breathe out. “Hey.”

“Do you have a moment to talk?”

You sigh, “Is…is this about Spencer?”

Emily pauses, just for a moment, but she knows it’s best to be honest, “It is.”

“Is he dead?” It seems blunt. But, to you, it sounds like a fair and natural question.

Emily clears her throat, “He’s in jail.”

Maybe she expected a gasp. A soft cry. But all you do is close your eyes and draw in a deep breath. You say, “Okay.”

“Now, I understand if you decline. I do. But I have to ask…are you available to come to Quantico for a legal consult with me? Just me?”

You stare at the ceiling, grinding your teeth so hard that you think your jaw may crack under the pressure. And in the span of just two hours, you tell her yes. You reschedule your afternoon meeting. You walk through a metal detector and pat down in Quantico. Yet, you’re not truly in your body until you step on the elevator. You feel yourself rising through the building and the familiarity of it hits you like lightening. You think, not now. You cannot break down now.

Later.

You stand and look over at Spencer’s empty desk, only for a moment and then you tear yourself away. You knock on Emily’s open door and she immediately stands when you sees you, “[y/n], hi,” she moves around her desk, “Hi, thanks for coming.”

You give her a hug, and she holds on for longer than she means to. She looks you in the eye and asks, “How are you?”

“I’m okay. How are you?”

She sighs, walking back to her desk as you close the door. “We’ve been better.”

You take a seat across from her, look around the office, and now you smile, “I like you in here, chief.”

She chuckles, “I assume you heard about Hotch?”

You nod, “I did…only courthouse rumblings.”

“Yeah, well, uh, team’s been good,” she rummages around her desk. “Pushing through. I see you’ve climbed the ladder in recent years.”

You shrug, smirking, “All bribes.”

She laughs, “Oh, c’mon, we both know that’s not true. You’re the best of the best. I wouldn’t have called you if you weren’t.”

And when she sees the light go out in your eyes, reminded by the reality of the situation, she does nothing but set the file in front of you. You exhale quickly out of your nose and you stare at Spencer’s name etched along the edge. You pick it up and place it in your lap, ducking your head to read it. His mugshots nearly make you gasp, but you stifle it. You put your finger to your lips and you try. You try so hard not react. Not in front of Emily, even though she can read you anyway.

You read the entire file. Front to back. Your eyes flick off of the last word and you slam the manilla folder closed. You look up at Emily, her looking at you, waiting for you, so patiently. You open your mouth, and she prepares herself for whatever you could say. Anything. Everything. She’s prepared.

You breath out, “He was high?”

She was not prepared for that.

She shakes her head, “He was drugged. The guy we’re after is notorious for using drugs to incapacitate his victims.”

You nod, “And let me guess. The bureau won’t help with his legal defense?”

She shakes her head, “He broke protocol.”

You roll your eyes, “Stupid…”

“[y/n],” she calls to you.

You look up at her, raising your eyebrows.

“I understand if you don’t wanna be involved. I know defense isn’t your normal side of the bench. But I meant it when I said you’re the best of the best. When I didn’t know who else to call, I called you. That doesn’t mean you have to agree to this.”

You look out the window and your eyes fall on Spencer’s desk once again. It is empty like he has not been there for weeks, lifeless. You turn back to Emily, “Where are they holding him?”

In the dead of night, you burst into the law library in town. It was pouring rain outside and when the receptionist saw you drenched and leaving muddy footprints behind you, she asked, “You need any help, hon?”

“No, thank you,” you called, but you did not stop moving. You marched over to the torts section, you knew it all by heart. You swiped your fingers over every author, noting the alphabet in your head and you were slightly enraged to find that the book you needed was missing. You groaned and checked again. Then again and again. You sighed. You looked around the dimly lit library and it was almost instant. You saw his table, you saw the book, and then you saw him.

And before you really knew what you were doing, you were walking up to him and he was so entranced in reading that he didn’t even look up at you.

“How much longer are you gonna be?” you asked him. And then he looked at you. You thought, oh wow he’s pretty, but you were on a mission here.

“I’m-I’m sorry?”

“With the book. How much longer do you think you’ll be?”

“Uh…I probably have…about a hundred pages left so…five, six minutes maybe?”

You furrowed your eyebrows at him, “Are you fucking with me?”

He couldn’t help but laugh, an awkward laugh, an uncomfortable laugh, but mainly an oh fuck a pretty girl is talking to me laugh. “No. No. You can…sit and watch, I swear. Time me if you want.”

You looked at him, arms crossed. You checked your watch and nodded, taking a seat, “Fine. Five minutes. Go.”

He gave you a small smile and then went back to it. You watched him trace his fingertip down the page, flick to the next one and down he traced again. You were curious. But irritated. But intrigued? You checked your watch with one minute to go and he went, “Okay, done,” and slid the book across the table.

You caught it in your palm, and looked up at him, “You are so full of shit.”

“What?”

“There’s no way you just read all of that in five minutes. There’s no way.”

“But there is a way because I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

He laughed, “I can recite it all to you right now. Front to back.”

“Where are you?” he seemed confused by this question so you continued, “Hm? George Washington? UDC?”

“Quantico.”

“Oh, you are so full of shit!” you went to grab the book and leave but he wasn’t ready for you to go.

“No, no, wait. Seriously. Look at my badge,” he pulled it right out of his bag. “I just got it today.”

You took a look, and when it wasn’t clear enough, you stepped closer, held it in your hands.

Spencer Reid. Behavioral Analysis Unit.

You handed it back to him, “Never met a twelve year old fed.”

“Twenty-three,” he corrected you. “And, uh…I get that a lot.”

“And what does a twenty-three year old fed need with a first year law book?”

He shrugged, “Just light reading.”

You rolled your eyes and he could just tell that you wanted to smile and so he smiled so big at you, hoping it would rub off.

“Book’s all yours,” he said. “I’ll find another.”

No smile.

“A-a-and if you’d like to…I-I don’t know…stay out of the rain, I’d…like it if you’d…maybe sit and read with me?”

You bit down on your lip and you hesitated, looked around as you weighed your options. Then, you took a seat. He grinned over at you as you flipped the book open and it was there.

Small, but a smile.

Back in holding, Spencer sits. He waits. He digs his nails into the bandage on his hand and his knee won’t stop bouncing. The same thoughts rush through his head, but every so often they are cut off by images of you. Every you. Every season. The last time he saw you. His breath catches so tightly in his chest that he actually hunches over in pain, squeezes his fist. His eyes keep darting towards the door, anxious, quick, hoping you’ll come. Hoping you won’t.

What gives it away is your heels. They’re fast and they’re loud, a rapid click-clack-click-clack on the floor. He sits up straight, holds his hands in his lap, forces his leg to stop shaking. Emily walks in first, and in behind her comes you. Picture perfect, dolled up, professional you. Your eyes connect and it should make him nauseous. Instead, his body relaxes. You’re the one that’s nauseous.

“Well,” Emily says to cut the tension. “I know this is an legal meeting so I’ll just give you two some privacy.” And she gets the hell out of there.

You step to the side as the door closes behind her. You set your brief case down on the table and have a seat. As the two of you sit in silence, Spencer feels that you’re judging him. Scolding him, staring him down. But all you’re thinking about is how much his hair has grown, from his head and from his face and underneath it all, he is still him.

You clear your throat, look away, “I’m obligated to remind you that everything you share here is kept confidential by attorney-client privilege.”

“I didnt use,” he spits out.

You pause, your eyes cutting up to him. He is staring into your soul. He wants you to hear him.

“I didn’t,” he shakes his head. “I wouldnt. I swear.”

You have to let that simmer in the air for a moment. You have to swallow it like a large pill, let it force its way down your throat and into your stomach. Through your bloodstream.

“I believe you,” you say. “Tell me what happened.”

“I-I…I did not kill her.”

You nod, “…okay. What else.”

“I-I…don’t remember anything else.”

“Well that…doesn’t help me here. It doesn’t matter if you say you didn’t kill her and you know that. What matters is evidence. The facts of the case.”

“I’m telling you I don’t remember anything, [y/n]. If I did, I would tell you but the entire thing is a-a blur.”

“And I’m telling you I can’t do anything with that.”

“Just… tell me what you really want to say.”

You consider it.

“I’m not here to judge you,” you tell him. “I’m here to build you a legal defense.”

“Whatever’s going through your head, I can take it,” he huffs. “Tell me.”

You purse your lips at him. You shake your head. But he insists. He peers into your eyes in waiting. Begging.

You inhale and with a hefty wave of breath, you shout, “Going to Mexico? Not telling anyone where you are? Smuggling experimental drugs across the border? Are you serious?”

He nods. He takes the blows as they land.

“Do you even comprehend the shit hole that you’ve dug for yourself? I mean, honestly, you-you should go to prison for at least,” you pinch your fingers. “A little bit because it should be a crime to be this stupid with an IQ that high,” and you punctuate it all with a sigh of relief.

Spencer sniffles, “Feel better?”

“No,” you say instantly. And you say this next part very clearly, “Because I can’t promise you that you won’t go to prison.”

The reason that you and Spencer worked so well together, you think - you thought - is that there was a certain amount of independence. After your meeting in the library, after all the pulling he did to sweep you off your feet, you decided that yes, you could do this. You could have a boyfriend who traveled for work. You could handle not seeing him for days or weeks on end. Just in your second year of law school, you thought: I will never have time to miss him. I will drown in school work and textbooks until he returns. It will not phase me. It will not change me.

Then you kind of fell in love with him. And suddenly you always, always had time to miss him.

“Hey,” you found yourself smiling when he called. On the other side of the country, it was only nine but you were in DC still studying at midnight.

“Hey, honey,” Spencer cooed. “I knew you’d be awake.”

“Like I could sleep at a time like this? No, thank you, this is all nighter territory.”

“Sorry I won’t be there the day of your exam.”

“Don’t worry about it. They need you out there more than I do.”

“I know, I know, I’d just slow you down,” he laughed.

“Oh yeah, definitely,” you nodded. “But…I miss you…wish you were here to slow me down.”

“Soon.”

“I know.”

“And, y’know, if we just moved into together, it could be even sooner.”

“Ooh, yeah, and we could get a plant too and watch it die a slow death because no one’s ever home.”

He cackled, quieted down as he whispered, “Just…try to actually get some sleep, okay? You can’t pass your exam if you’re exhausted. And make sure you have a good breakfast. A real breakfast, not coffee and some pop tarts. At least toaster strudels, okay? And afterwards, take yourself out for lunch or-or take someone with you. But don’t sit and think about it and drive yourself crazy. You’re gonna do great. You always do.”

You nodded, stifling a soft laugh, “Yes, doctor. Anything else?”

He shrugs to himself, “Just that I miss you. I can’t wait to see you.”

You grinned, “Soon.”

When your alarm went off at seven in the morning, you checked your phone to see that Spencer had woken himself up, three hours behind, to send you a message.

Two words: Toaster strudels!!!!

And over the next few days, you were truly too busy to miss him. You took your exam at ten o’clock on the dot and you took his advice, you went out to lunch. You thought about the exam only a little bit, to run through it with your friends before you started day drinking, and then there was nothing to do but wait. Keep yourself busy.

As soon as the jet lifted off, Spencer called you. Your phone was buried at the bottom of your bag, which was swinging against your hip as you walked across campus. You didn’t realize it was ringing until the very last second and by the time you pulled it out, he had already left you a voicemail.

As you waded through the crowd to see your posted exam score, you held the phone to your ear and listened.

“Hey! Hey, [y/n], we’re, uh, on the way back now. Safe and sound. I should be there by this afternoon. Uh, let me know if you get your exam results, okay? I’m so excited to see you. Call me when you can.”

Posted on the wall was the glare of your future, staring you in the face, chewing into your soul and you dropped the phone back in your bag.

When Spencer landed and still hadn’t heard from you, he slowly came to expect bad news. He bought you flowers on the way home, he called you, he texted multiple times to tell you he’d be coming over. He walked up to his apartment solely to drop off his things and before he could get to the door, he stopped in his tracks.

You stood up quickly, your face breaking out into a wide smile. Your hands shook and all you could say was, “I passed! I-I passed!”

And in an instant, he dropped everything except your flowers and ran to you, engulfing you in a big, tight hug. “Of course you did!” he shouted. “Oh, god [y/n], of course you did! Here…” he released you so he could rush to unlock the door.

“And I didn’t just pass, babe. I passed with flying fucking colors!” You let yourself into his apartment, still rambling while he dragged his things inside. He stood in awe as you paced around the living room, throwing your hands in the air. “Do you know what this means? I could be a real lawyer any day now!”

You looked at him, huffing and puffing with this toothless, wide smile that sat in your cheekbones. So happy and pretty that he forgot how to talk. “T-These are for you,” he stuttered, walking over to you with a bright bouquet of flowers.

Your eyes darted to the flowers, but only for a moment and then back to Spencer, and he was looking at you with so much love that you felt it in the pit of your stomach. You held eye contact with him as you took hold of the flowers, your fingers overlapping for a split second. And in one swift motion, you pulled him in by the back of his neck and dropped the flowers on the couch. It stunned him, sure, but it was instinct for him to grab onto your hips and kiss you. That is, after all, exactly what you wanted him to do.

You stood of the tip of your toes, took hold of his face and balled your fist in his hair. He grunted against your lips, held onto you tight as you dragged him into his bedroom.

“Okay, okay, okay, just-“ he stuttered as you tore off his shirt. His head got caught, the two of you burst into laughter, and you gave him a kiss as soon as the shirt hit the floor. You swiped his books off of his bed and laid yourself down, pulling him on top of you. When your pants got suffocating, you flipped him over so you could take them off. Your boobs hung in his face as you grabbed a condom from the nightstand and he ran his hands all over your body. Even when he could hardly breathe because you were rolling the condom onto him, he caressed your thighs and his nails rolled on your skin.

You giggled, going, “Stop, that tickles.”

He said, “Sorry,” and tickled you again, laughing as your body squirmed around and you chuckled into a kiss with him.

You were usually a lot softer with him. No rush. But the adrenaline in your body had you bouncing on his cock so quickly that you wondered if the whole bed might cave in. You kept looking at Spencer to make sure he was enjoying himself he was enjoying himself. His head was hanging off the bed, hanging loose from his neck and his mouth was wide open, releasing some of the loudest moans you’ve ever heard from him. When he realized he was getting close, he would grab your hips real tight, you’d stop and after a few breaths, he’d let you go. He’d let you get right back to it.

Afterwards, you collapsed beside him and tucked yourself in the crook of his arm, your hand on his heaving chest. You kissed him softly and he moaned, “Mm…” rubbing your back. “I love when you get a good grade.”

You cackled and threw your head back, tracing his bottom lip with your fingertip, “I love when you’re home.”

“Oh!” he suddenly shouted. “Speaking of, we have dinner reservations on our anniversary at seven. I’ll probably get called out before then but I will be back in time. I promise.”

“And if you’re not?”

“Then I’m a bad boy. A very bad boy,” he grinned, leaning into you as you laughed.

You held his face, gave him a kiss and nodded, “It’s a date.”

And he did eventually get called out again just over a week before your reservation. You have a very vivid memory of kissing him goodbye the day he left. He was himself. He was happy, and towards the end of the week, he called overly cocky saying that this case would be wrapped up soon. That he’d be home with a night to spare.

He lied.

People know you here. When you speak with the distric attorney on Spencer’s case, he knows you. He knows Spencer. And that should make it easy to negotiate here, but it unfortunately makes it that much harder. Luckily, you’re as stubborn as you are determined and with a bit of sparkle, you can get Spencer down to two to five years in federal prison.

That is, until new evidence arises. In that moment, all the oxygen and arguing and fight you’ve given goes out the window. Emily trails up beside you when you return, saying, “I just got the news. What now?”

“Now,” you sigh. “We tell Spencer.”

And as soon as you walk into the room, he is rising to his feet, staring at you. His eyes scan over your features and he goes, “That’s not a good face. What happened?”

“I…” you start. “Was able to talk Martinez down to involuntary manslaughter.”

“Manny Martinez?” he interrupts you.

“Yes,” you enunciate. “And he offered two to five years.”

Emily glances at Spencer, and asks you, “A deal? Well, that could mean they know they have a weak case?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “But they could also just be in a rush to close this with minimal publicity.”

Looking to Spencer, you owe him the truth, “But they found the murder weapon in the desert. About an hour ago. The blood and prints are yours.”

The words knock the air out of him like a strong punch to the chest. You can see his eyes zone out, stuck on the floor as he sits himself down and tries to breathe. Emily is spinning gears in her head but you cannot stop watching him.

“Okay, so, where do we go from here?” she asks you.

“Well, the two to five quickly came off the table. Now, it’s five to ten at minimum.” Still, you watch Spencer. He can’t stand to look at you.

“And this is the only way he can avoid trial?”

You purse your lips and nod, shrugging, “Plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter, write a statement to the bureau. That’d be the end of it. Any other course of action will require presenting evidence to a jury.”

When Spencer finally decides to lift his head and speak, he looks you dead in the eye and asks, “Do you think I should take it?”

Your face visibly softens and you shrug, “Beats twenty-five to life. Which they will sentence if you’re found guilty, and with this evidence…it’s likely…”

He looks at Emily and when he cannot take the look of pity in her eyes for one more second, he asks you, specifically, “May I speak to you alone, [y/n]?”

You glance at Emily and nod, “Sure.”

The door closes and Spencer, comfortable enough to let his guard down, suddenly stands from the chair, hiding his face in his hands. He paces around the small room and pulls at the root of his hair. It’s very unlike him but in this moment, he says, “Fuck.”

“Yes,” is all you can add. “What do you want to do here, Spencer?”

“I-I-I don’t know. You’re my lawyer, can’t you just tell me what I should do? Tell me what to do.”

“I can’t do that. I’m not the one facing prison here. You have two options, okay? If you want to take your chances in court, I will be there. I will bring every weapon in my arsenal to defend you, but I can’t guarantee that the outcome will be better than five to ten.”

He shakes his head, “The team will crack the case. They will. They’ll catch Scratch and they’ll clear my name.”

“Oh, my…when?” you raise your voice. You don’t mean to. “This month? This year? This decade? Who knows? W-who knows how long you could be locked up before they catch a break?”

He sniffles, one single tear falling down his cheek as his head falls in defeat, “What…what do I do, [y/n]?” he cries. “Just tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

And against ever fiber of your being, you instinctively cross the room and engulf him in a hug. He sobs into your neck and holds your waist in tight in his arms, breaks down when you run your hand through his hair.

He’s hurting but this helps. This helps a lot.

“Hey!” you answered Spencer’s phone with a joyous greeting. “Hi, Diana. Hi! It’s [y/n], how are you?”

And while she was beyond excited to talk to you, she rambled about her son. How he hadn’t called her in close to a week. How she missed the sound of his voice. “It just isn’t like him,” she said. “It just isn’t like Spencer. He calls me. He calls me everyday. Is he okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied as you stood over him in bed. “Yeah, he’s okay. He’s, uh, he’s…”

He waved you off, silently ordering you to hang up and leave him alone. He rolled over onto his side and hid his face under the blankets. He wanted to make sure he was as avoidant as possible.

“He’s just…tired. But I know he…he’d love to speak with you…”

He did not move. And he had not moved since returning home from Tobias Hankel. He just hadn’t. You weren’t sure if he ever would. But as you continued to talk on the phone, the sound of your voice going, “Yeah, yeah,” grating his nerves, he hopped out of bed and went straight for the bathroom. The door slammed, it locked and you just hoped Diana didn’t hear it.

“Yeah,” you told her. “Yeah, he’s busy right now. Y’know, case paperwork and such. I can have him call you back?”

Then there’s a thud. Loud. It shakes the floor of the entire apartment and your breath catches in your throat.

“Yes, of course. I will have him call you,” you stared at the bathroom door. “I promise. Okay. Alright, bye.”

You rushed to the bathroom, immediately trying to open the door but it was locked. You wiggled the knob, you pounded on it, calling, “Spencer? Spencer?”

You found the key on top of the sill, with your hands trembling as you shoved it into the lock. When the door swung open, it stopped against something. Something heavy, something big. So you pushed and shoved enough that you could poke your head in and when you did, you screamed. You shrieked at the top of your lungs. The thing blocking the door, the thing laid out on the floor.

It was Spencer.

Spencer is due to appear in court this morning. You’re going to vomit.

You arrive promptly with thirty minutes to spare and you spend that time trying to find your client. Though you do not see his face, you notice him standing at the phone, dressed to impress in a sharp suit. His hand bandaged in the least disgusting way possible.

“Mom,” he says into the reciever. “I want you know that I’m safe and I have a great lawyer.”

You cross your arms over your chest, stand firm behind him and proudly eavesdrop.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it’s actually, um…[y/n]. Yeah, no. No, we’re not back together, she just…she’s a great lawyer. The best.”

And he goes looking for you, at the mention of your name, he starts scanning the room, like he can feel you somewhere. Somewhere. He turns around to find you leaning against the wall. He smiles. He can’t help it. Neither can you. You throw up a small wave and he waves back.

He speaks into the phone, telling Diana, “She says hi.”

The judge comes into the courtroom and almost immediately, she looks ready to leave. You weren’t nervous before, you don’t think Spencer was all that much either. But now, shit is getting real. Shit is getting very real.

“Miss [y/l/n],” she says to you. “Your client is a federal agent?”

You rise to your feet, nodding, “That’s correct, your honor.” You both notice Spencer still sitting and you whisper through your teeth, “Stand the hell up,” and he stands the hell up.

“Some very serious offenses brought against you today,” she tells him.

“Yes, your honor,” he nods.

“Miss [y/l/n], does your client wish to enter a plea at this time?”

You nod, “He does.”

“And how do you plead, Agent Reid?”

Spencer looks her in the eye and proclaims, “Not guilty.” You hope nobody sees you roll your eyes.

“Mhm,” the judge nods. “And as to bail?”

“The people oppose bail and request remand, your honor,” the district attorney responds, now standing.

“Remand?” you repeat. “Your honor, my client does not present a flight risk.”

“He’ll be staying with you, I suppose?” he fires back and you can’t help but cut your eyes at him.

“Good one, Manny.”

“Your honor,” he continues. “The defendant fled the scene in Mexico…”

“Those were extenuating circumstances,” you interrupt. “He was drugged against his will.”

“And failed to inform the FBI of his international travel, effectively breaking protocol.”

“With the intent to return home and care for his mother, who struggles with schizophrenia and alzheimer’s and lives with him full time. He is her sole caretaker, in addition to his career as a highly decorated member of the BAU.”

“And as a member of the BAU, he has connections all over the world that could prove highly useful if he chose to flee.”

“Agent Reid is more than willing to surrend both his professional and personal passports if it pleases the court.”

“Again, he has the connections to both recieve a counterfeit passport and evade arrest.”

“Your honor, all Agent Reid wants to do is stay here and clear his good name.”

“He should’ve thought about his good name before sneaking across the border.”

You glare at Martinez and look back to the judge, “I can provide sincere and respected character witness to the court today. All highly decorated members of FBI, willing to speak on Agent Reid’s behalf.”

“Miss [y/l/n], I am not particularly inclined to hear character witnesses at the moment,” the judge tells you.

“Then we can abide by a curfew, court ordered restrictions…”

“Too little, too late for that, Miss [y/l/n],” she silences you. “If past behavior is the best indicator of future behavior, and I do believe that it is…then your client does present a flight risk…” and with one, dramatic pauses, she says, “Bail is denied. The defendant will be remanded to federal custody pending trial.”

The gavel lands and that’s it.

Spencer is put in handcuffs, in front of his entire team, in front of his family. In front of you. And all he can do is look at you. Eyes wide and terrified, looking at you.

“I’m so sorry,” you tell him. “I’m so sorry, I’ll come see you as soon as I can.”

He believes you. He has to believe you.

Standing there in shame, the feeling in your gut quickly turns to anger and you march out of the courtroom, pass the team and into the hallway. You see the district attorney walking towards his office and chase him down.

“A flight risk?” you catch his attention and he turns around. “Really, Manny?”

He shrugs, “Judge Frost agreed.”

“Yeah, judges tend to do that when things are taken out of context.”

“Hey, the facts were clear as day. Don’t be mad at me because your boyfriend might go to prison, okay? That’s on him.” And with that, he walks away. You want to throw something at the back of his head.

You want to burn the whole building down.

Instead, you run. You run off to an empty corridor, where you are well aware no one will find you. You pace up and down the floor, your chest heaving, your hands on your hips.

“[y/n]?” Emily calls from behind you. When you cannot get out of your own head, she repeats, “[y/n]?”

“Why did you call me?” You shout as you turn to her. “Why did you bring me into this? Why? Why?” you sob and you put your face in your hands, sliding down the wall in a dramatic breakdown.

Emily immediately rushes to you, bending down to hold you in her arms. “You did everything that you could,” she tells you. “You did your best.”

“I’m always doing my best!” you whine. “I’m always, always doing my best for him and it’s not enough! It’s never enough!”

There’s too much for Emily to unpack there, so she shuts her mouth and she holds you.

The day that you graduated law school, Spencer stayed by your side the entire time. And that was good. That was good because you could be sure that he wasn’t shooting up and you could relax. He looked good that day. Not perfect. Not clean. But good. He dressed up, he could walk in a straight line and he was so, unbelievably proud of you.

He handed you flowers the moment the commencement was over. He took all the pictures so you could have the memories forever. He hung on your arm like a trophy boyfriend because, that day, he was a trophy boyfriend and he could not have been happier.

“Surprise!” was shouted at you as soon as you stepped into your apartment. Adorned with balloons and family and friends, you were overwhelmed and nearly dropped your degree. You turned to Spencer and he dropped his shoulders bashfully, too shy to outright accept all the credit. And still, you took him in a firey kiss, you gave him all the credit.

As you walked around, having something to eat, thanking everyone for coming, talking about your plans for the future, Spencer came up to you and said, “I’m going to grab the cake, okay, honey? I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“Oh, okay, baby, thank you,” you smiled and gave him a kiss.

He didn’t come back for an hour.

And when he did come back, he overcompensated by putting the cake down in front of you and going, “Sorry! Sorry about that. Traffic was crazy,” and placing a big, sloppy kiss on your cheek.

Right then, you knew.

He was bouncing off the walls, extroverted, enthusiastic, eating cake that other people had cut into and not able to get enough of it. Grabbing onto your waist and kissing your neck in front of a crowd, dozing off when he actually sat, flicking himself in the neck to keep himself awake.

And you knew.

By the end of the night, when everyone had cleared out and Spencer was missing, you stepped around the quiet apartment and found him passed out in your bed. You put two fingers on his neck, made sure he was alive, and you slept on the couch.

You woke up early even though he slept like a rock until closer to noon. You sat on the couch until he decided to get out of bed and come looking for you.

“Hey,” he smiled, his voice hoarse. “Hey, what are you doing out here?”

You could hardly stand to look at him. You hands were bound in front of your lips, your eyes focused on the coffee table. It wasn’t until that second that he looked down and noticed the collection on the table. Needles. A little vial.

“How…” you cleared your throat. “How long have you been hiding this in my apartment?”

“I…” he spit out. “I…that’s old. It’s old. I forgot it was even here.”

You choked out a gust of air and couldn’t help but laugh, “You are so full of shit.”

“[y/n]…”

“No!” you shouted, rising to your feet. “Tell me what’s so fucking good about this shit that you needed to shoot up during my graduation party?”

“I…I didn’t…I was just excited. I was excited for you.”

“No, you were fucking loaded.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Stop.”

“I wasn’t.”

“No, stop! Stop treating me like I’m fucking stupid! I mean, fuck, Spencer! After all the therapy and meetings and outpatient rehabs, you do this? Really?”

“I didn’t.”

“And what’s worse is that you lie. You lie about everything. You’re lying right and you don’t care!”

“[y/n]…”

“You don’t care. You don’t care. I’m the one who shot narcan up your fucking nose so you wouldn’t OD on my bathroom floor. I’m the one who couldn’t have one fucking night to myself and you, dont, care!”

You let out a quick huff and he simmered in the silence of your anger.

“I…I can’t do this anymore…” you said softly.

He stared at you, shaking in his own skin, “W-what? You can’t do what?”

You released a slow sigh, “I can’t…be with a drug addict.”

“I…am not…”

“You are. You are, Spencer, and you need help. You need more than I can give you.” And before he can retaliate, you set a box of his things on the table. Some books, some clothes with blood on the sleeves, some records.

He started to cry. You knew these were real tears because when he merely wanted to get his way, they would start flowing instantly. Here, they came on slow, rolling down his pale face. “[y/n]…”

“No.” You said sternly, avoiding eye contact. “You need to leave. Leave.”

“B-b-but I-I’m better,” he tried to touch you and you flinched. “I-I can get better. I can do that.”

“Not here. Not with me. Please leave.”

“B-but…” he cried. “But I don’t wanna leave. I wanna be with you. I need to be with you. Please. P-please, [y/n].”

You shook your head, quickly wiped away your tears. “I don’t want you here. Please leave.” You held the door open for him and put his box on the porch. “Please.”

“[y/n], please don’t do this,” he tried to shut the door but you held your own. “Please, please, I’ll go to a meeting right now. You can come with me. I’ll get better. I can get better.”

“Spencer…please. Go.”

“No.”

“Please,” you begged. “Leave.”

“No. No, I’m not leaving you.”

And so, because you had to, you absolutely had to, you pushed him out. He fought, never to hurt you, but he dug his feet in the ground and tried to push your hands away. “N-no, [y/n], please. Please. Please don’t do this.”

Spencer was never that strong before the dilaudid. But when he was on it, he was weak. He was slow and even with all his strength, he could not stop you from throwing him out and slamming the door in his face. You locked it quickly, pressed your palms to the wood to keep it closed up tight as he knocked lightly.

You could hear him sobbing, “[y/n]…please…[y/n]…” and his voice cracked. You heard him slide down the door and sniffling, “[y/n]…”

There was a moment where you thought to open the door. To take it all back. To change your mind. Tears were running into your mouth and you ground your teeth together to stifle your cries. Instead, you stood up straight, you took a deep breath. You went into your room, closed the door and turned the TV up loud.

Spencer still lives in his same apartment. So as you go up the stairs, hundreds of memories come flooding back to you at a hundred miles per minute. It makes you so dizzy that you nearly trip, fall down the stairs. Run.

But you make it to his door and knock, greeted by a younger woman who gives you a bright smile, “Hi.”

“Hi,” you wave to her. “Cassie?”

“Yes?”

“Hi, I’m [y/n]. I’m-I’m a friend of Spencer’s. Is Diana here?”

“She is.”

“Is she up for a visitor?”

You let yourself in, stepping in to find that the apartment has not changed much. Same couch, same chairs, same coffee pot in the kitchen. Diana is sat near the window reading a book, picking at her nails anxiously. When she looks up and sees you, she stops and her entire face lights up like you’ve come back from the dead.

“[y/n], hi!” she greets you. She stands from her chair and rushes towards you with open arms. You let her hug you tight, her hand in your hair, your head on her shoulder and you want to cry. “Hi, honey, how are you?”

“Oh, I’m okay…” you shrug. “Can we talk?”

Her eyes go wide. Scared. “This is about Spencer. About that awful mess he’s in.”

“Yes,” you nod.

“Well, please, come, sit. Do you want some tea? Cassie makes a great cup.”

“Sure. Yes, please,” you smile as you sit across from her.

“Y’know, when I heard what happened to Spencer. I-I couldn’t believe it…my baby boy, in a jail cell,” she shakes her head. “But then he tells me that you were his lawyer and I could,” she exhales. “Breathe. You, such a smart and fierce young woman. There’s no one I’d trust more.”

A single tear rolls down your cheek and you shake your head, breaking eye contact with her.

“Oh. Oh, no, no, honey, what’s wrong?”

“Sorry…” you whimper. You wipe your face and huff, “Ugh, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“For what? For what, honey?” she takes hold of your hands.

“I-I couldn’t…I didn’t…” you sob. “I…Spencer pleaded not guilty, but the judge ruled him a flight risk. S-so, he’s…in federal prison. Pending trial.”

You can see the shock spread across her face and it makes you sick to your fucking stomach. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I tried.”

“Hey, you don’t apologize,” she squeezes your hands. Tight, tight, tight, tight. “You don’t apologize, you hear me? I know you did everything in your power. And if you couldn’t do it, then no one else could.”

You choke out another sob and she rubs your arm, cooing “Oh…oh…” and when Cassie sets a mug in front of you, Diana orders, “Here. Here, [y/n], please, have some tea. Calm down, sweetie.”

While you take sip, hiccuping against the glass, she changes the subject entirely. The rest of the visit spirals into a nice chat, mainly about you. What you’re up to these days. And as you fill her in, her eyes light up in pride, in almost disbelief. The last thing she says to you is, “Oh, I do wish you and Spencer could’ve worked things out. You are just…so special, [y/n]. Such a special, gifted girl. You made him so happy.”

She hugs you before you leave and you stroll beside Cassie to the front door. “Um…” you whisper to Cassie. “Is she normally this lucid?”

She purses her lips, “There are good days. There are bad ones.”

You nod.

“That’s the fastest I’ve ever seen her recognize anyone, though.”

For an extended amount of time after your first breakup, you thought Spencer was dead.

After you kicked him out of your apartment, there was radio silence. Scary radio silence. And you had visions in your head of him laid out with a needle in his arm and too much dilaudid in his veins and vomit in his mouth. Or, perhaps, he ran in front of a bullet in the field and no one thought anything of it. For months, you were so sure he was dead.

When you saw him on the news a year later, only then, you could breathe. You visibly and loudly sighed in relief just seeing his face, hearing his voice. More than grateful he was alive, you were grateful to see him healthy. Very clearly clean. Weight back in his face, light back in his eyes. You had almost forgotten what it looked like on him. It wasn’t until then that you knew you’d made the right decision.

You wouldn’t see him again for another two years. Save for a few local newpapers articles, the radio silence continued. You had moved to a larger apartment, close to the courthouse where you were still clawing your way to the top. Somehow, someway, Spencer found this new apartment. It was a conscious decision to do so.

He knocked on your door and you, not expecting company, catiously checked the peephole. You dropped from your tippy toes, sucked in a breath and opened the door. “Spencer? What…what are you doing here?”

“I’m…I’m sorry to drop by like this…” he stuttered, sucking back tears. “I am. I’m sorry. I…Emily…died.”

Your eyes went wide and you visibly stepped back. “What?”

“Y-yeah, she, um, she was murdered. Bled out in the ambulance and I…” he descended into a fit of cries and you just stood in the doorway, watching him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I-I don’t mean to be a stalker. I don’t mean to barge in on you. I-I-I-I was just scared of what I might do if I was alone and n-no one else understands why I’m so scared to be alone and-and I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

You stood there in shock for a long time. The only thing that cut the tension was a sound from the TV, a strange sound that caught Spencer off guard. He peeked inside your apartment, sniffling, “What are you doing in here?”

“Uh…um, I’m playing Wii Sports?” you told him, holding up the remote dangling from your wrist. “…I have two remotes if-if you wanna play. It always makes me feel better.”

He tilted his head at you, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Oh, c’mon!” you shouted in front of the TV, swinging your remote through the air. “Put your back into it!”

“I am!” Spencer yelled, taking another swing that just barely hit the digital tennis ball.

“No, you’re not!” you swung and scored a point, Spencer feeling especially defeated by the cheer of the crowd. “You’re losing, is what you’re doing.”

“I give up,” he takes off his remote. “This game is rigged.”

“Is it?” you smirk. “Or are you just a sore loser? Not used to it?”

“Uh, yeah. Duh.”

You laughed and it poured a blanket of warmth over him that he had not felt in a long time. “You hungry?” you asked him.

“Starving.”

So you ordered a pizza and you got so caught up in speaking with him that you barely heard the knock on the door. When you set a slice down in front of him, he instantly picked it up and shoves it in his mouth, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. He noticed you watching him and chuckled, wiping his mouth, “What?”

“Nothing…”you smiled. “Nothing, it’s just you’re…eating so good, you…you look good.”

He smiled at you. Not a big smile, not a proud smile, but a soft smile. A thank-you-I-did-it-for-you smile. “Thank you. I feel good.”

“Good,” you nodded. “That’s good.”

And the two of you ate in silence with the TV on to keep the peace. By the end of the night, his head was resting in your lap and his knees were tucked against his chest. He rubbed his thumb on your knee lightly and said, “I can go. If you want me to, I can go.”

“Yeah…” you whispered, your fingertip tracing his ear, your hand running through his hair, “Yeah, it’s getting late.”

He breathed you in one last time and sat himself up. He looked at you and you looked at him and if he stared at you any longer, it would’ve torn him apart. Instead, he hopped up from the couch and escorted himself to the door, you following close behind him.

“Thank you,” he told you. “For letting me stay. For feeding me. For taking care of me.”

“For kicking your ass at Wii Sports?”

“Yes,” he laughed. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” you nodded.

“Okay,” he huffed. “So…”

“So…” you shrugged.

He reached out to give you a hug and before you knew what you were doing, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and kissed him. That is, after all, exactly what he wanted you to do.

His arms locked around your waist and you moaned softly under your breath, sticking your tongue down his throat, drowning in the familiar taste of him. He pushed his body into yours, boldly nudging you towards the couch until you fell back and he could fall on top of you. Right where he was meant to be.

You’re uncomfortable in the prison. Milburn isn’t exactly known for it’s favorable accommodations and the last thing you want to do is appear prissy, but fuck, it’s gross. It’s crowded. It smells. You think: this must be killing Spencer.

He sits down across from you and he looks tired. Tired, but relieved to see you.

“Oof,” you exclaim. “You’re so lucky you look good in blue or else this would be really shitty for you.”

He snickers, shakes his head, “That was actually my exact thought.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “JJ says you’ve been by to see my mom?”

“I have. She’s doing okay, she seemed okay. We spoke for a long time. It was good to see her.”

“I bet she was excited to see you.”

“She was, it was sweet. I…I don’t wanna sound insensitive here, but, if she has an alzheimer’s diagnosis why does the memory of us breaking up just… linger?”

He wants to cackle but he stifles it, “Tell me about it. Every so often, I get an earful about how I should’ve done more to keep you around.”

“Oh. You…you didn’t tell her that I…”

“No,” he says quickly. “No, I didn’t.”

And just like that, a moment that was lighthearted and comfortable becomes unbearable. You clear your throat, “Well, I didn’t just come by to visit, I have news. It’s not great.”

“Okay, what is it?”

You sigh, “Your trial is postponed. I can’t say how long, but I will be the first to know and you’ll be the second.”

“Postponed?” he mimicked. “W-why? Why?”

You shrug, “They didn’t say. But it could be anything, I mean, higher profile cases, judge schedules, anything.”

He ducks his head down, breathing hard through his nose to prevent himself from crying.

“Hey…” you coo. “Hey, I’m going to figure this out. Don’t worry.”

“I know,” he nods. He looks up at you, “I know you’re trying. Thank you for trying.”

You nod, break a toothless smile, “Always.”

When Spencer wasn’t on drugs, you two managed to stay together for a whole four years. This was twice as long as you made it the first time around and not once did you worry that he had relapsed. You spent a lot of time worried that he might. You spent a lot of time keeping an extra close eye on him, watching for any of the signs, overly cautious. For a reason.

And Spencer was patient with this. He worked so hard to regain your trust because he knew how badly he had fucked up before. How different he’d become, how much he’d hurt you. He could not bear to ever put you through that again. And he never did. He was consistent, he was loving and he was sober.

On your third anniversary, he flew back into town late but he came straight to you. You had not officially moved in with him, but you had a drawer and a toothbrush and you could walk to work from his apartment. He woke you up from your peaceful slumber in his bed just to present you with your gift.

“C’mon, c’mon, I’ve been waiting so long to give it to you,” he cut the lamp on and you groaned, rolling onto your stomach. “Noooo, noooo, c’mon, my love. Look.”

You rolled back over and he was holding up a gold charm bracelet that immediately caught your eye. It woke you up entirely.

“I know you’re not a big jewelry girl,” he whispered, placing the bracelet on your wrist. “But this, uh, has a little charm of your birthstone and one with your birth flower. And, I don’t know, I thought it’d be nice to have on while you’re arguing in court, y’know? Wave it around a bit. Persuade the judge and jury.”

He fixed the clasp and you admired the gold against your skin, tracing it with your finger softly. You grinned, your eyes flickering up to him. “Wave it around…” you teased. “Like this?” and you motioned for him to come closer with your finger. The charms rang lightly and Spencer smirked at you.

“See, it’s just so compulsive, I can’t help but obey you,” he crawled on top of you, his voice mixing in with your laughter. “You’ll never lose a case again.”

And ironically, you went an absurd amount of time without losing a case after that. The bracelet was, in every sense of the word, your good luck charm. Your wrist came to feel naked without it and the ring of the metal gave you a special kind of confidence that couldn’t be replaced or replicated.

The day that Spencer got shot and nearly died, you were due to argue what would’ve been your tenth successful case in a row. You were on such a roll. A streak that no one around you had seen before and they were all eager to see how it progressed.

But as you approached the courtroom doors, your phone buzzed in your hand and you answered without much thought. You kept your brisk pace, speaking with a normalcy that JJ tried her best to match. Your heels were fast, click-clack, click-clack, click-clack, until the information ran through your ears and into your brain and then there was click-clack, click-clack, click…and you stood in the middle of the hallway. Stuck.

Your bottom lip trembled, at the thought of Spencer in critical condition. At the thought of him dying. Dying, dead, without you. You looked back at the courtroom and zoned back into JJ’s voice. You took one step towards the door, stopped and turned around.

Click-clack, click-clack, click-clack.

Contrary to the belief of the BAU, Spencer is not your only client. You have to remind yourself of this as well. Despite a pile of work that you slowly chip away at, you find yourself running back to the details of Spencer’s file. Over and over, as if something new will stand out. It’s happened to you before. You think, it could happen again. It has to happen again. It doesn’t seem like it will.

“Hey, [y/n]?” you coworker calls, knocking on your office door.

“Hey!” you pip.

“Wanna grab lunch? My treat.”

“Lunch? It’s already lunch?” you check the clock and gasp, “Holy shit.”

She laughs, “You work too hard. What do ya’ say?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. I, uh, thought you had to meet a client at Milburn this afternoon, though? The armed robbery guy.”

“Ah, no. Whole prison’s on lockdown. Something about a bad batch of heroin or meth or whatever they pass around in there, I don’t know. Attorneys are still allowed in but I’m not walking into that. I mean, can you imagine?”

It all pours out of her like a joke. Like a comedy of epic proportions that you are meant to laugh along with. But you can’t. You think about Spencer and you just can’t.

“[y/n]?” she calls, pulling you back into reality. “You alright?”

“Yeah!” you overcompensate. “Yes. Sorry. I’m ready. Let’s go.”

You grab your purse and swing it over your shoulder, following her out of your office and reminding yourself to breathe.

“You’re sure?” you questioned the doctor. “You’re positive?”

He released a hearty laugh and nodded, “Yes. He is fully recovered. No swelling, no tenderness, he’s cleared to work and resume any physical activity.”

“Any physical activity?” Spencer asked. You blushed and put your hand to your cheek.

“Yes, that’s right,” the doctor confirmed. “I must say, Spencer, this is quite impressive progress with such a severe injury.”

“I couldn’t have done it all without [y/n],” Spencer beamed, holding onto your hand. “She’s been amazing. She oversaw all my treatment and physical therapy. Slapped me aside my head when I was stubborn. It’s all thanks to her.”

You smiled, bashful and sweet, though you felt a weird, painful knot in your stomach. “Well, that’s quite a spectacular lady you’ve got there.”

“I think so, too,” Spencer grinned and kissed your cheek.

Immediately after Spencer was shot, followed by a long hospital stay, months of physical therapy and doctor’s visits, you lost your streak. You lost your glimmer. You lost that aura of shock and awe that you once so proudly carried. Though you kept it hidden from Spencer, you were one, giant ball of anxiety. All the time. It wrecked your brain, scrambled into a big pile of goo until you were having panic attacks in the courthouse bathroom.

Days later, you finally brought home a winning case. The adrenaline of a successful verdict rushed through your veins and you raced up the stairs to tell Spencer. You unlocked the door to his apartment and burst inside, stopping dead in your tracks when you saw him. He had cleaned, cooked and set up the dining room table with a meal for two.

“Hi, baby!” he exclaimed. “How was your closing statement?”

“Uhh, good. The judge ruled in our favor…” you spoke slowly, setting your things down.

“Really?” he smiled. “Of course! Of course they did. Baby, I’m so proud of you,” he held your face in his hands and gave you a kiss.

“Thank you,” you smiled. “What’s all this?”

“Oh, well,” he lead you into the dining room. “I made us a roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and corn on the cob. It should be good, I followed the recipe exactly. And, uh, some sparkling cider and I got you some lilies from the florist down the street and-and I even went to that store to get you a bath bomb even though all the smells give me a headache.” He was quite proud of himself.

“You went to Lush? No way.”

“Way! I thought we could take a bath together. Or you can take one by yourself, if you want. I got some candles, too.”

“Spencer, this is so sweet. What the fuck?” you wrapped your arms around him and the thought pinged in your head, “Ohhh. Oh, you wanna have sex with me.”

His face immediately turned bright red, “W-what? What? Sex? No. Ew…gross…”

You cackled and put your hands on his waist, “You got the go ahead from your doctor and it’s been driving you crazy. Admit it.”

“It has not been driving me crazy. I-I…have…been thinking about it quite a bit. But that’s not why I did this. I just wanted to thank you. Wanted to do something for you.”

“Mhm, keep talking,” you nuzzled your nose into his. “You’re almost there.”

He giggled and took hold of your hands, “C’mon, c’monnnn, I worked really hard on this dinner. Can you sit down and eat with me and then, maybe, after…”

You kissed the tip of his nose and took a seat at the table, “Definitely after,” you smirked at him.

He grinned and sat right next to you. And he watched you the entire time that you tried your food. It was delicious, you made sure to tell him that. You made sure to praise him, tell him that you loved him. He was already overrun with joy, but when you suggested a nice bath, he all but jumped out of his seat.

“The dishes!” you laughed.

He scurried back to the table, picked up your plates and dropped them in the sink. As he ran to the bathroom, he grabbed onto your wrist and dragged you along. He turned the water on, let it heat to just the right temperature and left it running. You undressed each other from head to toe and despite the sensuality of it all, you couldn’t stop giggling.

Sat in the tub, he cradled your back against his chest and he said, “Y’know…this bath bomb actually doesn’t freak me out as much as I thought it would.”

You laughed, “It smells really good, right?”

“Yeah! And the colors are cool.”

“I told you!”

Spencer got out of the bath first and he held out a towel for you to wrap yourself in. He wrapped his arms around your waist as you looked at yourselves in the mirror. He caressed your hair, whispering, “You’re so beautiful.”

You smiled, “Thank you. So are you.”

He kissed your shoulder, resting his chin in the crook of your neck, “I love you.”

“Eh,” you shrugged. “You’re alright, I guess.”

Your laughter overlapped with one another’s and you quickly corrected yourself, “I love you, honey,” with a kiss to his temple.

He turned his head and looked at you, his lips pressed against your ear, “Hey.”

You turned to him, “Hey.”

“We should get married.”

Your jaw dropped and you took a step back, “Are…are you just saying that because I’m naked and wet?”

He chuckled, “No,” he pulled you close, chest to chest, “No, no. I mean it. I mean, I don’t have a ring and I’m in no condition to get down on one knee but you deserve that, you deserve everything and I want to give that to you. I love you. So much. And I never, ever want to experience life without you again. I want you to be my wife, I want to be your husband. I want that. Don’t you want that?”

You let out a dry laugh, furrowing your eyebrows at him. You take his face in your hands, gripping tight on boths sides of his jaw and smush your lips into his. You undo the towel from around your chest and it falls to the floor, leaving every inch of your body open to Spencer’s touch.

“Mm…” he moans sharply when you break the kiss, giggling when you drag him to his bedroom by the hem of his towel.

The two of you landed on the bed with a thud, Spencer on top, tangling his body in yours, kissing your neck. Kissing your chest. Making his way to the apex of your thighs where he spread your legs and buried his face in between them.

Your breath caught in your throat but you released it all with a guttural moan, your arms limp around your head. The thing about Spencer, and that beautiful, talented mouth of his, is how gentle he was. His tongue was never rough, never hard flushed against you, but light and soft, hitting all the spots that made your body twitch. He could make you come so easily. And if you’d let him, he’d do it again and again and again.

But you took hold of his shoulders, you brought his face to yours and tangled your hands in his soaking wet hair and that is how you stayed the entire time that he fucked you. Close to him, bonded to him, staring into his eyes. You legs wrapped tight around his waist. Your body weakened underneath, became consumed by him and you swear, you have never come so hard in your life.

After his own orgasm, Spencer’s eyes focused in on you and you were crying. Not sobbing, just silent tears.

“Oh god, oh my god, [y/n]? What happened?” he panicked. “Are you okay? Did I-did I hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head. “No, no. I…that was…it was just very good for me.”

“Oh…” he sighed. “Oh,” he gave you a kiss. “For me, too.”

He laid at your side and held you in his arms, rubbing your back, squeezing you tight.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, Spencer.”

You managed to fall asleep in his arms, but not for very long. All through the night, you shuddered awake like your skeleton was trying to crawl out of your skin. When your eyes popped open as the sun was starting to rise, you couldn’t take it anymore.

You emptied your drawer. You packed all your clothes. You put your toothbrush in a ziplock. And for the rest of the morning, you sat at the dining room table with a pen and paper. Every thought that rushed through your head sounded trite. Cliche. Dumb. So you kept it short and sweet and wrote:

I love you. I LOVE YOU. But I can’t. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me.

Aside from the shitty note, it was the perfect goodbye.

Spencer doesn’t want to see you right now. He doesn’t want to see anyone right now but especially not you. When the guard notifies him of his lawyers arrival, he’s confused. A bit irritated. But he has no choice but to let them haul him off.

They let him into the meeting room, where at first, you are sitting but when you see him, you stand to your feet. Your eyes scan all over his beaten and bruised face and you order the guards, “Cuffs. Off. Please.” And they’re off Spencer’s wrists just like that.

The guards leave the room and you are still staring at him. Now you are touching his face. Now you are whimpering, “What…what happened?”

You can see him soften a little bit, only a little bit, and then he is shrugging your hand off of him. He’s never done that before and it kind of hurts.

“You shouldn’t be here, [y/n].”

“What happened? Who did this to you?”

“[y/n.]…” he’s stern, but he quickly changes his tone. “You need to go. Please. I don’t feel like talking right now.”

You huff, “What the hell’s the matter with you?”

He shakes his head, “I’m just not in the mood to talk. I don’t think anyone needs to be around me right now.”

“Well, too bad. I’m here, you look like someone took a walk on your face, and I want you to talk to me.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“What are you getting into in here? Huh?” you scold him, waving your hands around. “Didn’t everyone tell you to shut up and lay low? You didn’t listen, did you?”

Your charm bracelet catches his eye and he cannot stop tracking it, “…You don’t know anything anout anything.”

“I think-“

“No, you know what I think?” he snaps. “I think you ended our relationship in a fourteen word note and now you’re here for what? For what, [y/n]?”

“Okay, lower your voice.”

“Seriously? Your obligation is done. You fought the good fight. Let me rot. It what you would’ve done anyway.”

“Oh, fuck you. Do you know why I left you a note, Spencer? It’s because I really sucked at breaking up with you. You have one little meltdown and suddenly, it’s me. Suddenly, I’m the answer to all your problems. Well, I’m not. I never was. I’m just one of the many melodramatic problems that you have and I needed to be released before it just happened over and over and over again.”

“Melodrama- okay…” he turns around and bangs on the door, signaling the guards to get him the hell out of here.

“Spencer!”

“We’re done.”

“Will you just- talk to me,” you beg.

The door swings open and you instantly clamp up, attempting to appear calm and collected. You watch Spencer leave the room and you want to scream. You want to shout at him from the top of your lungs but you don’t. You think, if I can just get outside. If I can just cross the parking lot. If I just get to my car, I can scream.

You never make it.

By the time Diana is able to visit Spencer, by the time Spencer gets in contact with Emily, rambling and screaming into the phone like he’s just witnessed a murder, nearly a full night has passed. Emily meets Spencer in the moonlit prison and it takes her an entire minute to get him calm enough to talk, to explain thoroughly. The memories of Mexico that come flooding back, the woman who drugged him.

“Has anyone checked on my mom?” he shouts. “Can someone please check on my mom?”

“Spencer,” Emily calls to him. “We did.”

“And?”

“And, she’s fine. Apparently, Cassie was unable to come in and they sent another nurse in her place. But, um…”

Spencer leans forward in his seat, “What? What?”

“Cassie said this was delivered to your apartment,” she digs through her bag. “No name, no address. Just a knock at the door.”

And she holds up your gold charm bracelet, sealed in an evidence bag, “Do you recognize it?”

Author’s note:

Inspired by me finishing Better Call Saul and being torn apart by Jimmy and Kim. Also added Saul Goodman to my list of Old Men I’m Obsessed With 😭 Anyways stream the Breaking Bad universe on Netflix! Thanks 4 reading!! <3

[moonstruckme]

i recently started following you and i absolutely love your writing! you have such great talent!

no pressure at all and feel free to scream at me if this is out of your boundaries (i read ur guidelines so it shouldn’t be but you never know). I’m curious if you could write reader with literally anyone, just in denial that they like them. like she used to go out with really shifty guys and is just appalled that this person actually likes them

(this definitely isn’t self-indulgent at all….)

Thanks for requesting baby! (I would never scream at you lmao) I did this with dealer Eddie, hope that's alright :)

cw: weed, mention of transactional sex

dealer!Eddie Munson x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words

Eddie’s grinning big when he opens the door to his trailer. He takes off his headphones, hanging them around his neck. You can hear Black Sabbath still playing from the speakers. 

“Hey.” His voice has a slightly raspy quality to it, and you wonder if he’s been singing or smoking. “You lookin’ for a fix, pretty?” 

You grasp the strap of your bag self-consciously, forcing a bouncy “yep” past your lips. Eddie’s got a way of saying things that makes you feel awkward and flighty, like your heart might lurch right out of your ribcage at any moment. It should be routine by now, but you’ll probably never get over it. 

Eddie only nods and opens the door further, inviting you in. He sets a hand on your back as you go by, and you try not to look as shy as the touch makes you feel. 

“Same as usual?” 

“Yeah, thanks.” You lean against the counter while he crosses the room to the drawer where he keeps his stash. 

You’ve been coming to Eddie for years now. You weren’t exactly friends in high school but you were always friendly, and every time you leave his place you’re freshly shocked by the realization that you actually really like him. You appreciate that he keeps it business. Well, as business as anything can be with Eddie. Flirting is just part of the package, but he doesn’t try to smoke your stuff after he sells it to you and doesn’t seem to expect anything other than money in return. Shitty as it sounds, a dealer like that can be hard to come by in your experience.

“I’ve been missing you, sweet thing,” he says, taking out a big zip lock bag of bud and a smaller one to portion yours into. “Thought you might’ve found someone else to keep you happy.” 

You don’t respond for a second, and Eddie’s head tilts up from where he’s picking through the bag, eyebrows going up in intrigue.

“I was seeing this guy for awhile,” you say, looking sideways out the window. “He got pre-rolls from someone else, and he’d let me have them sometimes.” 

“Well shit, I can roll for you if it’ll keep you coming over.” 

You look at Eddie in surprise. He grins at you, jutting his chin towards the couch. 

“Sit down, I’ll get you set up.” 

“You don’t have to do that,” you say. 

“Gotta keep my favorite customer happy, don’t I?” You don’t move, and his smile softens into something more genuine. “It’s no problem, just sit down. Tell me about this guy. Does he treat you right?” 

You follow directions, going to sit on the less saggy and dingy-looking of the couch cushions while Eddie bends over the counter across from you. “Not really,” you say indifferently. As if thinking about it doesn’t send a dull ache blooming through your middle. “We aren’t together anymore.” 

Eddie glances up at you, something odd flitting across his expression. “That sucks,” he says bluntly. “I’m sorry. I mean, it sounds like he sucked, so I guess I’m not sorry that it’s over even if I’m sorry that you’re sad. Are you sad?” 

A little laugh startles out of you. “Not really,” you say, and it’s halfway to honest. You’d been sad to break up with him, but Eddie is right; he sucked. You’re not really sad it’s over either. 

“Good.” He nods, appeased. “Thought I’d have to go beat someone up or something.” 

You snort, and Eddie’s mouth drops open in offense. He looks back down at the roll, sticking his tongue in his cheek as he shakes his head.

“Feels like you’re not taking my threat of vengeance super seriously.” 

“No, I am,” you laugh. “I am, it’s just—you don’t seem like someone who wins a ton of fights.” 

“Ah!” He clutches a fist over his heart, looking at you in absolute betrayal. “So little faith! I’ve fought worse monsters than your jilted beaux, okay?” 

You roll your eyes. “I’m guessing it’s a little different in real life than in your game.” 

Eddie pauses for a half a second, and you wonder if you’ve gone too far in your teasing, but then he bends back over the table, bringing the paper to his mouth. “Right.” He runs his tongue quickly across the roll. “Well, anyway, I have a spear in my garage if you want me to give it a try.” 

You smile at the thought of Eddie jabbing his (in your imagination, plastic and nerdy) spear at your most recent ex. 

“Thanks, but I think I’m good,” you say. 

He shrugs. “Your loss. I’d have taken off my shirt for the battle, but I guess you’ll have to get that show another time.” 

You laugh, crossing your legs as he starts on another roll. “Hey, you don’t actually have to roll all this,” you say. “I won’t stop coming to you.” 

“I don’t mind it,” he replies, packing the next with easy, practiced movements. “Unless you’re in a rush or something. Do you have to go?” 

“No, I’m…I’m good.” You’ve never spent this long at Eddie’s place before. It’s usually that you show up, he gives you a bag, you pay, and you leave. You’ve never taken much time to survey the trailer, the way Eddie moves around the cramped furniture with such ease or the way the windows let in just enough light to make his skin look softer and his eyes browner. “You can leave half of it, though, if that’s okay. I’ve still got a bowl at home.” 

“Whatever you want.” He keeps his focus downward, ringed fingers moving carefully. “You know, I’ve actually kind of missed having you come around.” 

“You said that already.” You tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, smiling even though he’s not looking. “I told you I’ll keep coming back, Eddie, you don’t have to butter me up.” 

His gaze flicks to you, eyebrows rising on his forehead. “I’m not,” he says.

Something about his tone has the hairs raising on the back of your neck. You keep intentionally still as a slight chill goes through you. 

“I like hanging out with you.” He shrugs, looking back at his roll. “Would you want to hang out again soon?” 

You hesitate. “I…don’t think I’ll be needing any more for a bit.” 

“Well, ideally you wouldn’t be here to buy.” 

For a second, you’re confused, and then realization and dread collide in your gut with enough force to make you nauseous. The disappointment is more potent than either of them. 

“Oh.” Maybe Eddie isn’t so different from the other dealers you’ve had after all. “Um, I just feel like I’ve always paid in cash…” 

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow, and then his entire face contorts. “Christ—no.” He drops the finished roll, holding up his palms as if to ward you off. “Not that! Ew—I mean—” His hands go to his head. “—not ew, like you’re not ew, I just—gah.” He drops his head back, and his fingers disappear into his hair, making fists. He looks almost pained. “I like you. Like, I’m not trying to have sex with you right now. Not that sex wouldn’t be cool—we could if you wanted to—but that’s not what I’m getting at.” 

He blows out a big breath, hands dropping to his knees, and looks you in the eye. 

“Can we just forget about the weed for a second?” he asks, sounding nearly desperate. “I’m trying to ask you on a date. Not to get you to fuck me for drugs.” Your mouth drops open, but Eddie keeps going. “And if you don’t want to go out, that’s totally cool. Very respectable, honestly. It doesn’t have to affect anything.” He presses his lips together. “I didn’t mean to say you were ew. I’m sorry.” 

You’re too shell-shocked to even laugh. You have whiplash. But now he’s looking at you with his big eyes all expectant, and you feel like you have to say something. 

“A date?” you ask. 

“Uh, yeah.” He leans against the counter, looking a bit awkward but somehow all the more endearing for it. “Like, to the arcade or maybe dairy queen or something—I don’t know, you can pick.” 

“And you…don’t want to have sex.” 

“I don’t not want to have sex,” he clarifies. “But, uh, we don’t have to at all. Like, only if you want to, and definitely not if you think it’s some sort of…” Eddie winces “...transaction.” 

You nod slowly, and now there’s a smile tugging persistently at your lips. “That sounds good,” you say. “The date part.” 

“Yeah?” His head picks up. “Really?”

You smile. “Yeah. Are you sure?” 

“Am I sure?” Eddie guffaws. “Yeah, I’m pretty fucking sure. I’m getting a much better deal here. But no take-backs,” he says quickly, and his grin widens when you laugh. “Are you free tomorrow?” 

“Um, yeah.” You think for a second, nodding. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing tomorrow.” 

“Great.” Eddie presses his lips together like he’s trying to contain the full scope of his smile. He pushes his fingers into the countertop. “Okay, forget everything from today. I’m gonna be such a fucking gentleman when I pick you up tomorrow, you probably won’t even recognize me.”

[sherewrytes]

↳ Toji Fushiguro x f! black reader

REBLOGS HELP ENGAGEMENT

summary. You were always told by your family to stay out of trouble, get your degree, get a good job, and live a good life. Simple rules to follow. You somehow caught the eye of probably the most problematic person in your university but why did it intrigue you to find out more about him.

Toji Zenin/Fushiguro saw you for the first time strolling past him and his friends in front of the university's library. Something about you drew him in. He never saw someone like you before, focused, poised and dedicated to their degree. Always in the library or hanging out with friends, not really partying much. He wondered when curiosity would get the better of him to approach you, but he knew the life he lived would be too problematic for someone as sweet as you.

genre: heavy angst, modern au, 18+, explicit smut, dark romance,

Mafia Au, street racer au, dark romance au

character lookbook

fic warnings. ooc, profanity, mental health issues, toxic relationships, cheating, explicit smut, drug use, mentions of depression + more to be updated as story progresses.

Please read with proper discretion. this is a work of fiction. all characters are written to portray roles that are necessary to the plot and are in no way a reflection of their canon counterparts.

READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION

Taglist: (you can comment to be added)

@sparkling-obsidian @queendessi24 @masterofthepp @thedondiva45 @laitifly @burpzz @prettypink-princesss

Chapter 4: Slow Down

Yn looked at Toji sitting next to her then glanced at Gojo then back at him.

Y/n," he said, his voice low but firm, "just listen for a second. I need you to understand that I’m not some sick puppy. This isn’t a game for me."

Y/n rolled her eyes, crossing her arms defensively. "Then why do you keep acting like one? If you want to talk, then be honest. Stop lying to me!"

Toji leaned in closer, invading her personal space just enough to make her heart race. "I’m not lying," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper, "but I can’t tell you everything, either. There are things in my life that—" He paused, searching for the right words. "That isn't safe for you to know."

"Safe? For me?" Y/n scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. "You think I can’t handle the truth? How do you expect me to trust you when you keep dodging my questions?"

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm against her ear. "Trust is built over time, Y/n. And right now, I just need you to focus on us, not on what you think you know about my life." He gently cupped her chin, tilting her head up so she met his gaze. "What if I told you that the racing, the shop—those are just hobbies? They don’t define who I am."

She hesitated, searching his eyes for any sign of deception, but the intensity in his gaze made her pulse quicken. "Then what defines you, Toji?" she asked, her voice softening ever so slightly.

He could feel the momentary crack in her defenses, and he seized it. "I’m a guy trying to make ends meet, just like everyone else," he lied again smoothly. "I’m focused on school, on making a better life for myself. The racing? It’s just a thrill, a way to escape from all the pressure."

Y/n narrowed her eyes, but her heart raced at his closeness. "Is that all? You make it sound so simple."

"Of course not," he said, letting a hint of vulnerability seep into his voice. "But I don’t want you to worry about it. I deal with things in my own way. I’ll always keep you out of the chaos. I swear it."

"How can I believe you?" she shot back, but her tone was less confrontational, and he could sense she was wavering.

Toji  brushes his fingers along her arm, grounding her with his touch. "Because I care about you, Y/n. More than you know." His voice dropped, laden with unspoken truths. "I don’t want to hurt you. I want to keep you close."

She shivered at the contact, her resolve beginning to crumble. "You keep saying that, but it feels like you’re just playing with my head."

"I'm not playing," he said, his voice a sultry whisper as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. "I’m just trying to keep you safe while I figure out my life. Believe me, I’m being honest." He leaned closer, his lips just inches from hers, making her heart race in a different way. "But there are things I would never want to expose you to."

Y/n swallowed hard, caught in the moment, his words weaving a complex web that both fascinated and terrified her. "Like what?" she breathed, almost forgetting her anger.

"Like the people I deal with outside of all this," he said, his voice low and intimate, "the kinds of connections that can get messy. But it’s nothing you should concern yourself with."

"You’re making it sound like you’re in some secret world," she replied, trying to sound defiant but failing to mask the curiosity in her voice. "You’re not just a street racer and a mechanic. What else are you hiding from me?"

Toji brushed his thumb along her jawline, the intimacy of the gesture sending electric shocks through both of them. "You don’t want to know that, trust me. I’m just a normal guy but I have my demons, Y/n."

"What kind of demons?" she pressed, but the way he held her gaze made her falter, her breath hitching in her throat.

"Demons that haunt me," he admitted, letting a darkness seep into his tone, "and if I let you too close, they might start to haunt you too."

Y/n felt a thrill of fear and excitement. "You’re being cryptic on purpose."

He smirked, a sly grin that promised trouble. "Maybe I am. But it’s to keep you from getting hurt. If you let me, I’ll be the shield between you and all the shit I deal with."

For a moment, Y/n was caught in a swirl of emotions. The allure of his danger was intoxicating, but she also felt the pull of her own instincts warning her to stay away. "You don’t have to protect me, Toji," she insisted, though her voice wavered.

"Maybe not," he replied, leaning in closer, "but I want to." He pressed his lips against her forehead, the gentleness of the gesture clashing with the intensity of their conversation. "Let me handle the chaos. You just focus on being you. That’s enough for me."

As she looked at him, her heart conflicted but undeniably drawn to him, she couldn’t help but wonder if trusting him was the right choice. And in that moment, as he held her close, it felt like it might be worth the risk.

Toji stepped into Y/n's room along with yn, closing the door behind him, his heart pounding as he tried to keep his cool. He was acutely aware of the tension between them, but he couldn’t let her walk away. Not now. Not when he finally had the chance to be close to her again.

"Let’s talk more in private." he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "But let’s not go there. Instead, let’s talk about what you love. What makes you happy? I want to hear more about you."

Y/n frowned slightly, sensing the shift in conversation. "You’re deflecting."

He smiled softly, brushing his thumb along her jawline, making her heart race even faster. "Maybe I am," he admitted, leaning in a bit closer. "But I want to know what makes you tick. Your design work? Your dreams? I want to know everything about you, Y/n."

She hesitated, caught off guard by his sincerity. "You’re just changing the subject."

"Am I?" he replied, tilting his head slightly. "But isn’t this what we should be focusing on? You and me, here, right now."

His gaze locked onto hers, and she felt the heat radiating between them, pulling her closer. "Tell me what inspires you. What do you want to create?"

Y/n found herself drawn into his intensity, her anger slipping away. "I want to design spaces that make people feel at home," she said, her voice quieter now. "I want to help people feel comfortable and happy."

Toji's expression softened. "See? That's beautiful. You're beautiful. And I want to know every little thing about that side of you. So tell me."

His touch was magnetic, and as she spoke about her passion, he leaned in closer, wrapping his arms around her waist. The conversation shifted, and with every word, Y/n felt the tension between them change.

"Okay," she said, smiling slightly. "I guess I can share a little."

Toji grinned, relieved to see her opening up. "That’s all I want, Y/n. Just you and me. Let's forget the rest for a bit."

As they delved into conversation, Toji subtly steered her away from any more questions about his life outside of this moment, focusing instead on the warmth of their connection and the spark igniting between them. For now, he was determined to keep her in the light, far away from the darkness lurking in the corners of his life.

Toji leaned down, capturing Y/n’s lips in a gentle but fervent kiss, pouring all the pent-up feelings he had bottled inside into that one moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and he searched her eyes for understanding.

“I need you, Y/n,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You know that, right? Since the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Y/n blinked in surprise, the sincerity in his gaze catching her off guard. “You don’t even know me, Toji,” she replied, her tone laced with disbelief. “How can you need me?”

“I do,” he insisted, brushing his thumb across her cheek, relishing the warmth of her skin. “I know it sounds crazy, but there’s something about you that pulls me in. It’s like you’ve been a part of my life long before I even met you. You make everything feel different.”

She searched his eyes for any hint of insincerity but found none. The intensity of his gaze made her heart race. “But you don’t know the real me,” she said, trying to maintain her defenses. “You only see what you want to see.”

“Maybe,” Toji conceded, leaning in closer, their breaths mingling. “But I want to know the real you. I want to learn about your dreams, your fears—everything that makes you, you. I don’t want to hide from that anymore.”

His sincerity made her chest tighten, the wall she had built around her heart cracking just a little. “And what about all the chaos in your life?” she pressed, her voice softer now. “What happens when that comes crashing down?”

Toji’s expression shifted, a flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face. “I won’t let that happen. Not to you. I promise,” he said earnestly, a hint of desperation threading through his words. “I’ll protect you from all the darkness in my world. I’m done pretending it doesn’t exist, but I refuse to let it take you away from me.”

Y/n felt a rush of emotions—confusion, longing, fear—but the weight of his words wrapped around her, making her heart flutter against her will. “Toji,” she breathed, the uncertainty still lingering in her voice.

“I know this is all so sudden,” he admitted, his grip tightening around her waist as if anchoring them both in this moment. “But I can’t pretend like I don’t want you in my life. You’re the light I didn’t know I was missing.”

The sincerity in his words pulled at her heartstrings, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a life where they could be together without the chaos, without the lies. “What if we just… take it slow?” she suggested hesitantly.

Toji smiled softly, relief flooding through him. “Slow sounds perfect. I’ll take whatever time you’ll give me, Y/n.”

With a tentative smile, she nodded, and the tension between them shifted once again, transforming from uncertainty to something warmer, something filled with possibility.

“Okay,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s figure this out together.”

Toji’s heart swelled at her words. He leaned in to kiss her, this time softer, more tender, as if sealing a silent promise between them. In that moment, he knew he would do everything in his power to keep her close, to shield her from the darkness lurking in the shadows of his life.

Toji leaned down, capturing Y/n’s lips in a gentle but fervent kiss, pouring all the pent-up feelings he had bottled inside into that one moment. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, and he searched her eyes for understanding.

Toji’s lips curled into a smirk, and he leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. “So you like it slow, Y/n?” he asked, his voice raspy with teasing. He caressed her jaw gently, tilting her face to meet his gaze, their eyes locking. “Or do you prefer it fast?”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat, and she felt heat rise to her cheeks under the weight of his gaze. “I—I just meant…” she stammered, caught off guard by the intensity of the moment.

He held her chin firmly, his eyes searching hers as he waited for her to gather her thoughts. “Look, I get it. Things are crazy between us. But we can figure it out together, at whatever pace feels right. Just know that I want you, Y/n. No matter how fast or slow this goes.”

The warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his eyes began to ease her apprehensions. “Okay,” she finally replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let’s take it slow and see where this goes.”

Toji smiled, a mixture of relief and desire flooding through him. He leaned in to kiss her again, this time softer, more tender, as if sealing a silent promise between them. In that moment, he knew he would do everything in his power to keep her close, to shield her from the darkness lurking in the shadows of his life, even as he struggled with his own demons.

Y/n sighed, the weight of her emotions pressing heavily on her chest. “It’s so soon, Toji,” she admitted, uncertainty lacing her words.

Toji let out a deep breath, running a hand through his hair. “Is it, though?” he countered, tilting his head slightly as he searched her eyes for understanding. “I mean, we’ve already been through so much together, even if it feels like it’s only been a few moments. Isn’t it better to be honest about what we want?”

Meanwhile, in the background, the lively atmosphere of Y/n’s living room was a stark contrast to the tension between the two. Gojo, Shoko, and Mei Mei were enjoying themselves, laughter and chatter filling the space as they passed around drinks and smoked casually.

Gojo, ever the instigator, snatched Shoko’s phone from the table where she had been playing a slow R&B song, seamlessly switching it to “Aston Martin Music” by Rick Ross and Drake. The smooth beats and silky lyrics enveloped the room, setting a relaxed vibe.

As the song played, Gojo turned to Shoko with a mischievous grin. “You know, Geto has a crush on you,” he said, smirking as he watched her reaction.

Shoko faked a gag, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Oh please, Gojo. Geto? He’s way too chill for me.”

“What's wrong with Geto? He’s a solid guy,” Gojo defended, raising an eyebrow. “You just need to give him a chance. He’s not as boring as you think. He’s just… selective.”

“Selective?” Mei Mei chimed in, giggling as she leaned closer to Shoko. “You mean he’s just too busy being the ‘cool guy’ to actually make a move?”

“Exactly!” Gojo laughed, pouring another drink. “I mean, look at him. He’s been lurking around you like a puppy for ages. Just admit it; he’s got a crush, and it’s adorable.”

Shoko shook her head, still not convinced. “I don’t know, Gojo. He’s not really my type. I like someone who knows how to have fun.”

“Fun? Like what? Getting hammered and dancing on tables?” Gojo teased, nudging her playfully. “Geto’s chill side can be fun too. Just wait till you see him at a party; he knows how to let loose!”

Back in the other room, Y/n couldn’t help but chuckle softly at the lively banter happening just out of sight. It reminded her of the carefree moments she used to enjoy before the complications of life weighed her down. Toji, still focused on her, gently brushed his thumb over her cheek, bringing her attention back to their conversation.

“Whatever pace you want, Y/n, I’ll respect it,” he said softly. “But just know that I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his presence settle over her, the tension in her shoulders easing just a bit. “Okay, let’s take it slow,” she repeated, determination filling her voice.

Toji smiled, that familiar spark of mischief in his eyes. “Good, because I’ve got a lot I want to show you. Just promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?” Y/n asked, curiosity piquing as she leaned into him slightly.

“Promise me you won’t shut me out,” Toji replied, his voice steady and sincere. “We’ll figure this out together, no matter how complicated it gets.”

Y/n nodded slowly, knowing that despite the chaos in their lives, there was a flicker of hope—perhaps even a chance for something beautiful to blossom amidst the madness.

Toji's gaze followed Y/n as she walked out of her room, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “So this is... did you change outfits to drive me? Y/n, what kind of timing are you on, for real?”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and teasing as she made her way to the living room, leaving Toji to admire the way her shorts hugged her figure. It was a sight that made him momentarily forget all the chaos swirling in his life.

As she settled between Shoko and Mei Mei, Toji leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, unable to tear his eyes away from her. The three girls were animated, their laughter ringing out as they joked and talked, but all he could focus on was Y/n. The way she laughed, the way she moved—it all drew him in.

“Damn, she’s stunning,” Toji muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else. He felt a rush of warmth fill his chest, a mix of admiration and desire as he continued to watch her.

“Earth to Toji!” Gojo’s voice broke through his trance, pulling him back to reality.

Toji shook his head slightly, trying to play it cool. “What?” he replied, feigning indifference as he turned to Gojo, who was smirking at him knowingly.

“Just making sure you weren’t drooling over Y/n or anything,” Gojo teased, raising an eyebrow. “You look like a kid in a candy store.”

“Shut up,” Toji shot back, but there was no real bite to his words. “I’m just... observing.”

“Observing, huh? You should probably do that from a distance, man. She might actually think you’re creepy,” Gojo jokes, earning a chuckle from Mei Mei and Shoko.

Toji rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin forming on his lips. “Yeah, right. Like you’re one to talk about being creepy.”

As the banter continued, Y/n caught Toji’s eye across the room, a knowing smile creeping onto her face. She leaned slightly forward, her curiosity piqued. “What are you looking at, Toji?”

“Just admiring the view,” he replied smoothly, his voice low and teasing, eliciting laughter from the girls around her.

“Uh-huh, sure. You just can’t help yourself, can you?” Y/n shot back, her playful tone hinting at the chemistry simmering between them.

Toji shrugged, leaning against the wall as he enjoyed the moment. “Can you blame me? You look good, Y/n. Just don’t let it get to your head.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though a faint blush crept onto her cheeks. “As if I need your validation, Zenin.”

“Careful,” he replied, a teasing smirk on his face, “keep talking like that, and I might just take it personally.”

Y/n laughed again, and Toji’s heart raced. The playful back-and-forth felt easy, like they were slipping back into a rhythm he had missed during their time apart. For a moment, everything else faded away—the drama, the lies, the pressures of their lives outside this moment. All that mattered was the connection they shared, a spark that ignited between them, promising that this was just the beginning.

Toji checked his phone, feeling the weight of his commitment to Shui pressing down on him. He glanced up at Y/n, who was laughing with her friends, and decided he couldn't leave without saying something first.

He walked over and squatted down to meet her gaze, his eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, the noise around them faded, and all he could focus on was the way her smile lit up the room. Without thinking twice, he leaned in and kissed her deeply, pouring all the pent-up feelings he had into that single moment.

“I need to go,” he murmured against her lips when he pulled back, his voice low and serious. “I’ll text you when I’m free.”

Then, leaning closer, he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. “Keep her wanting and wet for me.”

Y/n’s eyes widened in surprise, her cheeks flushing a deep crimson as his words sank in. The teasing, flirtatious nature of his comment hung in the air, igniting a mixture of excitement and confusion within her. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words got caught in her throat as Toji stood up, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“See you later,” he said casually, though the intensity in his gaze suggested he wouldn’t forget this moment anytime soon.

As he walked away, Y/n felt a rush of adrenaline course through her, her mind racing with his parting words. She exchanged glances with Shoko and Mei Mei, who were both grinning knowingly.

“What was that all about?” Shoko teased, nudging Y/n playfully.

Y/n shook her head, still flustered. “I have no idea,” she replied, though a smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Mei Mei leaned in, her expression mischievous. “Looks like someone’s got you wrapped around his finger. Careful, or he might start thinking he can have you anytime he wants.”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn't help the warmth spreading through her. “Yeah, right. As if it’s that simple.”

“Seems pretty simple to me,” Mei Mei shot back, a knowing glint in her eye.

Meanwhile, Toji stepped outside, a rush of exhilaration coursing through him. His heart was racing, not just from the kiss but from the thrill of the chase he felt with Y/n. He had left her wanting more, and that was precisely the plan.

As he got into his car, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of their heated interactions. For the first time in a while, he felt alive—caught between the chaos of his life and the intoxicating pull of Y/n. He fired up the engine and drove off, the city lights blurring past him as he headed to meet Shui, anticipation bubbling beneath the surface.

Toji drove through the familiar streets, the engine's roar echoing his restless thoughts. Despite the intensity of his earlier encounter with Y/n, a tension lingered in the back of his mind—the lingering repercussions of his double life. He glanced at his phone, but there were no new messages from Shui. Just as well; he needed to focus on one thing at a time.

Arriving at their usual meet-up spot, an abandoned warehouse at the edge of town, Toji parked and stepped out, the cold night air hitting him like a splash of icy water. He spotted Shui leaning against his motorcycle, a smirk on his face as he took a drag from a cigarette.

“Look who decided to show up,” Shui called, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Did you forget how to drive or something?”

Toji rolled his eyes but couldn’t help a grin. “Had a little… detour,” he replied, his thoughts still drifting back to Y/n’s surprised expression and the warmth of her body against his.

“Detour, huh? Let me guess, that girl is trouble.” Shui pushed off from the bike, his tone shifting to one of genuine concern. “You need to be careful with her, Toji. You know how things can get messy.”

Toji shrugged it off, his demeanor shifting to a more guarded stance. “I know what I’m doing. She’s just a girl,” he said, but even he could hear the lack of conviction in his words.

“Just a girl?” Shui raised an eyebrow, taking a step closer. “You’re really going to play it like that? Because from what I hear, you usually don't act the fool for any girl.”

Toji sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m just trying to keep things simple. She doesn’t need to know about my life. I’m not dragging her into this.”

Shui’s expression softened, sensing the conflict within Toji. “Just be careful. You know how our world works. Things can turn dark quickly. And you’ve got a lot of people who’d love to use that against you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind,” Toji replied, more dismissively than he intended. But he didn’t want to think about that right now. He pushed the thoughts aside and focused on the moment.

“So, what’s the deal tonight?” he asked, changing the subject as he leaned against the car. “You said you had news?”

Shui nodded, glancing around as if to ensure they were alone. “I’ve been hearing some whispers. There’s a new player in town, someone stirring up trouble, and they’re interested in street racing. I thought you should know.”

Toji’s interest piqued. “What do you mean ‘new player’?”

“Word is, they’re not just racing for fun. They’re looking to make a statement, and they won’t hesitate to get their hands dirty,” Shui explained, a serious edge creeping into his voice. “I just want you to be careful. You’re a known name, and I don’t want you caught in the crossfire.”

“Got it,” Toji said, his mind racing. This could complicate everything. He couldn’t afford to let anyone disrupt what he had with Y/n, especially with all the chaos brewing on the streets.

“Are you going to race this new guy?” Shui asked, eyeing him closely.

Toji shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ll check it out, but I’m not looking for trouble.”

“Just remember—trouble has a way of finding you,” Shui warned, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot.

“Yeah, well, I’m not planning on making it easy for them,” Toji replied, determination hardening in his gaze.

Back at Y/n's Apartment

Meanwhile, back at Y/n’s apartment, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to the tense air Toji was now navigating. Shoko and Mei Mei were sprawled out on the couch, the low hum of music filling the space as they chatted and giggled, sipping on drinks.

Y/n, however, was lost in thought, replaying the moments with Toji over and over in her head. His kiss, his words—it was all consuming, leaving her torn between excitement and uncertainty.

“Are you going to keep staring at that wall, or are you going to join us?” Mei Mei called out playfully, pulling Y/n from her thoughts.

Y/n blinked, shaking her head as if to clear it. “What? Sorry, just… thinking.”

“About Toji, right?” Shoko asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Y/n couldn’t help but blush. “Maybe,” she admitted, a hint of a smile forming.

“Girl, you’re totally into him,” Mei Mei teased, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “What’s the deal? Is he your new boyfriend or what?”

Y/n rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress the smile. “It’s not that simple. We’ve barely talked, and he just walked into my life like a whirlwind.”

“Yeah, but it’s a hot whirlwind,” Shoko chimed in, leaning forward. “You can’t deny there’s chemistry. I mean, did you see the way he looked at you?”

“Exactly! He’s a bad boy, and you know you like that,” Mei Mei added, sipping her drink.

“I just… I don’t know if I want to jump into something like that,” Y/n admitted, her brow furrowing. “What if it ends badly?”

“Then you deal with it,” Shoko said, shrugging. “You’re a strong woman. You’ll bounce back. But you have to admit, there’s something there.”

Y/n sighed, leaning back against the couch. “Maybe. But I don’t want to rush anything. I want to take it slow.”

Mei Mei smirked. “So you like it slow, huh?”

Y/n shot her a glare, trying to hide the smile. “You know what I mean! I just want to figure things out without it getting complicated.”

“Complicated?” Shoko scoffed. “With a guy like Toji? That’s like trying to play chess with a raccoon. He’s all instinct, no rules.”

Y/n laughed, the tension in her chest easing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. But still…”

“Just be open to it,” Mei Mei encouraged, her expression softening. “Life is too short to overthink everything.”

Back to Toji

Toji returned to his car after catching up with Shui, his thoughts drifting back to Y/n. He had left her with so many unanswered questions, but there was something about her that drew him in—her fierce spirit, her passion for life. He couldn’t let his world tarnish that light.

As he drove back into the city, he felt a mixture of anticipation and dread. His life was a constant balancing act, and with the new threats emerging, he was worried about how it would affect Y/n. He just wanted to keep her safe, but as the saying goes, you can’t protect someone from everything, especially when they’re already part of a dangerous game.

He pulled out his phone, staring at Y/n’s contact. Should he text her now or wait until things settle down? The moment felt too precarious, like a tightly wound spring ready to snap at any moment.

But for now, all he could do was wait.

[hmsdoodlin]

(22) Heart and Soul <3

Long ramble under the cut

I’ll be honest I have no idea why these two resonate so much with me, they barely interact in the album one on one. But I think they’re really cute and I’m kissing them on the tops of their heads. They have so much potential.

(Please don’t crucify me for any of this, I acknowledge that some of my takes may be ooc. This is all based on interpretation and whimsy. Soul is hard for me to characterize.)

My version of Soul is tired. He’s driven to drastic decisions that he does not want to do. He loves his Heart and his Mind with his entire being just as much as he hates them, they’re him! They’re a package deal! But in Cacophony Heart and Mind are far too absorbed with their rivalry to really acknowledge him unless it’s to turn the argument in their favor. He feels ostracized and used, more like something to be fought over than a friend. I think he’s really lonely.

And then you have Heart. Someone who yearns to be understood but struggles to express himself in a healthy way. He craves for unity just as much as Soul and Mind do, but ultimately crumbles beneath his own perception of the others and his loathing. He wants to love, he has the capacity to if he is the entire emotion spectrum, he just can’t express it right now because of everything going on inside his head.

Soul really needs a hug and to feel loved -> Heart really needs a hug and to feel understood

Both are incredibly lonely in their own ways, but they also have the ability to be mutually beneficial for each other in Cacophony.

Assuming Soul is half and half of both sides, he’s able to understand and at least sympathize with Hearts point of view. He doesn’t agree with it, he can see past all of the twisted perceptions, but he’s able to provide the sympathy/understanding that Heart needs. No matter how small. And in turn Heart is able to provide that brief feeling of togetherness and unity. Heart is most likely the easiest to connect with on a surface level, and therefore the best option for when Soul is feeling down and hopeless.

Heart thinks the entire world is against him, he believes that Mind and by extension Soul hate him and want him gone. Soul is able to quell the moons worries, at least for the night. Soul believes that his sides hate him just as much as they hate each other, he wants them all to get along. Heart can provide that feeling of unity, physical touch acting as a form of reassurance and communication. He can pretend that everything is good for a moment and that the warm body beside him is how it’s supposed to be.

I headcanon Mind as touch adverse and Heart as very physical, so Soul is the perfect middle ground! Heart and Soul are able to connect on a very emotional level, and therefore have an easier time showing affection and being close. Lots of cuddles! Lots of comforting! They don’t have to talk, there’s no pressure, they can just hug and everything melts aways. They want to keep each other safe and happy.

Their relationship is so appealing because there’s no barrier between them. They can connect with and understand each other on a very emotional level, switching seamlessly between comforter and comfortee in most scenarios.

I have a lot to say about them in an angst sense, but it delves a bit too far into headcanons and is incredibly long. That’s a discussion for another time, I’m trying to focus on the positives of their dynamic here. Heart and Soul angst absolutely cooks though, trust.

I may be delusional. But in my HEART and in my SOUL they are very close. They share the same night sky! The moon orbits the earth and controls the tides! You can only see the stars when it’s night time!!!!

(Quickly going to clarify that I personally accept a lot of different interpretations of Hearts blindness as canon, I generally like and accept most headcanons even if they conflict with eachother. Soul blinded Heart? Cool. Mind blinded Heart? Epic. Heart was always blind? Awesome. I personally don’t really care and I think all of them can be true simultaneously. Why the hell not, time does not exist on a linear scale. I don’t agree with Soul being 100% an abuser though, he’s just as much of a complicated victim as the other two.

I personally like the idea that Heart did it to himself in apathy the most. Doodle Heart has subscribed to that, as will all/most of my interpretations of him. My Soul didn’t hurt him in that way. And I think he was actually quite mortified when he found out.)

Be silly be goofy, do whatever the hell you want, at the end of the day this is my own personal point of view. They swim in my brain like little amoeba and have rerouted all my nerves. I’m definitely more inclined to be soft on them so take everything I’ve said with a grain of salt. My ass is biased. On my hands and knees begging for more content of them though. PLEASE.

On a less serious note. I think Heart is Souls little guy. He love him :(

[dreamings-free]

Louis about LT3

a summary UPDATED 6/10/24

Sep 2022 first time Louis mentions a 3rd album. Louis is quoted in Euphoria Magazine saying: “Ideally, I’d like to try and write the next record before I go on tour next year. I want to do something similar to what I’ve done this past year.” (but from what we know now it seems it didn't play out that way..)

Sep 14th 2022 Louis leaves a comment on Faith In The Future co-writer Nico Rebscher's instagram post about Out Of My System saying "Can’t wait to do more on the next album!"

Jan 2023 Louis is on holiday in Cabo, Mexico and is spotted travelling with his guitar - maybe in case inspiration strikes!?

Feb 22nd 2023 Louis is seen "a tiny village with a recording studio in it". A few days later both Louis and Matt Vines likes an instagram post by Faith In The Future co-writer David Sneddon captioned "Spent the week at @ angelicstudiouk with friends and heroes." Another FITF co-writer Theo Hutchcraft is seen in one of the photos.

May 11th 2023 Louis tweets: "Also probably shouldn’t mention this so early in the process but I’m feeling really confident creatively, just finished a week of writing and it was unbelievable. Exciting!"

May 13th 2023 When asked about the next album at the LA screening of All Of Those Voices, he answered: “I recently just started, yeah. The majority have been my own, but some of the lyrics is less direct, so it’s maybe not quite as specifically about me but,I felt really fulfilled, the last couple of writing sessions I’ve done have been really, really good.”

Nov 23rd 2023 Louis gets asked about album 3 at the Rolling Stone UK Awards and is quoted saying: “It’s funny, I wrote maybe 4 or 5 tunes in one of the breaks of the tour legs, and actually, I just wanna spend a bit of time. I’m really excited for those songs, but I don’t know when the next records gonna come and the thing about me is when I start writing, I’m just desperate to release things as soon as a possible, so I wanna take a bit of time on this record. So when that might be, who knows.” He also talks a bit about potential collaborators and mentions DMA'S.

Jan 20th 2024 Louis follows producer James Ellis Ford who has worked with Arctic Monkey, Gorillaz and many, many more.

Jan 24th 2024 When asked in a twitter Q&A if he has "a concept in mind already for the next album?" his answer was: "Started drawing the outline in my head". He also told fans asking at the meet 'n' greet in Jakarta that it would be "soon, in my context of the word" 😜

Mar 30th 2024 At the Tecate Pa'l Norte press conference he said: “At the moment, um— to be honest, I haven’t really— the question was what I listen to which is a slightly different thing but; I haven’t really given the next record real thought yet. Obviously it’s been on my mind. But in terms of conceptually, or even finding references, I’m not really at that point yet because I’ve done a lot of touring— just kind of getting that out of the way before I really start thinking about that proper.”

April 4th 2024 He told Chilean radio station Bio Bio: “I have written a couple of songs, but when I was writing them I wasn’t thinking about what they would be for a new album, they were just written to give me something to write and not put pressure on those songs. But I think I will start the work on a new album at the end of this year, maybe.” futher elaborating to Radio Disney Chile: “The good thing about this record is I’m gonna have plenty of time to experiment and with that it gives you plenty of room to just kind of find where the edges of the record live. So yeah I’m looking forward to getting into the process, but like I said I’ve been loving touring at the moment so just been kind of sticking to that.”.

He also told Paraguayan radio station HEI Now: “Of course there’ll be a new album. When? I’m not overly sure. I think I’ll probably start writing at the end of the year. I just wanna let as much life in first and then I can really start emoting and writing.”

June 2024 In the FITF tour LatAm recap video posted to Louis’ instagram 25/6 he says: “At some point I gotta think about the next record, but.. I’m a bit scared of that, truthfully right now, feel like I’ve been enjoying the success of Faith in The Future for.. quite a while. And yes, it’s been the pressure of the shows but I delivered what I think was a good record and a record that was successful. So now going into the next cycle it’s a little bit.. a little bit tentative going into it. I know that’ll change once I get off the road and really start thinking about the essence of the record and the concept of the record and stuff like that. But right now.. yeah, I’m just thinking about the festivals, I’m excited for those.” (he also talks - in past tense about playing in Mexico City and about the upcoming Away From Home Festival, so we can assume this interview was done somewhere in early June)

August 4th 2024 Responding to a fan sign at Santander Music Festival that said "How close R we to the next album 1-5?" showing three - possibly four? - fingers! meaning the album is 3/5 (or 4/5?) done!

Oct 4th 2024 curious activity across Louis' socials; on twitter the header image was changed from the Louis Tomlinson : Live album graphic to just the cover image and the Faith In The Future tweet was unpinned (like it was on Louis' insta 9/9). on Louis' instagram the bio text was cleared and the link to louist.lnk.to/live was also removed.

Oct 6th 2024 Louis replies to a fan on twitter asking if new music is coming with "Only been off tour 2 minutes. The next record is going to be my best yet but need chance to let life in first!"

tbc...

[d0youc0py]

Could you do any 141 member (I don’t really care I love them all) comforting civilian!reader while she’s on her period? Like the cramps, nausea, mood swings?

Thanks!

He winced as another pained groan left your lips.

“Pain killers didn’t help?” He frowned. He laid down behind you tucking you against him. He pressed a kiss to the back of your head, his hands pressing down on the heating pad against your stomach. The pressure made you feel better and you softly grabbed his hand and put it under the heating pad, silently asking him to massage your stomach. “I got you.” He pressed another kiss to your shoulder.

“Are you done with your paperwork yet?” You whined.

“Ya, Sweetheart.” He lied. The thought of leaving you alone to suffer on the couch made his stomach turn. “You rest up, now and I’ll fix us some dinner later, yeah?”

“Don’t leave till I fall asleep please.” You requested, scooting closer to him.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He’s literally the dream partner when it comes to this stuff

He has always been a very nurturing person

He has your special week marked on his calendar so he’s never caught off guard if you snip at him or you wake up and need to change the sheets

When he can’t be with you he always ships a care package to your house with all the things you could possibly need (snacks, pads/tampons, medicine, a card saying how much he loves you)

He’s the best honestly

“Kid, open the door!” The door handle jiggled. You splashed cold water over your face trying to calm down, but no matter how hard you tried sobs wracked your body. You blamed the hormones. You and Simon were new in your relationship, about five months in, and you had just recently started spending the night at his place. You always had a plan for what to do if you got your period during the night but you didn’t plan for it to come almost a week early. You woke up feeling a familiar wetness and practically ripped yourself out of Simon’s arms. To make matters worse he had his thigh resting between your legs, meaning- you didn’t even want to say it. You shook the thoughts out of your head.

“Sweetheart, c’mon.” Simon sighed from the other side of the door. “You know what I do for a living, yeah? You think a little blood is gonna scare me off? I find that a bit offensive if I’m being honest.”

“It’s disgusting and embarrassing!” You shouted through your sobs.

“It’s not disgusting.” He shot back. “Whoever made you feel that way is a cunt. And it might seem embarrassing now, but I promise you in a week it’ll make you laugh. Out you come.” He shook the door handle again. He did make you feel better. “There she is.” He whispered. You looked him over, happy he had changed his sleep shorts. A clunky thumb wiped away a few remaining tears.

The man is completely unbothered

You can throw a whole hissy fit and he’ll just ask if you’ve eaten anything today

Bodily fluids don’t faze him at all- you could bleed, vomit and cry all over him and he’d just pat you on the back

He’s still doesn’t always understand how to take care of other people, so if you want/need him to do something all you have to do is ask

He never ever makes you feel bad/embarrassed about anything

“Si, you aren’t going to believe the blood clot that just came out of me.” “I’m proud of you Sweetheart.”

“I just can’t believe he did that to her!” You sobbed, wiping your eyes on your husbands shirt.

“What a bastard.” He growled, wiping a tear from his own eye. He wrapped an arm tighter around you, throwing a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth.

“Get off the screen!” You shouted, throwing a few pieces of popcorn at the TV.

“Ya, fuck off!” Johnny yelled after you tossing a few pieces as well. You both looked at each other before bursting into a giggle fit.

Every time you on your period it seems like Johnny also goes on his

You would think both of you being so emotional would cause problems, but it really makes you feel less alone

He definitely steals higher grade pain meds from the base to help you (Price caught him and started doing it for his own partner)

Absolutely loves to take warm showers with you

This man is also unfazed by bodily fluids ;)

Whenever you feel sick he is on the other side of the door cheering you on

You hated when you got your period and he wasn’t here. It always reminded you of how sucky life was before him and how much spoiled you are now. You pressed yourself deeper into his pillow, inhaling his scent. Your muscles relaxed slightly- but it was nothing compared to the real thing. The pain killers had yet to kick in and your body felt so hot and uncomfortable. Your ears piqued up when you heard the door open.

“Babe?”

“Ky!” You screeched. The ache in your stomach couldn’t stop you from running through the flat to greet him. “What are you doing here? Your not suppose to be home for another two weeks?” You questioned between both of you pressing kisses against each other.

“I can just stay for two days.” He sighed, scooping you up. “I told Cap you weren’t feeling well- and let’s just say being the favorite has its perks.”

If you thought Price was good wait till you meet Kyle He definitely learned it from Price

Total Princess treatment to the max

“Ky, I can tie my shoes.” “Don’t worry bout it love.”

He shows love through acts of service so this is his time to shine ✨

Has a stash of all your favorite snacks/drinks for when the time comes

He usually puts you between his legs and the two of you play video games for the next eight hours- distraction helps take you mind off of the pain

[itsabouttimex2]

A Brand New Journey:

Part Five

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Four) (Part Five) (Part Six)

Macaque has always been so good to you. Even from the first day you accidentally stumbled onto him, he had been kind.

Your arm had been gashed open by an unfortunate fall, dripping blood and throbbing in pain with each shaky step forward. Although you had hoped to get home before dark and patch yourself up with an ever dwindling first-aid kit, praying that there were enough bandages and antiseptic left for the wound.

But then there were two sets of footsteps close behind, spurring you to disregard caution and start sprinting down the street-

Whereupon you had bumped into one very strange demon, wearing an inconspicuous ru and sporting a tattered scarf.

“Going somewhere, kiddo? You shouldn’t be in such a rush, you now. You might get hurt. Ah, but…”

His hand then shot forward to clamp around your wrist, turning it over to examine your bleeding forearm.

“Looks like you already did, huh? Here, let me just…”

Rip. Shriiiip.

The precise shredding of thick fabric, his clawed fingers cutting a rectangular strip from the already ragged scarf. He had placed one end on your wrist, then gave you a strange grin.

“Hang in there, kiddo.” The simian warned you almost too late, given barely a second to brace for the stinging pain of having a wound forcibly bound shut with naught but pressure and cloth.

Biting back a wail and a set of fresh tears, you watched the monkey demon firmly tie off the end of the makeshift bandage.

It had been such a simple thing to do- but you still cherished him for it all the same.

How you’ve come to cherish your precious mentor, who stares down at you now with a strange smile.

Lifting a sleeve to your puffy eyes, an effort is made to stand up- only for Macaque to push you back down.

“I don’t think you’re steady enough for that just yet, kiddo.” Base words to convince you to do as he says, and you believe him. You always do.

Have you ever not believed him? Even for a moment, has there ever been any doubt in your heart?

He wraps the crimson scarf a little tighter around you, making sure that it covers your shoulders and neck.

“Now, what’d you bring all the way out here? You really should know better than to carry such a fancy bag in a neighborhood like this, kiddo.”

Was this all your fault?

Maybe you should’ve wrapped the mooncakes up in something less appealing- grabbed one of the disposable plastic brown sacks from a grocery store before heading in.

How easy would that have been?

“I wanted to share a meal with you,” is the dull response you give, newly downcast and despondent. “I brought mooncakes and tea.”

“Aww, aren’t you just a gem? Just the nicest.”

Nice. Anyone can be nice, can’t they? But it’s a lot harder to be clever or strong or capable.

Maybe he’d be happier with a different student.

Maybe if you were less nice and more-

“C’mon, kiddo- are you eating or not?”

He’s already got everything ready, the mooncakes strewn across his coffee table, the bottles of tea in the microwave.

Strange. You never even saw him get up.

He notices your questioning eyes, and quickly shifts the subject.

“Real sweet of you to bring this all the way out- I’m guessing you got a good deal, if you brought all of this?”

“Y-yeah! Yeah, I, uh, I’ve been using an app that tells me about local deals, y’know? Saves some money, and, um, all that.”

“Smart,” he praises, and a rush of euphoria races through you at just that one word. It feels almost pathetic to rely so heavily on someone’s praise to feel good about yourself. Still, you can’t help but adore each moment he breaks from his reserved norm and drops an honest compliment.

“Go put your stuff up and get changed, kiddo. I’ll pour the tea and get cushions.”

An actual sit-down meal with your mentor! You wouldn’t just be snacking and chatting on the couch this time!

Jumping to your feet, you excitedly race to the guest room, painted in a smooth purple and decorated with black curtains. He had essentially given it to you, letting you settle in with him at least semi-permanently.

A shelf right next to your bed is stocked with mementos, most of them memories you’ve shared with Macaque. A little snap-together set you had convinced him to put together with you, a bright mecha built from colorful blocks. By the end of the build, you had learned that he’d much rather watch than try to fiddle pieces together with his claws.

A framed photo beside it of something that Macaque had enjoyed much more- pumpkin carving. In place of a serrated knife or design card, he had taken great joy in simply shredding precise diamonds into the thick orange hide of the vegetable. The carved gourd had looked something like a lantern by the end of his fun. It had even put him a good enough mood to allow for a photo to be taken.

And you had a photo of you, MK, and Mister Pigsy to put up, but-

Enough reminiscing! Your mentor is waiting for you, after all.

You throw on the coziest thing you have in the closet- an old nightgown, long abraded to softness. Black as night and cool to the touch, decorated with purple cloud embroidery. And it never seemed to stop smelling of plums, a scent you had grown familiar with very quickly.

You aren’t quite sure where it came from, or when you got it- just that it’s a few sizes too big and pools around you comfortably.

Shoes off, bag placed carefully in the corner, and then you’re racing back out to meet Macaque in the living room.

You don’t notice two golden-eyed figures slinking out of the shadows and into your room.

The coffee table is prepared, the bottled tea is poured into mugs and the mooncakes are laid out two by two. He’s even put your little sitting cushion beside his instead of across.

You quickly take your seat, Macaque’s hand coming to ruffle your hair.

“Are we ‘expanding my horizons’ again today, kiddo? An ice cream day wasn’t enough?”

“I want you to try nice things,” is your protest, causing his golden eyes to soften.

“That’s… sweet of you,” he admits, folding his arms. “Really, Y/N.”

“…yeah,” you awkwardly respond, grabbing one of the napkins Macaque had set out. You grab one of the mooncakes and wrap it, then pass it to your mentor. “Do you, uh, know what’s inside this one?”

The sable simian lifts the pastry to his nose, sniffing intently. Quickly, his face scrunches up. “Tsk. More ice cream? Not in all of them, I’m hoping. Unless you��re trying to give me cavities, kiddo.”

“No, there’s only four with ice cream- and we’ve got two of them right now. I know you don’t like your food too sweet.”

“You’re a good kid,” he chuckles, biting into the mooncake. Vanilla ice cream leaks from the middle, oozing onto his tongue.

In turn you munch on your own, slowly leaning your head onto his shoulder.

Macaque doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around your form, yanking you closer.

“You’re a good kid,” he says again, an ancient look in his golden eyes. There’s a newfound contentedness in them, and a pang of something much darker boiling underneath that new satisfaction. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Swallowing down the last bit of the sweet pastry, you nod. “Sure, Macaque.”

“Nothing big- just I wanna know how you feel about me, kiddo.”

…something is scraping around in the room Macaque has fixed up for you.

“Keep looking,” a quiet and steady voice says. “They wouldn’t have just left it anywhere.”

“Shut up,” another angrily returns. “Don’t tell me what to do, Rumble! You’re lucky that I’m even helping you!”

“…you’re the one who wanted to come in here and look, Savage.”

“Shut up! Hurry up and throw me their bag!”

With a groan, Rumble carries your backpack to his ‘brother’ and drops it in front of him.

“Be quick,” he cautiously reminds. “Those mooncakes won’t last forever.”

“…I didn’t find the book,” Savage snarls, his crimson fingers hitting glass.

“But I did find something.”

And slowly, he pulls out the photo of you and your friends.

[lie-lacdreams]

Thermodynamics and Turmoil (Curly x Reader pt.2)

Hi friends -- I'm putting out the second installment to this quickly to gain some more momentum! Thank you for all of the support so far - I wasn't sure how well this was going to do but I hope you've been enjoying it. If you have any questions about the story so far, pls ask! I love interacting :)

Last Next

engineer! reader x Curly TW: vulgar language, mention of thermo transfer theories (EWWWW), and catching feelings (ew pt.2), oh, and the existential dread of unsatisfaction that ambition can bring to your life, leaving you hungry and wanting more Word count ~ 2.0k

“Daisuke, come back here! I’m going to kill you right now!!” A flash of pink passed Curly before halting to a quick stop to hide right behind him.

“Captain, please save me! Aaaah!” Daisuke screamed as he caught sight of (Y/N), who just came around the bend of the hallway hunting him down. 

“What’s going on here?” Curly asked, observing (Y/N’s) disheveled appearance. Her jumpsuit was zipped halfway up to her torso and her hair still looked disheveled from sleep. 

She slowed down to a stop, now embarrassed that she had been caught in such a state by the captain before replying, “This… one over here had the genius idea to turn off my alarm and I slept in three extra hours. Could you please hand him over so I could maim him?” She peered to the side of Curly to narrow her eyes at Daisuke, who let out a shriek and made himself smaller behind the man in front of him. 

“Oh? I had asked him to do that, actually,” he mused. 

“Pardon me?” she straightened.

“You looked so exhausted yesterday, you deserve a few extra hours of rest after giving yourself no breaks. He was just following Captain’s orders.”

“Oh… I see. Uhm, thank you. I guess you’re off the hook then, Dai. Has Swansea got you working on anything right now or do you want to come shadow me? I have to take a look at the pressure in the steam pipes.” she asked the intern. 

“Yes! Let’s go. I wanna hear about what you were up to all of yesterday. Swansea and I like, didn’t see you at all. Will you let me help out today?” He came out from behind Curly and started walking ahead of (Y/N), eager to please and for something to do. 

“Heh, sure. See you around, Captain.” she said a bit sheepishly, trailing behind Daisuke. After a good night’s rest and the initial panic of waking up late, the interaction with Curly finally sunk in for (Y/N). She typically kept her emotions so detached from the crew and her work and it almost horrified her how easily it was for her to open up to him last night in a moment of vulnerability. As much as it made her uncomfortable to realize that she had run her mouth and ranted to him, she woke up with a feeling of relief. Sure, her job was still going to be hard, but knowing that her captain believed in her and was willing to help in any way he could gave her a sense of peace. 

She stopped by some pipes in the corner of the hallway and turned to Daisuke. “Okay, let’s get to work.”

After a few hours of working and (Y/N) explaining Nusselt theory with Daisuke half listening, she finally called for a break. 

“Nerd,” he teased as he stuck his tongue out at her. “How did you even come to like any of this stuff anyway?” They leaned on the wall, sitting on the floor together.

“I don’t know. To be honest, I never really knew what I wanted to do in my undergrad. I just picked chemical engineering because it was kinda interesting but hard and so rewarding when I understood it. Getting my PhD in it after working for a few years just seemed like a natural next step.” She turned to Daisuke. “I know you’re in college now, and everyone is probably asking you the same thing and you’re sick of hearing it but what do you want to do?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” he started. “I think everyone around me has these expectations that I’ll do something great, and I’m so scared of disappointing them. They say the sky’s the limit and that’s what scares me. I could do anything with my life, so how do I know that whatever I choose won’t be the wrong path?”

“I don’t believe in such a thing as a wrong path,” she responded. “Whatever you choose, you make the best of it and try your hardest. Everything happens for a reason.”

Under his breath, Daisuke laughed. “Man, maybe Anya should hand over the wellbeing check-ins to you. You’re like, so philosophical.”

“Oh God, no. I could never be held responsible for people like that. I’d go mad.” She stood up, dusting off her pants and held a hand to him. “I think we’re pretty much done for the day, believe it or not. Wanna go play some Uno?”

Spending the rest of the day relaxing after the past few days of struggling was refreshing and just what she needed. That night she finally joined the rest of the crew for supper, laughing with Anya about something too far away for Curly to hear. Their little family was complete tonight and it was moments like these that Curly savored. He wished that every moment on the Tulpar could be like this. 

A few days later, Curly was exiting the cockpit and was startled to nearly trip over (Y/N). “I’m so sorry, Captain. I had no idea you were in there.” She looked up from her mess of manuals, a notebook, and trusty abacus, a pencil tucked behind her ear. 

“It’s alright. Are you alright?” He asked.

“Yes, just looking at our fuel today and trying to make the Tulpar cooperate with me.” She furrowed her brows. 

“Need a hand with anything?” He offered, crouching down to look at the paper in her hands. 

“O-Oh, only if you aren’t busy, then yes, I would love some help, actually. But I don’t want to be a burden.”

He shook his head. “Nonsense. The ship’s on autopilot right now and Jimmy will take over for me in fifteen minutes anyway so I’m all yours.”

“Okay,” she flushed. “Thank you, come with me please.” She led him a few paces away. “See this? If you could read me some of the values over here that would be great. This here is the manometer, it measures pressure and over here is the oxidizer. There are a few things I need you to read aloud to me.”

After getting all the information she needed, she bid Curly goodbye and looked around for a place for her to do her calculations. Settling for the couch in the lounge, she got to work when Daisuke plopped down right next to her. 

“Hey, (Y/N),” he started.

“ ‘Sup?” She asked, distracted.

“Fuck, marry, kill: anyone on this ship.” His lips spread into a shit-eating grin. 

“Fuck Curly, marry Anya, kill Jim– wait a minute, what??” She looked up from her notebook. 

Daisuke’s eyes lit up before his face twisted into an expression of evil delight. “Ohohohoo yooo (Y/N) you wanna fuck the captain?”

“No!! Stop that!! You asked me that while I was distracted and not really paying attention. That’s not true.” She swatted at him.

“Sure, but that doesn’t change your answer now, does it? Damn, you answered that shit with no hesitation too!” He shrugged his eyebrows. “Since when did you have the hots for the captain?” 

“Sure, I find him really attractive, okay? I admit it. It’s not that big of a deal. Okay then, what about you?” She crossed her arms, face flushed and flustered. 

Daisuke’s face contorted to one of disgust. “Eww nah I can’t do this! Swansea and Jimmy are just-” he made dry heaving sounds. “You and Anya are like my older sisters, so that’s absolutely not happening. And Curly – okay I agree with you on that one but like, he’s so much older.” he shrugged. 

She let out a ‘harrumph’ before going back to her work. “Doesn’t Swansea have something for you to do, huh?” 

Daisuke shook his head. “I’m just waiting ‘til dinner.” He kept her company on the couch as she worked, playing on his gameboy and trying his best to stay quiet so she could concentrate. Supper was a quiet affair today, with not everyone showing up to eat at the same time. People came and went, in and out of the lounge, eventually going to bed. (Y/N) was still up, now in loose pajama pants and a sweatshirt, criss-crossed on the couch and reading a book in the light of the night time screen. Anya had already gone to bed and so she sat in the lounge so as to not disturb her sleep.

“Hey,” said the captain. “Mind if I join you there?” She smiled up at him before patting a spot next to her on the sofa, inviting him to sit with her. She noticed that he was still in uniform as he sat down, draping an arm over the couch and facing her. 

“You weren’t there at dinner today, did you have a chance to eat?” She asked.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah. Anya brought Jimmy and me dinner. We’re heading straight for a belt of asteroids so we had to do a bit of charting and manual steering to make sure we don’t crash. We should be fine and taken care of now,” he massaged his temples with a hand.

“You look pretty tired, Captain. If you were busy today, you know you didn’t need to help me out, right? Take care of your obligations first.” She looked up at him and the blue glow of the large screen somehow seemed to soften the look in his blue eyes. Dammit, Daisuke, she thought. Admitting the captain was handsome out loud only made her more aware of it. Even with bags under his eyes and the rugged state of his beard, she couldn’t help but blush under his gaze, so she turned to look at the fake moon on the screen. 

“No, I enjoyed helping out today. Ever since you opened up to me, I want to make sure that you have the support that you need. It’s my responsibility, after all.” He followed her gaze to look at the display screen as well.

“Don’t you ever get burnt out juggling all of this? It’s a lot to pile onto just one person, and the company makes it even worse by making things accessible only through you. And in the end, you’re the one who’s responsible for our performance on this trip.” She turned back to him now, concerned. 

“Sometimes, I guess. I started here on a pretty low rung of the ladder, but I always dreamed of doing something greater. The higher and higher I climbed, the more complicated things got, more liabilities were piled on, but I couldn’t help but keep climbing. There’s still something missing from my life, and even if I get to the top, I’m not quite sure if I’ll ever be satisfied.”

(Y/N) paused for a moment to think. “Would you ever leave this line of work to pursue something completely new, even if it meant having to start over from the beginning?”

“Yeah, I think so. I mean, I’ve done it once before, so it isn’t that intimidating to have to do it again.”

She nodded. “That’s very admirable. In a sense, it seems like you know what direction you know you want to go in, even if what you want isn’t clear. I respect you a lot for that, Captain.”

Curly shook his head. “Please, I think we all in one way or another are trying our best out here. We all have responsibilities we have to take care of by being on this ship.” He glanced at her again. “And honestly, you know you can call me Curly, right? Jimmy does it, my friends back on Earth called me that too. At this point we’ve gotten pretty vulnerable with each other over the past few days.”

“Okay, C-urly. Maybe not on duty, but right now it doesn’t sound too bad.” (Y/N) was praying that the glow from the screen concealed her hot and flushed face. After these past few days of getting to know the captain a bit better, it was so easy for feelings to snowball. Brushing the fluttery feeling she had aside, she stood up. “I think I’m going to head to bed now. I hope you’ll do the same, Curly. Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

After he heard the door shut quietly, he sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, giving the display screen one last look before getting up and going to bed himself.

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

Thanks for reading! Give me a few days and I'll be back. Cheers!