#I’m not even done writing it yet it has been a challenge at times but I sure do want to complete it

[apollo-just-ice]

Love that I had the thought “hmm well some of this stuff in my fic might not be completely accurate :/“

But then I reminded myself it’s like a totally self indulgent written for *me* thing,,, like yeah! It doesn’t have to be perfect, I am writing what makes my heart happy! That is all that should matter really!! And so now I feel okay, honestly. Good job, me.

That rly is an important thing to remember when creating things, is that foremost it should be making you happy, no matter inaccuracies or popularity or anything else

Also an essay of my thoughts about writing a pmd fic below in the tags hahah oops:

[zaczenemiji]

Hi I hope you are having a lovely day my dear ♥. I was wondering if you could do a Kenji Sato x reader where the reader is an assistant manager to him and one day he like acts arrogantly towards her during one of his interviews when he sees a pretty journalist amongst the crowed of ppl interviewing him and he says some hurtful things to reader and collectively ignoring her and instead choosing to focus on the journalists girl. Ever since that day reader has been silent around Sato and he thought he didn't care but it bothered him because even though she is usually quite, these days she is *too* quite and then there is like a mini celebration for like a baseball game win and reader goes with a guy who is like an athlete but is not as famous as Sato. So the kicker is reader is absolutely DROP DEAD GORGEOUS and ppl at the party even think she is a model. So Sato get jealous and he acts all possessive and protective of her , while she is still angry at him but eventually he makes it up to her over time. If you have anything else to add please do.

Shattered Pride

Kenji Sato x AssistantManager!Reader

Word Count: 1,873

Genre/Warnings: Character Development, Eventual Romance, Forgiveness, Jealousy, Regret, Redemption

Author’s Note: The idea behind this was just fantastic! Thank you so much for the request, writing this was my honor.

MASTERLIST

Being Kenji Sato’s assistant manager is not an easy task. I repeat: Not. An. Easy. Task. Throughout his baseball career, he has had several assistants who quit as soon as they were hired because, for one thing, Kenji is stubborn.

Ghosted interviews, off-topic answers, and insults to other players were just some of the many things about him that gave you a headache.

You remember being referred to him by his last assistant saying that it was a high-paying job. However, you were skeptical at how quickly and willing they were to give off their job to another person.

You understood why the first time you met him. After the meeting, you asked him, “Is there anything else you need from me today?”

In response, he gave an irritated sigh. “If I needed something, I would have asked.”

Thankfully, you were more on the nonchalant scale, and how people respond to you didn’t bother you much. You were here to do your job—and excellently at that, not exactly to be friends with an arrogant baseball star.

Kenji’s behavior was… challenging, that’s the best word for it. He barked orders, rarely said thank you, and seemed to take your presence for granted. But in conditions like these, you thrive the most; you succeed where others have failed.

Today was a usual day with the usual crowd of journalists and fans gathering in the conference room. You stood by his side, ensuring everything was in order for yet another post-game interview.

It was going all smooth and well when Kenji suddenly paused mid-sentence. It was a very short pause that wouldn’t be noticeable to others but you, with all the time you spent as his assistant, noticed it.

Your eyes looked in the direction he kept glancing at. A girl, of course, strikingly beautiful with long sleek back hair that cascaded down in soft waves.

When it was her turn to ask, Kenji leaned forward to give her a dazzling smile. “Why don’t you ask me a question?” he said, ignoring the list of pre-approved questions you handed him before the interview started.

Kenji was holding court with this journalist longer than he should. You noticed that the others in line were starting to murmur in annoyance.

You stepped forward, maintaining your professional demeanor. “Excuse me, Mr. Sato, but we need to move on,” you said. “Other journalists are waiting for their turn.”

“I’m not done here,” he said arrogantly, not bothering to look your way.

You took a deep breath, wanting to handle this situation diplomatically. “I understand,” you said. “But we’ve exceeded the time limit, and it’s only fair to give everyone a chance.”

Whichever agency’s plan was it to send her here to get ahead of other journalists, it’s working. She gave you a polite smile, clearly enjoying the extra attention.

Kenji frowned and turned to you. “Can’t you see I’m in the middle of something important?” He asked. “If you can’t manage your job properly, maybe you should reconsider.”

Your eyes widened. You could feel others’ on you, their stares almost cutting through your professional facade.

Swallowing your pride, you nodded and stepped back, keeping your expression neutral. But as neutral as you looked, deep down you felt a mix of anger and humiliation.

From that day on, you remained silent around Kenji, only speaking when necessary. You remained professional though, and you made sure that your job was not compromised.

During meetings, you no longer offered insights unless directly asked. When you did speak, your tone was strictly professional. Well, it has always been, but the warmth that characterized your interactions was now gone.

Like that one time during a team strategy meeting. Kenji asked for input on a new play. The room fell silent as everyone waited for your usual insightful suggestions, but you simply looked down at your notes, saying nothing.

The coach glanced at you, surprised. "Any thoughts, (y/n)?" You shook your head. "No, Coach. Nothing to add."

At first, Kenji was oblivious to all of this. He was absorbed in his own world and the adulation of his fans, as always. But as the days turned into weeks, your silence grew too loud to ignore that even he finally noticed it.

A month later, the team planned on celebrating a recent major win. This time, they have decided to invite other athletes as guests of honor. The organizers wanted to have a mix of established stars and up-and-coming talents from the sports world.

You decided to take this as an opportunity to have yourself pampered. You have been working hard, after all. Despite the obvious tension between you and Kenji, you were still able to do your job well.

That’s why at the party, you were stunning. Drop dead gorgeous, as the team said. Though the lights were dim, it seemed as if a spotlight was following you as everyone you passed by turned their heads to look.

You decided to settle by the bar for drinks. “Hey there,” came a familiar voice. You turned to see Jake approaching. He was one of the promising young athletes and a rising star in the sports world who was invited to this party.

He plays as a forward for a popular soccer team and has recently garnered attention for his impressive performance in the league. This wasn’t the first time you met as Jake and Kenji ran into each other a couple times before at different events.

He leaned against the bar, signaling the bartender for a drink. “It’s nice to see you again and this time, enjoying yourself,” he said. “You looked like you needed a break at the last event we were at.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating his observation. "Yeah, it's been a bit hectic lately."

Jake's drink arrived, and he took a sip, his eyes studying you with genuine interest. “Well, you look incredible tonight,” he said. “Have you been hearing what the others are saying?”

Jake turned to glance at the crowd, then back at you. “They were all asking if you were a model or something,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think the same.”

“Thanks, Jake,” you replied, smiling. “You clean up pretty well yourself."

He laughed, a warm, infectious sound that put you at ease. "So, how's work been treating you? Still managing the chaos that is Kenji Sato?"

You hesitated, the memory of Kenji's recent behavior still fresh. "It's been… challenging," you admitted. "But I manage."

Jake's expression softened with understanding. "I can imagine. He's got a reputation for being difficult."

Unbeknownst to both of you, the baseball star you were talking about has finally arrived. His presence commanded attention as he navigated through the crowd, exchanging greetings and handshakes.

As he made his way deeper into the club, his eyes caught sight of you. At that moment he froze. Or was it time that froze? He didn’t know. All he was sure of was that for a little while, he couldn’t breathe.

You were stunning. Your outfit, a sleek, form-fitting dress that accentuated your every curve, made you look like you had just stepped off a runway. Your hair was styled to perfection, your makeup highlighting your natural beauty.

Suddenly, he noticed the man you were talking to, Jake. “That rookie soccer player,” he thought. Gosh, you deserved so much better. At that moment, with firm resolve, he declared upon himself that he would work to be the better that you deserved.

Kenjl's jaw clenched as his own possessive instincts flared up, a mix of jealousy and protectiveness surging through him. He made his way over to you, his eyes never leaving your form.

On your end, you noticed the crowd parted slightly, and you saw Kenji making his way towards you.

Turning slightly, you met Kenji’s gaze with a cool, indifferent look. "Kenji," you acknowledged, your tone polite but distant.

"Can I talk to you for a moment?" he asked, his voice tight with barely restrained emotion.

Jake looked at you, his gaze asking if you were fine with it. You smiled at him, a genuine and warm expression, something you haven’t given Kenji in a while. “I’ll go on ahead,” you told Jake. “See you around.”

Kenji led you away from the crowd, finding a quieter corner of the club. As soon as you were out of earshot, he turned to you, his eyes dark with jealousy.

"Why didn't you come with me?" Kenji asked, his frustration evident.

You scoffed. “First of all, you didn’t ask me to.” You crossed your arms, fixing him with a hard stare. "And you made it very clear where I stand with you. Or rather, where I don't."

He winced, the memory of his hurtful words coming back to haunt him. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice softer now. "I was wrong. I was an idiot."

You remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

“I've been a jerk, and I know it,” he continued. “I was arrogant, dismissive, and I took you for granted.”

You watch him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. Yet you looked away, the hurt still fresh. "You hurt me, Kenji,” you said. “You made me feel worthless and unimportant."

Kenji steps closer, his voice filled with regret. “I know, I'm so sorry. I was so focused on myself, on my career, that I didn't see how much I was hurting you. Your silence has been killing me. I miss your insights, your presence.”

He paused for a while before continuing. “I miss you.” He reaches out, gently taking your hand.

“You're more than just my assistant,” he said. “You're the reason I can do what I do. You make everything better, and I've been too blind to see it. Please, give me a chance to make it right. I want to earn back your trust.”

You met his gaze, searching for any sign of insincerity. All you saw was genuine regret and a longing to make things right. "This isn't something that can be fixed overnight, Kenji."

"I know," he said quickly. "I'll do whatever it takes, for as long as it takes. I just... I can't lose you."

You took a deep breath, the weight of his words sinking in. "We'll see," you said. "But it won't be easy."

He nodded, relief flooding his features. "I understand,” he said. “Thank you, (y/n)—for giving me a chance.”

As you walked back to the party, Kenji stayed close by your side, protective and possessive. arm subtly wrapped around your waist, a clear signal to everyone around that you were with him.

As the night came to an end, Kenji offered to drive you home. To which, you agreed. The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything else, it was rather hopeful.

One evening, after a particularly grueling day, Kenji found you alone in the office. “Hey," he said softly, "I was thinking we could grab dinner. Just the two of us."

You looked up, surprised. "Dinner?"

He nodded, a hopeful smile on his face. "Yeah. To thank you for everything. And to make up for being such an idiot."

You smiled at him for a moment before nodding. "Okay. Dinner sounds nice."

Taglist is open! Comment if u wanna be tagged on future Kenji oneshots

@eternallyvenus @puppyminnnie

[mercy-burning]

A Study in Anchored Souls

Pairing: ghost!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: In which the ghost of Spencer Reid discovers that in order to unveil his unfinished business and finally lay at rest, he must somehow enlist the help of the woman who now inhabits his apartment. Category: MATURE (18+) Content: Strong language, mention of weed, ghost shenanigans (?), female masturbation, fingering, oral sex (fem receiving), brief handjob, unprotected p in v sex, Spencer is invisible for all of that LMAO Word Count: 11.8k

MASTERLIST

NOTE: God, I love ghost smut. That was a goddamn blast to write! Like you don't even know how giddy it made me putting these words to the keys. I even put in extra effort and made a little photo banner, which I’ve never done for a one shot before, and I’m kinda obsessed with it ngl 😂 I hope you love this one as much as I do! <3 Written for @imagining-in-the-margins Autumn Air writing challenge!

———

ACT I: Girls' Night

Spencer Reid always knew he would die.

It was a cold, hard fact of life that at one point, everyone would die. It was unsure when or how, but it happened. There was no escaping it. That thought alone was enough to squander most of his anxieties about death— even after a few near-death experiences and the constant danger his line of work tended to throw at him throughout his lifetime.

Still, the one thing he couldn't stand to think about was the "after". He wanted truly to believe that what happened after death was just nothingness, but after his encounter with Tobias, it stirred up all sorts of questions and unexplainable possibilities that were just too vast for even his brain to try and comprehend.

Then, of course, there was the fact that he was currently standing in his old apartment, watching somebody else live her life, completely invisible to her. He tried talking to her, too, but nothing. It was like he wasn't even there.

But why? It's not like he had unfinished business or anything. The unsub who shot him was shot down immediately afterwards. He watched him die before passing out himself. Why was he "awake" now, nearly 5 months after the fact, and not when his friends were grieving him? Where were his friends, and why has the afterlife chosen to tie Spencer to a place rather than the people that knew and loved him?

Logically it seemed reasonable but really, he just missed his friends. He missed his life.

He hated the afterlife, he decided then. There was no reason he needed to keep doing this when he couldn't even leave the confines of the apartment. He couldn't walk through walls or touch anything or sit down on the woman's gross floral couch. If he wanted to enter another room, the door needed to be opened, otherwise he was stuck right there in the living room, the kitchen, and the open dining space that connected the two. If he was allowed to live his afterlife with his mom, or playing Chess with Gideon, or travelling the world, free to go anywhere and see anything without hardship, it might have been different.

But no. He was stuck watching this woman struggle to move furniture by herself.

He didn't know her. Had never seen her before. She wasn't a student of his or a victim he'd saved or even a fling. She was a complete stranger. A complete stranger who unfortunately had terrible taste in decor and an even more unfortunately beautiful face.

Her name was Y/N. From what he could gather, she didn't have any family, at least not nearby. Her two best friends were the only other people in her circle that he'd seen in the apartment, and when they were all together it was... interesting. There was a lot of loud laughter and wine, and oh God, the sex talk...

It felt intrusive, but he couldn't leave. He could migrate to another room, maybe, but his ears still worked, even a little too well. His eyes, too, seemed to be as sharp as ever, any imperfections to his vision completely mended. He was simply over aware of everything, and yet hollow at the same time, and he hated everything about it.

But what could he do? He couldn't even touch anything or communicate to anyone, so how could he possibly figure out what was keeping him here and how he could get out of it? Did his new roommate hold some sort of knowledge or ability to help him solve this mystery, or was he destined to watch her live out her life in this place that he once called "home"? Was there any connection between them at all?

He didn't know.

Usually he liked puzzles, but this one was rather annoying.

He just wanted to rest.

Y/N had been moved in for just over a month (yes, there was a whole month of just standing there learning everything about a stranger because there was simply nothing else for Spencer to do) when finally, there was a small glimmer of hope.

Heavy on the small.

It was Girls' Night. Friday. It always consisted of too much wine and movies and snacks and discussions about whatever they were reading or watching. Despite the differences in the routine, the camaraderie made Spencer miss his friends. He wondered what they were all up to. Maybe, if this all worked out, he could actually find out.

But for now, he had to focus on the baby steps.

When the girls showed up with a Ouija board, he couldn't help the incredulous laughter that escaped him.

Y/N, it seemed, felt the same disbelief. "You guys, what the fuck is that?"

"What does it look like?" the first friend, Maya, retorted.

The other, Robin, added, "You were the one that said you felt like you weren't tooootally aloooone in this apartment..."

Her haunting inflection elicited a backhanded thump to the arm, Y/N groaning as she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, but that doesn't mean I would want to know what or who it is! Besides, I'm probably just paranoid. It's just being in a new place and the anxieties that come with it, that's all. You guys are insane."

"Only one way to find out!"

Was Spencer really going to entertain this? A goddamn Ouija board? He enjoyed his fair share of spooky things and researching superstitions, but that was out of his realm of belief. On the other hand, one could technically consider him a ghost... He could look down and see himself, but nobody else could see or hear him... Y/N had obviously voiced a concern for feeling a presence to her friends, but how much of that feeling was accurate and how much of it was, in fact, 'new home anxieties'?

As the girls unboxed the board and set up their things, Spencer sighed, mumbling to himself, "Only one way to find out..."

Maya closed the curtains and turned all the lights off, meanwhile Y/N and Robin were collecting and lighting any candle they could find. They cleared off the low coffee table in front of the couch where the girls sat and set everything up there, Spencer taking a seat on the floor opposite the group. It was then that Y/N said something that made him laugh.

"Wait, shouldn't we give the couch to the ghost?"

"What?"

"Well, what if it's an angry ghost? And then we make it sit on the floor, and it decides to exact vengeance on us? Maybe we should... I don't know, be more hospitable?"

"Hmmm, maybe you're right," Robin said, standing up. "Do you hear that, Ghost? We're only being nice to you, so please don't kill us, m'kay?"

Spencer sighed. Little did they know, he couldn't actually sit on the couch. Or a chair. Or anything that wasn't the floor. It was like the ground was the only physical thing he was anchored to. Still, the girls had no way of knowing that, so they shuffled their way to the other end of the table, flipping the Ouija board so it would face the other way. Spencer got up and moved then. He'd have to stand uncomfortably in the small gap between the table and the couch, bending down at the waist to use the board, provided he could even touch it.

He had no idea how this was going to work, if at all.

It was all starting to sound and feel absolutely ridiculous.

The girls each put a finger on the planchette, nervous laughter emanating from them, and Spencer gave one last deep breath before reaching out to touch it himself, anticipating the moment of truth.

His hand hovered over the board, feeling a block just before he would make any contact. He couldn't touch it. His hand wouldn't even go through. He retreated and huffed, wondering if there was something he could do to communicate with them otherwise. He tried to blow out one of the candles, but with no luck. He could feel his breath against his own skin (could you even call it that at this stage?), but the objects in front of him were completely oblivious to his presence.

He was about to give up and call it a night, leaving the girls to have their fun, but then one of them gasped.

"Wait, don't we have to use two fingers? Is that how it works?"

"Shit, I think you're right."

They adjusted their positions and Spencer sighed, but indulged them just in case.

His hand lowered again, middle and pointer fingers approaching the planchette in anticipation. He half-expected there to be resistance again, but this time, a cool rush of wind gusted up in between them as his fingers made contact with the wood.

"Holy shit!" all four of them exclaimed in unison.

"Did you feel that?" Maya squealed excitedly. "Wicked..."

"No, not wicked!" Y/N whined. "We should stop!"

"Really? You know for sure now that there's a ghost living in your apartment, and you're just not going to ask it questions to make sure it's not harmful? Be smart about this, bitch," Robin countered playfully.

Spencer wanted to cut to the chase. He moved his hand, spelling out a word, and the girls collectively gasped before reciting each letter out loud hesitantly, like they couldn't believe what was happening.

"H-A-R-M-L-E-S-S"

"Oh my God! You have a Casper!"

Y/N shook her head furiously. "You guys, stop fucking with me, I mean it. This isn't funny."

"I didn't move it!" said Robin.

"Me either," said Maya. "Besides, you felt that wind right? How could either of us have done that?"

"I don't know, because you're a fucking wizard or something! Cut it out!"

"Hey, if you didn't want to do it that badly, you would have taken your hand off the planchette... Hey, Ghost, have you ever seen Y/N naked?"

"Robin!"

Maya cackled and Y/N went pale. If he wasn't already dead, Spencer would have probably gone pale as well.

The truth was, he had. Seen her naked, that is.

He wasn't proud of it. It happened by total accident. Sort of. He was following her around the apartment all day because he was bored, and he'd ended up locked in her bedroom with her. Either he was truly horrible at reading people (which seemed impossible considering his profession) or she had just gotten a random spurt of excitement, because the moment her door closed, she whipped her shirt off, exposing her bare torso to him, and he couldn't move. He was frozen, completely shocked at the sight before him. She reached down to take off her pants, and he turned around then, quickly becoming aware of the situation.

She rustled behind him and he tried desperately to walk through the door. Any time he got close, the barrier would stop him. He couldn't do anything but stand in the corner and pray to whatever that she was only changing.

She was, in fact, not changing.

Spencer swore in that moment at the table that he could still hear the low hum of her vibrator and every single sound that came from her body and mouth that night, and he was absolutely mortified.

He'd only dared to glance back when he heard the end, her breathing slow and the humming gone. It was silent for a while before he turned around entirely, only to find her asleep, sprawled completely bare over the covers. He wished he could have draped a blanket over her, but his hands were more or less tied.

Thankfully she was only asleep for about a half hour before she forced herself awake to clean up and actually go to bed.

Spencer never followed her around the apartment ever again. Just in case.

"Don't answer that, Ghost," Y/N rushed, "Robin's just fucking around. We promise to ask you serious questions from here on out."

Maya faked a snore. "Come on, Y/N, this is supposed to be fun. The ghost is harmless."

"No, the ghost said it was harmless. Doesn't mean it is."

Spencer thought for a moment as the girls went back and forth, and then he spelled out another word— or an acronym, rather.

"It's moving again!" Robin gasped, spelling out the letters.

"F-B-I"

"Holy shit did you work for the FBI, Ghost?" Maya inquired.

Spencer moved the planchette to the "YES" at the top of the board.

"Maybe... Maybe we should stop calling them Ghost..." Y/N took a shaky breath and closed her eyes for a brief moment before nodding. "Ummm... Spirit Who Resides Here..." Robin and Maya snorted. "What is your name?"

Spencer wished he could tell her she didn't need to be formal, but it was amusing watching her do it anyway. He spelled out his name, first and last, and the girls made a collective hum of acceptance. A normal name and not something concerning.

"We should Google him," Robin said matter-of-factly.

Maya hummed in agreement, but Y/N swallowed and asked another question. "Spencer, you're not... Going to hurt me, are you?"

He moved the planchette to "NO," and watched the relief take over her body, relaxing her muscles and her posture for just a brief moment. He could tell she was still wary, but it was a step in the right direction.

"See? Told you he was harmless."

"He still could be lying," Y/N mumbled. Then she sat up straight. "Not that I don't believe you, Spencer. I'm sorry. You just have to understand that I'm a woman living alone, and the thought of a man I can't see haunting my apartment is just... It's extremely terrifying."

He felt bad for her. As annoying as his situation was, he couldn't imagine being in hers. He almost wished he hadn't entertained the Ouija board at all and put her worries to rest, but since it was too late, all he could do was try and reassure her that he wasn't a threat.

His fingers moved again.

"U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D"

And then a pause, before: "S-O-R-R-Y"

Y/N's eyes dropped, and her friends made a collective "Awwwww," before a knock sounded at the door, jolting them all to move away from the Ouija board.

Spencer was knocked backwards, and he expected his newfound sense of touch to disappear once the connection had broken, but to his surprise, he found himself safely seated on the couch. His hands reached over the fabric, testing, and despite his distaste for the floral pattern on it, the cushions were suddenly the greatest thing he'd ever touched. He was grateful for this couch. And for the Ouija board, and for Y/N and her eccentric friends.

Speaking of which, Robin yelled out, "Pizza's here!" and got up with Maya to abandon the board. Pizza apparently seemed more interesting than a ghost, but for two women who Spencer could now tell (no thanks to his upgraded sense of smell) were a little high, that seemed reasonable.

As her friends happily greeted the pizza delivery man, Y/N reached out to touch the planchette again, just for a moment, and gently whispered, "Thank you, Spencer."

He returned it with an earnest, "You're welcome," but he wasn't sure if she'd hear or not. She looked around the area for a few seconds before turning around, and it wasn't clear whether she had.

But she seemed relaxed now, and that was a start.

As the girls sat at the dining table and ate pizza, Spencer tested out his new senses just a few steps away. He found himself thankful to be in a familiar place, even if the decor was different. The walls were the same and the bookshelves still stood, now filled with bright Romance novels and trinkets and photos that laid out Y/N's personality quite perfectly. He smiled, running his fingers along the spines of the books, missing the feeling even if they weren't his own.

He wanted to see if he could read one, just for the sake of feeling a book in his hands again, but he figured he'd wait until Maya and Robin were gone and Y/N was asleep.

Until then, he continued to touch things without making them move, not wanting to raise anyone's eyebrows.

And then, a gasp sounded from the dining table.

"I found him! I have his obituary right here!"

"Holy shit, let me see!"

Spencer made his way to the table to observe.

The girls passed around Maya's phone, looking at his obituary photo. Robin made a low whistle, then called out into the air on her left. He was standing to her right, unable to help the dry laughter that escaped him at the irony of the situation.

"Spencer, you were hot!"

Maya shook her head and sighed. "Yeah. What a damn shame. Sorry, man."

Robin seemed more amused than anything, turning to Y/N, who was reading through the obituary. "Hey, at least you can rest easy knowing you've got a hot FBI ghost watching over you."

"Yeah, but... Why? Do you think he lived here? In this apartment?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask him."

Y/N sighed, handing Maya her phone back. "I'm sure he has more exciting ghost stuff to do on a Friday night than entertain us three. All I know is he promised not to hurt me, so I don't really care if he stays."

He was glad for her ease of anxiety, but he certainly cared if he stayed. However, she sounded exhausted, and it was fair. Finding out your new apartment was haunted by a ghost (even a harmless one) sounded like a reasonably stressful situation. He wanted desperately to figure out how to finally move on, but for now he could accept the simple fact that he could actually touch things now, and let Y/N rest easy.

Even if he couldn't yet.

ACT II: X's and Oh's

Every time she came home, Y/N would greet Spencer kindly. Probably out of precaution (you know, just in case he really was lying about being harmless), but brightly all the same.

"Spencer, I'm home! I... I don't know if you're haunting me or the apartment, but... I hope you had a good day, just in case it's me."

He smiled, wishing he could greet her back.

Eventually, he found small ways to do it.

He fogged up a spot on her bathroom mirror, that way the next time she showered before bed, the heat would reveal a message on the glass: "Good night. —S.R."

Y/N talked to him that night, dressed in her pajamas and walking around the apartment like she was deciding where to talk to him. Eventually she decided on standing in her bedroom doorway.

"Spencer? You said good night so you might not even be in here, but... I guess this is me saying good night back...Thanks for being a nice ghost, I really appreciate it. If... If there's anything I can do for you, let me know, okay? Okay... Goodnight."

If only there was a way she could hear him. Communicating in mirror-notes was hardly good for anything more than a simple "good night," and despite the fact that he could touch things, he couldn't grip them, so writing on paper was out. He'd kept trying to open a door with the handle, and with no luck. It was starting to get irritating, wondering what the next step was to evolving as a ghost.

He couldn't even believe he'd thought up the phrase. Ghost evolution sounded absolutely insane, but he supposed it was his current reality regardless of how it sounded...

Tonight Y/N was out rather late. For a brief moment Spencer started to worry, but then the key turned in the doorway and relief settled in when she finally stepped inside. She seemed rather tired, but greeted him with a gentle smile all the same.

"Hi, Spencer."

"Welcome home, Y/N."

She didn't hear him, obviously, but it still felt rude not to say it back. He wondered if he could try to touch her in greeting. Maybe a brief brushing of hands or a tap of acknowledgement on the shoulder. But he didn't want to scare her, so he'd have to figure that out.

Thankfully, she seemed to have felt his curiosity somehow.

Later that night, as she laid in bed, she called out, drawing his attention from the living room where he tried to open a cabinet. Still no luck there.

"Spencer? Are you there?"

He wandered over to the bedroom, glad to see she'd left the door cracked open so he could get in. He hesitated before moving, hoping she wouldn't freak out when she saw the door open.

When he did finally gather the courage to move the barrier and step inside, he heard her gasp as she sat up in bed.

"Spencer? Was that you? Um... Move the door again if it was..."

He obliged, swinging the door shut gently as he stepped inside the room. The second the door clicked, he realized his mistake.

Now he was trapped in here with her. Not that it was a bad thing necessarily, but the last time this happened, he'd accidentally intruded on a rather intimate moment. His essence warmed at the thought.

"Holy shit. Um... This is kind of weird... I've gotten your notes and talked to you through the Ouija board, but... seeing you move things in front of me is... only slightly terrifying."

Her nervous laughter endeared him but also made him want to comfort her.

He walked over to the side of the bed closest to her body, hoping she'd be willing to communicate more thoroughly somehow. The two of them together could surely come up with something.

Again, their brains seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"If I hold out my hand... Would you touch it? Just to... let me know that it's you?"

Her arm outstretched, and Spencer slowly brought his middle finger down to touch hers, ever so lightly.

The second there was contact, there was a shock. Spencer jolted and Y/N yelled and yanked her hand back, her whole body shuddering as she kicked her legs. "Oh my God, holy fuck!" And then she laughed, reaching out to search for his touch again. He felt... different somehow, but he was still invisible to her. Her fingers wiggled and Spencer helped her out, gently holding her hand to keep it steady, as if to convey, "I'm right here, and it's okay."

"Hi," she said through a smile, her breathing heavy. "It's... Nice to... finally meet you. Kind of. Kind of meet you, I mean... Not kind of nice. I'm sorry."

He rubbed his thumb gently over the top of hers in response.

"I'm still wrapping my head around this whole thing, I... I guess I just wanted some extra confirmation that you were really here. Can I ask you some questions, Spencer?"

He rubbed her thumb again, and she breathed out with a smile.

"Okay um... Maybe draw a circle on the back of my hand for yes and an X for no... That sound good?"

Spencer traced a circle against her skin, and she nodded. "Good! Okay, cool. This is cool. Um... Did you live here? In this apartment?"

A circle.

"Is... that why you're here now?"

An X, and then a question mark.

"No... You don't know why you're here then?"

A circle.

Y/N pondered for a moment. "Could there be something of yours that's holding you here? Something we have to find or a mystery we have to solve?"

Spencer drew another question mark, then sighed. As much as he liked Y/N, he was pretty sure she would not be able to answer any of those questions. But there had to be another way to... level up, so to speak. To make him visible or audible.

"I'm sorry," she said somberly. "From what I've read, you seem like you were a good person. I hope you figure it out, whatever it is. And... I meant it. If there's anything I can do to help you, I will."

He drew a circle on her skin, but kept going around a few times, his symbol of appreciation.

Y/N warmed at the sentiment, smiling and hanging her head to look down at the hand he was holding. He didn't know it, but her skin was tingling at his invisible touch.

"Spencer... I know this is probably going to be weird... But the night I first met you, when my friends were with me... Robin asked you if... you'd uh... If you'd seen me..."

She wouldn't look up, like she was afraid to look at him even though she still couldn't see him. She didn't finish her sentence, seeming to be embarrassed about the punchline, but Spencer didn't need it. He knew exactly what she meant. Before she had time to retreat or move on, he drew a slow circle on the back of her hand.

Her head lifted. "You did see me? Naked?"

Spencer let out a shaky breath. Hesitated. Then drew another circle, followed by S-O-R-R-Y.

"Oh, I'm not upset, I promise. You don't have to be sorry."

Something shifted in her eyes then and she paused, and Spencer realized that before when she'd asked, she wasn't embarrassed. She was simply feeling the water before diving in.

He swallowed hard.

"Did you like what you saw?"

Her voice was soft, but simultaneously hard with mischief. He looked at her then— truly looked at her with his overly-perfect Afterlife vision, and even in the dim light emanating from the open curtains and the streetlights beyond it, he could see her clear as day. Rather than the big tee-shirt she always wore to bed, tonight she was wearing something lacy and lavender.

And her door was closed. He couldn't leave this room.

Although, he had a feeling right then that it didn't matter anymore. Because his hand tightened over hers instinctively and he felt himself get hard beneath the suit pants he'd been buried in.

That's new, he thought through a sigh of excitement, quickly recalling that night he'd seen her. And heard her. Feeling was growing in his joints, and he found himself flexing his hands with a new strength he hadn't felt since being alive.

"Fuck," he hissed, shaking his head in disbelief.

I think she may be slowly bringing me back to life.

He drew a slow, sensual circle on the back of her hand, and she laughed through a grin. "I was hoping you'd say that. I was also hoping that maybe we could try something a little... unconventional. The truth is, I've always hated living alone. It's too lonely, and I hate it... Now that I have you to keep me company, though... It's not nearly as bad."

She shifted her fingers, grabbing his hand and slowly bringing it to her face. Spencer caressed her as he came closer, his knees now touching the edge of her mattress. She closed her eyes and reveled in his touch, goosebumps forming along her skin.

"Will you touch me, Spencer?"

His name falling suggestively from her lips was quite possibly the greatest thing he'd ever experienced, among life and death. The afterlife. Whatever. None of it mattered, nothing mattered right then except for Y/N and her needs.

He drew a circle on her cheek and she laughed, the sound dissolving into a rather wanton sigh when he traced his middle finger down her jaw and over her throat. Just the gentlest of touches, barely even a touch at all.

"You want this just as bad as I do, don't you?" she asked, lolling her head to the side as his finger traced her collarbone and then her shoulder.

"I do." He focused on the way her chest heaved, slowly up and down as she melted into his touch, and then traced the strap of her nightgown until he reached the front, just at the curve of her breasts.

Y/N arched her back and pulled the covers away from her body, revealing herself to him in full as she got comfortable. She scooted and leaned back against the headboard, pulling Spencer along the side of the bed. He gladly followed.

"I give you permission to touch me in any way you see fit, okay? I... I want you to do whatever feels good to you. How does that sound?"

At the invitation, he quickly let his mind wander to extremely filthy places and wondered if he had the ability to taste again...

The thought alone made him twitch beneath his pants, and suddenly there was no going back.

He let out a long breath and touched the bottom hem of her nightgown. It was already short to begin with, but since she'd moved around in bed and her feet were flat, knees pointed upward, the fabric rode up to the very tops of her thighs. He drew another continuous circle right there, just below where it ended, and Y/N instinctively started to spread her knees apart.

Spencer stopped her, gripping one knee and spelling out W-A-I-T before slipping his shoes and jacket off. She arched an eyebrow, confused at first, but then looked down to the floor when she heard his shoes being kicked back and his clothing falling there.

And then, when he was ready, she looked back to the bed in front of her as Spencer climbed and knelt, positioning himself in front of her. Her eyes watched the mattress move, and a flicker of excitement danced over her features, amusing him.

He placed his hands on her knees, and even though she'd given him permission, he asked anyway, drawing a question mark against her skin.

She nodded. "Please."

Slowly, his hands pulled her legs apart. He drew it out as long as he possibly could, curious to know how long he could test her anticipation threshold. He still planned to give her everything she wanted, of course, but there was something oddly erotic about being touched by somebody you couldn't see that she was obviously keen to explore. So he would take his time until she begged him otherwise.

Sure enough, her stare was laser-focused on her body as he moved it to his liking, her breath hitching once her legs were far enough apart for him to realize she wasn't wearing anything underneath her nightgown and he paused. Already she was glistening with arousal, a sight that nearly made Spencer go completely slack.

"How long have you wanted this..." he wondered aloud, overwhelmed and in awe as his hands traveled firmly down her inner thighs. She squirmed under his bold touch, and leaned her head back against the headboard with a soft thud.

"Please," she whimpered, her hands reaching out to grip whatever bunched up fabric she could find on the bed.

He had planned to test the waters a little longer, ever so the scientist at heart, but figured that was as good of a plea as any to give in and finally give her what she wanted.

And so, Spencer ran a gentle, steady hand down through her heat, dragging his middle finger along the seam until he barely entered her, then came back up.

The long, desperate moan that Y/N drew out was like Heaven to his ears, and he'd never been more grateful for his heightened senses than in that moment. Every breath she took, every gloriously wet sound her body made as he explored her, every rustle of her hands through the sheets... All of it was sharp and crisp, and no other symphony had ever sounded so beautiful.

He wanted more of it.

One finger became two, and Spencer looked up to watch her face as he fingered her slowly. Parted lips and focused eyes fighting to stay open despite the pleasure she was feeling made for quite the perfect view, he almost didn't want to look away. But there was so much to beauty see between her soft facial features and the curves of her body and the obvious arousing sight below him. It was overwhelming how hot he felt in that moment, he could have sworn he was glowing.

His pace quickened, and Y/N had finally given into the temptation to close her yes, her head falling back again as she rolled her hips. He was getting impatient now.

With his other hand, against the inside of her thigh, Spencer spelled out "T-A-S-T-E-?"

"Oh, God, please. Yes."

Still hesitant to scare her even though his fingers were already deep inside her, rather than diving in as he so desperately wanted to, he slowly brought his head down to meet the area between her legs. He turned to press his cheek to the soft flesh of her thigh, and she gasped, the sound fading to a low laugh as she took in the feeling of his mouth and his hair caressing her skin. He kissed her then, tentatively darting his tongue out to taste her and sighing with relief once he realized he could actually taste again. Once he had that revelation, there was no going back. He was a man starved, his kisses growing more hungry as they traveled up and up and up...

Once his tongue made curious contact with the hood of her clit, Y/N gasped again, clutching her bed sheets and rolling her hips up to meet him. Spencer groaned, and a selfish part of him wished she could hear it. He wanted her to know just how crazy she was driving him, how much he wanted her. She could certainly feel it, her reaction to the vibrations causing her muscles to flex and her toes to curl, and he decided then that it would have to do. He was just going to have to make her feel his desire so deeply that it rattled in her bones and lingered there for the rest of eternity. He wanted to ruin everybody else for her, to stay with her until the end of time.

She reached and felt around for his head, fingers threading through invisible curls as she cried out.

"Spencer, you're so— so good..."

He hummed his approval at the praise and continued to work her, adding a third finger and sucking on her clit to feel her fingers tugging at his scalp. The sensation alone had him nearly lightheaded, and he wanted to stay there forever, lost in her taste and her touch and her noises.

God, her noises...

She sighed and whined, and stretched and squelched around his fingers, and he was convinced that had he not already been dead, he would have begged whoever was listening to keep him alive just to experience her forever.

The second she struggled to keep her legs open, trapping his head between them, he knew she was quickly approaching her orgasm, and he couldn't wait. He'd heard her climax before, but being right there as it was happening felt like a privilege he would always be grateful for. He wanted to replicate everything he'd heard that night and get to feel it, too— get to be the one to make her feel that way.

"Fuck, don't stop, I'm s— so close..."

Spencer groaned into her as if to say, "I know, I can feel you." Oh, how he wished he could talk her through it, to tease her with his words... Alas, he had no choice but to encourage her with his actions, so he used his free hand to search for one of hers. She gave up her hand to lace their fingers together, and his thumb continued to draw mindless circles into her skin as she clenched and released, over and over again until she was coming.

"Spencer!" she cried to the air, over and over again as if she could will him into existence again. It was a desperate plea, a manifestation, and the both of them secretly hoped that it would work.

She wanted to see him

He wanted her to see him, too.

He felt her climax subside, and then he slowly eased his fingers out of her and trailed his tongue down to keep tasting. A part of him was scared to realize he might not actually be visible like he hoped, but he pushed the potential disappointment aside and luxuriated in the way she tasted. He delved in and gripped the underside of her thighs to keep them steady, and with a delighted groan as he pushed his tongue inside, Y/N gasped.

"Fuck, I can hear you..."

The words excited him greatly.

"Thank God."

Spencer kissed her, tasted her until she was writhing and begging him to stop.

"Please, Spencer, kiss me."

He pulled away and looked up at her, smiling even though she still couldn't see him. "I am kissing you," he replied, pressing his lips to her thigh.

"You know what I mean. Come here..."

He laughed and obliged, kissing his way up her legs and crawling up her body. He slowly dragged his hands up her stomach, bunching up her nightgown and sliding it up her body the farther he got. Her eyes watched in allure as the fabric rode up and up and up, seemingly on its own. But she knew better, she knew who was undressing her and worshipping her, and it made her squirm.

She lifted her arms over her head and let him take the clothing off, revealing her chest to the chilly air. She watched as the fabric flew to the ground, and then felt Spencer's hands return to her skin, gentle fingers raising goosebumps all over. Her nipples pinched and hardened the closer he got to them, and soon enough he was palming her breasts as he pressed his forehead to hers, wedging his body between her legs.

"Kiss me," she breathed, feeling his nose touch hers. His breath was hot against her own, and her eyes fluttered shut. "Please..."

"Anything for you, sweet girl..."

She sighed as his mouth finally collided with her own, the heady and prominent taste of her arousal growing stronger the deeper he kissed her. Their bodies couldn't stop moving, wandering hands and urgent hips, and with his newfound ability to speak to her, Spencer spoke in gentle praises. He sighed out her name reverently, telling her how good and sweet and perfect she was, and she returned every word with a whimper, in awe that he was really there. He was becoming more and more present, and she couldn't get enough.

"I want to feel you," she said against his lips, dragging her hand down his invisible chest. She fingered through every button of his shirt until it was loose and open, and the cool hum of his skin as she explored his torso made her hands numb.

Spencer kissed her jaw and groaned, feeling himself throb at her words. "Let me help..."

He grabbed her hand and guided her to the bulge in his pants, even though she could have just as easily stumbled onto it herself. The intimacy of it all was almost overwhelming, so much so that when her grip tightened softly on his clothed erection, Spencer almost came undone right then and there.

"Fuck, Y/N... I'd say you're going to be the death of me, but..."

They laughed together until she kissed him again, deeply and with a sigh. "You're becoming more and more real, but... this feels like... it feels like a dream."

He understood what she meant, and it filled him with a tinge of sadness, but her hand slowly palming him was becoming harder and harder to ignore. He gripped her wrist and his breath hitched in her ear as he nipped at it.

"Trust me, sweetheart... I am very real."

She shuddered at his words and squeezed him tighter before fumbling for his belt.

"Spencer... Do you think..." Her hands successfully undid the confines of his pants and started to slide them down over his hips, trying not to mess up her words as he sucked marks into her neck. "Do you think that if you fuck me... I'll finally be able to see you?"

"Mmm, God, I hope so," he groaned earnestly, repositioning themselves so he could kick off his pants and rest her head on the pillow. She let him take the lead, her breath getting heavier with anticipation as he positioned himself between her legs and grabbed her wrist. Once again, he was guiding her hand to his cock, hard and, this time, bare. She cursed under her breath as she gripped him and he helped her languidly stroke himself in exploration. His fingers were strong over hers, and he applied just the right amount of pressure to draw out a groan from the both of them.

"Please," she sighed out desperately through shallow breaths. "Spencer, please, I need you..."

How could he resist?

He didn't even want to entertain the thought of trying.

"Then let me take care of you, sweet girl," he cooed, hiking her thighs to rest over his hips and slowly sinking into her with ease.

Once he was all the way in, he leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her temple, comforting her through the low burn. He slowly rolled his hips forward as she cried out his name, her fingers coming up to grip his shoulders. "You feel that?" he whispered into her skin. "How perfectly I fit inside you? It's like you were made for me..."

"Uh-huh," she stuttered in agreement.

He stopped teasing her then, pulling back to start fucking her nice and slow as she adjusted to him. Her fingers curled and knotted into the loose material of his shirt. She would have slid it off of him, but the grip on something steady was nice as she let him focus on his ministrations. He seemed to be doing just fine with the shirt on, anyway, and it was hard to even think about anything other than how good he felt.

She wondered then, as he picked up momentum and started peppering kisses down her jawline, what she looked like to the night. If she were standing there, outside her own body, watching herself being thoroughly and beautifully wrecked by something invisible and obviously enjoying every second...

Her eyes rolled back at the image, just as Spencer started going harder. His hips snapped into hers with a strength and precision that felt like it was rattling worlds. It very well could have been, and neither of them had any mind to care; They were so intensively intertwined with each other that it was a different world entirely.

They started to burn hot, that familiar warm chill of impending pleasure creeping up through their bodies and setting them alight. Y/N snaked her arms up to Spencer's neck and brought him down for a searing kiss as she melted into him, and he returned it with a fervor that elicited the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. He felt it all the way in his bones, felt the waves of pleasure start to drag him under as she squeezed him with her limbs and started to come undone herself.

The atmosphere around them was purely electrifying, bright snaps of skin and sharp whispers of mouth combining to brew a perfect storm that nothing would ever survive. It was wild and unconstrained, glimmering and grand, and in their wake, the two entities left their desire lingering in the air for the dead of night to stew in for as long as it would allow.

Spencer collapsed on top of her with a hefty sigh, and he was grateful to be able to finally share his voice with her. The mystery and simplicity of the X's and O's were fun to indulge in at first, but now that they'd grown closer and created something beautiful and memorable together, he had to tell her exactly how he felt— no symbols, no mysteries...

He kissed her softly and pulled back to look into her eyes, dragging a thumb over her cheekbone as he told her the truth.

"You're perfect."

Her eyes went wide, welling with tears as she reached up and ran a finger softly along the bridge of his nose.

"You're beautiful."

Relief and something else—something warm—stirred in Spencer's chest at the confirmation that she could finally see him, and that she was moved by what she saw. Who she saw...

He couldn't help the smile that adorned his face, and the soft joyous laughter that escaped him as she continued to explore his features with the pads of her fingertips, like she was trying to memorize him from touch alone in case he suddenly disappeared again.

"I mean it, Spencer, you're... even more beautiful than I imagined."

"You imagined me?" he inquired rather suggestively.

With a laugh, she brought him down for a slow, searing kiss. "Duh..."

Even though they were tired, they stayed like that for hours, kissing and exploring and sighing until the sweet lull of sleep took hold and carried them through the night.

For a solid few hours until he awoke, Spencer completely forgot that he wasn't alive.

ACT III: Unfinished Business

Y/N had never done so much research in her entire life. She liked Spencer, and she was more than happy to help him out, but man... Reading dozens of articles and textbooks and blogs about the different types of spirits and how to lay them to rest was a long, exhausting road that led pretty much nowhere. There was no way to know what type of ghost Spencer was or how to help him move on, not that she could see, anyway. She didn't know if he'd age with her, or be 'undead' long enough to become vicious and bitter like a lot of the spirits she read about, and Spencer's research was just about as inconclusive as her own.

A selfish part of her hoped she'd never find out, to keep him around forever... But she also knew that wasn't fair to him. No matter how lonely she was or how much fun they had and how they enjoyed each other's company, well... The fact of the matter was, he was dead.

And he deserved to rest.

In the meantime, in the hours between headache-inducing frustration at the lack of answers, Spencer told her about his life. His friends, mostly— the best people he'd ever known. The way he described them, she had a feeling that they might hold the key to his dilemma. If not directly, perhaps there was something about him that they knew, something that might give Y/N some insight into his ghostly purpose, so to speak. Not that she couldn't ask Spencer directly, but they'd already discussed a lot of back-and-forth on enemies and people that could have wanted to harm him, all of which were surefire impossibilities. Not to mention the fact that he seemed tied to this apartment and not anything else. Maybe that didn't have anything to do with it, but neither of them knew.

It was the only other option she had.

They laid next to each other in her bed, her head laying on his chest. Her ear warmed gently, and tried as she might to hear a heartbeat, all she could hear was a faint white noise, almost like he was merely a figure of tangible energy rather than a body. She supposed that was technically what he was, but as much as she'd grown to know and like Spencer, it was hard to think of him that way. It was... sad to think of him that way.

She frowned and nestled into him, trying to push away that petulant nagging in the depths of her soul that screamed "This isn't fair!" and she told him the most difficult thing she'd ever had the courage to push past her lips.

"I think I have an idea... You can say no if you think it's too weird, but... It might help you. Maybe."

"Mmm, what's that?" he responded, curious but not audibly hopeful. It made Y/N even more sad to think he probably figured he'd never find peace.

"What if I go talk to your friends? Do you think they might know something you don't?"

There was a beat of silence before she felt his chest heave with gentle laughter. "Derek Morgan definitely wouldn't think so..."

Recalling some of the funny stories he'd told her about him, she smiled. Still, she pressed. "I mean it. What other outlets do we have? Where else is there to look? If there's anyone who knows you better than anyone else, wouldn't it be them?"

Spencer sighed, giving it a thought. His fingers raked through her hair and massaged her scalp to the point of gentle, comforting numbness, another one of those domestic moments that had her feeling absolutely conflicted.

And then, he said, "Actually... I think I know exactly who you should talk to..."

———

There was a deep chill in her bones as she approached Penelope Garcia's apartment building, but not because of the lively, rustling October wind. In fact, she wanted to throw up at the thought of having this conversation. But not because she didn't want to help Spencer. She did, more than anything.

She was just afraid of being arrested.

Spencer assured her that it would be fine and that Penelope was harmless, and while the latter she could believe, it still nerved her to wander up to a woman's door and announce that she lived in the apartment of her beloved dead co-worker and needed to help him fulfill his destiny as a spirit. It sounded like a cruel joke.

"If anyone would believe you, it would be Penelope," he'd said, comforting her with a pat on the shoulder.

Maybe it was true, but she didn't want to find out if it wasn't. It was one thing to have the door slammed in your face by a grief-stricken loved one, but a grief-stricken loved one who worked for the fucking FBI was ten times worse; There were a lot more horrifying outcomes that came with that combination.

Still, she trusted Spencer on a level she'd barely trusted anyone else, and he wasn't even alive for God's sake... So she strapped on her boots, threw on her most comfortable jacket, and braced the wind and whatever fate blew with it.

For Spencer.

"For Spencer," she muttered under her breath as she rapped on the door. Three times. Third time's the charm, three's a crowd, three clicks of the heel and you're home... Three seemed like a lucky number. Three was inviting, friendly, not intended to inflict emotional damage.

Please, God, don't let her hate me, Y/N prayed to whoever was listening. Don't let this go horribly wrong.

A bright voice was yelling beyond the door, and with every millisecond that it got louder and closer, her heart started to beat faster. Blood thrummed in her ears, and she kept repeating, "For Spencer, for Spencer, for Spencer," on a loop to remind her why she was going through all this anxiety.

The voice got closer, but still muffled, until the door swung open. Then it stopped altogether. Y/N blinked and stood there with a stiff back and sweaty palms, in front of Penelope Garcia. The woman was obviously expecting somebody else to be at the door, but she didn't look disappointed, just confused.

"Oh. You're not Luke. How can I help you?"

"Um... My name is Y/N. I... Before I tell you why I'm here, I need you to know that I'm not trying to play a trick on you, and I don't want to make you sad or upset, and if there's anything you need or want to know about me in order to trust me, then I'll gladly give you that information, but this is really important and I need you to know that I'm not crazy or harmful, I just want to help him."

Penelope's eyes went wide as she reached out and grabbed her hand. The thrumming in her ears got louder as she took a deep breath and waited for the yelling to start, her body to be thrown to the ground, or a sharp piercing sting of a backhand.

The only thing she felt, however, was a tug at her heart and the gentle dissipation of nerves as Penelope spoke one simple word.

"Spencer."

"How... How did you know?"

"Ever since he... Since he's been... I just knew something didn't feel right. Everyone told me that it was just grief, and for a while that's also what I told myself, but... That feeling was just too... Wait, who did you say you were again?"

Y/N stuttered her name and gripped Penelope's hand tighter, hoping to create some rapport. "I live in his apartment. He's been... Visiting me."

Something in her eyes softened and then saddened at the confirmation that her friend was somehow still among the living. "A visitor in his own home... Poor Boy Genius..."

She couldn't help but smile at the nickname. "He said you called him that often..."

Wide eyes welling with tears, Penelope nodded and tugged at her visitor's hand. "He was the smartest person I ever knew. Kindest, too. Here, come on inside, I'll make you some tea. Do you like tea? Maybe some hot chocolate?"

Her hospitality as she ushered her inside was both comforting and saddening to Y/N. It was in her nature to be that way to guests, even strangers, sure, but it also acted as a shield from the somber feelings she'd been rushed with at a moment's notice, no thanks to said stranger.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, Penelope," Y/N rushed as she shrugged her coat off. "You don't have to make me anything."

"Oh, I know I don't have to, but would you like something warm to drink?"

She was practically begging for the distraction, something to do with her hands as she had time to process and prepare for what was about to happen.

"Tea would be lovely, thank you."

"Perfect, I'll get it started. Make yourself comfortable, Sweets."

She carried her coat over her arms, holding it to her chest like a tether to reality. None of this felt real, even though she could still feel the warm glow of Spencer's energy all around her, like it had burrowed into the pores of her skin and made a home there.

As she looked around at Penelope's bright and colorful space, she thought about him... How often had he been here? What did they do together, and where did they hang out? She imagined the laughter and the stories and the cooking... She wished she would have known him then, been a part of his life. As scary as he told her it was at times, she knew there were also plenty of bright spots, and she knew Penelope was definitely one of the brightest.

Y/N smiled, hugging her coat tighter.

"I like your apartment," she complimented, sitting down at a small dining table in the corner.

"Thank you! I always told Spencer he should get some more color, but... What can I say, he really loved his neutrals."

The familiar detail brought a smile to her face. "That doesn't surprise me. He told me that even though he likes me, he really hates my floral couch and that it looked weird in his apartment. I told him he was boring." And, that technically, it was her apartment now. In fact, her exact words after the fact were, "What are you going to do, haunt me?" before they both laughed and continued making out on said couch.

But she didn't need to remind Penelope of the fact that he was gone. Or to inform her that she was intimately involved with his ghost.

Just the thought alone was enough to make the low, ever-present hum of his imprinted memory on her skin even more intense, and she smiled.

"Oh... I know that look."

Y/N looked up at Penelope, who was grinning with the most mischievous gleam in her eye.

"What look?"

"You think he's cute, don't you?"

"I... I don't..."

"Well, I suppose even if you can't see him, I'm sure he's charmed you anyway. And you probably Googled him."

"How did you—"

"It's what I would have done... So?" she prompted, still waiting for an answer of some kind.

Y/N sighed, defeated and impressed by Penelope's skills at quickly retrieving information. But she also didn't want to lie to her, so she had no choice but to answer her questions with the truth anyway. "Well, I can see him. But I couldn't at first. My um... My friends came over one night, and they brought a Ouija board. We used it for shits and giggles because I'd joked to them after I moved in that I didn't feel totally alone, and well..."

"It wasn't a joke?"

Penelope brought over the tea, steaming and aromatic. Y/N took it with a nod of thanks and sighed as she sat down across from her.

"No. But I didn't actually think I was living with a ghost, I mean... I didn't believe in that stuff. But I also wasn't going to risk pissing him off, so I tried to be nice to him. I only knew his name, and then my friends looked him up and we read his obituary, and... I don't know, I guess I just thought he seemed like a good person, so he deserved some kindness in the afterlife. I said hello to the air every time I came home from work, I yelled out a good night before going to bed... And then he started leaving me notes on my bathroom mirror, and I guess... I don't know, the more he and I got to know each other, the easier things became. Eventually he could touch things, and then soon after he was audible, then visible..."

She conveniently left out the details of that journey, though her skin warmed again at the memory.

"And now that we can communicate, it's become clear to me that he doesn't know where he's going— Why he's not at rest... I feel bad for him. He deserves..." Her breath caught in her throat, and she swallowed hard before looking down at the mug in her hand. "He deserves to move on."

Penelope was quiet for a moment as Y/N sipped her tea. Her hand reached out to grab hers, and the gesture almost had her in tears.

"You sound... Sad about that."

She couldn't help the pressure that pulsed behind her eyes, stabbing at her throat... Still, she made herself speak, barely above a whisper to prevent that inevitable cracking of the voice that would surely break the dam she was trying so hard to keep still and strong. "I... I know it sounds absolutely crazy..."

"You're falling in love with him."

Though the words didn't come from her own mouth, they came flying at her like a sucker punch to the gut. The wind was knocked out of her for a moment, until all she could do was exhale and let the tears fall silently as she nodded.

Penelope let her cry for a minute or two without a word while holding her hand, until she was ready to elaborate. "But I can't... I can't keep him here, it's not right. If he doesn't have any unfinished business, then he should be put to rest. And I... I don't know how to help him. I thought maybe, if I could talk to the people who knew him the best... I could get an idea."

"Oh, Honey, I... I'm sorry, but I don't know any more than you do." She was talking through tears herself, and Y/N squeezed her hand back. "His mother's been gone for years now, and there's no other family that he was close enough with to even consider, other than us, but... Truthfully I don't know if we really count in the grand scheme of things... I'd like to think that we do..."

"You might not be blood-related, but you were his family. He loved you so much, I could tell by the way he spoke about all of you. He... He misses you a lot. I just wish he didn't have to feel that loss anymore."

Penelope frowned. "I wish I could give you an answer... When you go back to him... Will you at least tell him that we love him?"

"He already knows. But yes. I will."

"And I'll keep on thinking. Whatever you need, you got it. I have access to pretty much everything so if there's information to be had, I will get my paws on it, and you will know. Thank you for coming to see me. And for telling me that Spencer's okay... He is okay, right?"

Y/N hesitated. She wasn't entirely sure how to answer without giving away their extra-curricular activities. "I think so. He's tired, I can tell. But I do my best to keep him happy. The last thing I need is to have him angrily haunting me."

Penelope laughed, then sighed. "Unfortunately, I think that means you better get rid of that glorious couch, then."

The laughter was a welcome break from the tears, which had already started to dry on her skin, leaving her cheeks itchy. "I really appreciate you being so kind, Penelope... Losing Spencer must have been absolutely impossible, and having a complete stranger show up at your door and pour salt in the wound... I couldn't imagine..."

"Y/N... If there was any person on this planet who could have moved into his apartment and helped him through this... I think I speak for the whole BAU when I say that he's lucky it's you."

The sentiment made her chest tight, and an involuntary pout tugged at her mouth. "You... You really mean that?"

Penelope laughed and squeezed her hand again. "Oh, Darling, you even pout like him... You're kind of perfect for each other."

"I don't know whether to be happy or sad about that," she replied through a fit of hysterics, and Penelope joined her.

It was clear then that these two women were meant to bond seamlessly over the loss of someone dear, one in life and the other in death. They were two sides of the same coin, a best friend and an anchor to the other side. It was a solace that neither of them had expected, but welcomed with open arms and warm understanding.

They exchanged stories and laughs and phone numbers and hugs, and joked about exchanging addresses, and a while later, just as Y/N was about to go home, fastening her coat, Penelope stopped her.

"Wait... I don't mean to make you sad or anything, and maybe this isn't the answer that either of you were looking for... But after today? If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Spencer's unfinished business is you."

The thought froze her entirely. It would stand to reason that they were meant to find each other, only to let each other go. Because, of course. Nobody was ever that lucky, especially neither Spencer nor his new roommate.

Sensing her overthinking, Penelope continued. "I know it's unfortunate given the circumstances, but... You did say that the more you got to know him, the more... alive he became. At least as alive as he can be. And I've only known you for about an hour, but I can confidently say that you are about as perfect for Spencer as somebody could be for anybody. And..."

She shifted on her feet, unsure of whether she should actually say what she was about to tell her, but obviously needing to make her point with as much context as possible. "You know, he's tried. He watched many of us find love and have families of our own, and he's always wanted that, but... He never got to have it. I think... that was the one thing that he always truly and completely wanted, especially after his mom passed and he had no one left but us... Somebody to go home to, somebody who understood him and cared about him and wanted to spend the rest of their lives with him... A soulmate. And... Y/N, I think it might be you."

Her head was swimming and tears were blurring her vision again. As much as she wanted to believe it, ever the lover of grand romantic endings, it didn't make sense. She didn't really believe in soulmates, did she? Then again, she didn't believe in ghosts, either, until recently...

"How could you possibly know that?" she whispered to Penelope, hoping for a switch in her brain to flip. She wanted to believe it. She wanted to dash home and confidently confess to the ghost living in her apartment that they were made for each other and that she could finally set him free.

And... Then what?

There had to be another explanation.

"I wish I could tell you how, definitively," Penelope answered sadly, "and like I said, I don't want to upset you... But it's just a feeling. And my feelings are hardly ever wrong. Hey, I mean I had a feeling that Spencer was still out there somehow, and that turned out to be true, right?"

"I... I guess," she sniffled.

"Just... Do me a favor, okay? Think about it. Spend tonight with him, like you normally do, and really really think about it. And tell me you don't feel it."

It almost sounded like a playful challenge rather than a request. Y/N wiped at her eyes and sighed. "You're really sure?"

"Positive."

Y/N wasn't really sure if she believed it still, but there was a conviction in Penelope's voice that was too sincere to ignore. And Spencer trusted her, which obviously meant a lot.

So, she promised that she would think about it anyway, bade her new friend farewell, and made her way outside, where the wind had died and left the streets lifeless and quiet.

———

Something was different about Y/N when she came home.

Spencer tried to let her go about the night and refrain from saying anything, but after regretfully informing him that Penelope had no wisdom to offer her about their situation but would get back to her if anything did come to mind, she was... odd. Perhaps she was just as tired as he was in trying to solve this mystery, or just tired in general. But he didn't want to push her if she didn't want to open up, so he did what he could and offered his company.

Still, she didn't seem right.

He thought maybe a flurry of warm, tender kisses along her skin would put her in high spirits, but the longer she let him worship her skin without so much as a sigh in return, it started to sink in that something was deeply wrong.

"Are you okay?" he asked sweetly, stroking her jaw with the back of his hand as he looked her in the eye. She looked at him for only a few seconds before averting her gaze, like if she allowed him to meet her eyes for any longer, he'd pull something from her that she'd rather not share. It sent a small wave of panic through him. "Y/N, talk to me, please... What's wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," she said unconvincingly.

"You don't... have to talk about it if you don't want to... But you're upset about something, and I want to help you. I'll do whatever you need me to. I'll listen, I'll leave you alone, I'll kiss it better... Whatever you want. It's yours."

She squeezed her eyes shut and took a deep breath, defeated. "God, you FBI people are too good at getting information out of people, it's annoying."

Spencer laughed. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel interrogated. I'm sorry."

"No, it's okay, you didn't do anything wrong. I'm just... I'm..."

She couldn't seem to get out the words, like there was a frustrating lack of understanding how to convey them. He drew continuous circles gently into her palm and waited patiently for her to open up, silently promising that he would be there for her when she finally found the right words.

It was a question that she finally settled on. "Have you ever been in love? Like... Really in love?"

Something inside him jolted at the thought of where this conversation might lead. If he had a heartbeat, it would have raced and thrummed so heavily that the organ might have failed. In truth, he'd been thinking about it for a week or two now. Ever since the night he realized that his interactions with her were the key to becoming more sentient, the thought crossed his mind that perhaps she was the thing he was tethered to.

He didn't dare say it out loud, or to her face, because... Well, it was too soon, wasn't it? And it wouldn't have mattered anyway, because once he was lain to rest, they could never be together.

It was complicated.

"I think I was, a few times," he finally answered in earnest. "And to be fair, just because things didn't work out with them, it doesn't mean I didn't really love them. I did. But... I think deep down I knew they weren't really The One... Does that make sense?"

"I think so... I don't think I've ever been in love before. Even with long-term partners, we said the words, and I felt something that was happy and I thought was love, but..." She paused, avoiding his eye again before rapidly blinking back tears. "Now I feel this... this anchor to you that I can't let go of... I want to be around you all the time and I know it's not fair because you deserve to rest, but I can't help it. Spencer, I... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm afraid that once I really admit it out loud, you'll be gone forever."

He knew, then, that this was it. Listening intently as she confessed, absorbing every word and allowing himself to feel and admit what he knew to be true for a while now, his body began to tingle. It was so dull at first, he almost mistook the feeling for 'butterflies'. It felt cruel not to tell her that he was starting to fade, but he didn't want to ruin the moment or panic her. He didn't want to tell her that she was running out of time. That they were running out of time.

So, instead, to try and ease the blow, he told her something sweet.

He told her, "I love you."

Her eyes glossed over at the confession. She reached urgently for his hands, her grip strong and willing like she knew what was going to happen. And maybe she did. Still, she sat there and listened to him, her eyes taking in every inch of his presence and committing him to memory.

He aimed to make it a memory she would never forget.

"I don't know when we'll see each other again, but I don't doubt that we will. Not for a second. And until then, my only wish is that you keep allowing yourself to fall in love. Don't be afraid of it. You shouldn't deny yourself just because I'm gone. Can you promise me that you'll try?"

Y/N blinked away tears and tugged at his hands. "What if I can't?"

"You will, my sweet girl. And I promise, I won't be mad at you."

She laughed despite herself, then almost cried again when she felt his presence start to fizzle and break in front of her eyes. She was desperate to hold on to him, clutching his hands for dear life and breathlessly whispering, "I love you, Spencer Reid," as if the conviction alone would be enough to keep him here. As if whatever cruel deity was putting them through this would see how much she needed him and decided to spare her the misery.

"I wish I could have known you when I was alive," he told her, leaning in closer. "Maybe we could have been neighbors."

She smiled through tears and pressed her forehead to his, the contact making her skin go numb. Silently she hoped that wherever he was going, she would be sucked in with him. "Then I would have invited you over for dinner."

He squeezed her hands, already feeling his grip fading, his essence nearly numbing him. Still, he willed himself to stay long enough to paint this life for the two of them—one they would never get to have, except only in dreams and perhaps in another life entirely. Anything was possible, after all.

"And I still would have made fun of your ugly couch."

"And I would have pushed you onto it and made you take it back."

"And I would have refused."

"And I would have kissed you ."

"And I would have kissed you back."

"And I would have fallen in love with you immediately."

"And I would have sworn that I'd fall in love with you in every universe."

She closed her eyes, feeling the very last remnants of his presence as she whispered, "I think it's safe to assume that you already have."

"And I think I'm inclined to agree."

THE END

[majestyeverlasting]

Hellooo, can I please request a Joel miller x reader oneshot where the reader had a really bad day at work and she’s calling him from the bathroom crying and he immediately rushes to pick her up? 🥰���

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 | 𝐣𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

Pairing Joel Miller x Female Reader 

Summary A disheartening setback at work leads you to call Joel, who always knows exactly what you need [fluff, 1.6k].

A/N Thank you so much for this request and your patience, anon! Really enjoyed writing this one.

∘°∘♡∘°∘

Hi, are you busy right now?

A heavy exhale is freed from your chest the moment you hit send. It’s quiet in the bathroom except for the rhythmic drip of the leaky sink faucet. Muffled voices arise from the hallway as people pass by, some preparing to commute home. Warm tears stream down your cheeks. 

No sooner does your phone vibrate to life, a picture of you and Joel at McKinney Falls filling the screen. There isn’t much time to compose yourself before you press the accept button with a shaky thumb. 

“Hey, sweetheart. Got done early today, we’re cleaning up the site,” Joel greets, wind in the background. Tommy’s voice emits from nearby as well, followed by rowdy, cackling laughter. “Hold on a second, lemme get someplace quiet.” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

There’s shuffling on his end of the line that eventually subsides. It’s still worth clinging to even though he’s miles away. 

“Sorry about that. Everything alright?” Concern dances around the edges of his words. You can tell he’s trying to keep them from being consumed. 

After Sarah moved out for college, he’d gotten better at accepting that every phone call he received from her didn’t automatically mean trouble. Most of the time, she simply wanted to catch up now that she lived two hours away. 

However, the opposite was true between you and Joel. Nowadays, you spend so much time together that there’s seldom a need to talk on the phone. The fact that you were calling him, from work, no less, meant something was up. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, but it doesn’t do much for the wavering of your voice when you finally speak up again, “Just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Your subsequent sniffle makes him grow still. You can see it through the phone. It’s in the way he doesn’t immediately respond, gears undoubtedly turning in his head. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart.” There’s a gentle, almost melodic quality to his voice that makes you wish you could lay your head on his chest and feel the rumble of his words. 

“Today’s just been a lot,” you tell him. “You know Alexander, the Bulletin’s editor?” He makes a small sound of affirmation. “It wasn’t his decision, but he pulled me aside to let me know my feature has been put on hold for further revision.” 

Relaying the news makes fresh tears well in your eyes. Over the past few weeks, Joel has watched you pour yourself into each stage of constructing the story to do the subjects justice—the meticulous research, heartfelt interviews, and late nights perfecting every draft. 

It was a labor of love, a piece that sought to illuminate the struggles of longtime Austin residents, artists, and small business owners navigating the challenges of gentrification and displacement. 

“Something about it being redundant.” Which, for all you knew, could be higher-up code for we don’t want this stepping on the toes of donors with deep pockets.  

“You’re kidding,” Joel grouses, disappointed for you. 

You shake your head even though he can’t see you. “I wish I was,” you breathe. “Redundant, yet they’ve got room for age-old dieting tips and holiday gift guides every year,” you say, voice wavering. 

“I know, I hear you. I’m so sorry, baby,” he soothes, releasing a heavy sigh. “At least it hasn’t been canned entirely. That’s worth something.”  

He’s right, but it still feels like a slap in the face considering all the time invested. From you and everyone who shared their story. 

“It just sucks,” you sniffle. “I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and now I feel even worse.” A dull ache has settled in your temples. 

Shuffling arises on Joel’s end of the line again, and you remember that he’s still on site. 

“I’m sorry. You can go if you need to.” 

Instead, he comes back with, “Hang tight, okay? Gonna come get you.” 

When you bite your lip instead of responding, he keeps talking, “Should be there in twenty, give or take.” 

As appealing as it sounds to be whisked away, reality is quick to set in. 

“No, it’s fine, Joel. Tommy and the guys need you. I couldn’t ask you to do that.” 

“Wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t good for it,” he replies. 

•••

Outside, you’re met with a relaxed breeze and the dwindling warmth of downtown, where the sun eases towards the horizon. A few tourists mill around, men and women in business casual stride by with messenger bags. At Joel’s truck, which is parallel parked across the street, he gets the door for you. An 80s station plays low on the radio, Bruce Springsteen’s Born to Run faintly recognizable. 

You watch as he rounds to the driver’s side in that relaxed stride you love. He looks handsome despite his mused hair and the specks of dried paint on his shirt. When he climbs in, you’ve taken notice of the ice-cold raspberry tea in the cupholder closest to you. 

Along the way, he’d stopped and gotten it from the cafe you and Sarah frequented whenever she was visiting from school. You only went alone as an occasional treat, but he knew how much you liked it. 

A smile buds on his face when you pick it up and take a grateful sip. There’s a softness to his gaze that makes warmth bloom in your chest. With him, even the little things seemed to say, I see you. 

When you extend the cup his way in a silent offer, he waves you off. However, curiosity gets the better of him after he pulls off the curb. “Guess a sip won’t hurt.”

For the first time in what feels like hours, you smile when Joel hums at the flavor. For a moment, it doesn’t feel like the world is ending anymore. When he places his hand on your thigh, you intertwine your fingers with his, and he gives your hand a squeeze. 

A comfortable silence settles between you. It isn’t until you’ve left downtown that Joel speaks up again, voice measured and sure, “Your story will get out. Those guys know good journalism when they see it, and they’re gonna have to run it.” 

You glance over at him, your lower lip caught between your teeth as hope kindles in your chest.

“Hell, I’ll make my own publication if that’s what it takes. The Miller Times.” 

A chuckle bubbles out of you, but you could cry at the same time. For an entirely different reason this time. 

“I could get in trouble for going to a different publisher,” you remind him, running your thumb over the back of his hand as a small smile plays on your lips. “I’m on staff.”  

“I know, honey.” Joel squeezes your hand, a playful glint in his eyes. “Admit it, though. You thought about it for a second. The Miller Times has a nice ring to it.” 

He can see you fighting against your growing smile. “It’s alright.” 

“I’ll take that,” he concedes. Then, a greater air of sincerity settles over him. “What’s that one saying—setbacks are setups for something better.” 

You nod, gazing out the window as you turn into his neighborhood. 

“Don’t let this weigh you down.” 

You felt worlds lighter with him. 

•••

The warm spray of the shower feels so good against your skin that you remain under it even after the day’s troubles have washed away. Three months ago, you would’ve had to use Joel’s body wash, but your products and belongings had since made their way here. Some, he bought because he knew you’d be around, and others—namely, clothes—that migrated from your apartment. 

The word home has lost its shape in that regard. Not in a detached way of not belonging in any one place, but in that Joel’s house had begun to feel like just as much of a home as your cozy one-bedroom a few miles away. 

When you finally step out of the shower, a towel wrapped around yourself, you can see straight into the bedroom, where Joel is stretched across the bed. The sound of the shower door closing prompts him to sit up with a low grunt. You offer a shy smile upon meeting his gaze. 

“Promise I’m not creepin’ around,” he says, standing to his feet. “Just wanted to see if your headache was gone. Can bring up some Tylenol if you need it.” 

“It’s fine. I feel better now,” you assure. With a satisfied nod, he turns to leave with the intent of giving you space, but stops in his tracks when you speak up again, “You’re allowed to creep around if you want. I don’t mind.” 

Joel saunters into the bathroom doorway, propping an arm against the frame. The motion causes his bicep to strain against the sleeve of his shirt. Getting to see you like this, the intimacy of it all, always makes him feel grateful and warm. 

“Oh, yeah?” 

“You’re the boss,” you lilt.

With a low chuckle, Joel pushes out of the doorway and moves to stand behind you. You stare at your joint reflection as he rests his large hands on your hips, then leans down to press a delicate kiss to your bare shoulder. His frame is broad and rugged behind you, but his eyes are kind. 

When you rest your hands over his, he presses a second kiss to the crook of your neck. Then another just beneath your ear. His lips are so soft and warm against your damp skin that you can’t help the shiver that runs down your spine and makes you press back into him. 

“I like you like this,” he whispers. “Relaxed…smiling.”

Now that you’re in his arms, it’s hard to imagine having stayed at the newsroom. With the meetings, chatty colleagues, and constant blue light. It’s quieter here with Joel. The world at large has disappeared while your smaller one keeps turning.

“I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” you admit. 

But Joel did. He always did. 

-

Thank you so much for reading. Like, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. I promise I see them all.

MORE

[delugyu]

i just finished c3 and im ovulating and i neeeDDDD more needy pathetic bsf ficsss!!! but uhmmm can u make one for taehyun 🥹🥹🥹 i need him bad after THAT vid he dropped WHEEW

YESSS i can!!! i got so carried away with this omg

(wc: 3.6k / warnings: taehyun is a teaseeee 😵‍💫, and very clingy, heavy petting, tyun has one hell of an oral fixation, unprotected sex and too much faith in the pull out method)

you truly do love hanging out with taehyun, but you would also appreciate it if he didn’t make trying to leave such a pain in the ass. you have homework to get to, shows to watch, food to eat…

“you can do all of that with me!” he argues. there is no winning against taehyun—you either give in, or you leave him to cry for hours on his own. you hope that’s an exaggeration, but at this point it really might be true.

“but i want to do it at my place,” you say. he grabs your wrist and drags you back into his bed beside him. half-reluctantly, you let him pull you against his body and cuddle into you.

“it’s so much better with me, though. you know it.” he seems to take offense at the way you laugh at his insinuation, because he pinches your waist in retaliation.

“ow!” you try moving away from him after his attack, but he doesn’t let you get far. if anything, he just pulls you in closer. he rests his head in the crook of your neck and inhales like some creep, and you tell yourself it’s probably just a weird joke. “don’t do that,” you scold, pushing his head away. he grins at you, bashful.

“can’t you just stay here tonight?” he asks, propping himself up on an elbow so he can look down at you. his fingers find the thin chain of your necklace, fiddling with the pendant on it mindlessly.

“i slept here two days ago.”

“and? you can sleep here one more night. your laptop still works in my dorm, you know.” he challenges the glare you send him, and with a sigh, you back down.

“you better not bother me while i do my work,” you say. he wears a triumphant grin, patting your head like he’s proud that you finally gave in.

all is quiet and peaceful for the next thirty minutes, and you get a decent outline done for your assignment. every time you glance back at taehyun, he’s just sprawled out on his bed, scrolling on his phone. you’re a little surprised that he hasn’t tried to annoy you yet; he normally breaks around minute ten.

you tap your nails against taehyun’s desk to the rhythm of a bunch of different songs, bored out of your mind while trying to figure out how to write this cohesively. you sigh heavily, slouching down until your head meets the desk. you’ll only close your eyes for a couple minutes, just to push away the headache that threatens to come over you…

it’s definitely been more than a couple minutes when you feel taehyun’s hand on your shoulder, jolting you awake. “what?” you ask quickly, fixing your posture and blinking the sleep from your eyes. you wiggle your finger on your laptop’s mousepad to turn the screen back on, eyes widening when you see you’ve just killed another twenty minutes, and you’re only an hour away from midnight now. every ounce of tiredness drains from your body in an instant.

“did you seriously fall asleep?” he asks, almost sounding amused.

you return all your focus to your assignment, not even looking at taehyun when you answer, “no.”

“liar,” he says, laughing. his hands tuck your hair out of your face, then hold it in a makeshift ponytail. you let him have his fun, it feels good when he plays with your hair anyway.

he stays standing near you long after his hands leave your hair, and you ignore his presence to the best of your ability. it’s a little hard to write down any sentences when you feel taehyun looming behind you and reading over your shoulder, though. you sigh out in mild frustration.

taehyun’s knee nudges the seat of your chair, and you turn your head to look at him. “can i sit?” he asks.

you scrunch your brows. “no, i’m sitting here. go to your bed.” you make a motion towards it and return to your work.

“you can just sit in my lap,” taehyun offers, hand landing on your shoulder.

“or you can just go to your bed.”

“but i wanna hoooold youuu.” he pouts and leans in close to wrap his arms around you.

“i thought you said you’d let me work in peace?” that seems to get him to listen. he finally trudges back into bed, muttering out something that you don’t bother to strain your ears for.

you finish your assignment forty minutes later; it’s half-assed, but at least it’s done. taehyun couldn’t look happier to see you walk over to him.

“finally. i thought i was gonna die,” he says.

you laugh and get into bed with taehyun. his smile doesn’t leave his face for a second as he wraps you in his blanket, making sure you’re nice and comfortable. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into him.

“what do you wanna do tomorrow?” he asks.

you hum in thought. “i got my 8am tomorrow, so i need to head out early.”

taehyun groans, “you’re kidding me.”

“i wish.”

“just skip.” you can hear the grin he’s wearing when he makes the suggestion. “you know you want to.”

“no, i only get two absences throughout for whole semester for that class,” you explain, to which he just groans again. he’s so childish. “you never skip for me either!” you defend.

“you never ask me to. i would if you wanted.” you turn around to face him, giving him an incredulous look.

“yeah right. you’re crazier about your grades than i am,” you say.

“i’m crazier about you than i am about my grades.” he’s biting back a teasing grin after he says that. you smack his chest, trying not to let your face heat up too much at his flirtation.

“don’t say that stuff,” you scold.

“why? it’s true.” he’s still got that amused glint in his eyes as his face moves a little closer to yours.

“stop,” you say with a nervous laugh, gently swatting his chest. it almost looks like his eyes fall to your lips for a second. that would be ridiculous, though, and you’re sure he’s smarter than that.

“can’t you skip this once?” his voice is lower when he asks that. he brushes some hair out of your face and lets his hand linger on your jaw. there’s something forming in the air between you, something that has your heart beating a little faster.

“what are you doing, taehyun?” you ask in a whisper. his lips curl up like he’s been caught red-handed, but he doesn’t respond. you flinch backward when he brings his face closer to yours. “oh my god, what are you doing?”

he grabs your hand like that will keep you from leaving. “i’m sorry.” his eyes hold genuine apology in them, and it makes you feel bad for reacting so strongly.

you can’t even believe the words you’re about to say. “did you just try to kiss me?”

he’s quiet for a moment like he doesn’t know how to respond. “would it be such a bad thing?”

he’s pulling at your heartstrings. you bring yourself closer to him again, pitying him so bad all of a sudden. “no, it’s just—we’re friends. just friends.” you don’t really know what’s happening right now. you never would have thought you’d have to have this conversation with taehyun.

your heart is half-bleeding when you see him pout. you almost want to grab his face and peck his lips just to comfort him. he does look awfully kissable right now.

“you don’t like me?” he asks in a small voice. you have to stop yourself from cooing at him.

“i do like you. you’re my best friend.”

“just your best friend?” you blink at him, not knowing what he wants you to say. he continues, “well, you’re the most important person in my life.”

your heart is beating rapidly, you’re a little scared that taehyun might feel it through the mattress. he can’t be serious. was he drinking earlier?

his face doesn’t falter. he holds no playfulness in his eyes; he’s completely serious. if you weren’t laying down, you might’ve passed out.

“thank you,” you say, because you don’t know what else to do.

“you’re the most important person, and i really want to kiss you.” his gaze is so intense. the only feeling you can discern within yourself is shock.

“why are you doing this so suddenly?” you ask, eyes darting between his.

“i don’t know. i couldn’t help it.” he squeezes your hand desperately, like a reminder that he’s still waiting for your answer.

you gulp. “y-you can kiss me,” you permiss.

“really?” his eyes are shining with hope now. you can’t say no to that.

you nod, and suddenly his hand is in your hair and his lips are on yours. he kisses you much sweeter than you expected, soft lips capturing yours in an easy, unrushed rhythm. your hand falls onto his arm, grounding you to reality and keeping you from slipping away.

you’ve thought about this before, but never did you think this would happen. every time you thought about kissing taehyun, you imagined the two of you drunk and stupid, foolish and impulsive. you never even considered it a possibility that you’d agree to this sober and sound of mind. maybe you like taehyun more than you thought.

he is hot, and you’ve always thought that, but you don’t think you ever wanted him before. so the feeling growing between your legs is frighteningly new—you realize with a great sense of horror that you’re getting wet, and it’s because of taehyun. what the fuck. what the fuck.

“what the fuck,” you say breathlessly, pulling away from the kiss as taehyun attaches his mouth to your neck. “fuck, taehyun. what are we doing?” you tangle your hand in his hair as he laves his tongue over a spot he just sucked. his hands go up your shirt, clinging onto your waist.

“i don’t know,” he answers, just as out of breath, just as needy. he hovers over you now, breathing hotly against your skin, looking up at you as his teeth catch the collar of your shirt. the sight sends a rush of arousal to your core.

he pushes your shirt up just enough to expose your stomach and nothing more. even that feels raunchy, especially when he dives down to lick a stripe up your skin. you tremble as he gets his tongue familiar with your flesh, and he eventually has to hold your hips down to stop you from moving.

you’re biting your tongue to hold back your whines, but you can’t handle the heat that keeps growing between your legs. you don’t know why you’re so soaked, you’ve never been so affected by such little things. why does it feel so much hotter when it’s taehyun doing it?

you gasp when he takes your shorts and panties between his teeth, pulling them back so they can snap against your skin. you can’t hold back your whine this time, and the noise seems to encourage taehyun, because he brings a finger to your waistband to replicate the action again.

“taehyun,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets. you don’t know why you’re so sensitive suddenly, it’s like you feel everything times a million with him. he hasn’t even touched you anywhere that would elicit this reaction.

his mouth is on your thighs now, nibbling and licking the skin, moving between the two like he can’t get enough. he keeps his hands busy, too, massaging the back of your thighs. you use all the control you have left in your body to not let your hips buck into him. it’s an incredibly hard task.

you don’t know how much time passes like this—enough to drive you insane, to have you spiraling and at risk of losing your mind. you might start crying if taehyun doesn’t just take care of you at this point. you don’t know how to ask for it. you don’t want to ask for it. you just want him to know, to read your mind, to fuck you mind-numbingly good and just get it over with.

your whines are pathetic at this point, and taehyun has still yet to take mercy on you. you must be so wet that he can smell it through your shorts, you might even be leaking through your shorts. there’s no way he doesn’t know that he’s torturing you.

“taehyun, please!” you cry out, hand tangling in his hair. he finally gives your thighs a break, pulling his head up so he can look at you. god, even he looks delirious. his eyes are blown out with lust, mouth hung open as he catches his breath.

“what do you need?” he asks, but he seems to have a pretty good idea because his hand cups your clothed cunt. the reaction that pulls from you is embarrassing—your whole body jolts as you moan out, and taehyun has to steady you with a hand on your hip as he grinds his hand against your center.

“i need you, please,” you beg, legs shaking and closing around his hand. that doesn’t stop him, though; he still keeps rubbing deep against your cunt, watching you in amazement.

“yeah? fuck, you’re gonna cum for me?” he asks.

you shake your head violently. “no, please, wanna cum on your cock, tear me open—ah, taehyun!” you don’t want to cum like this, but he seems more than determined to push you over the edge already.

“wanna see you ruin your panties, cutie.” he kisses your navel and holds your hip down with more force as you start trying to wiggle away. your back arches, and you want to run away from the feeling so bad, but taehyun won’t let you. your moans get high pitched and whiny, stomach tensing up as your orgasm nears.

“tyunnie, oh my god, please!” you don’t even know what you’re begging for, but your body can’t stop shaking and it’s all taehyun’s fault. he soothes you with some heated kisses to your waist.

“soak my hand, come on, drench me.” there’s a tone of command in his voice, and he moves more frantically against you now. you think a tear actually slips from your eye as you finally cum, letting your orgasm hit you after trying to run away from it for so long. taehyun’s spewing out praises that you only half pay attention to, but they’re all something along the lines of just like that, did so well, good job.

taehyun takes his hand off you and peels your legs open, staring proudly at the dark mark on your core. you’d shut your legs if you had the energy, but you’re far too mindless for that right now. you jump when he brushes a finger against your ruined shorts. your legs tremble, so weak under him.

“pretty baby looks so good cumming for me,” he says, stealing a quick kiss from you. you can barely reciprocate, still recovering from your orgasm. “can you give me one more? i’ll split you on my cock this time, fill you up so nice…” he runs his hand down your waist, then brings it to your face and pats your cheek lightly to bring your attention to him. “hm? will you?”

you’re too far gone to even consider the consequences. all you can think about is how bad you want to feel his cock stretching out your walls. you’re dripping with arousal, he could slip right in. you ache for it.

“need it, tyunnie,” you say, grabbing desperately onto his shoulders. he huffs out a laugh and gets his dick out of his pants, kissing you deeply as he does so. he strokes himself a few times, and you spread your legs wider, dying for him to just rip off your clothes and fuck you already.

he’s slow and teasing as he pulls your shorts and panties down your legs, smirking at how you squirm and try to kick the clothes off to get this over with faster. he bites his lip when he sees your juicy folds, bringing two fingers to your cunt to separate the lips, watching your pathetic hole flutter with need.

“isn’t that pretty?” he says, circling a finger against your entrance. you can’t control the way your hips start bucking against his finger, instinctively trying to bury him inside your warm walls. you’ll go fucking crazy if he doesn’t fill you up soon.

“fill me up, i’m dying, i can’t even think straight,” you babble, hips rolling up against the finger he keeps running down your slit. you can’t handle any more teasing. your eyes sting. “don’t make me cry for it,” you plead. you even sound pitiful to yourself.

“poor thing,” taehyun coos, finally taking mercy on you. you moan when you see him stroking his dick, getting himself ready to fuck you. “are you on birth control?”

“no,” you answer. “do you have a condom?”

“no, fuck. can i pull out?” he gathers your arousal on his dick as he waits for your answer, sliding his tip through your folds. “i promise i will. i promise, seriously. i just need to fuck you.”

your head’s spinning, and you know you shouldn’t let this happen, but fuck, you need it too. “yes, just fuck me already,” you cave, arching your back invitingly.

taehyun moans as he starts pushing the head of his cock into your hole. you can’t believe how sexy he looks, and how you’ve never thought to fuck him before. you’ll never be able to go back to normal after this—you don’t even know if you’ll be able to fuck another man after this. taehyun’s ruining you.

“so fucking tight, shit. i’m not your first, am i?” he grunts out as he pushes in another couple inches. you wince at the stretch.

“n-no. i slept with a couple other guys before,” you answer, gasping when he nearly bottoms out in one slow thrust.

“you don’t have to sleep with other men again. just come to me. baby, fuck, you’re squeezing me. relax.” you try to stop your walls from clamping down around him, but you’re so turned on you just can’t help it. he hisses and brings his forehead to your shoulder, pushing forward the last bit and holding your legs open so he can press his hips flush against yours. you both sigh out at the feeling, needing a minute to adjust.

taehyun growls when he feels your walls continue to clench around him. “i’m sorry,” you apologize, not knowing how to control it for him.

“i’ll fucking bust inside you if you keep doing that,” he warns, pulling out just a couple inches and ramming himself back in. you cry, feeling so deliciously full, it’s almost overwhelming.

he continues thrusting into you shallowly, never pulling out more than halfway, letting you take him deep inside your cunt. “oh my god, don’t stop,” you urge, nails digging into his neck and shoulders.

“fuck, i’m not,” he promises breathlessly, fucking you a little faster as he leans down to kiss you. this kiss is much more messy than it is sweet—more tongue and teeth than anything else. you let him claim your mouth, his tongue licking into you like it belongs there. his hand inch up until they’re at your hips, positioning them up a bit so he can hit a better spot inside you. it leaves you whimpering nonstop into his mouth, gasping pathetically when his pelvis grinds against your clit.

“i’m not gonna last,” you say, staring at him with big, watery eyes. he looks like he wants to eat you alive.

“then cum for me, cream my cock, show me how much you love my dick,” he grunts out, moving with reinvigoration. you can barely catch your breath, the pleasure surmounting and becoming too much, and your climax blinds you with bliss as sweet relief hits you again.

“nngh! so good! you’re so good!” you cry out, not even knowing if your words are comprehensible from how intertwined they are with your moans.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” he warns, pulling out of you just in time to spill his seed across your stomach and thighs. his noises are sinful, even through his bitten lip, and you try to memorize everything about this moment. you seriously think your life just changed.

his chest heaves as he regains his breath, staring at the mess he made on your skin. his eyes dart down to your soaked center, your thighs a mess of his cum and your juices. you hope reality never hits you. you want to live in this bliss forever.

“we have to do this again,” taehyun says, soothing his hands down your thighs. “i’m not letting you go after that.” he laughs when he says it, but you think he’s being serious.

“this was probably really stupid,” you say, looking down at the mess you made. taehyun still looks insanely hot. you don’t think you’re going to get over this.

“stupid? this was like, the best thing i’ve ever done,” taehyun counters with a sweet smile. “so what happens now?”

you sigh. you don’t really want to think about that part. “you go grab a towel and wipe your cum off of me,” you answer.

taehyun laughs, “yes ma’am.”

[boltonbritreads]

🗣️Eddie Munson Fic Recs

This is gonna have a sappy start before I get into the fic rec portion: but I just wanted to say that at the end of May 2022, I was finishing up my first year of law school. It was rough, challenging, lonely, and basically everything you’d expect and I was in a bad place and the fandom I’d been in was slowing down just naturally. I truly wish I could remember how I even became aware of Eddie Munson because stranger things wasn’t really on my radar anymore and whoever I followed at the time that started to veer off into Eddie-mania, thank you. In the two years since then, I’ve graduated and become the worlds babiest lawyer and I genuinely owe a lot to this fandom and community on here for giving me a fun, usually safe, creative place to escape to when it got rough.

I’m just hoping to maybe remind people that there are already an incredible, incredible amount of existing stories to read and talk about that deserve your attention and love if you’re looking to read some Eddie stories. Some of these will be fics I’ve recommended before but I’m going to try my best to pull together writers and fics that I love and think everyone should read in the hopes that someone like me who still scrolls through eddie tags looking for my nightly bedtime story can find something new to them to read! ✨

Previous Fic Rec list here!! some overlap but there’s no such thing as too much hype for these writers

@munson-blurbs I hope it’s ok but I’m linking Bug’s full masterlist here because I have genuinely loved everything she has written. There are blurbs, series, and special events which are all incredible and worth a read! Bug is currently still writing the “Living after Midnight” series which is my current obsession and features rockstar!eddie x motelheiress!reader and it’s angst and lust galore

@corroded-hellfire also sharing the Eddie Masterlist here because there’s so many fics to read!! As You Wish, Big Brown Eyes, Where the Heart Is are all incredible but truly there’s so much here to enjoy

@upsidedownwithsteve SIMMER!! jk I’m actually linking the Eddie Masterlist here too because I love them all but “I Want You To Want Me” and “Simmer” are out of this world

@pinkrelish The Yes Policy I love it, you love it, we all love it and if you haven’t caught up yet oh my god I wish I was you and could read these chapters for the first time again

@ghost-proofbaby I’ve previously told people to go read 24 Hours, and you should, that’s an order; but Maroon is ongoing! and it’s actually infiltrating my every thought so go on over and get caught up bc I think it’s safe to say things are getting amped up

@trashmouth-richie I have also previously recommended Honey, I’m Home because it’s a work of art but Ziggy has a new mini series “Crash + Fall” that I’m completely obsessed with the concept for and I’ve loved every piece so far!

@tiannasfanfic I just reblogged Conviction again but I genuinely am not exaggerating when I say I think about this story and these two monthly and try and find this story all the time to re-read it endlessly. It’s a really lovely story of unplanned pregnancy and two characters not realizing they’ve been smitten for each other the whole time and I love it

@carolmunson I’m sharing another Eddie Masterlist here because I’d be making this post far too long but Carol’s stories are all incredible, complex, and honest. “Let’s go, don’t wait” just got updated and I had to read it like 3 times last night because it was too good to just read one and done

@rebelfell I just discovered Sarah’s blog after reading the most recent “Frenemy” fic and idk what I was doing wrong to not already follow her and not have already read her whole Masterlist but I’m linking the whole thing bc she’s so good!!

@the-au-thor I also only just discovered Elle’s blog and that’s criminal but thank god I found Babysitting Mun because I am a sucker for rockstar!eddie and this series has me on the edge of my seat rn

@storiesbyrhi I’m sharing the Masterlist folks because I have genuinely loved every single story and series and I have read them all now (some several times). So many of Rhi’s stories have a wonderful warm witchy vibe that I crave and I’ve read Siouxsie and the Soulmates, The Cabin in the Woods, Our Patron Saint of the Arts, Vintage Reeboks, and Burning Yarrow (insert screaming fan gif) multiple times now

@heart-eyed-love this fic is the epitome of a soft, cozy, domestic night with Eddie and if you need a hug read this 🥹

@eddieandbird I JUST got caught up on Eddie/Tour Manager series and I’m fully obsessed and desperate to know how they’re gonna navigate this - for folks new to the story, Eddie and his tour manager accidentally drunkenly get married- what could go wrong??

@eiightysixbaby the scream I scrumped when I finished reading Princess Leia, and Other Wishes - look bffs to lovers is already my absolute weakness on this earth but then you had to make it witty and funny and FLUFFY I just can do nothing but re-read and pine

@superblysubpar I’m still obsessed with this addition to The Boy is Mine writing challenge and oh god it’s so good 😩

…and while we’re talking about it - here’s the entire The Boy is Mine masterlist with an INSANE amount of incredible stories to read

@the-unforgivenn !!! tumblr hates me and deleted this bullet (so if you already saw this post, no you didn’t) but And I Need You to Know is a proper novel! I can’t imagine how much time, love, effort, planning, and work went into creating this insane and absolutely incredible world but everyone needs to read this!! and then follow up with She’s So Cold bc I love it and I am so reader

~~ this is not the end nor an exhaustive list! I just wanted to put something out there now that I plan to build on because I know I’m always scrolling and searching for new things to read or old things to revisit ♥️ ~~

[moonstruckme]

can you write remus and reader sharing a cigarette together, something about that is just so intimate to me i want to cry

Thanks for requesting babe!

cw: smoking

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 808 words

Remus can feel you looking at him in his periphery. He sighs, sending smoke billowing out into the dark alleyway, even as he feels the corner of his mouth tilt up. 

“We’re terrible influences on you,” he says. 

“You’re terrible influences,” James corrects him, standing upwind and looking at him and Sirius like they’re contagious. “I am nothing but good to her.” 

“Come on.” You grin at Remus, and yeah, that mischief in your eyes is definitely a result of spending too much time with their bunch. “I just wanna try.” 

Lately, you’ve been campaigning for a cig every time he’s having one. You’d never thought about it before you had friends who smoked, but now you’re curious, and he and Sirius’ regular smoke breaks don’t help matters. If Remus was a better friend, he’d show more restraint. 

“Mm, ‘fraid this is my last one,” he says, not lying but definitely not upset about it. 

You roll your eyes. “Sirius?” 

The glow of Sirius’ cherry lights his eyes with a smug amusement. “Don’t look at me, doll. He’ll be pissy if I give you one.” 

Remus has to suppress a grin when you turn back to him, arms crossed over your chest. “Really? I could just go get a pack on my own, you know.” 

Remus exhales smoke out one side of his mouth, watching you from the corner of his eye as he does. You look back at him, obstinate if a bit playful. 

“Fine,” he says. “We can share this one, if you want to try so badly.” 

Your expression falters, and he thinks he might have won, your bashfulness about your crush on him overpowering your want, but then challenge glints in your eye and Remus knows he hasn’t. Competitiveness is another thing you’ve picked up from their group (Remus likes to think that’s more James and Sirius than himself), and now once you’ve caught a whiff of a challenge there’s no deterring you. 

“Perfect,” you reply brightly. 

Remus tries once more. “You sure?” 

“Don’t do it,” James cautions you. “You’ll be sending yourself down a path of corruption and lung problems.” 

“Just this once,” you promise. 

“Just this once,” Remus agrees sternly. 

You beckon, and he taps the ash off the end of his cigarette, reluctantly passing it to you. You take it between your thumb and forefinger and lift it to your lips. 

“Just take a shallow breath,” Remus warns. 

You do, the cherry glowing only dimly as you inhale cautiously. Good girl, he thinks to himself. You blow out the smoke just as slowly, features tightening as you try to keep from coughing. 

Sirius laughs at the obvious strain, and a small cough escapes you. They all clap, Sirius still chuckling and Remus with a small, begrudging smile on his face. 

“That’s actually not so bad,” you say, somewhat croakily. 

“Oh? Happy to hear it.” Remus takes the cig back from you, putting it to his own lips again and trying not to think about how yours were just on it. It’s not the first time he’s shared a cigarette, but somehow with you it feels different. He has an inkling as to why. 

As he takes it away from his mouth, you reach for it again. 

He dodges you. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I want another,” you say. 

“No.” 

“What?” A laugh trips off your tongue, and Remus holds the cigarette aloft as you make another grab for it. “Come on, you said we’d share!” 

“I’m not done with my turn yet,” he says, taking a hearty drag. 

“You’re going to finish it off before I can have any!” 

“Don’t know what you mean.” 

You reach for it again, and this time Remus doesn’t put up as much of a fight, letting you pluck the cigarette from his mouth. If the side of your index finger grazes his upper lip, he certainly doesn’t notice. 

You’re bolder this time, exhaling some of your air before breathing in. The cherry glows a fiery orange, and Remus feels his brow furrow. 

“Slower, love,” he murmurs. 

You manage not to cough this time, which Remus can tell impresses Sirius as much as it does him, blowing the smoke off to the side like you’ve seen them do a million times. It’s terribly hot. 

You keep breathing out even after there’s no smoke left, then inhale, humming contemplatively. 

“Sort of aches in your lungs, doesn’t it?”

“That’s the beginning of the end,” James says solemnly. “You’re done for, now.” 

“She is not,” Remus chides, swiping the cig from you. “But that’ll be all.” He tuts as you protest, setting his free hand atop your head under the guise of keeping you at bay. “Don’t want to hear it. You’re too lovely to corrupt. I won’t be a part of it.” 

That shuts you up.

[galactic-magick]

Flirting Failures: Mr. Milchick x Reader

A story in which you are the fifth member of MDR and try to flirt with your supervisor, Mr. Milchick.

Words: 2.3k

(I had so much fun with this lol. Gender-neutral reader, use of Y/N, and no S2 spoilers in this btw)

-

“None of you have every tried to seduce him? Seriously?”

Your fellow workers in MDR just stare at you, still a bit rigid from Mr. Milchick’s latest check-in. Well, everyone except Helly, who’s already out of her seat again.

“If you can figure out how to break that guy go ahead, but I’d much rather spend my time trying to get out of here.” she makes her way to the supply closet, searching for another subtle way she could send a message to the outside world. She’s tried everything she can think of—writing on herself, attempting to ingest notes, trying different exits, recording videos to her outie—nothing’s worked. But Helly is nothing if not determined.

“Come on guys, isn’t flirting with you boss a go-to tactic for getting what you want?” you continue. “Just because we’re severed doesn’t mean we don’t know about these things.”

Mark shakes his head.

“I don’t think we should mess with him, Y/N. You haven’t been here long, you don’t know what he’s capable of.” he warns.

You huff, a bit in disbelief that no one else is on board with your idea. Clearly nothing Helly has done so far is working, so why are they so against trying a new tactic? Besides, this tactic sounds much more fun.

After a few moments, Irving speaks up.

“Maybe we should hear them out. He definitely treats Y/N better than the rest of us. And he is handsome, I suppose.”

“Shit, Irv, can you quit having the hots for our co-workers for five seconds?” Dylan rolls his eyes.

“All I’m saying is Y/N might already have an advantage. Haven’t you noticed the way Milchick looks at them? And he’s never sent them to the break room for things he would certainly send the rest of us there for. Maybe he already has feelings for them.”

“Yeah, right.” Helly cackled, coming out of the supply closet with handfuls of materials. None of these people give a shit about us. They don’t even see us as human beings. He would never.”

“Look, Y/N, we just don’t want you to get hurt.” Mark reiterates. “Be careful.”

Ignoring the advice from most of your co-workers, you attempt your first move on your lunch break that day. You find your target by the vending machine, and he notices you approaching immediately.

“How are you, Mr. Milchick?” you ask innocently, stepping closer to him.

“Very well, thank you.” he nods with that wide, chilling smile. “And yourself?”

“Great! I’m almost done with my file.” you grin. “Is there a prize for finishing early?”

“Why, yes there is.” he replies. “Your choice. A waffle party, a dance party, or a wellness session. Whichever your heart desires.”

“What if I want something else?”

He cocks his head at you, “I’m sorry, those are the only rewards available at this time.”

“I see,” you sigh dramatically. “What about you then? What rewards do you get for your work?”

“I don’t believe I can disclose that information.”

Damn, he’s stubborn. You’re not getting anywhere with this.

“Aren’t we friends, Mr. Milchick? Can’t you trust me?”

“Of course, Y/N. But I am your superior. There is only so far our rel—our friendship—can go.”

He’s playing that card? Really?

Your co-workers are watching you from across the room intently, curious if you’ll be able to pull this off. You’re embarrassed that you can’t, especially after going into the challenge so confidently, at least not yet. Maybe Irving was wrong, maybe Milchick really doesn’t see you as a person, just a plaything he gets to boss around. Who are you to think you’re special? You’re just a bug he could easily crush under his shoe. He holds infinitely more power over you as an unsevered man, with the knowledge of both the inside and outside world. You’re nothing to these managers, just like the rest of your friends.

“What is it you want, Y/N?” he speaks up again, noticing your face falling. “If you truly aren’t happy with your work compensation, I may be able to negotiate—“

“No, Mr. Milchick, you don’t have to do that.” you cut him off. “What I really want is something you’re probably not allowed to give me.”

“And what would that be?”

Seth Milchick has been fighting his attraction to you for weeks now.

He’s not supposed to care about innies. He’s supposed to keep them in line. He’s supposed to keep them in line. He’s supposed to make sure they meet quota and that’s it.

But you...you’re a force he can’t ignore. He’s know there was something special about you since the moment he met your outie, helping them through the process of severance and meeting the new version of you. He still speaks to your outie every so often, giving them updates on how your innie is doing when you ask. He simply can never say no to you, even if it puts him at risk.

And now, your innie is before him asking for something else. Something he likely can’t give you without dire consequences. There’s so much you don’t understand, so much you’re unaware of in this place. He can’t protect you from everything. Even if he desperately wants you, he can’t be selfish. He has to keep you at a distance for your own good.

“I...I want to know more about you,” you finally say. “It can’t be wrong to want to know more about my boss, can it?”

Of course he wants you to know him, just like he wants to know everything about you in both of your forms. But that is not a privilege he possesses.

“Boundaries at work are important.”

“Oh come on, Mr. Mil—“

“You need to drop this, Y/N.” he says sternly.

He pivots and walks out of the room, leaving you in silence.

“Well, I tried.” you shrug as you return to your friends in defeat. “I guess he’s harder to crack than I thought.”

“Would’ve worked on me,” Helly snorts.

“Thanks, Helly.”

Dylan scoffs, “Not me. Your flirting game is pathetic.”

“You want to try next?”

“Hell, no. I’m not getting sent to the break room again.”

You slump down in a seat, beginning to munch on your snacks that aren’t even that good. If Helly can’t figure out a way to escape, and you can’t seduce Mr. Milchick to let you out, what hope is there? Mark has tried his fair of tactics, and so did Petey, as you’ve heard. Irving cares too much about the rules to try anything serious, and Dylan is happy here as long as he’s getting his prizes.

Maybe it’s worth it to keep trying.

You must be approaching this all wrong. Maybe he just doesn’t respond to direct signs of interest, maybe you need to play the long game. Although it’s not like you actually know what you’re doing in general. You have no memory of any successful romantic encounters, or unsuccessful for that matter. You have no idea if your outie has a partner, or if they’re married.

Wait—Mr. Milchick isn’t severed. He knows you on the outside. What if your outie is married, and that’s why he won’t flirt back? At least he’s respectful.

Either way, you’re going to try again.

A few days later, while the others are focused on their files, you take some time to make Mr. Milchick a thank you card. Maybe a heartfelt gesture will be enough to make him believe you care.

Dear Mr. Milchick, you write.

Thank you for being a great supervisor to the MDR team. We all appreciate you, especially me. You’ve been very kind and patient with me even when I do things wrong. Thank you for all you’ve done to help me and I hope we continue to work well together. I enjoy seeing your smile everyday.

Sincerely, Y/N.

You fold it up and stuff it in an envelope, setting it aside for you to remember to give him on your way out. You return to refining you file, finally starting to get the hang of it.

“You cannot allow this to continue, Seth.” Ms. Cobel’s gaze is piercing, watching you write your letter on her screen. She zooms in, reading what you wrote. “Pitiful.”

“They’re harmless, I assure you.” Mr. Milchick looks straight ahead, attempting to keep his true feelings from Ms. Cobel’s awareness. “It’s just a silly work crush. I won’t encourage it, but I don’t believe it’s a danger.”

“See that you don’t.” Ms. Cobel seethes through her teeth, turning off the screen.

He should warn you, shouldn’t he?

With Cobel onto you now, he may not be able to keep protecting you from consequences. And if he continues to show any favor towards you, her suspicion will only increase. He has to shut you down, and he has to do it fast.

He enters MDR, counting every member except you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

“They just went to the bathroom.” Dylan says, barely looking up from his computer.

Mr. Milchick goes in after you, hearing a couple protests from MDR on his way in. Thankfully you’re at the sink washing your hands and he didn’t walk in on you indecent.

“Mr. Milchick? What are you—“

“I need to talk to you. And this is the only place I can do it completely in private.”

“...Okay?” your brows furrow in confusion.

He takes a deep breath, “Ms. Cobel was watching the security cameras while you were writing that card for me. You’ll be in major trouble if you keep doing things like that.”

“What the fuck? I was just trying to make something nice for you!” you gasp, shocked that not only the surprise is ruined, but Ms. Cobel is being a bitch about it. “What, is she jealous I didn’t make her a card too?”

“No,” he chuckles. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” you cross your arms.

“She thinks you have um...romantic intentions towards me.” he says it like it’s a curse word, forbidden.

“And so what if I do, huh?”

“It’s. Not. Allowed.” he emphasizes. “We could both be fired. You don’t want that, do you?”

“I don’t care. It’s my outie’s problem.”

He glares at you, then swiftly grabs your wrist, pulling you out of the bathroom. The others stumble back from listening at the door, shouting after you as Mr. Milchick drags you down the halls.

You know exactly where you’re going. He’s never sent you there before, but clearly you crossed a line this time.

“Forgive me for the harm I have caused this world. None may atone for my actions but me and only in me shall their stain live on. I am thankful to have been caught, my fall cut short by those with wizened hands. All I can be is sorry, and that is all I am.”

“Again.”

“How many times do I have to say this shit?”

“Until you mean it.”

“But I don’t mean it. And I never will. I’m not sorry. I did nothing wrong!”

“We have to do this, Y/N. It’s for your own good.”

“You don’t give a shit about my good! Helly’s right, you guys don’t even see us as human beings, just husks you can exploit. And to think I tried to flirt with you!”

You get up and shove all the lie-detecting equipment away, stomping towards the dark hallway before he stops you.

“Y/N, stop.” his grip isn’t as rough as it was before. “Please.”

You look at him, your eyes fighting tears.

“I do see you as a human being. My favorite human being, in fact. Only person tied for that title is your outie. But there are serious repercussions for breaking protocol here. I can’t act on those feelings, do you understand?”

So the suspicions were right. He does care about you.

But you were just faking infatuation to get what you want, right? So how come when he’s telling you directly that he can’t give you what you want, you’re still drawn to him?

You look down, laughing to yourself at the absurdity of this situation.

“I guess it never would’ve worked out anyway. It’s not like I can leave this place, so we could never go on a date.”

He joins in your laughter, “Exactly.”

“Can we at least be friends? Is that allowed?” There’s a desperation in your voice now, fearing the loss of your connection with him completely.

“Of course.” he smiles.

You glance at the equipment splayed all over the floor, “What are you going to tell Cobel?”

“I’ll tell her I knocked some sense into you in the Break Room, and that’ll you’ll never try anything again. Can you work with me to keep that statement accurate?”

You nod, and he gives you the okay to leave. Before you open the door, you look back.

“Can you tell my outie how you feel? Maybe this can’t work with me, but maybe it could work with them?”

“I’ll think about it.”

The door shuts behind you, and you make your way back to MDR, coming up with a number in your head to tell your friends. You read that stupid thing plenty of times, but who knows what the final count was.

“How was your first time in the Break Room?” Dylan asks upon your return.

“Horrible. I had to repeat the same thing like 300 times.”

“Light work. I had to do over a thousand.” Helly cringes at the memory. “So what’s up with him and Cobel being onto you?”

“They figured out my plan to seduce him and threatened me. I told them I don’t care if they fire me, but maybe there’s something worse than termination. Milchick made it sound really serious.”

“What did I tell you about just listening to him? It’s better for everyone.” Mark says.

“Yeah, yeah, you were right, Mark.” you roll your eyes.

You sit back down at your seat, booting up your computer. You’re not quite sure what to do anymore, you last idea having failed, along with a new awareness of emotions.

Maybe your outie can have a love you can’t.

-

(if there's interest I might continue this!)

[ktownshizzle]

Nerd & Nerdier | Chapter 4

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x reader, Jeon Wonwoo x reader; endgame? x reader ✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, Attempt At Comedy, Roommates au, Love triangle

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Moving in with two introverts should have been easy. Not when it’s Min Yoongi and Jeon Wonwoo, who decide they both want you. Unhinged, awkward, and nerdy as hell, they proceed to compete for your attention in the most unnecessarily dramatic fashion that culminates into a… rap battle.

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Wildly gratuitous, You might 100% chance you’ll fall in love with both of them so that’s a problem, no mxm dynamics to be expected

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: NO ROOMMATE RULES this time, Two gorgeous men simping over you - like you ain't gonna find that anywhere else ;) , making out in public (twice!), some mild guilt trip, surprise reveal at the end!

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.1k (longest one yet!!) ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 9, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: It's the birthday of the love of my life. I made it part of my writing goals to release a Yoongi fic, but I was not able to do standalone one. Sorry, babe. But I think this has all the trappings of what we love about him, so I hope you like it. HBD to @diame93 and thank you to @angellekookie for steering that Woo date in the right direction.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | Ch 3

You don’t know what you expected from a date with Jeon Wonwoo. Or Min Yoongi. But you were about to find out. Because, as unhinged it may sound, you had agreed to date both your roommates and at the end of it all, potentially pick one of them to be your… boyfriend? It sounds insane, but this is your life now. Congrats.

So yeah, back to Wonwoo. Just dress casually, noona, he tells you that morning. Made sense. But walking into a neon-lit arcade, the sound of metal clinking and game machines buzzing around you, yeah, this makes sense.

It’s just so him to bring you to a place like this. Look, you're not opposed. You just know he’ll be quietly competitive and the night will be full of little moments where for sure he’s going to secretly gloat when he wins.

Wonwoo’s already got that calm, unreadable look as he loads up a beat up game card from his wallet, handing it to the cashier. When he turns back to you, proffering his juiced up plastic to you, you can’t help but grin.

“What?” he asks, lips twitching.

“Nothing,” you tease, taking the card. “You just seem… confident. Cocky, even.”

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his head. “That’s not true…”

You squint at him, because he is obviously lying. “Are you gonna tell me you’re good at literally every game in this place?”

“Okay. Maybe.”

“Oh my God, you’re going to try to beat me at everything, aren’t you?”

Wonwoo tilts his head. “Noona, thought you wanted me to show you how I feel, not go easy on you.”

This punk bitch.

“Alright bet,” you say, rolling up your cardigan sleeves dramatically. “Bring it.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 01: Air Hockey 🎮🕹️👾

Wonwoo, to his credit, does let you score the first point.

But then the moment he sees the smug grin on your face, his eyes narrow, and you know you’re done for.

“Hey, noona,” he calls out, voice all smooth and teasing.

Your instincts scream at you not to look—but like an idiot, you do.

Which is exactly when he slams the puck with an irritatingly loud clang! into the goal, the disk ricocheting into the slot barely an inch from your slack hand.

“Fuck, that’s cheating!” you blurt out, scowling.

He just laughs, and you have no choice but to just slide the puck back into play.

You groan when he scores three times in a row. “Are you kidding me?”

“You’re the one who challenged me,” he replies, spinning the mallet in his hand smoothy. “I’m just playing.”

“You’re showing off,” you grumble, hitting the puck.

Wonwoo grins, eyes sharp. "Maybe it's ‘cause I want to impress you.”

A comeback never comes as you fight the warmth creeping up your neck. But that doesn’t deter you from wanting to at least score another point to save face. Just one more point goddamit.

You push the puck with the force of a thousand suns and wham! the it hits Wonwoo’s fingers. Hard.

Wonwoo jerks his hand back with a sharp inhale, hissing through his teeth.

“Shit! Wonwoo—oh my god, are you okay?” You’re already reaching for his hand, cradling his fingers in yours before you even think about it.

His palm is warm—bigger than you always seem to remember, his skin calloused from hours of gaming—but right now, all you care about is checking for any sign of injury.

“It’s fine,” he chuckles, but his voice is slightly strained, and that doesn’t reassure you at all.

“It’s not fine!” You glare at him, shifting his hand under the light to check for swelling. “I literally just assaulted you with a plastic disk—oh my god, does it hurt? Can you move your fingers?”

Wonwoo blinks at you.

Then, slowly, deliberately—he intertwines his fingers with yours.

Your brain can only register question marks.

His grip is solid, firm.

“Yeah,” he nods. “Feels fine to me.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 02: The Claw Machine 🎮🕹️👾

After suffering a humiliating 1-9 loss, you are desperate to humble Wonwoo.

Your eyes land on a pile of plush keychains inside the most rigged contraption in the entire arcade.

“Okay,” you say, grabbing Wonwoo’s sleeve and pulling him toward the claw machines, “if you’re so good, win me one of these.”

Wonwoo raises a brow, eyeing the display. “Really?”

“What? You scared?” you tease.

He scoffs under his breath, tapping his card against the reader. “No. Just wondering how many I should win you.”

You’re about to fire back when something catches your eye.

A tiny, grumpy-looking black cat plushie, its little embroidered frown somehow way too familiar.

You nudge Wonwoo’s arm, snickering. “Oh my god. That one looks exactly like Yoongi.”

Wonwoo leans in, and when he spots it, his lips twitch. “Shit, you’re right.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the absurdity of it hitting you all at once.

But then, before the moment fully fades, Wonwoo clears his throat and—almost too casually—asks, “Is that what you want?”

His voice is quieter than before, and something about the way he says it—hesitant, just slightly weighted—makes you pause.

It’s just a fuckin’ plushie. Just a joke. But for some reason, his question feels like it holds a different meaning altogether.

Your fingers tighten slightly around the sleeve of your cardigan as you glance at the machine again.

Then, as lightly as you can, you point at another plushie—one a few rows back. A small, round purple cat (or is it a fox?) with oversized round glasses.

“I think that one’s cute,” you say.

Wonwoo follows your gaze, and then he beams. 

A slow, lopsided, utterly adorable grin that makes your stomach flip, because now he’s the one with the plushie doppelgänger. And you wanted it.

So that’s the one he goes for.

It takes him three tries, but when he finally catches it, he’s so stupidly pleased with himself that you can’t help but be so endeared.

“Here,” he says, holding it out to you, looking way too proud.

“Thank you,” you take it and snap it on your bag’s zipper.

“Anytime.”

🎮🕹️👾 Game 03: Dance Dance Revolution 🎮🕹️👾

“Absolutely not,” Wonwoo makes an X with his arms when you drag him to the dance machine.

“Absolutely yes,” you shoot back, already stepping onto the platform. “You said you wouldn’t back down, remember?”

Wonwoo runs a hand through his hair, sighing dramatically. Fuck. I did say that, didn’t I?”

“Yup. No turning back now.”

To your surprise, Wonwoo’s actually… not terrible at the game.

He’s a little stiff at first, but by the second round, he’s matching your energy step for step.

When you stumble slightly, he goads.  “Need me to slow down?”

“Oh, shut up,” you laugh, aiming to push his arm, but he catches your hand and he ends up not letting go until the last beats of Dub-I-Dub rings out.

After two hours of battling it out at nearly every machine in the arcade, you’re both sitting at the bar for a nightcap.

Wonwoo takes a slow sip of his Jack and Coke, his gaze still amused from your last failed attempt at beating him in a game.

"So," you start, resting your elbow on the counter. "How’s the whole streamer life treating you?"

He shrugs. "It’s fun. Mostly."

"Mostly?"

He exhales through his nose, shaking his head. "You wouldn’t believe some of the weird shit people say in the chat."

You perk up immediately. "Oh, do tell."

Wonwoo gives you a pointed look, but you can see the corner of his lips twitching. "I probably shouldn’t."

"Oh, now you have to," you insist, nudging his arm. 

He sighs dramatically, setting his drink down. "Alright, well… the other night, someone offered me, and I quote, ‘one month’s rent to step on them.’"

You nearly choke on your drink. "WHAT—"

"Yeah." He leans back, stretching an arm along the back of your chair. "And they were dead serious, too. Said they could Venmo me immediately."

"I—" You blink, processing this information. "So, did you?"

Wonwoo raises a brow. "What do you think?"

You smirk. "That you seriously considered it."

He chuckles, shaking his head. "I did not."

"Tragic. Could’ve been easy money."

"I’m not stepping on people for money."

"Noble of you."

"Thanks."

A beat of silence.

Then, your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Okay, but have you ever been propositioned?"

Wonwoo tilts his head. "What do you mean?" Honestly, you expect him to say, everyday.

"Oh, you know—" You wave your hand vaguely. "You’re cute, you know that. Has anyone ever slid into your DMs like, ‘oppa, I’d let you ruin my life’ or something?"

He snorts. "That’s oddly specific."

"Listen, I know how unhinged people can get in the chat." You narrow your eyes at him. "You have to be getting nudes."

Wonwoo makes a horrified face. "Fuck. I do not want to talk about that with you."

You burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD, YOU HAVE—"

"I HAVE NOT—"

"YOU TOTALLY HAVE—"

"I DELETE THEM." His ears are turning pink, which only makes you laugh harder.

"You could’ve just said no!" you tease, nudging his leg with yours.

"I was trying to say no, but you kept..." He stops mid-sentence, exhaling sharply. Then, shaking his head, he leans in slightly, his voice dropping lower. "Wait–you jealous?"

Your brain short-circuits. You weren’t expecting that.

And now, he’s watching you closely, waiting.

You flounder for a response, but Wonwoo is smirking now, fully enjoying this.

You cross your arms. "Why would I be? Those girls don’t even know you like I do."

"And how do you know me?"

"I—"

But before you can say anything else, he leans in just a little closer—enough that you catch the warmth of his breath, the subtle hint of his cologne.

"Because if you really knew me, noona…" His voice is low, teasing, but there’s something heavier underneath it now. "You’d know I don’t care about anyone else."

The air shifts completely. And in a way, you’re glad. Because all night it’s been friendly, lighthearted, like you’re just two pals hanging out. You’ve been waiting for a moment where it could be something more–this was it.

“You know,” you say, swirling the straw in your long island iced tea, “I didn’t expect this.”

“Expect what?” Wonwoo asks, watching you over the rim of his glass.

“You.” You chuckle, a little sheepish. “I thought it’d be more awkward.”

“Wow. High praise.”

“Shut up, I didn’t mean it negatively.”

Wonwoo’s lips curl into a faint smile. “I’m glad it’s not.”

“What now?”

Wonwoo’s expression softens.

And finally, there’s no smirk, no teasing, no competitive edge—just Wonwoo, kind of vulnerable, looking at you like he’s afraid you’ll break his heart. 

The silence stretches between you, until he exhales softly and his eyes drop to your lips.

“Noona…?”

He doesn’t finish the question, but you know. And you feel it too, that pull. For a moment you hesitate. 

You agreed to date both of them, to figure things out. You’re not supposed to feel like you’re already losing control—like you’re getting swept up in the way Wonwoo looks at you, in the way he makes you feel like you’re a teenager with butterflies in your stomach as you anticipate being kissed.

And if you do kiss him now, does it mean you’ve already chosen?

But even when your brain lagged, your body has already responded. You nod, just barely, and Wonwoo leans in. You meet him halfway.

His lips are softer than you expect, the warmth of his breath mixing with yours as you share your first kiss, slow and unhurried. He tastes like cola but something else is fizzing in your stomach, warm like rum.

His hand comes up to cradle your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheek. When you part your lips, he takes the invitation without hesitation—a gentle, teasing swipe of his tongue against yours, just once, like he only wants the tiniest taste of you for now.

When you pull back, his glasses are slightly fogged, his breathing uneven.

You can’t with how cute he looks in this very moment, lifting his specs to clean with your shirt before settling it back on his nose. 

He’s looking at you like he has a million questions.

“What are you thinking?” You ask.

He exhales, “Thought it’d be more awkward.” Of course, he’s using your words against you.

You shake your head at him but something is pulling you towards him like a magnet, and you find yourself slipping down from the bar stool to stand in front of his parted legs. Wonwoo takes this as a sign to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into him.

“Wanna know the truth?”

“Yeah?”

“I was thinking that it’s worth the wait.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder for a second. You should probably pull away, is this too close too fast, but something about this feels… right. You pull back a bit, this time fixing the collar of his shirt, smoothing it down.

“You always do that,” he murmurs, voice lower now.

You shift slightly. “Do what?”

“Take care of me.”

You blink, caught off guard.

“Hmm—”

“I notice it, you know.” He leans back slightly, just enough to look at you, his fingers still resting lightly at your waist. “How you always remind me to eat. How you tell me to bring an umbrella even when it’s barely drizzling. How you sneak snacks into my room when you think I haven’t noticed. How you try to fix my hair or my shirt and stuff…”

Heat rises to your cheeks. “It’s not a big deal—”

“It is to me.”

The words are soft, but firm, landing somewhere deep in your chest. Because you do dote on Woo. Maybe it’s ‘cause you’re older, maybe it’s cause he told you once about his social anxieties and it made you want to protect him.

“I guess I just never thought about it,” you admit. “It’s just… you. I like looking out for you.”

Wonwoo studies you for a moment, his thumb absently brushing against your side.

“But starting tonight,” he says, firmer now, “I want to take care of you, instead.”

Oh wow…

“Did I do okay?”

You exhale a laugh, but it comes out shakier than you expect. Because suddenly, you realize how much this meant to him.

“Yeah.” You tighten your grip slightly on his jacket. “You did more than okay.”

Wonwoo smiles, nose crinkling with genuine glee, and suddenly, you think this—him, this night, everything that’s been building between you—might be a little bigger than you let yourself believe.

Four days after

When Yoongi told you to be ready by 4 p.m., you didn’t ask questions. You figured whatever he had planned would be very Yoongi—low-key, no-frills, but somehow effortlessly perfect.

What you didn’t expect was to find him waiting by the door with a picnic basket in one hand and a guitar case slung over his shoulder.

You blink at him. “Are you… serious right now?”

Yoongi smirks, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. “What? You don’t think I can be romantic?”

Oh my god, you are going to perish.

“I just didn’t think you’d be this prepared.” You reply coolly, slipping on your jacket.

He shakes his head at you, but you don’t miss the slight curve of his lips. “Come on. Before the sun disappears.”

The Han River Park isn’t crowded—just a few couples walking hand-in-hand, kids laughing as they run through the grass.

Yoongi leads you to a quiet spot near the water, where the breeze is light, and the sun is beginning to slip lower on the horizon.

“Sit,” he says, kneeling to lay out a gingham blanket from the basket.

You do, watching as he unpacks a familiar looking gimbap—one he’s made many times before, your favorite fruit, and a big thermos of americano.

You start with the fruit and some light conversation. 

Yoongi unscrews the cap on the coffee, pouring it into two cups before handing you one.

You take a slow sip, sighing in contentment. "Damn. This hits. You really thought of everything."

"Of course I did," Yoongi deadpans, popping a shine muscat into his mouth. "I had to make sure you wouldn’t whine about being hungry the whole time."

You narrow your eyes. "You say that like I complain a lot."

"You do."

You gasp, pressing a dramatic hand to your chest. "Wow. The audacity. I’m literally the best roommate you have."

"You mean the only one who talks."

"Excuse me—Wonwoo talks too!"

Yoongi scoffs. "He barely says five words unless he’s talking about a game or trying to piss me off."

"Okay, but that’s not my fault. Besides, at least I make things interesting." You lean back on your hands, staring out at the river.

Yoongi hums in amusement. "Speaking of which, did you see the guy in 3B finally left his apartment?"

"Mr. Eyepatch?"

"Yeah. He was outside yesterday, just standing in the hallway staring at this tiny box in his hand."

"Oh my god—do you think he has a tragic backstory?"

"Obviously. No one wears an eyepatch unironically unless they have a past."

You snort, shaking your head. "At least he keeps to himself. Unlike the couple in 5C—"

"Jesus Christ." Yoongi groans, rubbing a hand down his face. “Those two are fuckin’ annoying.”

"I went to do laundry the other night, and they were full-on screaming at each other over piles of underwear."

"God," Yoongi sighs, looking genuinely exhausted. "And then they’re fucking like rabbits five minutes later. It’s exhausting."

"It’s insane," you mutter, shaking your head. Then, after a beat, "So… do you think they actually hate each other or do they just get off on the drama?"

Yoongi raises a brow, considering it. "Honestly? Fifty-fifty."

You nod sagely. "Fair."

There’s a moment of quiet, just the two of you sitting there, sipping coffee, enjoying grapes, watching the river. The kind of comfortable silence that only comes with knowing someone deeply enough to not need to fill every gap with words.

“This is… cute,” you admit, smiling softly.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he grumbles.

“Why this?” you ask, curious. “Why here?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he glances at the river, his free hand absentmindedly drumming against his knee.

“I like it here,” he finally says. “It’s quiet. Gives me time to think.”

You tilt your head. “And you wanted to bring me here?”

There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something softer.

“Yeah,” he says, voice lower now. “Thought maybe I’d want to think about you here, too.”

Your breath catches.

“You say things like that so casually,” you murmur.

Yoongi quirks a brow. “Because I mean them.”

Oh he’s so fucking unfair. 

You clear your throat, glancing at the food. “You made us food and drinks. What’s next? A serenade?”

Yoongi smirks, reaching for his guitar. “You joke, but—”

You straighten. “No—” you start but he did bring his guitar so obviously he planned on using it.

“Shut up and listen.”

Before you can even process what to say, Yoongi settles the instrument in his lap, fingers moving effortlessly over the strings as he plays a soft melody.

It’s not a full song—just a quiet, unfinished piece, but there’s something achingly personal about it.

Then, halfway through, he looks at you.

And you realize—This is his confession. Just Yoongi, letting the music say what he won’t.

His voice is barely above a murmur when he speaks again. “I kinda wrote it for you.”

You swallow. “Yoongi…”

He exhales, setting the guitar aside. “I know this whole thing has been stupid. But I’m serious about you. I don’t want you to think this is just about… competing with Wonwoo. It’s not. It never was.”

Hearing the sincerity in his voice, you feel your chest tighten. “Now I know.”

Yoongi watches you carefully, his gaze steady and unguarded. “So…”

“So?”

“Can I kiss you now? Or is that too clich��?”

 “It’s a little cliché.”

“And?” he murmurs, leaning in just slightly.

“And… I guess I don’t mind.”

A warning bell should be going off in your head right now. Just a few days ago, you were kissing Wonwoo at that arcade bar. Are you really about to kiss Yoongi, too? And if you let him, you can’t take it back. This won’t be something you all would just laugh off in the morning over bowls of cereal like it’s normal. It’ll mean something. It’ll change everything.

But Yoongi stares like he’s somehow smoothing all the wrinkles in your brain and the part of you that should care about the consequences goes poof.

With the barest tilt of his head, he murmurs, “So c’mere.”

He looks at you in a way that steals all the air in your lungs. He doesn’t move an inch, like he has all the time in the world. He doesn’t pull—you’re the one who leans in first, and that’s exactly what he wanted.

The moment your lips meet, something explodes in your chest. There is a confidence in the way his lips slots and moves against yours, unshakably sure.

Yoongi kisses like he’s imprinting something on you—like he wants every bit of him to sink under your skin, settle in your bones, leave something permanent. Fingers slip through your hair, tilting your head to how he wants you. His lips slide across yours, controlled but devastating, his thumb tracing the hinge of your jaw as if he’s grounding himself in the feel of you.

He angles his head the other way, deepening the kiss, swallowing your gasp, and suddenly, you’re dizzy. Your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket as your heart pounds between you. He licks into the seam of your lips, staking his claim, like he knows you’re already his for the taking. You move your tongue slowly against his, white hot heat dancing low in your belly.

God you’ve never had a kiss quite like this before. Like it’s consuming you whole, ruining you for anyone else.

When he pulls back, it’s not abrupt and it’s not by much. He lingers, teeth barely tugging at your lower lip, like he’s reluctant to let you go. You moan as he moves to nip at your jaw, his breath warm against your cheek.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

You're still breathless. “Hmm?” Is the only sound you can manage, your grip still tight in his jacket.

Yoongi chuckles, low and rough. He is close enough that you can feel him smirk against your skin. You don’t push for any further explanation. He also didn’t seem like he was going to give you one.

He pulls back fully now, a hint of satisfaction lingering in his gaze as he wets his lower lip.

The sky behind him is painted in gold and violet, the sun dipping below the horizon—but right now, you can’t think about anything except the fact that Min Yoongi just kissed you senseless and looks like he’s already planning on doing it again. And you’re so going to let him.

“Sunset kiss,” he mutters, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “Told you I could be romantic.”

You let out a shaky breath, still trying to collect yourself. “I believe you.”

Yoongi watches you, smug but quiet. Then, after a pause, he teases, “You good, or?”

And somehow, that is what makes you laugh, pressing your forehead to his shoulder as warmth floods through your chest as you sit side by side to look at the sky.

“Stop it. I’m fine…” you admit, feeling the tension in his shoulders melt slightly when you lean into him.

“Good,” he murmurs, placing an arm across your shoulder. “Then stay close a little longer.”

Just as the last sliver of sunlight disappears beyond the horizon, he murmurs—casual, offhand, like it’s not about to drive you mad:

“By the way… it’s my birthday.”

You freeze. Pull back just enough to see his face. “Yoongi—”

But he only smirks, shrugs. “It’s okay. No big.”

Your stomach twists. This entire evening, the picnic, the song, the kiss— and he didn’t tell you once?

“You idiot...” You shove his shoulder, but your voice comes out softer than you intend. “You should’ve told me.”

He chuckles, catching your wrist before you can swat at him again. His grip is loose, familiar. Safe.

“It’s fine,” he murmurs. “I just… I wanted to spend it like this. With you.”

And fuck.

If your heart wasn’t already completely ruined by him, it sure as hell is now.

“Happy birthday, Yoongi.” Your voice is quieter this time, but you mean it.

He smiles, a thin straight line that makes his cheeks puff out, fingers lacing briefly with yours before he squeezes once and lets go.

“Yeah... It is.”

:)

Chapter Five >

A/N: Happy birthday, Yoongi, my love. The absolute man of my dreams. I wish you more days where you only get to smile and laugh and feel happy. And Wonu, my baby, I wish you a swift and safe service. I will miss you so much.

I know this is such a niche and wildly gratuitous story about my two biases. But I am glad you took the time to read it and hopefully enjoy it as well.

Thank you for reading, you beautiful, lovely human xo See you in the next part!

And please leave a comment or give this one a reblog if you're able to! I'd really appreciate it! <3

PS. Made subtle/vague references to 2 BTS music videos in the scene where Yoongi and you are gossiping about the neighbors. If you guess the 2 MVs correctly, I'll give you a prize. :)

Permanent Taglist: (the rest to follow in a reblog)

@wonh0oe @hyukaluve @glossdebut @kiki-zb @kookiewithluv

@agustblog @maryhopemei @perfectiondazesworld @kimsaerom @kam9404

@00-sleepdontweep-00 @tea4sykes @mggv97 @marnz1990

@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

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Divider by: @cafekitsune (thank you!)

[xo-myloves]

🧛‍♀️-hey pookie bear. Could you write like a fic about modern slash having like a younger (like early 20s) girlfriend. Like she’s kinda shy and innocent and Slash high key has a corruption kink. Anywho thank you babes

Only if your comfortable writing that btw. And make sure to take care of yourself pookie

𝕊𝕌𝕄𝕄𝔸ℝ𝕐: 𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚑𝚊𝚍 𝚊 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚘𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚛, 𝚜𝚑𝚢 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕𝚏𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚏𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚝𝚎𝚖𝚙𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗. 𝚂𝚑𝚎’𝚜 𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚘𝚞𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚍, 𝚗𝚊ï𝚟𝚎, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚝𝚎𝚕𝚢 𝚞𝚗𝚊𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚖𝚞𝚌𝚑 𝚑𝚎 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚞𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚆𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚊 𝚚𝚞𝚒𝚎𝚝 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚞𝚍𝚒𝚘 𝚝𝚞𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚘 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚂𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚑 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗—𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚘𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚎𝚛 𝚎𝚡𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚠𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚝 𝚖𝚎𝚊𝚗𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚑𝚒𝚜. 𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚘𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚜, 𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚊𝚜 𝚗𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚙𝚙𝚒𝚗𝚐.

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞𝙱𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚒𝚗༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

You should have known better than to get involved with someone like Slash.

He was dangerous in ways you didn’t fully understand yet, but you knew enough to recognize that men like him—older, experienced, dripping with sin—didn’t go for girls like you.

And yet, here you were.

Curled up in his lap in the dim glow of his home studio, your legs draped over his as he held you close, fingers lazily playing with the hem of your dress. It wasn’t the first time he had you like this, perched on his lap while he played his guitar, the warmth of his body making you dizzy. But tonight felt different.

Darker.

Slash had been watching you all night, his sharp eyes tracking every nervous glance, every time you bit your lip or shifted shyly under his gaze. You were sweet, untouched—so fucking innocent—and you didn’t even realize what that did to him.

He let his guitar rest against the couch, his focus shifting fully to you. His fingers trailed up your bare thigh, slow and teasing, making you tense.

“You keep squirming like that, baby,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement, “and I’m gonna start thinking you want something.”

Your breath hitched. “I—I don’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, tilting your chin up with one calloused finger. His dark curls fell around his face, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk. “Don’t lie to me.”

Heat pooled in your stomach. You weren’t stupid—you knew he wanted you, but the way he looked at you now made your skin prickle with anticipation. Like he was toying with his food.

“You ever been with a man like me?” he asked, his voice low, coaxing.

You swallowed hard, shaking your head. “No.”

Fuck. That made his cock twitch.

“Didn’t think so,” he smirked, fingers sliding higher, just beneath the edge of your dress. “Bet you haven’t done much at all, huh?”

Your face burned. You couldn’t even look at him.

Slash let out a dark chuckle. “Jesus, baby.” His fingers pressed lightly against your clothed core, feeling how warm you were, how easy it would be to pull you apart. “You don’t even know what to do with yourself, do you?”

You gasped softly at the contact, your thighs squeezing together, trapping his hand between them. But he didn’t mind. If anything, it made him harder.

“That’s okay,” he murmured, dragging his fingers up and down the thin fabric, teasing you without giving you enough. “I like a challenge.”

You whimpered, your body betraying you as your hips shifted, chasing the friction he barely gave. Slash watched you with dark amusement, drinking in the sight of you falling apart in his lap.

“You’re gonna let me ruin you, aren’t you?” he whispered against your ear, his voice like smoke, curling around your thoughts and making them hazy. “Let me teach you how to take me?”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak. You just nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised, slipping his fingers beneath your panties, groaning when he felt how wet you were. “Fuck, baby—been hiding this from me all night?”

You whined, burying your face in his shoulder. He grinned, slipping a finger between your folds, dragging it through your slick, teasing you until you were trembling.

“You ever been touched like this before?” he asked, knowing the answer but wanting to hear you admit it.

“N-no…”

Slash groaned, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your throat. “Fuck.” His free hand gripped your thigh, keeping you spread open for him as he slid a finger inside, feeling how tight you were around him. “Jesus, baby—you’re fuckin’ perfect.”

You gasped, your nails digging into his arms as he pumped his finger in and out, slow and steady, letting you get used to the feeling. His thumb brushed against your clit, and you jolted, making him chuckle.

“Sensitive, huh?” he mused, adding a second finger, stretching you just a little more. “Gonna have to fix that.”

You moaned softly, your body melting into his touch. He knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to tease you, how to break you down until you needed him.

And fuck, you were already close.

Slash could feel the way you clenched around his fingers, how your breath hitched, your thighs shaking.

“You gonna come for me, baby?” he murmured, curling his fingers just right, rubbing circles against your clit. “That’s it—fuck, look at you. So easy to corrupt.”

The way he talked to you, the dark, teasing edge in his voice—it sent you over the edge, your body tightening as pleasure crashed over you. You cried out, your whole body trembling, your nails leaving crescent moons in his skin.

Slash groaned, pulling his fingers out and bringing them to his lips, sucking them clean as he watched you try to catch your breath.

“Sweetest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Your head was spinning. Your body still tingled, your dress bunched up around your thighs, panties pushed to the side. You felt wrecked. And yet—he was still completely clothed, his cock straining against his jeans, the outline thick and obvious.

“You think we’re done?” Slash smirked, voice dripping with amusement as he read the confusion on your face. “Oh, baby. I haven’t even started with you yet.”

[itsnesss]

𝐧𝐨 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 | sensei wolf × fem!reader

summary | you’ve always despised sensei wolf, but one moment of weakness shatters everything. now, with your bodies entangled and every touch a storm, you realize you might not hate him as much as you thought

warnings | issues of power and control, tension, kissing

word count | 2.0 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

The dry sound of your fists hitting the punching bag echoes through the dojo. You've been training for over an hour without rest, but you can't afford to show weakness. Not with him watching.

From the moment you entered his dojo, Sensei Wolf has been a challenge you never expected to face. His presence fills the room, his sharp gaze dissecting every move, every mistake. He wasn’t interested in excuses, only results.

And you wanted to give them to him.

But you also hated him. You hated how he made you feel every time he got too close, when his deep voice said your name with that mix of authority and something more. Something you could never quite identify.

"Again."

His voice breaks the silence, and your muscles protest. But you don’t stop.

You throw another punch with all your might, your body moving on pure determination. But fatigue takes its toll. Your fist loses its precision, and the punch lands clumsily against the bag.

"Stop."

You exhale in frustration and lower your hands.

Wolf walks towards you with his controlled, deliberate gait. His gaze leaves no room for doubt.

"You’re useless if you keep attacking without thinking."

"I’m not attacking without thinking," you lie, even though you can feel the burn in every fiber of your body.

He tilts his head, a barely perceptible smile playing at the corner of his lips.

"Then prove you can do more than just hit aimlessly."

You know it. It’s a challenge.

You prepare without hesitation, adjusting your stance. You've done it hundreds of times, but this time it’s different. This time, it's him.

You throw the first punch.

He blocks it effortlessly.

You move fast, combining kicks and punches with the agility you've perfected over the years. But Wolf is an impenetrable wall. He dodges, blocks, and counters with surgical precision.

In the blink of an eye, he disarms you. His hand catches your wrist in the air, immobilizing you with an insulting ease.

Your back slams against the dojo wall.

The air leaves your lungs as his body closes in, trapping you in a space from which you can’t escape.

"You’re still not focused," he whispers, his face only inches from yours.

Your breath is erratic.

"I’m focused."

A shadow of amusement crosses his gaze.

"You’re not."

His grip on your wrist loosens, but he doesn’t let go. His thumb brushes your skin in a barely perceptible gesture, yet it ignites something deep inside you.

You hate him.

You hate him for making you feel this way.

"Then tell me, what am I thinking?" you challenge.

His gaze drops to your lips.

And there it is. That dangerous spark.

"You don’t want me to say it."

Your heart pounds against your chest. A burning heat settles in your stomach, spreading to every part of your body.

It’s a mistake.

It’s madness.

But when his lips finally meet yours, you stop thinking.

The kiss is firm, demanding, just like everything about him. His hand leaves your wrist only to slide down your back, pulling you closer to his body.

A gasp escapes your lips when his tongue brushes against yours, and that seems to spur him on. His other hand buries itself in your hair, tilting your head to deepen the kiss.

You shouldn’t be doing this.

But when his lips leave yours only to trace your jawline, when you feel his warm breath against your skin, you realize there’s no turning back.

"Tell me to stop," he murmurs against your neck.

Your skin shivers under his touch.

"Don’t."

His response is immediate.

The air between you thickens, every touch, every caress intensifying the storm inside you. His hands explore your body with a mix of urgency and control, tracing a burning path over your skin.

You hate yourself for how much you want him.

But most of all, you hate him for making you feel like you’ve never wanted anything more.

[foreingersgod]

babes ur writing is so good , can you write something where the reader is going to indiana with caitlin but is nervous that cait will forget about her ???

*i think i interpreted this wrong so i’m so sorry lmao

Champagne Coast . CC

pairing: caitlin clark x reader

synopsis: request ^

A/N: y’all i’m so sorry for how long this took me!! and i feel like my writing has really deteriorated so please give me feedback and let me know if you like it or totally hate it lmao, thanks for your patience!!

also sorry i had to use YN like ONCE !!

wc: 10.6k

Finishing eight or nine?

Tell me, what's the perfect time?

your bowl had been placed in the dishwasher long ago, countertop cleaned and leftovers placed in the nearly empty fridge. dinner was growing cold and you hadn’t cared to wait, opting to eat alone yet again before residing in the living room. the tv played in the background with some arbitrary doctors show from the 90s as you sat patiently watching the clock. the hands were beginning to collect dust, you noticed, though it had only been up for a few months upon your move to indiana. each tick seems to mock you the more time dragged on.

she was supposed to be home long ago. practice would have been done at 8 or 9 and it was now approaching 11. this is what it always was, waiting up for her well into the night when the street lamps turned on and the sky grew dark. and you’d wait up like you always did as you were unable to sleep without her. especially in this new home, new bed, new sheets, new life. it never quite bothered you that caitlin would show up late every once and awhile, but it had started to become a habit, and you were left cold and alone. pestering her about being home at a certain time wasn’t fair to her by any means, knowing that she was just going and getting to know her team some more. but recently it felt like you were navigating this milestone in your life by yourself-your girlfriend hardly around to comfort your racing mind.

when caitlin had been drafted, you knew immediately in your heart that it was going to be rough. change was something of a challenge for you and it terrified you more than anything. you recalled sitting at that table, hearing her name announced and the deafening cheers, thinking about how excited you were for her. and even though you were thrilled for her, you couldn’t help but think about how your perfect world was going to slowly crumble. caitlin insisted that things wouldn’t fall apart, just adjust for the future you were going to build together. but now you were here, in this house-not home-trying to convince yourself that all of it was true.

suddenly, you were pulled from your period of musing when the lock of the front door clicked. it was followed by the faint creaking of hinges, old brass from the 70s, your land lord had claimed. you thought she was full of shit. weary eyes traveled to the opening door to see a very tired caitlin walking in. her hair was tousled, post practice shirt just slightly wrinkled, the slightest bags under her eyes that she insisted weren’t there. she was struggling with the move just as much as you, though she’s never admit it.

“hey,” you uttered just enough to be heard over the television. feelings of your isolation had begun to dissipate the moment you saw your girl, relief running through your veins “you’re home”

“yea” she cleared her throat as she let her bag fall to the floor. the squeak of her shoes echoed against the walls when she toed them off, eventually setting them on the rack beside the door. there was an uneasiness laced in her voice you had picked up on. she didn’t seem angry nor irritated, but she was far from her usual self when she was home. she’d typically be thrilled to see you, ready to be in your arms again and let the stress from the day wash off. you were the first thing she’d looked for when she stepped across the threshold. but tonight, her eyes were hesitant to find yours.

“are you alright?” you watched as she shuffled into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, skipping over the leftovers that you had considerately set aside just for her. her favorite meal dished into the nicest tupperware you owned. her slim figure leaned against the cool marble countertop, taking a swig of the water “you seem a bit…off”

“just tired” she glanced at you, locking eyes for what felt like the first time since she’d been home. a weak smile made its way onto her lips as she studied your position on the couch. you couldn’t lie, she did look tired, but part of you couldn’t shake the feeling that had been consuming you for months. the distance that basketball had created made it feel like you and caitlin were living separate lives, when really, this should be something you tackled together. you couldn’t blame her for any of it even if you wanted to, just hoping that things would go back to the way they were.

you wished she were home more, that her presence would provide you some sort of reassurance. maybe just to convince you that you weren’t going insane, liked you were trapped within these walls for a reason other than her career. it had been a while since you felt like you were living a life that didn’t solely revolve around caitlin’s.

“okay” you smiled back bitterly without pressing any further. any energy you had for a conversation like that had left your body hours ago. reaching for the remote and lifting yourself off the couch, you motioned to the stairwell. considering she didn’t even acknowledge the food, you assumed settling down for the night was what you both needed “ready for bed?”

she blinked rapidly, kissing her teeth silently when she noticed the annoyance in your voice. guilt consumed her as she saw the look on your face, the twinge of desire lost from your eyes.

“mhm” she hummed in agreement as she followed you upstairs to the bedroom.

maybe you both just needed some sleep, caitlin thought. neither of you were mad nor cross with each other, but you’d be fools if you didn’t sense the tension in the air. things had been different for quite some time now, all of it too confusing to address, leaving you to wallow in the awkwardness for days now. but if there was any time, any place, where all that was left at the door? it would be here with each other in bed. it was something of a safe haven, nothing else mattered when you left your worries at the door and held each other tightly.

like clockwork, you stripped of your typical daywear down to your lace panties and one of caits t-shirts. it had a worn down high school logo on it, the design fading from the countless times it had been through the wash. she, likewise, pulled her sweaty gym shirt off her body to replace it with one from her closet. you crawled under the covers whilst you took off your earrings, setting them on the small tray on your nightstand-something you picked out at target when you and caitlin went decor shopping for the new apartment. you had barely noticed caitlin also climbing into bed as the memory of that day overtook you. no words were exchanged as you both settled into the sheets, pulling the thick duvet over your shoulders and finally letting your muscles relax. it was only when a pair of burley arms wrapped around your waist, a familiar nose prodding against your collarbone, did the silence break.

“love you” caitlin whispered, breath warm on your skin “m’sorry i was late tonight and that i missed dinner. i’ll make it up to you”

“s’ok cait,” you murmured, sleep tugging at your eyelids. you brought a hand up to her head as you raked your fingers through her hair, she always loved it when you did “i love you too”

it mattered not what she did to make it up to you. she could do anything in the world, buy you countless gifts, take you on a million trips, but it wouldn’t change the one thing your heart desired for.

her.

I told you I'll be waiting

Hiding from the rainfall

trying to navigate to the locker room was a difficult task, having to push past the cheering crowds in a stadium you weren’t familiar with. you were surrounded by a blur of seattle’s green and yellow jerseys as you looked for any sort of path to follow. indiana had just taken quite the loss against the storm and you knew, the second you heard the buzzer sound, that you needed to find caitlin as soon as possible. eventually, you found where you needed to be and beelined for the locker room, hoping she hadn’t already gone looking for you.

the large metal doors stood tall in front of you when you arrived at the locker room entrance. the shift from the excitement out on the stadium floor to this quiet displeasure was staggering and you weren’t even inside yet. whatever you were about to be faced with would break your heart, you could already see it now. you pictured caitlin sitting down, head in her hands as she tapped her foot anxiously and made her best attempt to hold back her tears. she had been struggling with everything recently-the move, the new team, the continuous losses-it was slowly chipping away at her.

however, after pushing the doors open and stepping inside, it was quite the opposite from what you expected. the doors clicked shut behind you, causing the noise to reverberate around the desolate room as you took in the sight before you. and just as you imagined, your heart slowly began to twinge. caitlin sat there on the bench alone, head leaned against her locker as her chest heaved up and down. tears cascaded down her face and her lip quivered the more she sobbed. wispy strands of hair stuck to her forehead from all the sweat and her hands clutched the sides of her head in frustration. you had never seen her in such a state. caitlin was typically reserved, even with you, not wanting to be open and vulnerable. but here you were, seeing her with all of her guards down.

“caitlin” you breathed, immediately rushing over to her. you fell to your knees, body slotting between her thighs. shaky hands came to rest on her legs hesitantly as to not make matters worse “hey, hey what’s going on baby?”

she made a weak attempt at looking at you, tears blurring her vision. a hiccup escaped her chapped lips when she felt your soothing touch on her clammy skin. caitlin couldn’t even manage the words, thoughts lost in her own mind, only tangling more as she continued her cries. she managed to push herself off the locker, letting herself collapse into you as she shook her head. something to signal her unwillingness to talk. her large arms and heavy torso clashed against you as you enveloped her into a hug. warm tears dropped onto your shoulder as she pressed her cheek into your clavicle, creating a damp spot on your indiana fever t-shirt.

“shhh, i know you’re upset,” you rubbed circles onto her back, palm running across the fabric of her jersey “but i need you to talk to me, i can’t make it better if you won’t tell me”

“i just-” she croaked, voice wavering “i feel like…like a failure”

your body went stiff, the movements of your hand stopping momentarily. you hoisted her back up to face her in disbelief. the confession had taken you aback-not that caitlin had been anything but humble, but she knew how amazing she was, of her immense impact on the sport. to hear that word tumble from her lips, masked by a series of desperate whimpers, was enough to break you.

“caitlin,” you dragged on, feeling yourself at a loss for words. everyone thought so highly of your girl and it crushed you to hear her say those words “you are so far from that”

you watched her throat bob as she swallowed harshly. she tugged at the bottom of her jersey, bringing it up to her face to wipe some of the sweat away. in reality it was just an excuse to hide her blood shot eyes. another shake took possession of caitlin’s head to deny your statement.

“yea well my performance begs to differ”

“one bad game isn’t-”

“it’s not just one game” she cut you off before you could even begin to disagree. she had stopped crying by now, intense emotions now overtaken by aggravation “it’s several games. i keep fucking up. missing shots, turning over the ball-shit”

her rambles trailed off in a rampage of huffs and groans, her breath hot as she breathed angrily out of nose. she was always too hard on herself, lost in the heat of the moment and not giving herself any grace for all the hard work she’s put in thus far. it was a topic that began to consume your daily life. caitlin couldn’t seem to shake off the struggles of the day, in turn bringing them home where they became your baggage as well. of course you didn’t mind being there for your girl-hell, you’d do anything for her no matter what-but it was all starting to get exhausting.

you hated that you had these thoughts in the first place, feeling like a bad partner because you couldn’t bare the repetition of these conversations. time after time after time again you’d beat yourself up over it. caitlin deserved the world and more, but you deserved that just as much and these restless nights weren’t providing that. you didn’t even know what to say anymore, torn between how you wanted to proceed.

“there’s a lot on your plate,” you reassured, getting off your knees and taking a seat next to her on the bench. caitlin’s head automatically went to your shoulder as you took one of her hands in yours “you’re just starting out…don’t be so hard yourself. i know it’s rough, but you’re doing what you can and that’s what makes you so amazing. give yourself some grace, babe”

“i know but,” she sniffled, feeling a sense of calmness rush over her as you toyed with her fingers. it kept her distracted, grounded her for the time being “i don’t know, i’ve just been wanting to be the best all the time-for everyone-and i can barley even keep my head straight”

“i think i can speak for everyone when i say you’ve blown us all away” you traced along her lengthy fingers “your fans, your family, me…we’re all so proud of how far you’ve come”

she sighed deeply, you could practically feel the relief dispersing in her veins. in trying times like this, this is exactly what she needed. you were the shoulder to cry on, the answer to all her problems.

“you always know what to say”

she was right, you did. you’d always have the most thoughtful response lined up, no matter the reason or time. partially because it came so naturally to you, having an empathetic heart since forever, but partially from the consistency of these conversations. you couldn’t even count on your fingers the amount of times you’d sit with caitlin on tough nights, rubbing her back and whispering softly in her ear to bring her back to reality.

“well it’s the truth” you chimed “i’m always going to be here for you, cait”

you always are.

she offered you a smile through puffy pink lips, sore from biting them in strain. caitlin found the strength to pull away from you as her hands left yours, only to plant them right back onto your cheeks. her hands felt heavy on your skin when she brought your face to hers gently. your lips met in a sharp yet delicate kiss, caitlin eager to feel you against her again. but it hadn’t felt usual to you, as your bottom lip caught between her teeth and as your tongue collided with hers. it lacked that passion, that thrill of reveling in your lovers embrace. what was once fire was now a mere ember is a pool of spreading ash. you had feared this feeling for quite sometime although you’d never admit it, it felt as if she was slipping through your fingers.

bit by bit.

Tell me, what's the joy of giving

if you're never pleased?

she had changed.

locking herself away and distancing herself further from you as the season went on. she had always been hard on herself, but even then, she knew when enough was enough and what her limits were. but it seemed that after each game, she lost control of herself more and more. you had never seen her be so critical, so judgmental about her abilities.

it was hard to watch one of the most important people in your life shut themselves away. you wanted nothing more than to be there for her, but she put on the same facade each time and claimed that it as a slump to overcome. but could you really call it a slump when it was starting to weasel its way into the foundations of your relationship?

you hated to think it, but you felt neglected; your wellbeing didn’t feel like it was a priority to caitlin anymore. she used to be so sweet, attentive and caring when you were back in iowa. you wished that you were just as important as basketball. but the mere thought of accusing her of abandoning you seemed harsh when you considered bringing it up to her, because in all fairness, she was undergoing one of the biggest milestones in her life. but that didn’t mean that pushing you aside was fair either. you were taking care of the apartment, running all the errands, helping her balance her schedule, comforting her every single night as she saught after you for solace…and then managing your own life on top of that.

some days it felt like she didn’t even bat an eye at the lengths you went for her. how her laundry was done and set on her dresser, how dinner was made each night, how you picked up her favorite protein powder at the grocery store because you noticed that she was running low? she had began to expect it the more you pushed, not even offering so much as a ‘thank you’ or any regard of appreciation.

you could only give so much with little in return, you need her just as much as she needed you.

On my last strength against you

Baby, tell me what you need

you were happy for her, truly you were. it was so rewarding to see caitlin bond with her team and start to navigate her place in the W. she was beginning to believe in herself and that’s all a girlfriend could want for her partner. but something continued to gnaw at you.

you were doing everything in your power to make more time for caitlin-even if it should be the other way around. maybe by clearing up your schedule, it would make it easy for caitlin to make time for you. but you were sorely mistaken, you couldn’t force someone to make time for something that barely crossed their mind. and perhaps it was a foolish thought. an accusation a bit too cruel, but it was hard to watch caitlin celebrate life without you when most of it was owed to you. no one else served as her backbone, her crutch as she climbed her way to the top.

it was a bittersweet feeling for the most part. you smiled when seeing all the team pictures posted on instagram, chuckling lightly when caitlin retold stories of practices as she got ready for bed each night-the only time you seemed to get with her nowadays. but then there were the tears when you ate meals alone at the head of the table, staring off into the empty seat where she should be sat. and of course the mornings where you didn’t feel like getting out of bed because facing reality of your crumbling relationship was too much to bare.

it was an unfair truth; as she glances off in another direction, you’ll be glancing back to her.

Young as I want to know

I will never let you go

“baby?” her voice felt foreign in your ear. you hadn’t heard that pet name in a while.

“hm?” you responded mindlessly, unable to form a genuine reaction.

you were sat on the balcony of you apartment, the sliding glass doors open behind you. it would let the autumn chill into the house, you told caitlin many times to not leave it open. but she disregarded your commands as she leaned against the frame of the door. you had a small blanket draped over your lap to protect your bare legs from the nippy weather of the changing seasons, your chin resting on your palm as you over looked the view of indiana. your mind felt blank and overcrowded at the same time and trying to clear your head with some fresh air didn’t seem to help at all.

you hadn’t realized she would be home so soon. after all it was 5:00 on a friday evening, you presumed she’d be out with the team or running extra drills with aliyah, hell even at a media event of some sorts. you never knew what it was anymore with her. she didn’t bother to text or update you, most times you only knew of her whereabouts from socials or her family.

“are you ok?” she asked again “it’s freezing out here, you should be inside”

“it’s too stuffy” you sighed, inhaling sharply as the breeze brought in another gust “i can’t be in there right now”

you felt her tense up behind you, the image of her shoving her hands into her pockets formed in your peripheral. this was the most you two had interacted in a while, but your moody attitude appeared sudden to caitlin.

“why not?”

“jus’ can’t”

an unsteady silence filled the atmosphere. the only noises left to be heard were the sniffling of your red and runny nose and the traffic blaring below the apartment complex. you had hoped she’d leave you alone and walk back inside. the optimism of trying had started to disappear and you didn’t think you had much fight left in you. you planned to savor the last bits of energy you had to keep this alive, although today didn’t feel like one of those days. you continued to look out into the distance when she finally moved. you felt the spot next to you plunge as she took a seat.

“you never answered me,” her hand came to rest reassuringly on your thigh. despite the blanket that separated your skin, the contact still felt cold “are you doing ok?”

she had already picked up on your weariness, you were never so shut off when you were with her. but you couldn’t pretend to care when she couldn’t either.

“mhm” everything in you fought to not make it sound so obvious, the sound of your heart breaking as you croaked out the words “i’m good”

caitlin was doing so well and you couldn’t bring yourself to be the bitchy girlfriend that was groveling for attention. you weren’t okay, your relationship wasn’t, but if you just sat in the quiet and let it blow over then maybe it would be. you feared being seen as selfish and you felt guilty as you pushed caitlin away with your short answer.

she huffed, pulling her hand away from you as she hunched over her self, elbows on her knees and head in her hands.

“weeks ago you were talking about how excited you were for fall” she muttered “so that you could put out decorations and we could cuddle up on the couch and watch those old scary movies you love so much”

you allowed yourself to look in her direction, noticing how her face was covered by her beautiful long hair. but you didn’t need to see her to know that she wasn’t pleased.

“but the house looks the same and you’ve been sitting on the balcony every day even though you know it’s gonna make you sick” she craned her neck to look out across the city and you could see the trail of tears in her eyes. just glossy, but not enough to fall “it doesn’t sound like you’re ok”

you couldn’t do this, not right now.

“i’m sorry” you breathed “i understand your concern. i just think i’m a little stressed is all you know? just got a lot going on right now and i guess my focus has just been elsewhere. i’m sorry”

a nearly complete lie, all your focus had been on her these days.

“no need to be, i get it, and you know you can always talk to me about these things. but you gotta come inside, babe” she prodded “you’ll catch a cold”

with reluctance, you gave into her request and pushed the blanket off your lap. caitlin watched as you folded it and draped it over your arm before taking your hand and guiding you inside. the warmth and the calming pumpkin scent of your candle enveloped you like a hug, putting you at ease for the time being.

the both of you fell back into your typical routine almost instantly. no words were exchanged as she headed upstairs to shower, and you moseying into the kitchen to start on dinner. some polite conversation was made when caitlin came back downstairs with wet hair and freshly moisturized skin to help you finish dinner, but that’s as far as it went. no hugs from behind as you stood at the stove, no kisses on the neck, no laughter that was pure enough to make your stomach hurt. but it was simple and it was nice, enough to hold you over until the rubber band holding you together finally snapped.

Trading a baseball lover as I face the snow

“alright,” you said as you walked into the living room, heels padding against the carpet of the hallway and your dress itching at the skin on your legs. your fingers fiddled with your last earring, making you huff in relief when the clasp finally shut “i’m ready!”

it was date night tonight, the first in what felt like years, and there weren’t any words that could describe how ecstatic you were. just the thought of some much needed bonding time with caitlin gave you hope. yes times have been tough, but there wasn’t anything a little quality time (and maybe some good sex) couldn’t fix. you had been planning this night for sometime, making sure you both had the evening off and meticulously scheduling every last minute of the night. you were optimistic that tonight would open up a new door for progress.

but when you walked into the living room, your heart sunk. here you were, all dolled up with the prettiest smile on your face, waltzing into the most disappointing sight.

caitlin sat on the couch, legs spread and back against the soft cushions. she had her phone in hand, hair pulled back like always…and most definitely in a dirty tee shirt from her hamper and a pair of sweats. certainly not date attire, you knew.

“cait” you stood blankly “it’s 7:00”

“uh yea” she responded, only looking up from her phone for a moment, then quickly doing a double take once she realized your physical state “what’s with the dress? i mean you look as beautiful as always but-”

“are you serious?” you scoffed. you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. never in a million years did you think this would happen in your relationship. caitlin wasn’t like that.

“what do you mean ‘am i serious’?” she was taken aback, frustration already evident on her face as her checks glowed a shade of red “i just asked a fucking question”

“you really don’t know?” shoulders slumping when you realized she actually did forget.

she shook her head, brows furrowing as she awaited your response. a quick “no” fell from her lips.

“is the 24th caitlin” you chewed at your lip nervously, trying to hold back tears. you voice wavered as it caught it your throat, making you sound weak and defeated “our date?”

the color drained from her face in seconds, gaze softening and lips downturned. she was off the couch in seconds as she stumbled towards you, bringing your hands into hers. but you pulled them away swiftly and shot her a glare. you were done with the excuses, done with being left in the dust

“babe, i’m so sorry” she shook her head and brushed off the sting that came with your reluctance to her touch “i totally spaced, i could’ve sworn it was next week”

“i’ve been talking about this for months, caitlin” the words stumbled out from gritted teeth, jaw clenched in anger. you had no idea what to say anymore.

she gulped deeply as she looked down to her feet, she was in the doghouse for sure. although you’d consider her fate to be much worse than that. you began to sniffle upon her silence. could she really not manage to say anything right now?

“let me make it up to you” she tried to compromise. part of her knew she’d never be able to outlive this, but she was delusional enough to still believe she could somehow fix it.

“no,” you breathed, bending down to take off your heels. there wasn’t even a point in salvaging this tonight “just forget it”

“no really, you’re upset and this meant a lot to you and i want to fix it”

that was your breaking point. perhaps she didn’t mean it that way, but did she really only see this as something important to you? did she care at all about spending time with you? you wouldn’t be dumb to think that she wouldn’t, she had hardly done anything recently to make you think otherwise.

“really?” you sneered again, there was nothing holding you back anymore. you tossed your shoes onto the couch, leaving them as a problem for later “you want to fix this because it meant a lot to me?”

caitlin tried to study your facial features as she said nothing yet again. she couldn’t tell if you were genuinely mad or just annoyed, willing to forgive or prepared to hold this against her. she noticed the deepened tones of your cheeks and nose, the twitch of your left eyebrow, and the motion of your tongue darting out to sooth the previous bites on your lip. she had never seen you this mad, not in the eternity she had known you. you were such a sweet and loving person, incapable of talking bad about someone or staying mad for long. but she’d be damned if it felt you hadn’t changed within a second.

“i thought you would’ve cared too” you continued “you know, since i’m your girlfriend and you should also want to spend time with me”

“i do spend time with you”

“the fuck you do”

“what the hell does that mean?” she questioned angrily “of course i do, i’ve just been busy”

“please enlighten me then” you couldn’t help but roll your eyes “when was the last time we spent time together?”

“well what about tuesday, huh? when we, uh..when we watched that movie before bed? or when we both went to the team dinner the other night? that was spending time together wasn’t it?”

“no i watched the movie, you barely talked to me all night and the crawled into bed and went to sleep with your back turned,” you choked up as you recalled the memory, you remembered how much it broke your heart. your fingers came to pinch the bridge of your nose as the familiar sting of tears washed over you. “and really, the team dinner? you call that spending time? is it really that if you just chat with your buddies the whole night? you practically ignored me the entire time”

she kissed her teeth at you, clearly aggravated, but deep down she knew you were right. she hadn’t been good to you at all these last few months. and if she were to really be fair to herself, she’d have to admit that it was taking a toll on her too. she didn’t know why she was doing this, why she was acting this way, but she had already made her bed and she’d have to lie in it. this was a habit she knew she’d been baring for quite some time, pulling away when things got hard, leaving her loved ones to cope with the pain from her mistakes. and it broke her heart each time, but with you, it was like she was losing air.

“i’m trying here, alright?” her throat was dry as she tried to give you some poor excuse. she was too caught up in her own shame that she was digging her grave deeper.

“look caitlin,” you glared “i don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but i’m tired. trying just won’t cut it. i know you’ve felt the distance too, we haven’t been normal for a while now and it’s killing me. i can’t eat alone every night, have you come home just to ignore me, and the only time i get with you is under the public eye or with your friends. i know you have shit going on, cait, but you keep pushing me further and further away from you and i don’t know how much longer i can take it. i’m here for you time and time again and you can’t find it in yourself to set aside one fucking night for me”

you chewed at your lip, carefully navigating your next move before continuing.

“i left my entire life behind for you, caitlin. my friends, my family, everything that i have ever known. i left it all to be here with you and support you. and the fact that i spend every day mourning you when you’re in the same house is suffocating, i just can’t do it”

body shaking with anticipation, you looked down at your bare feet. you couldn’t bring yourself to look her in the eyes anymore. before you could stop it, sobs racked your body, tears cascading down your face. the emotions were too much to handle.

“babe-” she cooed, voice softening upon your confession. she’d never felt so disappointed in herself.

“stop,” you said meekly, cutting her off through your own sniffles. you forced yourself to look at her briefly, wiping away the mascara that had definitely accumulated under your eyes. whatever she had to say, you couldn’t hear it tonight. whether it be an apology or total rejection, the end to this period of suffering was about to end and you weren’t ready to deal with it head on yet “i think we need some time, caitlin. i just-i’m too upset and i’m hurting and i think time will do us some good”

“wait what?”

“you need to work out your shit. i don’t know, i think i’ll go to one of my friends places or something for a while..because i can’t put myself through anymore of this”

“no,” it came out as a blurt, her mouth moving before she could think. although she wouldn’t want to think, the image of you leaving plaguing her mind already “please, no, we can figure this out! god, fuck- just please don’t leave me”

you watched her slowly breakdown, she was becoming increasingly hysteric as begged you to stay. you gulped hard when she started crying along with you, another one of the few times she had shown you this side of her. it pained you to see the sight, your instincts told you to take it all back and reassure her everything was ok. but you had to keep your head high and remind yourself that things wouldn’t be ok if you didn’t look out for yourself, even if that included stepping away from caitlin for a few days.

“i’m not…i’m not leaving you, cait. just gonna take some time away, we both need to think about how this relationship is going to continue. and i can’t have an open mind if the cycle continues. but i promise it’s not goodbye, ok?”

she breathed through staggered hiccups, trying to force her body to relax. she couldn’t stand to be without you, even if it didn’t seem like it these past few months. her calloused hand came up to run down her face, taking the tears with it in an attempt to calm down.

“yea” she agreed, her voice barely above a whisper. she hated this, but she knew you both needed the time. you were always right “yea, ok”

and with that, you reluctantly stalked to the bedroom to pack a bag for a few days. shoving random shirts and shorts into the small duffel, avoiding the ones that you’d previously stolen from caitlin over the years. she had opted to sulk alone in the living room, bracing herself by sitting on the couch. she still couldn’t process any of this, the fact that she wouldn’t be with you for more than a day made her sick. even more sick at the fact that you couldn’t talk this out right away, you’d both have to navigate your feelings alone for a while.

she was perched at the edge of the couch, knee bouncing at an alarming rate. her gaze was fixed at the wall in front of her, staring at the variety of pictures that you’d hung on the wall. some of you both when you were younger, others of pictures with your families, and a few from the vacations and holidays you two shared since you’d been together. but her favorite ones, the ones she couldn’t bring herself to look away from, where the one of just you both. her eyes flickered across each and everyone, looking at the way you smiled at her, eyes almost welling up again when she saw how happy you guys were. she’d do anything to have those moments back, go back in time and stop herself from treating you so horribly.

she was disrupted from her period of musing when she heard you walk down the stairs for the second time tonight. you came into view with a bang slung across your shoulder, high heels replaced with a beat up pair of converse. you grabbed your keys as you stopped momentarily to give caitlin a saddened look, lips drawn in an apologetic smile. but you had nothing to be sorry for, caitlin thought when she gave you a similar look in return.

“hey,” she said before you could reach the front door. you turned your head, hand resting on the knob. desperation lingered in her eyes “i love you, and i’m so fucking sorry”

you dipped your head and pursed your lips, letting her know of your approval before fully opening the door and beginning a solemn ascent to your friends apartment.

“i know”

On my last strength against you

Baby, tell me what you need

it had been 6 days. 6 agonizingly long days.

she had nothing but time to think, and yet, she couldn’t seem to gather her thoughts at the same time. her mind was everywhere, bouncing from regret and guilt, to anger and dissatisfaction, and of course the remorse and pain. this is what caitlin was afraid of doing, pushing herself so far away that it had finally gotten to you. she’d gotten caught up in her head so deep that she failed to realize how much you were hurting. she’d never forgive herself for this.

everything felt gloomier without you, she noticed that now. there was a certain comfort in you being there, even if she did ignore you and push you to the side, you’d always be there and she abused that luxury. from the moment you left the essence of your shared home shifted uncomfortably. it was like a storm had unleashed its wicked winds to reign terror over the household, dulling your spirt that had kept it so pleasant and welcoming.

but she had to admit, the time was good. she needed to sit and make a change, promise herself that she’d get better for you. even if that did mean she’d have to sleep alone for a few nights, order takeout because her cooking would never amount to yours, brush her teeth before bed and come home from practice with you nowhere in sight. it was a necessary torture, but only temporary, she reminded herself. maybe she’d never know why she was acting the way she was, have to come to terms with the fact that she’s a shitty girlfriend and doesn’t deserve the apology she hoped you were willing to give. but despite knowing or not knowing, at least she could catch the poison that was her troubled subconscious before it could sink too deep. it was time to give up the self loathing and internal ridiculing. she wouldn’t let herself hurt you anymore

caitlin had always struggled with holding herself to an unachievable standard, convincing herself that she would never be enough or worthy of all this attention. she couldn’t believe that so many people wanted to watch her play, that she was first pick and that she was finally playing pro like she always wanted-part of her thought it was too good to be true. but she didn’t want to wake up from this implausible dream, forcing herself to go above and beyond just to hold onto it. and in the process, she’d forgotten to make time for you too. it was foolish, to ignore you like she had, you were her everything. every waking moment, at every practice and at every game, you consumed the entirety of her mind. at the end of the day, she was doing this all for you.

it was easy to get lost in the fame and the excitement and the pressure, but it shouldn’t have been enough to make her neglect you. nonetheless, she managed to do it anyways. so she took these 6 days to reflect and really target why she felt like she needed to act like this. she would go to the ends of the earth for you, willing to pick herself apart if it meant making it up to you.

Come into my bedroom

Come into my bedroom

her foot tapped nervously against the coir fiber of your friends doormat. a faded “welcome” written in black felt contradictory as she tried to find the motivation to knock. you hadn’t texted or called, hadn’t reached out to caitlin at all to let her know you were ready. but she needed you like she needed air and just had to see you. she had to finally apologize for how terrible she was acting, beg for your forgiveness because being away from you was eating her alive.

she let out a shaky breath as her closed fist met with the white wooden door, sending a loud pounding noise through the other side. caitlin could hear your friends dog barking and scratching against the door, followed by rushed footsteps that got increasingly closer. she barley had a moment to regather her thoughts before the door was pulled open harshly.

“caitlin?” your friend came into view, disheveled as she tried to keep her dog from running out the door. she quirked her eyebrows at caitlin’s presence, shocked and confused-and definitely a little angry-as to why she was at her door “what’re you doing here?”

“i um,” caitlin cleared her throat as if to stall, wanting more time to think of the right thing to say “i was hoping i could talk to-”

“i don’t think she’s ready to see you, cait” your friend muttered, trying to keep her voice down so you couldn’t hear. and you probably didn’t, caitlin was extremely aware of that.

“i know i know” caitlin urged “but i just need to see her ok? i need to make this right”

your friend chewed at the inside of her cheek as if contemplating her next move. you were her best friend and she’d do anything to protect you. after a few seconds, she shook her head and began closing the door, offering caitlin an apology and a goodbye as caitlin continued to beg for just one chance.

“no please, just let me see her! just a few minutes!” she said louder this time, slotting her sneaker clad foot in the doorway “i just need a second i swear to god-”

your friend put all she could into getting caitlin to leave, trying to push her out the door as quickly as possible. but she was persistent and continued her pleas.

somewhere in between the endless banter, through caitlin’s desperate cries and your friends agitated dismissals, came the answer to caitlin’s prayers. you were napping in the guest bedroom when she walked up the steps to your friends home, having been exhausted from sobbing throughout the night. just like caitlin, you hated sleeping alone. but your efforts to seek out peace were quickly interrupted when you heard subtle shouts from the the other room. curious and worried when you heard your friend raise her voice, you hurried to see what the commotion was all about.

you were surprised to the see the scene unfolding in front of you. your friend wrangling the door shut as her legs fought to keep the dog at bay, cussing out whoever was behind the door. you could’ve about laughed at her antics until you suddenly realized who it was that she was trying to shut out. you had assumed maybe an ex or maybe even a family member would have been the culprit, but the long silky black hair that glimmered through the gap in the door quickly corrected you.

“caitlin?” you questioned just as your friend had before. you stood back a few feet front the door, although your voice was loud enough to make the both of them stop.

their heads both whipped in your direction, the door creaking open wider so you could see her in full view. your friend huffed, rambling about how she thought you were asleep and how she was sorry that they had woken you up. but you discarded her as your eyes locked with your girlfriends. there was a certain look of grief in her eyes, the color almost fogging over in despair. your head told you to look away, the sight too depressing to stand, but your heart yearned for her nonetheless, unable to tear your eyes from her.

“YN” she spoke. it was like a cliche movie scene, like out of a fairytale, when the prince sees his princess in her natural beauty for this first time. whist she was hardly a prince and you hardly looked the part of a princess, the feeling was all the same. that feeling of reassurance and love. you were here, right here in front of her in your pajamas and bunny slippers, and suddenly she felt some sort of relief wash over her.

you walked over to them, assuring your friend that it was ok and asking her to give you some privacy. she walked away hesitantly after giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze. she shot caitlin a disapproving glare as she disappeared back into the house. you ushered caitlin to follow you out to the front porch, motioning to the swing that croaked in the afternoon breeze.

“what’re you doing here cait?” you asked, not looking at her, as you settled on the swings cushion, using your foot to keep it from rocking back and forth “i thought we agreed to take some time”

she took the spot next to you slowly as if not to scare you off, she worried she’d mess this up with you. she so badly wanted to reach over, rest her hand against your thigh and feel the soft skin of your palm rest atop it. but she opted for her own lap, picking at her nails mindlessly.

“i know,” a sigh that had nestled deep in her chest had finally met its release when she began “but i couldn’t take it anymore. this week has been fucking torture for me…i had to see you”

sadness washed over you for a moment, like the sun in a day of mist when it has nothing to shine upon, only dissipating when you felt her shoulder brush against yours. there was almost a faint smile on the corner of your lips, you’d also missed her touch over these past few days. but reality was cruel as it brought you back to the present moment.

“it’s torture for me too” you admitted. you despised being away from her, constantly yearning to be with her whenever she was away.

“really?”

“of course” you snorted, shaking your head as you look out across your friends lawn. you eyed the hydrangea bushes that weaved its way through the porch railings, the patches of yellow that spread through the grass-what a statement to question “i always miss you when we’re apart, why wouldn’t i?”

it sounded stupid to say, you realized once the words left your mouth. nothing you had done would insinuate you missing her, especially leaving her to wallow in your apartment alone, if anything it did quite the opposite.

“cause i’ve been a fucking asshole” she blurted “i wouldn’t miss me either to be honest”

she wasn’t lying, she was an asshole. the pain and loneliness that you endured over the past several months were dreadful, and she was finally ready to admit that it was all her fault. there were no more excuses to hide behind, not when your relationship was at stake. as she reminisced on the many years you’d been in each others lives, she found no reason to validate her behavior. you were everything she could ever need, ever want, and she was taking that for granted.

“nothing could stop me from missing you, cait”

a bitter taste filled your mouth as you anxiously responded to her. you’d been biting down on your lip so hard that you had started to bleed, barely even noticing it through the stiff tension between you. it was silent again for a while as you both pondered on your next moves. should caitlin beg for your forgiveness, get on her knees in front of you and cry? or maybe it should be you, convincing the both of you it was a misunderstanding and you should just forgive her and go home? you’d been straining yourself with your own stubbornness and you didn’t know how much longer you could keep it up. part of you wanted to hold your ground and let her know that you wouldn’t except this treatment, but the other part of you just wanted to fall into her embrace and forget about the whole thing. but before you could conquer this battle within your brain, caitlin beat you to it with a rapid burst.

“baby, i-” she said, stoping herself to think-was she even allowed to call you that anymore? her tongue clicked and her eyes squeezed shut, this feeling of guilt was insurmountable “i can’t tell you how sorry i am. how much i regret everything”

she sounded defeated as she fought to get the words out, a whimper threatening to spill at any moment. her nose stung as she sniffled back cries. she thought she’d never get through this, that she wouldn’t even be able to look you in the eyes. but to much of her dismay, your delicate hand met with hers, forcing her fidgety fingers to relax. she turned her head to look at you through damp lashes, and finally seeing your sparkling eyes looking back at hers, found the courage to continue.

“i get so…caught up in myself, and i forget about what’s right in front of me. practice, games, all the hate i’ve been getting recently-christ everything just starts beating down on me and i get so lost. i isolate myself and i push away anyone who tries to break through this damn wall i’ve put up..and when they do..i just end up hurting them” she watched your face contort as she spoke, your lips turning downward to a sympathetic frown. you were always too sweet to her, too good for this world “and that’s what i’ve done to you, the most amazing person in my life and i won’t ever forgive myself for it”

“honey..” the pet named rolled off your tongue effortlessly. caitlin would be lying if she said that hearing it didn’t put her mind at ease. you stuttered, trying to find the words yet again, but she urged you to let her finish.

“i’ve let my shit get in the way of loving you the way you should be. there’s no excuse for how i’ve treated you since the move to indy-not tough games or being homesick or any of that-and i’ve regretted every minute of it. you don’t deserve to go to bed alone just because i was upset, o-or to feel like you have to deal with your stuff by yourself…i know moving has been hard on you, especially since your entire family is back home…and the fact that i haven’t been any support to you is unacceptable and i take full blame for that. and for everything else too, like making you feel neglected? it’s fucking breaking my heart knowing that that’s what i’ve caused, that i’m never around and that i’ve been the furthest thing from a girlfriend. we’re supposed to be a team, we are a team, and all i’ve done is let you carry the weight of both of us. i’m so incredibly sorry and i’ll keep saying it until you believe me”

her chest rose and fell ever so faintly as she breathed deeply. she had run out of air as the words left her in a haste, eager to get her apology out. these past days were spent planning each word, each motion, each action so meticulously and she needed it to work.

and with her final huff, there was a gentle silence again, the wind chimes hanging from your friends porch ceiling clinked softly together. you removed your hand from caitlin’s, letting it rise to her and face and resting it on her cheekbone. the pad of your thumb rubbed into her soft skin, feeling the prominence of her defined cheekbone. she felt warm, probably worked up from the heightened emotions, but it was soothing in a way.

“i believe you, cait” you breathed. you felt her instantly relax into you, the weight of her head pressing into your palm. her eyes fluttered shut and her brows furrowed, she felt undeserving of your reluctance “and i know you’re sorry, it’s okay”

“it’s not” she mumbled against your hand “it’s far from okay. and i’m going to do everything i can to gain your trust back”

“you’re right, it’s not. but i know you’re actually sorry…and you don’t need to gain my trust back, babe. you’ve always had it” her lips quirked when she heard the lighthearted tone of your voice “you really hurt me, and these past few days have been straight from hell. but the fact that you came and owned up to it all shows me that you’re going to work on it”

she nodded frantically, agreeing with every word. because it was true, she’d go the extra mile to ensure you never felt like this again.

“i can’t imagine a world in which i’m not spending eternity with you..so i’m willing to forgive, but my heart won’t be able to bare this again and i need you to promise me it won’t happen in the future. i know you have so much going on in your life, you’ve gone through a lot, but it can’t continue to get in the way of us. i’m here for a reason, to listen and to help in any way i can. please talk to me instead of shutting me out-i want to be there for you okay?”

“of course, i’m going to be better. for you. you deserve more than what i’ve shown you and that’s far from how i want to be, we’re in this together and i want to change. i love you so fucking much and it’ll never happen again”

with a hand still on her cheek and a smile tugging at your lips, you leaned in closer to her. the denim of your jeans rubbed against the swing cushions as you moved nearly into her lap, close enough to press your lips to hers. you could tell the kiss caught her off guard when you felt her body jolt, but quickly relaxing when she fell under your enchantment.

it was a feeling that was hard to explain, like a flame being reignited or a spark nestling in the depth of your chest. you hadn’t kissed caitlin in quite some time, and when you did all that time ago, it had felt meaningless. but here it was different, the taste of jovial tears mixing with that of your lips, creating a rejuvenated feeling of love and adoration. there as a kick to this kiss as she pulled you in deeper, her hand coming to the back of your head to cradle you. it felt good again and you couldn’t be more grateful.

“i love you too”

Come into my bedroom

Come into my bedroom

it had been about a week or so since you decided you were ready to come home and work on healing your relationship with caitlin, and it had already been going better than you had expected. even though the conversation on your best friends porch went smoothly, you had only imagined the fights and anger that would be exchanged once you came home. but caitlin had shown quite the change already and you could already feel the rips and holes of your relationship beginning to mend. she had been just as doting and soft as she was at the beginning of your relationship.

she was treating you to candlelit dinners, drawing you the most relaxing baths, and fitting time into her schedule for you no matter how long it might be. she even took you golfing with her and was dragging you along to outings with the team and occasional press events. you hadn’t felt this excited in a long time, it was like you were crushing on her all over again.

for the first time since your life started in indiana, the little things were beginning to matter.

and now it was a quiet weekend night in, the plushness of the living room carpet weaving between your bare toes as caitlin’s hands rested quaintly on your hips. the furniture had been been pushed off to the outskirts of the room in order to give your bodies plenty of space to sway freely. the overhead light fixture had been long forgotten once the evening sunset began to bleed through the window, creating the sweetest source of light. the old record player, the one you brought with you when you moved away from home, sat on the the table in the corner as it spun yours and caits favorite album. the tune hummed quietly as its scratchy notes bounced off the walls, yet it was perfect for a night like this.

maybe it was cheesy, the way you and caitlin rocked side to side as you danced in your pajamas to sappy love songs, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. it was like a page out of the romance novels you read in high school. you were convinced this was all you needed in life, no luxury clothes or fancy dates, just you and caitlin soaking each other in as you danced around the apartment. it healed something in you as she spun you in her arms, laughing heartily when you stumbled. she was finally back to being your caity girl once more.

“what?” you giggled breathlessly after catching yourself from almost falling, pushing a loose strand of hair out of your face. she was staring at you when you faced her again, dimples evident as she grinned at you. her eyes had a softness to them, similar to the softness of her hand that snuck under your shirt to lightly pinch your side.

"nothin'" she shook her head with a wavering sigh "you're just...everything i've ever dreamed of, and i don't know- i just can't believe this is real"

she seemed choked up, in genuine disbelief that you were standing right in front of her, and it made your heart melt. it was moments like these that you craved, where her walls came down and she was completely herself with you. no pressure to look strong or tough, no holding back tears or true emotions, just pure love.

"of course it's real cait" you titled your head with an appreciative pout. you pulled her in with a comforting hand to the back of her head, leveraging yourself on your tiptoes to place a kiss to her forehead "what do you mean, baby?"

"like," she tried to find the words as she cleared her throat "like i can't believe that you're still with me. i don't know anyone who would stay through anything like the pain i've cause you. and the fact that you're right here in front of me, been so patient with me and understanding...i just feel so undeserving"

"hey, of course you're deserving" you politely scolded "we all make mistakes and sometimes they're bigger than we intend. but i love you more than words can describe and i know you've been trying to mend them. everyone has rough patches in their relationships, but i'm here to stay, caitlin. i'm not going anywhere"

you watched as her shoulders fell drastically; it was apparent that your words meant more than you had originally thought. she had always need reassurance, having always doubted herself in anything she did, and it was an unmatchable feeling knowing that you were the one to soother her. she nodded, not saying anything as leaned into you even more. so, you confided, not prying for a response. this vulnerability was already a big step for her.

you rested your forehead against hers, arms coming to loop around her neck. her long lashes fluttered as they tickled yours. the music was still playing in the background, allowing you both to fall into another oscillating rhythm. although it was cut short again when you felt her lips part, a quiet voice barely escaping her.

"it was you" it came out almost inaudible, leaving you confused on whether you hear her correctly or not.

"hm?"

"it was you," she said clearly this time, foreheads till touching and eyes shut in romantic bliss "from the second we met i knew it was going to be you. like a soulmate or life partner..whatver you want to call it, i just knew that you were going to be it for me"

as you stand there, your heart races, the world about stops spinning. each syllable strikes a chord deep within you, resonating with the echoes of past moments you’ve cherished with her. you could hear those words over and over and never get tired of it. The weight of uncertainty from the past months finally lifts, replaced by an exhilaration that makes everything else fade into the background. nothing else mattered anymore, no stress and no disdain for the road ahead, just you, caitlin, and an eternity together.

"you're it for me too," you said "in every lifetime"

-

A/N: FINALLY!! it's finished!! i definitely didn't spell check this, so if you catch any mistakes, feel free to DM me so i can fix it! i love you and thank you for your patience with this fic :')

[thevanillerose]

TITAN II | YANDERE!AIZEN x TINY!READER | BLEACH

~ WRITING COMMISSIONS ~ ~ PATREON ~ ~ KO-FI ~ ~ NOVELS ~

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own anything except my own writing. All properties belong to their respective creators. Content Warnings: Yandere / Kidnapping / Giant/Tiny / Violence A/N: Request [10/10] for my 100 Followers Celebration!

The final request, and it’s another sequel! I’m happy Part I was a hit, and that I have an excuse to write more Yandere!Aizen because that man…that man…

He gets a whole lot scarier in this part so you’ve been warned.

Your glass prison was maddening.

The cushions beneath you were soft enough, but you yearned for your real, actual bed. You were given food, water, all the sustenance required, but none of it you could enjoy. The box was minimalist, clinical, and yet it felt like a gilded cage. Always with the same view. 

His room. The room of the giant who had captured you. 

No amount of screaming or pounding against the walls had drawn anything more than an amused glance from Aizen, who had since settled into his chair with his ever-present calm composure, sipping tea as if your capture were no more significant than securing a rare artifact.

He didn’t care. He didn’t empathize or sympathize. 

He liked it. Seeing your hopelessness. 

You paced back and forth, your tiny fists clenched, your mind racing with possibilities. There had to be a way out—there had to. You couldn’t accept this as your fate. You wouldn’t. But every time you turned to assess the glass walls, the towering figure beyond loomed in your periphery. Aizen’s gaze never strayed far, his sharp hazel eyes tracking your every move.

Even when he wasn’t present (which was a rarity) you were scared to try your luck. Any time you had, it never ended well for you. The bruises and bite marks were indicative. While he may not have gone as far as trying to kill you, clearly preferring to keep you alive, he had still done enough to start whittling away at your will. 

“It’s futile, you know,” his voice cut through the silence, and your thoughts, like a blade, smooth and composed. He leaned back in his chair, setting down his tea with a soft clink. “You’re wasting energy flitting about like that. Save your strength.”

You froze mid-step, glaring up at him. A little anger flared, despite your nerves.

“You can’t keep me here forever. Someone will come for me. They’ll find you, and when they do—”

“They’ll what?” he interrupted, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Do you think anyone would dare challenge me here? You came because you believed yourself strong enough to defeat me. And yet…” He gestured lightly toward the glass box. “This is where that belief has brought you.”

His words stung more than you cared to admit. You wanted to believe you were tougher than this, but you had to be honest.

You’d never been more scared in your life. 

Still, you refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing you falter. If you just stayed determined enough, maybe you’d be able to find a way to get the hell out of here.

Maybe.

…

Later…

Aizen spent much of his time in this clinical looking excuse for a bedroom, seeming to have put most of his sinister plans on hold, or in the hands of other enemies, so he could dedicate his time to you.

It was a kind of torture. At your new size, it was all too easy for him to pick you up, push you around, squeeze you in his fist just to hear you squeak. You began to realize he had a twisted sort of love for you which had only become prevalent now. His fingertips would linger and caress on your skin in such tender patterns sometimes. He’d get this strange, blurry look in his eyes…

He wanted you. In ways you never would have expected. 

And how long he had, you didn’t know. 

Things could only get worse from here, that was something you were certain of. If this kept up, you were literally going to break. Somehow, in some way, you needed to find a way out of here.

Your opportunity came after Aizen had fed you at the usual time. At exactly midnight, much as he did at midday, he opened the box and lowered a meager portion of food inside, diced to a size you could kind of swallow. Of course, you didn’t make the mistake of trying to climb his hand to get out. Your abdomen still ached from the time you’d tried before, and he’d flicked you like a bug.

Such a simple, easy motion for him. An absolute gut punch for you. Literally.

So, no funny games. But…he had been a little neglectful this time around. You noticed the faintest gap between the glass lid and its frame after he set it back in place, and walked out of the room. 

Your heart leapt. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

As it was midnight now, the gigantic menace had to rest. Surprisingly human, for such a monster, to lay down and rest his head against the pillow below him with such a peaceful expression. 

Now’s the best chance I’ll get.

Quietly, you made your way over to the cushion corner closest to the gap. Taking a deep breath, you crouched down low, built momentum, and jumped up with all the strength you could muster. It took a few tries, a lot of effort, but you managed to reach and hook your fingers around the hard edge of the box. 

Grunting, the soles of your bare feet slipping and sliding as they tried to find grip against the glass, you managed to haul yourself up and squeezed your body through the gap under the lid.

Finally, you slipped through. Jumping down, you landed on the desk with a delicate thud.

Freedom.

Now, you just had to get the hell out of dodge before he found you.

If he did…

If he did…

A horrible chill struck through your petite little body, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, shuddering with fearful thoughts. You didn’t want to think about it. 

The vast desk stretched out like a white wasteland, but you were focused on the edge, on freedom, on escape. Running over, you sought some way down that wouldn’t leave you dead on the floor as a crumpled mess, but his room was minimalist enough there was nothing stray you could cling or jump onto.

And, it was too late anyway. 

You could feel his presence before you heard him—like a storm cloud gathering behind you. You didn’t even have to look.

“Going somewhere?”

His voice, smooth and low, cut through the stillness like a blade. You froze in an instant, every hair on your body standing on end. Slowly, with a dread that made your stomach churn, you turned to see him.

Aizen was awake, standing right over you, his figure dipped in shadow. His hazel eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, boring into you with a mix of amusement and something darker. The dark cast chiseled shadows on his bare, muscled chest.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice?” he asked, his smile stretching into something sharp, something cruel. His tone was cruel yet calm, almost bored, and you trembled. You stumbled back instinctively, panic clawing at your chest. 

Think of an excuse! Think of an excuse!

“I-I wasn’t—”

“You weren’t what?” he interrupted, his voice dropping an octave. “Weren’t trying to run? Weren’t defying me? Lying doesn’t suit you, little one.”

Just run!

You bolted abruptly, running for the edge, desperate for something, anything, even willing to take a leap of total faith if that was what it took—but you’d barely made it two steps before his hand descended. 

His fingers curled around you, the force of his grip knocking the air from your lungs and throwing you backwards. You thrashed and kicked, your tiny fists pounding against his skin, but it was like hitting solid stone.

“Pathetic,” he murmured, lifting you to his face. His smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of cold fury. Any amusement was gone. He was plainly pissed.

“Do you know how insulting this is? I could have killed you long ago. A horrible death. Yet I spared you. And this is how you repay me?”

His grip tightened, the pressure making your ribs creak. You gasped, struggling for breath, your vision blurring as panic set in. “P-please,” you choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “I-I’m sorry—”

“Sorry?” His laugh was sharp, bitter, like the crack of a whip. His thumb jammed up sharply against your gullet, choking you, forcing your head back like he might snap it off entirely.

“No, you’re not sorry. Not yet.”

Without warning, he slammed you down onto the desk, the impact sending pain shooting through your body. You screamed, but there was no time to recover. His hand pinned you in place, his fingers pressing down just enough to make you wheeze. 

“You need to understand something,” he said, his voice calm and deliberate, but his eyes burning. “You belong to me. You are mine. And I do not tolerate disobedience.”

He lifted you again, your body hanging limp and aching, holding you by the waist, his grip tighter this time, his thumb pressing against your chest now, invasively, in a way that made it even harder to breathe. 

“And yet you insist on it,” he said softly, his tone almost mocking. “Disobeying me. Trying to leave me. Do you want me to punish you?”

He tightened his grip again, the pressure making your vision go white. You clawed at his fingers, your body writhing in desperation, but he didn’t let up this time. Tears streamed down your face as you gasped for air, the world tilting dangerously around you.

He’s going to crush me! He’s going to…kill me!

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his voice soft but cold. “To see how far I’ll go? To test the limits of my patience?”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t beg. Your body struggled feebly, your breaths shallow and ragged. He watched you intently, his expression unreadable, before his grip loosened just enough for you to suck in a desperate gulp of air.

“You’re lucky,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “I could end this right now. One squeeze, and it would all be over. But that would be too easy…wouldn’t it…”

His dangerous gaze flickered aside suddenly, to the edge of the desk. It was easy for you to see then, the cogs in his mind turning maliciously, and dread took hold.

“Aizen–”

Swiftly, he swung you over the drop, dangling you in the open air, only his pinching thumb and forefinger keeping you from a deadly plummet. Your heart stopped, your body going rigid as you stared down at the distant ground. 

“A fall from here would kill you,” he said, his tone almost conversational. “Shall we see how far you can fly?”

“NO!” you screamed, your voice raw with terror. “P-please, don’t—!”

His smile returned, sharp and wicked. “Then remember this feeling,” he said softly, pulling you back to safety. “Remember what it means to defy me.”

Lifting you before his handsome, huge face, you saw his lips curl into a relaxed, smug smile again, his gaze hooded and raking slowly over your little form, his breath heated when he spoke.

“It would be a shame, if I lost my precious little pet so soon.”

You swallowed thickly, flushing, looking away. The tip of his finger guided your head back to look at him again.

“I still have so many things I want to do to you…”

‘Do to you’.

Not with you. To you.

You felt sick. You didn’t even want to imagine it. 

“You’ll never try that again,” he said, his voice soft but malice-filled. “Because next time, I won’t be so merciful.”

His fingertip moved from your jaw to your heated cheek, gently dabbing away the tears that now wouldn’t stop falling. You sniffed and sobbed, giving up. 

Aizen, content with that, returned you to your prison, making sure the top was secured this time by placing a heavy book atop it. As he turned away to return to bed, you collapsed onto the cushions as well, your body trembling uncontrollably. Your chest heaved with ragged wails, which you tried to muffle behind your quivering hands so he wouldn’t be angered again. Your mind raced with fear and despair. 

He had been right about one thing. You’d remember this. You’d remember it every time you thought about running, every time you dreamed of freedom.

Because now you knew: he wouldn’t just stop you. He would break you.

Like my writing? I can write for you! Check out my WRITING COMMISSIONS! DECEMBER SALE: 25% OFF!

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Shirt On.

Pairing/Au: Sub!Joel X soft dom f!reader, no outbreak

Words count: 4645

Rating: + 18, MDNI, NSFW. I’m not joking with this one, if you’re a minor please stay away from it.

Summary: Joel getting pegged by you while you wear his flannel shirt. That’s it, that’s the fic. LOL

I know it's not everyone's cup of tea but if you decided to stay, the rest is under the cut.

Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️

Warnings: pov second person, no use of y/n, smut with feelings, established relationship, established dom/sub dynamic, sub!Joel, soft dom f!reader, reader wears jeans and a top (and of course Joel’s flannel), has breasts and vagina but apart from that no other specific description of her is given, pegging, use of a double strap-on, mention of plugs, lube, edging (m receiving) , orgasm control, oral (f receiving with the strap-on), mention of anal play, squirting, a little bit of nipples play (m receiving), ass slapping, swearing, dirty language, mention of threesome, mention of nipple clamps, mention of Joel conservative environment as a child (? I don’t know, i imagined that), a whole lot of fantasies made explicit, pet names (mostly good boy, honey, baby), use of “mommy” once, Joel is so soft and needy in this one, reader is cheeky, brief Tommy appearance, mention of alcohol consumption, I think that’s all but if I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.

I love sub!Joel so much and and I've been thinking about writing it for a long time so here we go!

It’s my first sub!Joel fic and pegging fic, I’m so nervous about it, I really hope it’s good and you will enjoy it.

One inspiration for this fic was this work by @milla-frenchy : Her, if you haven't read it yet and you love sub!Joel RUN to do it because it's amazing and she’s so talented.

The other one was the sex toy described lol

As usual, English is not my first language, no beta and no proofreading so it’s all my fault, I apologize for any mistake.

Comments and reblogs are very much appreciated, I would love to have some feedback on this (please, be kind) !

Thank you so much for reading❤️

Joel is unloading materials at a construction site when he feels his phone vibrate in his back pocket.

He puts the brick pack down and rubs his hands on his jeans, takes out his phone and unlocks it. There is an unread message from you. 

“Baby, I’ll wait for you at home at 6. Don’t be late” 

He quickly types a reply and sends it to you. “Yes, ma’am.” 

He smiles. 

He had never done anything like this before, but with you everything was different right away. 

——————-

When he first met you, at Tommy’s birthday party, he thought you were a wonderful creature. 

You were talking to someone he doesn’t even remember unlike your bright smile, your contagious laugh, your breathtaking body and your impossible-to-miss charm. 

The pair of jeans you were wearing hugged your hips and waist perfectly and your tight top highlighted the curve of your tits so deliciously that his mouth started watering instantly at the sight. 

You turned to him probably sensing his eyes on you and your eyes weren’t even close to be intimidated or embarrassed. 

You held his gaze fiercely and he knew in that moment that you were going to be troubles in the best possible way. 

He had always been quite successful with women but he suddenly felt like someone destined to remain on the bench who has to compete with the team's star player.

The challenge excited him anyway, he decided he had to find out something about you.

He entered the house and found Tommy busy opening a bottle of wine. He asked him who you were and he replied with a smirk, "Maria's coworker. Why do you ask? Do you fancy her?” 

“I don’t even know her!” he retorted. 

“Yeah but you think she's hot” he stated raising one of his thick eyebrows and looking at him with a sardonic grin.

Joel snorted “I knew I shouldn't have told you anything”

Tommy bursted into laughter and said nothing else.

And he didn't do anything, there was no need. 

Joel couldn't imagine it but you know exactly what you want and you know how to take it.

He was at the buffet table taking a beer when you approached tantalizing him “You think you’re going to ask me for my phone number or not?” 

“Why?” He tried to play it cool and nonchalantly.

“Well you've been staring at my ass all night, so… either you want to know where I bought these jeans or you like my ass, cowboy, what do you say?” you waited, delighted by the state of confusion you had caused in him.

He hadn’t expected it in the slightest, no one had ever been so cheeky with him.

And then you added “The thing is… I like yours too, so we could do something about it”.

Of course you sneaked off the party and you immediately jumped at each other in Joel’s truck after finding a fairly isolated spot along the road, sloppy kissing and hands everywhere like you were both starving. You haven't even made it to his house.

Of course you ended up sharing contacts because you just had had the most incredible sex and wanted more. 

Many dates and many months later you moved in together.

The harmony between you two was strong from day one and never changed.

You know how much he needs to have his coffee in the morning, he knows how you love your eggs, you know he always fail to put his dirty laundry into the basket in the laundry room, he knows he’s the one that has to take care of the garden because you have absolutely zero skills and you kill the cacti too. 

The domesticity between the two of you always feels like the most precious gift.

You talked many times about what you like in bed and you have confessed to Joel that you love to be the dominant part in the relationship. 

Joel had no difficulty accepting and embracing it, he is happy that you are the one taking the reins. 

He is always in charge at work, his construction company is doing really good and has several employees, he is used to being the boss and making decisions all day long. His mind is sometimes so tired of that that coming home to you and let you decide for him allows him to shake off all the stress that is weighing him down.

“This is actually good for my own peace of mind” he told you “I feel free” 

You have set rules and boundaries and you talked throughly about what you want and don’t want from this dynamic. 

You both respect and understand each other. You love each other like there’s no tomorrow, Joel told you he has never been this happy before.

And experimenting with him is the most exciting things in the world. He’s prone to it, even more than you thought at the beginning. 

So when you brought up to him that you would love to try some anal play he accepted straight away. 

He told you that he had done it before, he had never been on the receiving end but he was more than happy to do it with you.

You’ve proceeded by step, experimenting with your fingers, while he fucked you senselessly like you wanted to, then it was Joel himself who suggested trying a plug. 

“You sure about that, babe?” you asked “I'm happy that you want to indulge with me in this but I wouldn't want you to do it just for me”

“No,” he assured you, with the sweetest smile “I’m not doing this just for you, even though you know how much I like it when you’re satisfied. I love what you do to me with your fingers and I think I’d like to… um… try something more.”

“okay then, let’s dig into it” you replied with a little smirk. 

He grabbed your laptop and you searched online together, sitting on your couch with your head resting on his shoulder as you explored site after site giggling together in total complicity.

You can’t forget the thrilled look on his face as you decided to order a trio of plugs in different sizes.

And you can’t forget the moans he made the first time you tried it. 

The trust you’ve built has made it truly special. Joel knows he can abandon himself to you, you’ll never do anything he doesn’t want and you’ll always take care of him as much as he does with you.

Joel’s protective side makes him sensitive and attentive to your needs. For everyone else he’s just a somewhat grumpy, reserved man and a tireless worker, but for you Joel is the most thoughtful man you’ve ever known.

He is amazed by the patience and delicacy you put into getting him where you want him to be, and you’re completely fulfilled by how much of a good sub he can be. 

Sometimes he gets denied for days and it’s all about you coming repeatedly on his tongue or he’s only allowed to watch as you masturbate, other times you ask to be fucked several times a day or you demand to see your tall, broad, strong and gorgeous man bent over on your bed while you play with his ass.

Every session was pure bliss, he was a little bit flustered to try the biggest plug but he ended up getting an orgasm that was out of this world. 

And now he's ready to try the strap on, which makes you incredibly wet just thinking about it.

As with the plugs, you chose together which one to buy and once you decided you were both so excited that you allowed him to fuck you and come inside you after a whole week of chastity, edging and ruined orgasms.

___________

Joel leaves work at 5:30, gets in his car and curses all the way home against the traffic that threatens to make him late. 

He parks in the driveway and opens the door “I’m here, my love” he quickly says as he puts his keys on the cabinet in the hall. 

“I'm in the kitchen, babe, come here”

Joel rushes to your command and the sight of you leaves him speechless. 

You're standing in the middle of the kitchen wearing only his flannel shirt left open and the strap-on you both chose. The leather straps wrap around your hips and a large dildo stands out between your legs.

“It came in the mail today,” you smile at him, extremely pleased by the rapt expression painted all over his face.

“Oh fuck, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen” he breathe, his eyes feasting on your body. 

He loves it when you wear his clothes, he loves seeing you walk around the house in his shirts and wearing his boxers and he loves it even more when you let him watch you masturbate in just those.

He tries to get closer to you and you raise one of your arm stopping him “no, wait, not yet. Look at me a little longer” and saying that you take the big cock in your hand and begin to stroke it slowly “talk to me darling, tell me more about how it seems to you”

“It's big,” he gulps “and it looks great on you.”

You have chosen a type that stimulates both of you, so you have a dildo inside you. With each stroke you feel it penetrate a little deeper, widening your walls.

“What else?” you coo “What would you like to do now? Would you like to suck it?”

“Yes, my love, I would like that, please.” 

He’s fixed on your hand moving on the fake cock. 

“Eyes on me, baby, what else?” you gently scold him

His look shifts immediately on yours as he answers you huskily “I wish you would fuck me with that. Please”

You move closer to him, without stopping touching the dildo, you raise your hand to gently stroke his raven curls lightly streaked with silver “Oh, I’m going to fuck you so hard, baby, I’m going to split you open and you’re going to be the best boy, right?” 

He closes his eyes, abandoning himself to your caresses and he whispers “yes” 

You tug his hair “louder, babe” 

“Yes, my love” 

“Perfect. Kneel down for me, now” 

He immediately goes down, in front of you, on the kitchen floor.

“Take this cock, babe, make it all nice and wet” you purr

You put your hand back in his hair and bring him closer to it.

You can see a sparkle in his gaze as he opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue to lick the tip.

You feel a shiver of pleasure run through your body seeing him like this, malleable like clay in your hands, on his knees, hungry, totally involved in what you were doing, so endearing and beautiful. 

“More, baby, show me how good you are” 

He opens his mouth wide and bends over the cock starting to make it disappear into his mouth, his lower lip trembling slightly. 

He raise a hand to grip the base but you slap it and say firmly “take it fully in your mouth first” 

He frowns and he gag a little when the tip bumps on the back of his throat but immediately gather his control back. 

“good boy, now suck. You can use your hand on mommy’s cock” 

He looks up at you in gratitude as he circles the base with his fingers and begins to suck greedily.

The entire length is now coated in his saliva as he moves up and down on it continuing to suck and every time he goes down, the dildo inside you hits a deeper spot making you moan just as much as he does. His big hand is all wrapped around the silicone cock, the other sunk into your hip above the leather straps and his grunts are like the cherry on top. 

You continue to praise him and he’s enraptured by your gaze and you can clearly spot his cock hardening in his pants, it strains against the hem of his work jeans. 

“You like that huh? So good for me” 

He swirls his tongue around the tip and goes down flat on the underline and swirls around again taking the mushroom between his luscious lips and sucking on it.

He’s still fully dressed and yet you could swear you could come just by seeing him all engrossed in sucking your big fat dildo.

His nose hits the end of the cock bumping into your clit as he tries to put it all back in his mouth, gagging around it, trails of saliva slide down his chin, your thumb smear it all over his jawline “Just like that, baby, keep going for me”

Your fingers are tangle in his curls and you push him down the length arching your back, making him gasp for hair, his eyes start watering a little but he keeps sucking. Pressure is building on your clit at every brush of the base on it and the other end sink deep into you all slick and soaking wet with your juices. He’s basically masturbating you sucking the dildo.

You’re about to give in and you convulsively yelp “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, Joel”

He sucks at an even faster pace, stroking the base and lingering on the tip every time he comes up.

You toss your back and shut your eyes closed, overwhelmed by your first orgasm washing over you, panting hard and feeling you knees buckle.

Joel continue to suck quietly until you regain the ability to speak.

“You’ve been very good, darling” you coo “get up for me now”

He let the dildo slide out of his mouth with a lewd pop and stands up and you order: “turn your back and put your hands on the table for me.” 

He does so and you lean back and wrap your arms around his waist. You close your eyes and enjoy his warmth as you try to calm down.

“Well, we have discovered a new talent in you” 

“I- yes” he mutters

“Don’t be shy baby, there’s nothing wrong with sucking a dick” and you leave a trail of kisses on his back 

“You’re right” His voice is uncertain, as if he had just realized how much he liked it.

You move to look him in the eyes “it’s all good, honey? do you want us to stop here?”

He shakes his head.

“Words, baby”

“No. No, my love” 

“Good. You know you can always use the safe word, right?”

“Yes. Yes, I know… I was just thinking…” 

“What, honey? Talk to me” you stroke his arm trying to reassure him, peering into his big brown puppy eyes.

Joel grew up in a conservative environment and you know that he distanced himself from it as soon as he could and he is certainly sure he can tell you what he would like, you decide but you always allow him to express himself. 

Every now and then a kind of reticence resurfaces in him, and it melts your heart the way he tries to fight against the beliefs that were put in his head as a child.

“Do you think we could try a threesome sometime?” 

You giggle lightly caressing his cheek “Sure, we could do that. Why were you so afraid to ask me?” 

“I didn't want you to think that you're not longer enough for me. I mean you’re perfect, absolutely perfect and I love you and-” 

“Babe” you interrupt him “it’s okay. It’s your fantasy and I find it hot too. Would you like to do it with another guy?” 

“Yes…uhm..I would”

“Mmmm God, that would be so hot, you trying a big meaty cock…deep in your throat”

He blushes instantly at your words and the corners of his mouth curl into a smile “I- yeah, I think I would love to try”

“I would masturbate while you do it and then I would let you fuck my cunt while the other guy’s cock would go deep in my mouth. How does it sounds?” You lewdly whisper to him.

“Oh fuck- yes” he reply, eyes wide and pupils dilated.

“You’re such a dirty boy, I love that. How do you get so good at sucking anyway?” you ask him mischievously

“Well, I learned something by watching you, you’re the best at it.” he states with a proud tone. 

“Mmm you’re such a flatterer. Now shut up and let me play” you tenderly scold him kissing his lips “unbutton your pants” 

His hands fiddle with the button and the zipper and as soon as he’s done you order “put your hands back on the table”

You leisurely slide one hand into his pants and make room in his boxer to reach his already hard cock.

You flick the tip with your fingertips gathering his precum and you slide over his length wetting it, you can feel his breathing thickening and a sigh of relief leaves his mouth.

You pump him until he reach the edge, throbbing in your fingers, then you stop, a muffled sound of impatience run through his lips. 

You smile, your gaze chained to his “keep calm, love”

You take a small remote control out of the flannel shirt pocket and show it to him. “Look what I have”

He mumble “oh my fucking God”, his voice cracks a little and your lips curl, even more pleased “I forgot about it” he admits. 

“Yeah, it’s going to be fun” you giggle “let’s go to our bedroom now”

He immediately follows you and once in the room you lean on the piece of furniture in front of the bed and you demand “take off your clothes” 

He does it slowly as he knows you like it, first boots and socks that he throws in a corner, then his jeans that he leaves lying on the floor and finally the shirt, that also ends up on the floor at the foot of the bed. With every part of his body revealed to your eyes you lick your lips thinking that you will never get used to seeing such beauty. His broad shoulders, his wide chest, tiny freckles scattered on his skin, his narrow waist, his slightly soft tummy, the thin line of hair that ends up hidden by his boxers, his meaty thighs… you can never get enough of him.

He remains in a pair of boxers, standing in front of you. “Good boy, take them off and lie down on the bed,”

There is sweetness in his gaze, trust and a desire to abandon himself, at this point you can read him like an open book.

You're taking off the flannel you’re wearing when he looks at you pleadingly “Can you please keep it on, honey?”

“You like seeing me like that?” You smirk

“I do. You’re so damn sexy” 

“Okay, baby, I can do that” you grant and he smiles gratefully.

Once he's lying down you take the lube from the nightstand and then you climb on the bed right next to him, your fake cock still shiny with his saliva.

His naked body is still and waiting for you, and you take his cock back in your hand “you did so well for me” 

“I’m glad, my love, thank you” he whispers

You pinch his nipples with your other hand, pulling and twisting them between your fingertip, teasing them while you keep stroking his lenght slowly. 

“God, I love your nipples, baby, they drive me wild, so pink and turgid and delicious.” 

 You run your tongue over his chest sucking them into your mouth. 

“I think we should try nipple clamps sometime, would you like that?” you say before taking back one of his buds between your lips. 

“Oh - God, yes. Yes, please, my love” 

His moans go straight to your cock-covered clit, you feel it hardening against the soft and smooth silicone.

You know perfectly well that he is much stronger than you and could easily tip you over onto the bed and trap you with his weight, but he won't.

This awareness makes you feel powerful and the mere thought of how far you can go with him and still be safe makes you dripping wet.

You take him back to the edge again and then you stop, his cock is throbbing and the tip is angry red and leaking profusely. 

His hips slightly twitch a couple of times and you can tell how desperate he is for a release but he knows that he can’t come until you say so. 

You start pumping him again after a couple of minutes and you can hear the stifled moans crowded in his throat as you take him on the edge again. 

He’s such a mess of sweat and cries and glassy eyes but he’s managing to remain still like you ordered to.

“I can’t believe I have such a good boy all for me” you purr “You want my big cock in you? You want that?” 

“Yes, please, my love. Please” he whines. 

“Turn around for me like the good boy you are” 

He turns around and you take the lube squeezing a good amount into your hand, spreading it all over his hole, caressing it gently and penetrating it with two of your fingers.

He cries “please” 

“Don't be impatient” you say firmly slapping his ass cheek, leaving a red mark. 

“I’m sorry” his voice is hoarse and deep and you can hear his struggle in every single word which is such a turn on, he wants you so bad. 

He’s so excited and needy that he basically cries and the sound of his voice reverberate into your ears like a music.

“So sweet, my big boy crying for cock” 

“I want- please. I want it so much, pl- please” he’s bucking his hips against the duvet and you slap his ass again.

“Behave, baby” you order “stay still for me” 

You linger a little longer in his hole, moving your fingers slowly. 

“You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen, you know that? Is it ready for me?”

“Yes. It’s all yours, love, please take it” he begs. 

When you finally place your body behind him spreading his ass cheeks with your hands and poking at his entrance with the tip, he leaves out the loudest groan you’ve ever heard from him. 

The inside dildo is still hitting you the right way and in this position you can feel it even deeper than before. 

“You okay?” 

“Yes - oh - yes, love it”

“Good” you whisper caressing his hips “we’re almost there, baby. You look so gorgeous like that, Joel. So fucking gorgeous”

You keep pushing the cock inside him, until you’re balls deep inside and you start moving, thrusting into him while the other end thrust into you.

“You’re doing so good, Joel, so good for me”

He whimpers while you brush against his prostate, lifting his butt to feel you even more, you could swear you’ve never seen anything more intoxicating.

You take the small remote that you placed on the bed and turn on the vibration at the lower setting, just enough to add that little buzz into the already overwhelming sensations you’re both experimenting.

Joel lets out a “fuck” so deep and hoarse, you feel him clenching around the cock and the vibration hits your clit and your inside too and you almost lose it.

You take a deep breath and focus on him.

“Just like that, you love taking this cock, don’t you?” 

“Yes OH GOD YES - I think - I think I’m almost c-” 

“Sssh not yet, baby, don’t be to greedy, hold it until I say it” 

You pump harder and his body tenses, you can see every muscle in his back flex while he tightens his hands on the sheets underneath trying with all his might to hold back, his face leaning in profile sinking into the mattress, little drops of sweat beading on his skin, his plumped lips open in search of air letting out moan after moan.

He’s almost incoherent by now, just babbling please and fuck and begging you to let him come and you can feel yourself getting right on the edge.

You get out of him to change positions as you fear of losing control because of the vibrating dildo inside you slapping at your walls “Turn over on your back for me,” 

He turns around immediately, you make him lift his legs and rest them on your shoulders and then you go back inside him with a single thrust “OH FUCK” he wails “fuckfuckfuck” 

“Yeah, baby, do you like watching me fuck you with your shirt on? You like that, huh?” his look is ecstatic as he reply “Yes - GOD- fuck - you’re so beautiful” 

You start to pound again against his prostate, deeper into him with each movement, your tits bouncing and obscene slapping filling the air mixed with the buzzing of the dildo, until you can’t fight your orgasm anymore.

It’s too much, all too much, the vibrations, the dildo crushing on your cervix, and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen all worked up and sweaty between your legs, just losing his mind for you.

“Come baby” you order in a breath “come for me” and he throw his head back on the mattress rolling his eyes and lets himself be invaded by a devastating orgasm right after your command, long spurts of his cum painted all over your tummy and his shirt.

You can feel his whole body shaking and you hold on to his ankle as you hastily pull out with the other one and squirt all over the dildo, drenching the duvet underneath you.

You’re completely shattered and exhausted but totally appeased, no thought left in your brain but a complete state of serenity that mostly comes from the fact that you can be completely you with Joel, no disguise, no mask, no filter is needed when it comes to him.

You turn off the the dildo and let it out him, you throw it on the empty side of the bed and lie down in his arms, it’s all you want and it’s all you need now.

He welcomes you and holds you tightly as you both try to get your breathing back to normal, you abandon your head on his chest and you feel his heart beating fast behind his ribcage. 

After a few minutes of silence he is the first to speak “that was…fuck…I don’t have words. Thank you, love”

You tilt your head to look at him and he’s smiling with his entire face, his eyes sparkling and his cheek flushed and his adorable dimple showing off. 

“I love you, Joel” you murmur and your mouth reach the bald patch in his beard to place a kiss there. 

“I love you too, honey, so much you have no idea” and he gently takes your lips. 

“I’m sorry, your shirt got wet” the final part is practically stuck to your skin, soaked in sweat, cum and squirt.

“It’s okay, I don’t mind at all. We’re both sticky and sweaty but we can think about that later”

You laugh and kiss him again, nibbling on his lower lip.

When you break the kiss there is a question you feel curious to ask him “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

“I have a question” 

“Shoot”

“Why do you like it so much when I wear your clothes?”

He gives you a sweet and slightly shy look as he replies “For starters, they look sexier on you and then…it makes me feel like you’re mine in some sort of primal sense, you smell like me and I love that you have something of me on you”

You giggle.

“Did I explain myself?”

“Yes, yes you perfectly did, honey” you reply hiding your head in the crook of his neck and inhaling his woody citrusy scent. 

He smells like home, the only one you truly feels to belong to.

[morganas-pendragons]

Tease | Celebrimbor

This is a 2nd person version of something @pentaghasm and I wrote. I miss writing. (I’ve been obsessed with Shadow of Mordor)

****

“Y/N….”

You beam as you duck behind the table containing his tools, his creasing hammer poised between your fingers as Celebrimbor pursues you across the forge. The rest of the Gwaith-I-Mírdain have retired for the evening. That has left the two of you alone, and Celebrimbor refuses to retire to your shared chambers.

“You,” Celebrimbor laughs in disbelief as you lightly tap the end of his nose before spinning out of the way so he can’t pull you into his embrace. It is the first time that you have been able to catch his attention since Annatar has arrived. “Can have this back when you submit, my love. You can’t work if you don’t have the proper tools!”

He crosses his arms across his chest and narrows his eyes.

“You wish to play this game? Let’s play.”

“Oh, so now you’re taking that as a challenge? What if I just told you that you simply work too much and I want to spend it with you?”

You grin from the other side of the Forge. Just behind you is the table that holds Fëanor’s hammer. You have half a mind to take it and run as far as possible across the city so it will force him out of the forge.

Though he cannot deny the stirring he feels at her antics, he buries it for the moment. “I have certain duties as the Master Smith,” Celebrimbor protests sternly. “Certain responsibilities as the Lord of Eregion.”

“Really now?” You ask. Your fingers wind around Fëanor’s hammer as you watches him approach, but you cannot find it in you to move yet. “And however will that work if I’m to be your wife someday. There’s not supposed to be secrets between us, you know.”

You have purposefully done this to antagonize him, and it’s only for one reason: You have never seen Celebrimbor riled up and you really want to.

“That may be. However, there are responsibilities that even you are unaware of.” Celebrimbor moves with a speed that most have never seen from the Lord of Eregion, stalking toward you with a fire in his eyes. “My hammer, please.”

“And if I say no?”

He steps forward, crowding your personal space and backing you up against a workbench. “Then I may need to resort to other means.”

“Careful. You’re going to ruin Mirdania’s space. You know how she likes to keep it!” You exclaim.

He gives you a long, calculating look. Before you can do anything else, Celebrimbor traps your arms behind your back in one smooth move. You would be lying if you said it didn’t gasp at the motion and feel your knees begin to weaken beneath you.

Fëanor’s hammer clatters to the ground. The other hand is pressed against the small of your back, and you’re so thrilled by the turn of events that you look up at Celebrimbor expectantly. His hair has fallen from its usual precise styling, now a mess of loose curls that allows several to hang solely over his forehead.

Oh.

Celebrimbor leans forward, close enough to kiss you, but instead goes to your ear to murmur lowly, smirking, “I believe this means I win, my dear.”

“Oh no.” You tilt your head and kiss the shell of his ear. Your breath fans warmly across his cheek. “I don’t ever give in without a fight.”

Celebrimbor somehow summons the strength to resist a full body shudder, stomach twisting with desire that steadily grows in his belly. He shifts his hold on you to allow his mouth to descend to your neck. “Two can play at this game.” He growls softly. You know each other too well. This is a dangerous game to play, especially in the forge.

“I will not acquiesce to your demand,” You swallow the knot in your throat, desperately trying to keep your composure and your grasp on his creasing hammer. “Not when I simply said you need to come spend time with me away from the forge. I will run across the city with this hammer if I must.”

His mouth is still busy with your neck, his tongue trailing over the most sensitive part of your neck that makes your knees tremble.

His hands, however…. He reaches around and deftly maneuvers your empty hand between you, and you can feel the effect you have on him. Celebrimbor cannot keep the desire out of his voice as he speaks, hoarsely, “It’s rather a bit late to run, you naughty thing.”

‘’I never wanted to run,” You murmur, breathing heavy. He has you right where you want to be. He could do anything to you and you would gladly accept. “I just wanted you to pay attention. Did it work? I can surely-“

“Don’t you dare,” Celebrimbor growls. He’s then hoisting you over his shoulder and striding toward his private chamber. He enjoys the squeak of surprise that you cannot stop from escaping her lips. Celebrimbor deposits you on his chaise and then turns to shut and then lock the door. The look on his face when he turns back toward you is.. wicked, to say the least.

“You, my dear, have a lesson to learn.”

[legendary-69420]

Art, Arguments, and Absolute Mayhem

Chapter 14

(Racing Hearts : VOLUME 3 )

racing hearts

A/N : This is a pretty big chapter and It took me a LOT of time to write..share your thoughts in the comments

Mark sat at the kitchen counter, idly stirring his coffee, though he hadn’t taken a single sip. The soft clinking of dishes filled the quiet Monaco apartment as Signore Lazzaro moved around the kitchen with practiced ease.

The older man glanced over briefly before setting down a plate of toast in front of Mark. “You have been staring at that cup for an unreasonable amount of time, ragazzo.”

Mark blinked, then sighed. “I’m thinking.”

Lazzaro hummed as he poured himself a coffee. “Ah, a dangerous pastime.” He took a slow sip before continuing, his tone carrying a hint of amusement. “And what, may I ask, has occupied your thoughts so thoroughly this morning?”

Mark exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “Charles kissed me.”

Lazzaro did not even look surprised. Instead, he calmly set his cup down, folding his hands neatly on the counter. “At last.”

Mark narrowed his eyes. “That’s it? At last?”

Lazzaro arched a brow. “Would you prefer I feign shock? Because I assure you, that would be dishonest.”

Mark groaned, slumping back in his chair. “No, but—I mean, he just walked up to me, kissed me, and then stormed off like I was the one who did something insane! And I still have no idea why he did it!”

Lazzaro sighed, shaking his head as though speaking to a particularly slow student. “Mark, you are an intelligent young man, but sometimes, you lack the ability to see what is directly in front of you.”

Mark scoffed. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lazzaro took another sip of his coffee before meeting Mark’s gaze. “It is quite simple. He was jealous.”

Mark frowned. “Jealous? Of what?”

Lazzaro set his cup down with measured patience. “Ragazzo, you are impossibly charming. You socialize with ease. People gravitate toward you. And Charles…” He tilted his head slightly. “Charles is not quite fond of you at that time in these matters.”

Mark folded his arms. “That doesn’t give him the right to just kiss me out of nowhere and act like nothing happened.”

Lazzaro exhaled slowly, as though suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. “And have you spoken to him about it?”

Mark hesitated. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” Mark exhaled, staring into his untouched coffee.

“Because I used to tell Charles everything. Every stupid problem, every random thought. But this—this is the one thing I can’t just talk to him about.”

Lazzaro regarded him for a moment before nodding. “I understand.” He stood up, beginning to clear the plates. “However, avoiding the matter will not make it disappear.”

Mark groaned, rubbing his temples. “I was hoping you would tell me what to do.”

Lazzaro smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. “Ah, so now you seek my wisdom?”

Mark scowled at him. “Yes, old man, that’s why I’m sitting here having an existential crisis over my coffee.”

Lazzaro chuckled, shaking his head. “Mark, you already know what must be done. You are simply reluctant to do it.”

Mark frowned. “And what exactly do I know?”

Lazzaro turned to face him fully, his expression patient yet firm. “You wish to speak to him.”

Mark stared at him, expression unreadable, but he did not argue.

Because he knew Lazzaro was right.

The day’s PR schedule promised to be simple: a series of fun, light-hearted activities to boost Ferrari’s image. But with Charles and Mark at the center of it, simple was never on the table. Cameras were set up, crew members were mic-ing them up, and the room was filled with the hum of quiet excitement. The first activity was a blindfolded driving challenge on a racing simulator. One of them would be blindfolded, and the other had to guide them through the track with only their voice as a tool.

Mark was the navigator first, and Charles sat in the driver’s seat with a black blindfold tied securely over his eyes. He adjusted his grip on the wheel and sighed deeply. "Don’t mess this up, Mark. I actually want to finish the track," he warned, his tone laced with suspicion.

Charles rolled his eyes but secured the blindfold around his head. "Don’t sabotage me, Spencer. I know you like to play dirty."

"Who, me?" Mark gasped, all faux innocence. "I would never do such a thing."

The second Charles’s vision was gone, Mark’s antics began.

"Alright, move forward. Slow, slow, slow—STOP!" Mark yelled, his voice full of panic for absolutely no reason.

Charles slammed the brakes. "What? What happened?!"

"Nothing, I just wanted to see if you'd listen," Mark cackled.

"You are insufferable," Charles grumbled, gripping the controller tightly. "Just tell me where to go!"

"Have a little faith in me, Leclerc," Mark grinned, standing behind him with his arms crossed. "I’ve got the vision of an eagle."

"Eagles are the ones that see, not speak," Charles shot back, gripping the wheel a little tighter.

"Details, details," Mark muttered with a wave of his hand. "Alright, let’s do this. Go straight."

Charles slowly pressed on the virtual accelerator, the simulated car rolling forward on the track. For a moment, it seemed like everything would go smoothly. But then Mark’s focus wavered.

"Oh, wait, wait, wait, left! Left, left! No, no—right!" Mark’s panicked voice echoed through the room as Charles jerked the wheel in confusion.

"WHICH IS IT, MARK?!" Charles shouted, his body leaning with the car as if that would help him turn it.

"Uh, straight! No—left! Crap, that’s a wall—NO!" Mark’s voice reached a pitch only dogs could hear as Charles’ car collided with the side of the track.

"MERDE!" Charles groaned, tossing his head back against the headrest. "Are you even looking at the screen?!"

"I’m looking! I’m looking!" Mark insisted, squinting at the screen like he’d never seen a racing game in his life. "I—oh, my hoodie string is uneven. Hang on." He began fiddling with the hoodie’s drawstrings, tugging them back and forth to make them even.

"MARK!" Charles’s voice was pure exasperation. "I CAN'T SEE THE SCREEN!"

"Right, right, sorry! Okay, gas, gas, gas—NO, BRAKE!" Mark’s hands flailed wildly as if that would somehow transfer the message faster. But it was too late. Charles’s car crashed head-on into the barrier, the in-game announcer declaring, “Race Over.”

Silence.

Charles pulled off the blindfold and slowly turned toward Mark, his eyes narrow and full of disbelief. "I’m never letting you guide me anywhere. Ever. Not on a track. Not on a sidewalk. Not even in a parking lot."

Mark cackled, slapping his knee. "Dude, that’s on you for trusting me."

The next round had them switch roles. This time, Charles had to blindfold Mark, and everything took a turn—for Charles' mind, at least.

He reached over, fingers brushing against Mark’s cheek as he adjusted the blindfold. The scent of Mark’s cologne, fresh like sea salt and citrus, hit him like a punch. His fingertips lingered just a second too long on Mark’s jawline. His throat went dry. Suddenly, he was hyper-aware of how close they were—his breath hitching as images flashed uninvited into his mind.

Mark leaned forward obediently. Charles reached around to tie the blindfold behind his head, fingers brushing lightly against Mark's jawline. Soft. His fingers lingered just a second too long on the curve of Mark’s neck.

Focus, Charles. It’s just a blindfold. But his mind didn’t listen. Instead, it betrayed him with flashes of Mark pulling him in by the collar and pressing him against the wall, their mouths connecting with a ferocity that left him breathless. His fingers pressed harder into Mark’s skin for a moment, his breath hitching.

What if I just pinned him down and then kissed him right here? His eyes darted to Mark's jawline and then his neck. Charles started seeing visions of him making out with Mark in the foggy room with dim lights. Mark softly groans as he is blindfolded and Charles is kissing him. Charles moves his hand over Mark's neck earning a small moan from Mark allowing him to enter Mark's mouth and passionately kiss him. Mark is now without any piece of clothing, Charles moves his hands over Mark's bare chest and abs. Mark soft moans turn on Charles even more. Then Charles' hands move down and-

“Charles?” Mark's voice broke through the fog. “You good, Lec?”

Charles snapped back to reality, pulling his hands away quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat.

Get it together, man.

"Charles?" Mark tilted his head, the fabric of the blindfold wrinkling slightly. "You good? You’re taking forever."

"I’m fine!" Charles’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "Perfectly fine. Here, blindfold on. Done. Done!"

Mark raised a skeptical brow, but Charles had already turned his back, walking away like the ground was suddenly on fire.

“Alright, genius,” Charles said, gripping the mic. “I’m actually going to help you. Unlike some people.”

Mark tilted his head. “Don’t make me take this blindfold off and fight you.”

The two bickered the entire time, Charles’ instructions clear but filled with sarcastic quips. Unlike Mark, he didn’t let his attention wander—though his eyes may have wandered a bit too long on the sharp lines of Mark’s jawline as he focused.

Artistic Chaos

Their next PR stunt was an artistic endeavor — sketching portraits of each other. The challenge? The artist could request poses from their “model.”

"Okay, Charles, do a heroic pose. Fist on your hip. Chin up, eyes to the horizon," Mark instructed, holding his pencil like a sword.

Charles played along, holding the pose with exaggerated flair. "Like this?"

Mark snorted. "Yeah, if you were on the cover of Worst Superhero Ever magazine."

After a few minutes Mark tilted the sketchbook revealing a stupid ugly stickman with two spikey hair on his head and he titled it 'Charles'.

Charles was not surprised by the drawing whatsoever "Guessed so"

Mark smirked, "Oh sorry hold on lemme just flip the page" Mark flipped the page and revealed an almost photorealistic sketch of Charles with his prominent features more well defined.

Charles was dumbfounded but still not surprised as it was SO Mark to do such a thing. Of course he knows how to draw well.

"Drew you like one of my French girls- ahem guys" Mark cackled.

-

"Mark, take off your shirt," Charles said, crossing his arms.

Mark froze for half a second before shrugging. "Alright." He grabbed the hem of his shirt and lifted it, his toned abs and chest coming into view. Charles’s eyes went wide, his brain short-circuiting as he caught sight of the sharp V-line at Mark’s hips.

OH GOD. STOP. STOP LOOKING.

"NO! KEEP IT ON! KEEP IT ON!" Charles’s voice came out in a panicked shout, his hands waving in front of him like he was warding off a ghost.

Mark burst into laughter, letting his shirt drop. "You’re so weird, Leclerc."

"No, you’re weird," Charles mumbled, face red, eyes stubbornly fixed on his sketchpad.

Later, during an interview segment, they were asked to share nicknames for each other. Charles listed simple ones—"Spencer," "idiot," and "Mr. Distraction"—while Mark’s list was pure chaos: "Charlie Boy," "Princess of Monaco," "French Fry," and "Green Flag Leclerc." Charles shook his head, muttering, "Never calling me that."

“Alright,” Charles started. “For Mark, we have: Idiot, Stupid, Pain in the A—”

“Hey! Those are not pet names,” Mark shot back. “Alright, for Charles, we have: Legend, Leclec, Little Prince, Sharles, Charlie, Mr. Always P3—”

“Take that back!” Charles shouted, slapping Mark's arm.

“I WILL NOT!” Mark cackled.

The cameras flickered on, capturing the two Ferrari drivers seated side by side, their faces lit with that familiar mischievous glow. It was another PR interview, but for some reason, the energy today was pure chaos.

Mark’s Verbal Blunders

Mark leaned forward, squinting at the question card in front of him. “If I’m correctly being wrong here…” he started, his face full of confidence.

Charles turned to him slowly, his face contorting in exaggerated disbelief. “What?” he deadpanned, his eyebrows shooting up.

Mark blinked innocently. “What?”

Charles rubbed his face with both hands, letting out a groan. “What does that even mean, mon dieu (my god)? You’re either correct or you’re wrong, Mark! Pick a side!”

"Words are hard, Charles. You wouldn’t understand," Mark deadpanned.

"I understand you’re an idiot," Charles shot back.

Mark snickered, leaning his elbow on the table. He gave Charles a cheeky grin, not knowing what he’d done. The crew behind the cameras burst into laughter, and Charles dropped his head onto the table, tapping it lightly like he was begging for mercy.

---

Later, when asked to offer each other words of motivation, Mark turned to Charles, face full of fake sincerity.

“Charles, God gives his strongest battles to his hardest soldiers,” Mark said with all the gravitas of a prophet.

Silence.

Then Mark added, "And you’re really hard."

Charles’ jaw dropped and in a concerned voice he said "MARK. NO!" He shoved him off his chair, both of them howling with laughter.

---

Mark’s "Brilliant" Ideas

Later, during a behind-the-scenes clip, Mark could be seen inspecting the area for a spot to shoot a promo. He gestured toward a concrete wall with a slick, graffiti-like design. “Hey, guys, can we get a shot so we’re behind that cool-looking wall?”

Charles glanced up, squinting at Mark like he’d just heard the dumbest idea of the century. “You mean… in front of it?” he asked slowly, each word loaded with mock confusion.

Mark froze, eyes darting to the wall, back to Charles, and then to the wall again. “…Yes.”

The entire crew erupted in laughter, and Charles put his hands on his hips, shaking his head like a disappointed parent. “C’est incroyable (This is unbelievable),” he muttered, grinning despite himself.

The Wierd Dilemma

Back in another interview chair, Mark tilted his head, eyes squinting like he was unlocking the mysteries of the universe. “Mosquitoes can fly, right?”

Charles sighed, knowing something ridiculous was about to follow. “Yes, Mark. Mosquitoes can fly.”

“But a fly can’t mosquito,” Mark added with a slow, thoughtful nod. “Isn’t that… concerning?”

The pause that followed was deadly. Silence stretched as the crew collectively realized what he’d just said. Charles blinked once. Twice.

“WHAT?!” Charles finally shouted, half-screaming, half-laughing as he threw his head back. “Are you serious right now?” He shook his head, face buried in his hands, muttering to himself in French. “Je ne peux pas faire ça (I can’t do this).”

Mark shrugged, a grin spreading across his face. “I’m just saying. Something to think about.”

Cultural Reflections

During a break, Mark leaned back in his chair, arms folded behind his head, looking especially thoughtful. Out of nowhere, he declared, “Good thing I wasn’t born in China.”

Charles looked over at him, confused. “Pourquoi (why)?”

Mark didn’t miss a beat. “I can’t speak Chinese.”

There was silence. Charles blinked at him slowly, lips parting as he processed what had just been said. Then he burst out laughing so hard that he doubled over, clutching his stomach. The crew behind the camera was howling too, and even the cameraman’s lens shook from the vibration of laughter.

“Arrête, arrête (Stop, stop),” Charles wheezed, gasping for air. “How do you live like this?”

Multilingual Chaos

At another point in the day, the interviewer asked a simple question, but Mark’s brain was miles ahead — or perhaps miles behind. He casually started answering in French, his words flowing smoothly. Charles blinked, visibly impressed, until suddenly Mark shifted into Italian mid-sentence.

“Et c’est pourquoi je pense que la stratégie devrait être… e poi abbiamo bisogno di concentrarci sul ritmo del settore finale (And that’s why I think the strategy should be… and then we need to focus on the pace of the final sector),” Mark rambled, his hands gesturing as if this all made perfect sense.

Charles tilted his head, brow furrowing. “Wait, wait, wait. Did you just—”

Charles snorted. “Tu es un homme étrange, Mark (You’re a strange man, Mark).”

Roasting Gone Right

“Mark, do you know what would really help your driving?” Charles said casually during a Q&A session.

Mark, already on edge, raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m dying to hear this.”

“Maybe if you focused on the road instead of the crowd. I’ve seen you waving at fans like you’re at a parade.”

Mark’s jaw dropped as the crew howled in laughter. But he didn’t stay stunned for long. “Okay, but at least I have fans to wave at.”

The entire room gasped. Charles clutched his chest like he’d been fatally wounded, leaning away dramatically. “Oh! Oh! Il m'a eu (He got me)!” he cried, hands over his heart like he’d just been stabbed.

Flirting Disguised as Banter

The lighthearted roasting escalated into something else entirely. As they stood next to each other for a photo shoot, Charles eyed Mark up and down, lips quirking into a smirk. “You think you’re cute, huh?” he teased.

Mark flipped his hair in an exaggerated, slow-motion gesture. “I don’t think. I know.”

Charles clicked his tongue. “Arrogant.”

“Je suis magnifique, et tu le sais (I’m magnificent, and you know it),” Mark shot back, giving Charles a wink.

Charles chuckled, looking away like he was trying not to be affected. “I hate you.”

“Love you too-” Mark replied instantly, grinning then freezing, realizing what just came out of his mouth.

Good thing Charles didn't hear it.

Fans ate up every moment, filling the internet with clips, edits, and comments:

@ferrarifangirl_23: "THE WAY CHARLES YELLED 'KEEP THEM ON' OMGGGG I’M CRYING."

@chaosmarkstan: "THE BLINDFOLD MOMENT WAS NOT PG. CHARLES. WE SAW YOUR FACE. YOU ARE NOT SLICK."

@charlesforever: "They’re basically future husbands at this point. Just get married already."

@f1_chaos: “The sexual tension is unbearable.”

@markcharlesupdates: “Charles said ‘keep it on’ but his *eyes said otherwise.”

@chaotic_scuderia: “Mark out here speaking French, Italian, and the language of dangerous seduction.”

@leclercspencer_stan: “Mark: ‘If I’m correctly being wrong’ Charles: ‘tf does that mean?’ ME: 'tf does that mean?'”

@allf1all_chaos:"The way Charles paused while blindfolding Mark. HE WAS HAVING THOUGHTS."

The internet’s collective reaction could be summed up in two words: “I’m dead.”