#I’ve just been drowning in end-of-year work | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sparklysung · 6 months ago

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✨SHARING IS CARING - l.d.h.✨

pairing – lee donghyuck x female!reader

genre – smut, fluffish | non-idol!au, roommates!au, friends (?) to lovers!au

warnings – oral (m. and f. receiving), face sitting, cum eating, squirting, exhibitionism (reader touches hyuck while he's on a call with his friends), unprotected sex (pls don't), lots of cursing, mentions of hyuck masturbating to the thought of reader), a little possessiveness at the end, panty thief!hyuck.

word count – 5.733 words

summary – where your roommate from hell is also hot as hell, and both of you enjoy annoying the hell out of each other.

note – so... i've been working –on and off but still– on this for about maybe 2 years? i just recently got inspiration to finish it lol any feedback would be greatly appreciated, just pls be kind <3 anyway, i hope you guys enjoy this!

“hey, y/n. have you seen my-.”

“how fucking rude of you to just walk in unannounced. what if i was naked or something? learn how to knock, you airhead.”

your face turned into an ugly scowl when your roommate and the cause of all your nightmares –and wet dreams–, lee donghyuck, completely ignored your complaint, looking equally annoyed as you.

“shut up,” the boy sneered, “is that my fucking shirt you have on right now? i’ve been looking for it for the past three days!”

you let your eyes trail down your body, the graphic tee barely long enough to cover your ass as your fingers toyed with the hem of the garment.

“oh, yeah. i found it while doing laundry and thought it looked good on me so i decided to keep it,” you shrugged carelessly, “don’t you agree, hyuck?”

the piece of clothing that was oversized on him fitted even bigger on you, drowning your smaller frame. you looked so soft and warm in it, so incredibly comfy the tip of his fingers itched to touch you. to feel your perky breasts through the soft fabric of his shirt.

he couldn’t deny it, you did look awfully good in his clothes.

but he would rather shit in his hands and clap than admit it out loud. especially to your face.

“i mean yeah you look good,” donghyuck mumbled under his breath, shamelessly licking his chapped lips.

when he noticed the sly grin etched on your face he had to pinch himself to force his eyes away from your alluring figure, careful not to get distracted by your smooth legs gracefully spread across the bed.

shaking his head, he tried to remember why he had almost left a dent on your wall from the way he had slammed your bedroom door open in the first place.

“but that’s not the point here. you stole my clothes!”

his words made you scoff loudly, clearly pretending to be offended by his accusation. “i still don’t see the problem. didn’t your mom teach you to share?”

your blank expression and unbothered attitude was so incredibly infuriating donghyuck felt like plucking his eyelashes one by one. and he had no doubt in mind you were well aware of it.

although most of your conversations consisted of you both bickering back and forth like two middle school kids fighting for the same toy, donghyuck had learned how that evil little mind of yours worked throughout the time you lived together.

your roommate may have not been the brightest lightbulb of all, but anyone with two working brain cells could agree that there was no activity in this world, nothing, that gave you as much joy as annoying the living hell out of him.

truth is, nothing could have prepared you –or donghyuck– for the turn of events your life would take in the span of 24 hours. the moment you opened the front door to your dorm apartment –fully expecting to see a fellow uterus-bearer–, to him, luggage in hand and ready to move into the room next to yours, you made it your ultimate goal to terrorize the poor boy.

and how could you not? your roommate-from-hell made it so easy for you to read him like an open book. one look at his face, at those big, expressive eyes and you could almost hear his thoughts.

“that’s my lucky shirt, i need it back. right now.”

“don’t you see i need it too? what am i supposed to wear if you take it away from me?”

“i don’t really care, y/n, that’s not my problem.”

“then come here and take it off yourself.”

the small gasp that tumbled out of his plush lips made a warm feeling pool at the pit of your stomach. if it weren’t because you were trying to fuck donghyuck and not fuck with donghyuck, you would have giggled.

“w-what?”

“you heard me. if you want it back you’ll have to come take it off with your own hands.”

“you’re fucking crazy. i-i, what the fuck, y’know i can’t do that!” donghyuck cried out, his skin beginning to prickle with frustration, heart rate spiked up to reach dangerous speeds. “c’mon, y/n, just give it back already. the guys are waiting for me.”

“too bad.”

your pouty lips had him clenching his fists. not only to stop himself from choking you to death, but also to ground himself. he could feel a droplet of sweat drip down the back of his neck, body temperature rising concerningly fast at your very clear attempt at taunting him.

if only he could have them stretched around him, struggling to fit the thickness of his dick…

but that was not the matter at hand.

donghyuck was known for always being late to everything. and usually it was for a good reason. like forgetting about an important assignment until the very last minute and having to stay home to submit it on time. or getting stuck in traffic. or maybe even finding himself in trouble for running his mouth too much for his own good.

all of them were pretty believable. things no one would ever have an ounce of a doubt could potentially happen.

but this, this right here was something donghyuck could never explain to anybody without them immediately calling him out for trying to bullshit his way out of trouble. even if it was indeed real, no one would believe him. ever.

and to be fair, it did sound like the plot of a bad porn movie, one probably titled something along the lines of ‘lucky guy fucks hot roommate’.

considering how big of an attention whore you were, he wouldn’t be surprised if you had your own only fans account and were seeking a helping hand. his hand.

“don’t you wanna fuck me, hyuck?”

if donghyuck wasn’t taken aback by your attitude before, he had to physically take a step back this time, jaw almost hitting the floor.

“why are you so horny all of a sudden?”

“wouldn’t you also feel horny if you had to constantly sit through your roommate getting off in the other room?”

donghyuck felt like a bucket of cold water was tossed over his head, and he couldn’t help the way his heart dropped to his feet. you could see him scrambling to think of something to say.

poor boy looked like he was caught committing a crime.

how adorable.

“okay, well, i’m sorry. i have needs, y’know? unfortunately i can’t control when my dick decides to get hard-.”

“i know you jerk off to the thought of me,” you interrupted abruptly, staring at him with a dangerous glint in your eyes. “i’ve heard you before.”

the blood instantly drained from donghyuck’s face. he suddenly felt lightheaded, having to lean against your door in case he fainted.

how did you even find out?

sure, he knew the walls were thin and not exactly soundproof. and yeah, your rooms were right next to each other, separated only by one of those thin walls he often joked about being made out of cardboard. but he always waited until you were out of the apartment to enjoy his much needed self care time. and he swore he was always quiet. as quiet as one can be when beating your meat to the thought of your sexy roommate.

“what are you-.”

“why don’t you just come fuck me instead of using your own hand?” you sounded as if you were offering him to wash the dishes, way too casual for the situation at hand. “i bet it doesn’t feel the same.”

donghyuck didn’t know what was going on. everything was moving too fast for his poor brain –rotten due to all the hours he had spent masturbating to hentai porn– to keep up, visibly struggling to process the situation.

“fuck, you can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to react.”

the thing is, that was exactly what you wanted. for him to lose his shit and fuck you into next week. shove his dick in your pussy without even bother to let you adjust to the stretch and take you to pound town for the next five hours.

“i’m not joking, hyuck. i meant what i said.”

someone pinch me, he thought.

was this a new way you discovered to toy with him? because if it was, then it was so fucked up.

“fine. i’ll call jeno over then,” you shrugged, reaching out for your phone at his lack of response. “i’m sure he wouldn’t mind sticking his big dick in my tight little pussy.”

your words hit donghyuck like a fucking truck. his jaw almost dislocated from how wide his mouth flew open, the tips of his ears turning a rosy color at the prospect of his friend. in bed. with you. fucking his huge dick –because everyone knew he was packing– into your needy hole. having you cream all over his cock, holding onto his strong arms as you cry out his name.

just the thought of your fucked out expression and loud whines had him salivating in his mouth.

donghyuck and jeno had been friends since forever, which meant he knew for a fact that his best friend would ditch him in a heartbeat if you did as much as look at him the way you were currently looking at your roommate.

“c’mon hyuck, i know you’re dying to touch me.”

the boy in front of you visibly struggled to keep himself together when one of your hands traveled down your body to rub yourself through the thin material of your pajama shorts. his knees felt weak, ears burning at the sound of your sweet moans.

“i need you.”

your words replayed in his head like a broken record. you said you needed him. not jeno. not anyone else. him. as in donghyuck. your roommate for the past year.

as much as he did want to touch you, feel every curve of your body, he was also scared you were just messing with him. he was scared that finally giving in to his desires would just embarrass him and ruin his almost nonexistent chance with you.

god, donghyuck liked you so much. his little crush on you had already become annoying the moment he realized it even existed.

you were the biggest tease he had ever met. and that says a lot coming from the lee donghyuck himself. you were always playfully flirting with him whenever you felt like it. or felt like giving him a hard time. and he could see it in your face you enjoyed every second of seeing him struggle to respond.

“i-i,” he gulped with difficulty, mouth dry as a desert. “i can’t.”

you watched the slim boy waddle his way out of your room. and you would’ve missed the tent growing in his shorts if he hadn’t almost tripped over his own feet and fallen next to you on your bed.

for around ten minutes, you remained frozen in place, figuring out how to get your roommate to break and give into his –and your– desires.

this was the closest you had gotten to crossing the line separating an innocent friendship –if you could call it that– between roommates from something more. something you both wanted but knew he was far too scared to try and make happen.

and how were you so sure about his feelings for you?

easy.

the boy wore his heart on his sleeve.

anyone could tell how enamored he was with you. how he visibly perked up whenever you were around. the way his cheeks would turn an adorable shade of red and his eyes alternate between staring at the floor, daydreaming about you, and sending heart eyes your way.

it had even become an ongoing joke within your own friend group. no one could –or wanted to– stop teasing you about his seemingly undying love for you.

“c’mon, just look at him,” chaewon once pointed out in the middle of the library, elbowing you while whisper-shouting, “he follows you around like a lovesick puppy. even to the library!”

as much as you wanted to shush her, she was right.

before he moved into your now shared apartment, he would remain at least a 100 miles radius from the library. it was as if he was allergic to knowledge, his handful of brain cells immediately going out of service at the smell of old books.

now, once you joined the picture, it was as if a switch was flicked. he became a regular at the campus library all of a sudden, so much so that even the old librarian tending the front desk knew him by name.

the end might be near, you thought when you first saw him sitting in a corner of the library, a variety of books sprawled across the table as he pretended to understand the book in his hands on quantum physics. you knew, of course, he didn’t. the boy was so busy looking around the building for something –or rather someone– to notice the book he was holding was upside down.

his blatant attempts at getting closer to you weren’t a complete fail though, as they had your heart skipping a beat every time you thought about the messy boy on the other side of your bedroom wall.

but before even thinking about how boyfriend material he was when he wasn’t trying to piss you off, you first wanted to test the waters. get a sneak peek at what dating donghyuck would look like without actually committing to it just yet.

and the only way you could think of to do so without forcing yourself into a vulnerable position and directly confessing was by fucking your roommate.

after taking a run for it out of your room, donghyuck decided he would have to do without his lucky shirt during this gaming session. hopefully only tonight. he knew the guys would not leave him alone if he was the reason for another loss, especially after boasting so much about his abilities the last time they played together.

sitting on his gamer chair, still shaken by the interaction, he ran his fingers through his hair to clear his reeling mind. he needed to forget about what had just happened in the other room and focus on the task at hand: winning rounds in pubg.

soon, donghyuck was able to immerse himself in the game, all thoughts about you drowning at the loud sound of firearms and the screams of his friends coming from his headset. so far he had been able to take down roughly a dozen other players, carrying the highest streak among his friends much to his delight.

however, the calm before the storm didn’t last long.

the boy tensed up, fingers stuttering over his gamer keyboard when you rested your warm cheek right next to the still noticeable bulge in his basketball shorts. instinctively, his legs parted to give you space to position yourself between them.

he hadn’t even noticed the moment when you had slipped into his room and quietly crawled under his desk, too deep into the game to sense the movement.

donghyuck would be lying if he said he had never thought about you on your knees for him before. so many, almost too many times. he wasn’t going to let this opportunity slide.

willing his heart to slow down a bit, he peered down at you. you looked so unbelievably beautiful with your long eyelashes fluttering delicately as you stared up at him, big eyes locked on his.

“keep playing,” your hot breath against his inner thigh had the hairs in his neck standing up.

he hadn’t even realized when exactly he had stopped playing, too busy engraving the visual in front of him in his head.

gulping with some difficulty, donghyuck did as he was told. usually it came easy for him to submerge himself in the game, tuning out everything but the loud voices of his friends.

“you’re so hard, hyuckie,” you snickered, licking your lips as your finger trailed the outline of his painfully hard cock with a feather-like touch that caused him to shiver. “is it all for me?”

he pursed his lips tightly and simply bobbed his head yes, afraid of his friends catching onto what was going on on his end of the call.

satisfied, you let yourself cop a feel of his length. your hand palmed him over his pants, squeezing around the sensitive head every so often. even through the material of his shorts you could feel the precum leaking out of his tip.

the view in front of you had you desperately rubbing your thighs together, thickened clit throbbing in excitement.

his silky hair, usually styled, was now messily framing his pretty face in the most beautiful way possible. his dark eyes were rolled back, slender fingers curling into fists as his hips raised from the chair, sloppily humping your hand. he looked fucked out already with sweat already dripping down his temple.

what a man.

“dude, what’s up with you? you sound like you just ran a marathon,” mark’s voice had donghyuck squirming in his seat, heart almost beating out of his chest. “are you alright?”

the boy’s head snapped to look at the screen in front of him, neck almost breaking from the aggressiveness of the movement.

“speak up,” you hissed through gritted teeth, tightening your fingers around the base of his cock.

his hips stuttered, hands holding on the edge of his desk as he swallowed the frustrated groan threatening to escape his lips. he heaved a shaky breath, summoning all his self control to not bust his load right then and there.

“i-i’m fine,” his voice sounded strained, as if he was struggling to make a sound. or more like to not make a sound. “shouldn’t have had taco bell for lunch.”

you could see the boy holding his breath, terrified his friends would see right through his weak excuse of a lie. and a sigh of relief almost slipped past his lips when they only hummed, quickly going back to their previous conversation, not very interested in digging into the cause of his unusual behaviour any deeper.

meanwhile, the pretty little devil between his legs got to work, releasing his dick by harshly pulling down his shorts. you blew air at the sensitive tip, making him shudder at the sensation. but it wasn’t until you placed a peck to his slit, fingers going to hold him at the base, pumping your fist up and down, when the boy gave into his primal desires.

“guys, gotta go,” donghyuck interrupted the conversation less than five minutes later, hurriedly clicking off the game and moving to end the call.

“what-,” renjun protested immediately, sounding nothing less than annoyed, and donghyuck was sure he would be getting nagged next time he saw his friend. “we’re in the middle of a round and getting our asses kicked because of you, you can’t just dip now!”

“i’m sorry,” was all he mumbled before turning off his computer.

donghyuck didn’t even bother taking off his headphones, opting for simply letting it hang around his neck. he was too close, too desperate for release to worry about getting sweat all over the –new and very expensive– device –that he had just acquired not even a week ago after months of hard work–.

he could feel how hot his face was, sticky skin burning under the intense heat of your gaze. the smug smirk that adorned your pretty face had his body on fire, a combination of embarrassment and need making his cock twitch uncontrollably.

being able to see the power you had over the lee donghyuck had you almost shaking with excitement, adrenaline pumping through your veins and leaving you out of breath. you would be lying if you said you had never thought about this, having him all to yourself, at your disposal, ready to take anything you gave him.

your hand never stopped moving up and down his length, giving kitten licks to the swollen tip of his cock.

he wanted to scream and smash his head against the desk, desperation clawing at his throat. he knew you were trying to break him, to make him beg for it, to fully give in to you.

the idea of pleading for your touch, for you to engulf his hard cock with that sweet little mouth of yours had his jaw clenching.

but fuck… he really wanted, no, needed more. to watch you gag as he fucked your throat, tears escaping the corner of your eyes at the discomfort. he wanted your soft hands gripping his strong thighs to hold yourself together, a mix of saliva and his precum making the lower half of your face glisten under the light of his screen.

“i,” he struggled to speak up, voice trembling from the intense pleasure. “i’m close.”

“i can see that,” you smirked, twirling your tongue around the head before gently poking his slit with the tip of your tongue.

“please, i need more.”

donghyuck finally broke, babbling incoherent words, urging you to fully take him in.

fortunately for him, you immediately obliged, pushing your head down until the tip of your nose hit his neatly trimmed pelvis. he really thought some more begging was going to be necessary for you to give him what he wanted.

“fuck, yeah. just like that,” the sigh of relief he let out quickly turned into a loud moan when you swallowed around him, nails digging into the skin of his thighs.

his orgasm hit him like a wrecking ball. his entire body began trembling, hands shooting to hold your head down –as if you were planning on pulling away–, fingers threading through your hair for a better grip. spurts of hot, salty cum painting the walls of your throat, and you eagerly swallowed everything he gave you.

the sound of his heavy breaths filled the dimly lit room, his body still trembling from the mind-blowing orgasm that had just rocked his world.

you pushed his gamer chair back by his thighs, climbing onto his lap with a satisfied hum. you allowed him some rest, aware of his shaky legs, and instead focused your attention on the tan skin of his neck. you placed a tentative lick right under his jaw, slowly moving down the expanse of his throat. the feeling had the boy’s adam’s apple bobbing aggressively, your fingers going to play with the hem of his shirt before pulling the fabric over his head and tossing it somewhere in the room.

once he stopped feeling like his legs were going to give up on him, donghyuck stood up from his place on the chair making you yelp in surprise, strong arms holding you against him. he then sat at the edge of his bed, head resting on your shoulder.

“i wanna taste you,” donghyuck pleaded, reaching for your waist to pull you closer. “please, sit on my face.”

you instantly nodded, quickly removing your pajama shorts, body tingling with anticipation as you pressed your palm flat on his chest to push him onto his back. he complied, not a single complaint coming out of his mouth at your display of dominance.

donghyuck swiped his tongue over his pretty lips, wetting them and leaving them glistening with spit as he patiently waited for your next move.

“so eager,” you teased, a smug grin on your face.

“stop playing and hurry up,” the boy whined, lifting himself from his place, holding himself up with the help of his forearms.

his eyes were barely open, pupils blown out. he looked so hot, laying shirtless on his messy bed. all hard and wet, ready for you to drop your panties and sit on his dick.

and oh how bad you wanted to sit on it.

swinging your leg over his body, you positioned yourself so your dripping pussy was hovering right over his mouth. you immediately felt his large hands grip at your ass, forcing you down to finally sit on his face.

“thank you,” you could clearly feel his lips moving against your panty-clad core, the breathy sound of his voice sending shivers down your spine. “god, thank you so much.”

you didn’t even get to laugh at him, or tease him about how desperate he looked sucking your juices off of your panties. all that died on your tongue when he used two fingers to push the crotch of your underwear out of the way and immediately latched his mouth to your pussy.

“look at you, what a messy munch, eating me out like your life depends on it,” you teased, biting your lip when you felt his tongue poke at your gaping hole, caressing your insides.

the dirty words coming out of your mouth had donghyuck physically shaking under your weight, urging him to keep going. he wanted nothing more than to see you cum, have your hips sloppily rocking into his pretty lips and leaving the evidence of your arousal all over his face.

“fuck, hyuck. just like that,” you sighed contently, harshly grinding against his mouth. “you’re such a good boy.”

donghyuck hummed appreciatively, relishing at the praise, eyes falling shut and hands reaching for your thighs, massaging the soft flesh.

he loved the attention you were giving him, and he let you know just how proud of himself he was when one of his palms slammed against your ass cheek before nipping at your clit, tongue swirling around the sensitive bud.

it all happened so fast that your orgasm caught you completely off guard. you didn’t even have time to flinch at the stinging on your backside, the knot in your stomach suddenly snapping, and you melted into a puddle. your trembling thighs clamped around donghyuck’s head, your entire upper body folding forward, struggling not to collapse on top of the boy under you.

you must have blacked out for a second there, and once you regained consciousness you were left in a breathless, sweaty mess.

“shit, that was so fucking hot,” donghyuck mumbled, sounding breathless as he stared down at his body with hooded eyes, snapping you out of your daze. “when were you going to tell me you could squirt?”

“i can’t-,” you choked on a loud gasp when you saw his now glistening chest.

your cum had sprinkled all over the place, some of it even reaching his naked thighs. embarrassment washed over your face, making your cheeks heat up.

“this is so much better than what i had hoped for, fuck.”

his pretty cock stood tall, in all its glory once again, hard and leaking, twitching every time his eyes travelled back to the mess you made.

swallowing your embarrassment, you moved to straddle your roommate’s hips, teasing your wet pussy over his hard cock. but before you could fuck yourself with it, donghyuck’s arms wrapped around you before flipping you both on your side.

“what are you doing,” you scowled, a pout on your swollen lips. “i was about to ride you!”

“as sexy as that sounds, we can do that later.”

“but-.”

“just, let me, okay?” his voice sounded so soft, so soothing you couldn't find it in you to fight with him as you usually would. “do you trust me?”

“what? what are you gonna do?”

“answer me, please.”

donghyuck’s soft voice and tender gaze made a wave of warmth spread throughout your body, a fuzzy feeling settling into your chest.

“i do.”

one of his hands grabbed your leg, bringing it to rest over his hip before positioning the head of his cock at your entrance. donghyuck smashed his mouth against yours, swallowing the small whimper that fell from your lips when he teased your clit.

“hyuck, put it in already,” you whined, clenching around nothing at the friction.

and how could he say no when you sounded so desperate to feel him? when he had been waiting for this moment for so long?

nodding, he did as you wished, pushing his hips into yours. his thick cock stretched your pussy wide open with each delicious inch, filling you up in a way you didn’t know you needed. his mouth fell open as your velvety walls enveloped him. your head rolled back, holding onto his arms for support, letting him push himself in further, deeper.

it felt like heaven. your bodies fitting perfectly against each other, as if you were both made for the other; just like puzzle pieces.

low groans left his chest at the sound of your tiny mewls, enjoying the burning sensation of your nails digging into the flesh of his arms.

donghyuck liked the way you said his name, how you called out to him with pretty eyelashes decorating those big eyes of yours as you looked at him. he liked the frustration and raw desire swimming in your eyes, and the way it made your lips form into a pout and your eyebrows scrunch together.

“move, hyuck,” you pleaded, attempting to grind your hips into his. “please.”

a scream was forced out of your throat as donghyuck immediately began slamming his throbbing cock inside of you. your whole body trembled in his arms as the bulbous head hit your g-spot, and almost as if he had just pressed a button, your mind went blank.

“t-there, fuck, oh my g-god.”

the distant look in your eyes, lips parted into a silent moan, drool threatening to drip down the corner of your mouth, let him know just how good he was making you feel. his chest swelled with pride, a newfound passion taking over him and turning his thrusts into deep, precise strokes that had you reaching heaven.

“feels good? this is what you wanted, right? to have my dick fucking you full?” donhyuck grunted, repositioning you on your back and hiding his face in the crook of your neck. he could feel himself throbbing wildly inside of you, warning him about his up and coming high.

“yes,” you gasped, legs tightening around his waist in an effort to bring him closer.

you would be telling the truth if you said you had never gotten railed like this before. who would’ve guessed the hentai-crazed dork next door would be so good at fucking you dumb? if it weren’t for his now obvious experience in the matter at hand you would’ve confidently assumed he had never been touched by a woman.

oh how wrong you were.

“i’ve dreamed about this for the longest time,” the boy confessed, “every time you walked around the place, wearing only a large shirt and panties, ass in full display, i had to lock myself in this room to fuck my first, wishing it was you instead.”

donghyuck could feel your walls clamping down on his cock like a vice at the weight of his confession. with your orgasms quickly approaching, he propped your calves on his strong shoulders to reach even deeper, lips going to kiss your breasts and nibble on your nipples.

“i can tell how much you like to be treated like the dirty slut you are,” he groaned against your chest, feeling his vision blur. “you’re fucking dripping all over me, creaming my cock.”

“h-hyuck,” your body began convulsing under him, about to tip over the edge.

“cum for me, y/n, let me see how pretty you look falling apart on my dick.”

and that was all you needed to hear before a wave of overwhelming pleasure washed over your entire body, calves squeezing donghyuck’s head from the intensity of your orgasm.

before you were able to fully ride your high, donghyuck pulled out, drawing whines out of you at the emptiness he left behind. ignoring your complaints, he shoved your legs together, shoving his cock between your plush thighs as he picked up his pace once again.

“fuck, i’m almost there,” he moaned, breathless.

and you couldn’t help but do the same as you stared at his face, eyes struggling to stay open as he chased his high like a rabid dog, using your body for his pleasure.

it didn’t take more than three harsh thrusts before he was spilling his essence all over your lower stomach and thighs with a pornographic moan.

releasing his hold on your legs to let them fall back in place, he collapsed on top of you, almost crushing you with his body, completely spent.

fortunately –or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it–, donghyuck was unable to successfully commit homicide. and after showering together and going for another round, each of you went back to your respective rooms, moving on like nothing happened.

just like that, your lives quickly fell back in place and normality took over once again.

or so you thought.

“hyuck, have you seen my pink panti-.”

you audibly gasped when you saw the pink lace panties you were searching for discarded on your roommate’s bed, a huge cum stain you were sure was not there the last time you saw them messily smeared on the crotch.

“what the fuck?”

“oh, yeah, i saw them in the dryer the other day and thought they looked too pretty not to jerk off to them,” the boy shrugged from his place in front of his large monitor, not even bothering to look at you. “honestly, you should invest in satin thongs, i think they’d look hot as fuck.”

“you little thief! i’ve been looking for them for days!”

“need i remind you that sharing is caring?” you huffed, a scowl on your face. “what do you need them for anyway?”

“to go out with chaewon, obviously?” you scoffed, annoyed.

he finally turned to look at you, eyebrows scrunched up and a dark look in his eyes. “so? were you planning on showing them to her or what?”

the growing annoyance in his tone left you scrambling for an answer, equally parts surprised and turned on by the hint of possessiveness in his voice.

“so what if i was?” you challenged, arms crossed in defiance.

you barely got time to react when his chair suddenly swirled around, donghyuck’s full attention now set on you.

“only i am allowed to see you in them, so you better behave.”

–lia:)

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my-castles-crumbling · 1 month ago

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man - may 25 - jegulus - @taylorswiftmicrofic - word count: 512

“Marlene asked me if I was gay today.”

Regulus almost choked on his own spit. It’d been weeks of this….thing, this strange friendship, with James Potter, and he suspected he would never get used to the other boy’s open way of speaking. “What did you say?” he asked after he got proper working use of his mouth again.

“Said I didn’t know. I’ve never kissed a boy before, have I?” James said casually, walking along beside Regulus as they completed Prefect Rounds.

Suddenly, Regulus couldn’t breathe properly. What was he supposed to say to that? Certainly, screaming aloud that he would happily volunteer wasn’t a friend thing to do. But the sad truth of it was that he’d been disgustingly obsessed with the annoying enigma that was James Potter for months. Years, if he was ready to admit it. Which he wasn’t. He decided to go with a different answer. “It’s different than kissing girls,” he said vaguely, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh? You’ve kissed boys?” James asked, his footsteps slowing.

Fuck. He’d figured the older boy knew. “Erm. Yeah. It’s…I’m gay,” he nodded, wanting to sink into the ground.

“Maybe you can show me, then? How to kiss a bloke?”

Oh, this was a dream. It had to be. Because on the one hand, it was everything Regulus had ever wanted–kissing the boy he’d pined after for ages. But on the other…to be able to kiss James only to be told that no, he didn’t like boys like that. Or worse, that he liked boys, but not Regulus…Salazar, that would kill him.

But he’s never been good at making great choices, so he spoke without thinking. “I could,” he murmured, keeping his voice aloof, heart in his throat.

How had he ended up with his back against the wall? How had he hot realized how much taller than him James was? How was it that their lips hadn’t even touched yet, but he was already reeling? All he knew was that suddenly, James was almost pressed against him, his mouth just centimeters away, and Regulus wanted to drown in him.

He told himself to keep control.

He forgot as soon as their lips touched.

Gasping, his hands moved of their own accord to grab James’s curls, his back arching and his feet rising on tiptoe to get a better angle as James, who seemed just as eager as he was, licked into his mouth almost immediately, swallowing his noises.

His head was swimming in the best way, his body on fire, his every nerve a live wire, something warm and honey-like pooling in his stomach when James let out a low groan and pressed forward. Fuck, and he tasted so fucking good.

After several seconds, James pulled back, looking nothing less than dazed.

Regulus regained enough sense to lower his hands and try to calm his gasping breaths. “How–what d’you think?” he asked, trying to be casual about it, even as his whole body sang.

“Yes. Yes, I like men. You specifically,” James mumbled, wide-eyed, before pulling Regulus toward him again.

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sinner-as-saint · 2 years ago

Text

run for your life

Mob!Bucky x Reader

Summary: He was away from the city for a while, chasing after some bastards who betrayed him. But the traitors were no longer breathing now and Bucky Barnes was finally able to come home to the city he ruled. Mostly, he was excited to come back and see his girl again. However when he got to the strip club where you worked as a waitress, he didn’t find you there. They told him you didn’t work there anymore. No one knew where you went, or why you left. Nobody even knew your real name. Now it was up to him to search the whole wide world to find a nameless girl – one he was obsessively, mindlessly in love with.

Themes: slight stalker!bucky, possessive!bucky, mild degrading kink, smut, FLUFF, opposite aesthetics, mild daddy kink (nicknames only), cosy little town vibes

a/n: some fluffy mob!bucky to end the year <3 Thank you so much for always supporting my silly little fics. Merry Christmas my darlings, and happy New Year!! See you soon ;)

He didn't know where exactly he would end up locating you, but finding you in a cosy, small, coastal town in the south of France was not on his list.

You being the owner of a gourmet bakery was not on his list either. Bucky was confused, surprised, but mostly confused. How did this happen? At first, when Sam came to deliver him the news of your location that morning, Bucky didn’t believe him. Had Sam not been Bucky’s oldest, most loyal friend Bucky would’ve never believed him at all.

“I’m gonna need you to stop being a dumbass and go find this girl!” Sam, ever the voice of reason yelled at Bucky who had been drowning in his sorrows. “It’s been months, and I can’t keep covering for your ass. I have my own shit to do, my own men to command.” He used that cool, authoritative voice of his. “Pull yourself together, Buck. Go find her.”

Sam was right. Of course he was. He always was. And it had really been months since that damned night…

—

Bucky couldn’t wait to get out of his plane the moment it landed. It was late at night, but the perfect time to go to the club. He had missed it. Well, not the whole club really. Bucky had missed you.

He had a… special connection with you. His girl. His only girl. His favourite girl.

This time, he thought, he would do whatever he can to solidify whatever was happening between the two of you. Maybe he’d even get you to go on a real date with him. Maybe that would lead to something more. He was smiling to himself just thinking about it.

He often thought back to the night you met. He was at the club after a long day of being the dark ruler he was. All he wanted was a drink and a pretty woman on his lap. That’s when he found you.

Right as he walked in, you caught his eye. Walking around serving drinks, wearing a little see-through red dress that brought every man you walked past to his knees.

Once he got to his booth, Bucky called you over. You walked towards him sheepishly.

“I’ve never seen you around here before, beautiful.” He said, patting his thigh. He noticed the way you hesitated. Must be new, he thought.

You carefully perched on his lap, holding your empty metal tray to your chest. Bucky smirked as he looked at it, like you were putting a makeshift barrier between the two of you. When you remained quiet and squirmy, Bucky spoke up again.

“Come on, babygirl. Talk to me, it’s okay.” He whispered at his nuzzled your neck. “I don’t bite. Unless you ask nicely, then I might.”

His warm breath against your skin tickled. You chuckled as you pulled away to look at him. “Um, I’m just a waitress. I’m not supposed to…” You trailed off. Both of you were aware of the no-contact ‘rule’. But there was a natural, unexplainable spark there that neither of you could ignore.

“Hmm,” His chest rumbled. “How about we go somewhere private?” He whispered into your ear and noticed the way you shivered.

You hung your head, clutching your metal tray. “Waitresses aren’t supposed to go into the VIP rooms, sir.” You said quietly, just loud enough for him to hear you above the sensual music.

Bucky smirked. Then leaned in and whispered, “I suppose I can bend the rules a little given I co-own the club.”

You froze and went to stand up immediately, already apologising but he wrapped his arm around your waist, keeping you on his lap.

“It’s okay, babygirl. You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

The two of you ended up in one of the VIP rooms. Nothing happened, you just kissed and talked and kissed some more. Bucky promised to come back. And he did. For months. Again and again and each time he did, you were drawn to him like he was gravity from the very moment he walked into the room.

And that night he landed after being away for weeks, he expected you to run right into his arms the moment he’d enter the club like you always did. He even got you a nice little gift to make up for the time that he’d been away. It was a rare, red diamond choker. He could already imagine how it would look around your neck. Like a brand. His.

But then he got to the club. And he noticed everyone was avoiding his eyes almost anxiously. And his girl was nowhere to be seen. He searched for you in the main area for a while, then even searched the VIP rooms, vowing to commit horrible crimes if he ever found you in there with another man.

But no.

He called Sam, who co-owned the club, and Sam had no idea who he was talking about. Bucky asked the staff members, and one bartender finally told him that you’d resigned a few weeks ago. And no one knew where you went. He asked for your full name, but no one knew that either.

Not even Sam. “I didn’t even know we had a new waitress, Buck. I have more important shit to worry about.” He’d said, adding to the burning sensation in Bucky’s chest.

“She left me.”

Sam had no idea what his best friend was babbling about. And during the many months that followed, Bucky was a mess. A mess like Sam had never seen before. Frantically scanning country after country, searching for a girl with no name. He was in love, and he wasn’t giving up. He would find his girl come what may.

—

But now Bucky knew where you were.

And he was more confused than ever. He had even more questions.

Bucky spent a whole week in that little town. Watching you, learning your routine, observing and questioning. He disguised himself as a local and always kept his distance even though his hands itched to touch you.

At first he was bothered by how you were fine with living the same day everyday. Your routine seemed boring at first, but the more he watched, the more he realised it was sort of therapeutic. The normality of it all.

He rented an apartment on the other side of the street from your bakery, and he spent hours watching you.

You lived right above the bakery. A quaint apartment, with flower pots all around the french windows. Sometimes when you forgot to turn the lights off at night, Bucky spent the whole night spying on you, counting your breaths as you slept on your couch in front of the TV.

You’d wake up at the crack of dawn, then you’d feed your dogs. He noticed you had two. Lazy, both of them. Then you’d get downstairs and within half an hour, the cool air that entered his apartment carried the smell of the sea and baked goods.

All he wanted was to cross the cobblestone street and drag you to his bed, demand answers while fucking some sense into you. But the more he watched you, the more his anger diminished. Temporarily.

The genuine smile on your face as you served your loyal customers all day, especially the ones who always came early in the morning on their way to work. The occasional sound of your voice or your laughter that slipped past whenever someone didn’t close the door right. The sound of children squealing and laughing whenever you gave away leftover baked goods or donuts in the evenings. How you knew almost everyone by name. How sometimes you invited neighbours over for wine nights. How you went on little walks in late, cool evenings, forcing your lazy pets to walk but then ending up having to carry them on the way back. They were spoiled, he realised. He hated to admit that he was jealous of the damned dogs who got so much of your attention while he starved for it.

He wasn’t angry by the end of that first week of spying, he was just hurting. How dare you live a whole new life without him? How dare you laugh and seem like you don’t miss him? He’d just spent months looking for you and here you were, just going about your day like you didn’t care? Like none of those nights you’d spent together mattered?

Meanwhile he was shaking just reminiscing the way your touch felt across his skin. He remembered the first time the two of you crossed that line in one of the VIP rooms…

You were wearing that red dress again. Fucking tease, he hissed each time you moved or squirmed on his lap.

“Baby, please,” He groaned. “Just… let me touch you. Daddy will make you feel good, so good babygirl, I promise.” He pleaded, hands caressing your soft, warm thighs.

You shook your head, popping another one of those chocolates he brought you into your mouth and sucking your fingers after. Torturing him.

“We can’t,” You insisted, with nothing but mischief in your eyes as you looked at him. “You made these rules yourself, remember?” You chuckled when he groaned again when you straddled him properly.

“I don’t give a shit about rules.” He hissed, nuzzling your neck. Slowly, he kissed up and down your neck. “I just wanna taste you. That’s it. Just a taste.”

That’s how he found himself on his knees, face in between your thighs. His skilled tongue making you whine and whimper as you tugged on his hair. Bucky hummed in appreciation the more he tasted you.

“Come on daddy’s face, baby…”

That’s it.

Bucky decided he would go see you the next morning. He would drag you back home if he had to, but he wouldn’t spend another day without you. Who did you think you were? No one just tosses him aside like this. He’d remind you who he was and then you’d both go home right away.

—

Bucky woke up to a thunderstorm. Weather around here was unpredictable. He got out of bed and immediately looked outside to find your bakery empty. No customers in sight because of the heavy rain, lightning and thunder. The golden light was on though.

He decided it was time to go have a talk with you. He promised not to lose his temper. He would go in there calmly, talk it out with you. Ask you what the fuck you are doing here, and then he’d take you home.

But that ended up not happening.

Bucky crossed the slippery cobblestone street, walked into your comforting, sweet smelling bakery and froze. He froze right there at the entrance.

As did you. Standing there behind the wooden counter, oven mittens in your hand and apron in another, you stared at Bucky with nothing but pure shock and surprise on your face. A thousand thoughts, mainly questions, crossed your mind.

What is he doing here? How did he find you? Why is he dressed casually like a local, wearing soft colours instead of his usual suits? How long has he been here? What is he doing here?

You let out a little gasp. “Bucky?”

Wrong move, apparently. Because his demeanour changed in a nanosecond. His calm and collected-ness was forgotten instantly. Jaws clenched, with a murderous look in his eyes, he walked closer, more like charged at you, and around the counter before you could even get a word out.

He had you pinned to the nearest wall before you could process it all. Knocking down a framed picture in the process. Towering above you, he looked like he was beyond pissed.

“Bucky, I—,”

“Shut up.” He hissed, voice cold with bitterness and anger. He watched how you shivered when he pinned your wrists to the wall on either side of your head. “Shut the fuck up.”

He leaned closer, chest pressing against yours leaving no space in between. He closed his eyes and sighed for a moment, trying his hardest to see reason but he was angry. So angry he couldn’t think.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He spoke with such a low voice that you trembled against him, causing him to tighten his grip around your wrists, surely bruising them. You didn’t care.

You winced, “I can explain.” Fuck, you’d missed him too. It had been months since you last saw him. He was just as handsome as you remembered. His hair was a little longer now, his beard a little thicker. But he made your heart race just the same. “Please Bucky,” You whispered, “let me explain everything to you.”

“No.” He growled before pressing his mouth to yours, angrily. Like he wanted his kiss to hurt. And it did.

His rough facial hair scratched your skin, his teeth nibbled on and bit your lips. His hands damn near crushed your wrists in his strong grip. And he didn’t give you even the briefest second to breathe. He kissed you just like how he imagined he would do once he found you. Ravenously. Pouring everything he felt into it. Desperation, anger, hurt, obsession. He couldn’t get enough.

“Bucky…” You gasped against his lips when he finally pulled away. Breathing fast, you tried to get a look at him but he just seemed even more angry.

“Turn around,” He mumbled, forcing you to turn around anyway. Fuck, the sight of you in that long, flowy, sundress was doing things to him. He was never this bothered when you used to parade around in your little see-through dresses, but somehow the sight of you in this pink, floral dress was making him act like a caveman.

His movements were rash and angry. He almost tore your dress off of you while he shoved his rough hand in between your legs and touched you where you desperately wanted him to. You whined and trembled against the cool wall when he slid a finger in, fucking you with it while he hissed into your ear.

“I should punish you for what you did to me,” His deep voice made his chest rumble against your back. “I should tie you up and fuck you however I want.”

Your dress was partially off, bunched and only hanging on around your waist. Being so dishevelled made this even dirtier. You were moaning by now, hoping the heavy rain would blur your actions from anyone who walked by the shop. Or god forbid, walk in.

“How dare you think you can just leave me?” He demanded, sliding another finger inside you and making your body come alive.

You were embarrassingly wet at this point, and the sounds your body made as he finger-fucked you were lewd. But you couldn’t get enough.

More, more, more. You mentally chanted.

Bucky wasn’t having the silent treatment, so he smacked your thigh to get your attention. You yelped. Your skin stung as he smacked it again, on the same spot. Harder this time. You cried out even louder as he kept taunting you. “Answer me, you fucking brat!” His lips brushed against the back of your neck as he spoke. “Why did you leave me?”

You cried as he kept fucking you with his fingers you even as you came. His fingers sliding in and out with ease now. The sounds you made were wanton. “You… you left first.” You tried to argue. But failed miserably.

He chuckled in that dark and dangerous way of his. “I left for work.” He said, “And I promised you I’d be back.” He reached deeper inside you, curling his fingers just enough to make you mutter incoherent things. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

“Please, please, please…” You begged. “Please I need to come, Bucky please.”

“Oh?” He chuckled again, slowing down his movements purposely. “No one touched you, huh?” He playfully bit on your exposed shoulder. “You’re so fucking wet it’s dripping down my hand, babygirl.” He boasted. “Is it because no one has touched you these past few months? Hmm?”

“Yes…” You had tears streaming down your face, and you nodded breathlessly. “Please…”

But instead of making you come all over his fingers, Bucky pulled away for a brief moment. You couldn’t see him, but you could hear him undoing his trousers. And moments later, he was rubbing the tip of his cock against your wet folds. You shivered in pleasure.

“I’m gonna teach you what happens to people who think they can run from me, babygirl.” He growled as he pushed his cock into you, making you cry out loud as he stretched you out.

After months of not having him, right now he felt huge inside you. Just like that, memories of nights spent with him came flooding back in. You moaned as his fingers found your clit again, rubbing it in sync with his thrusts.

His hand gripped you by the hips, holding you against him as he sped up into you, fucking you like he hated you. Like it was punishment. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and licked, and bit on your skin as he fucked into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls.

“Did you think I’d never find you?” He asked, fucking into you. “I bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me, hmm?”

You’d missed him too. He could tell by the way you were starting to clench around him already. Bucky nibbled at the skin under your ear and you lost all control you had left. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was how good he felt inside you.

“See, it didn’t have to be like this, baby…” he mumbled angrily against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “I could be nice and gentle with your body, but you just had to be a fucking brat and leave me with no warning.” He spat, growling in your ear as he pounded into you, your chest slamming into the wall with each thrust. It hurt in the best way.

“You feel so fucking good, baby,” He moaned against your ear and the sound sent shivers down your back. Your legs started to shake as he quickened his pace, pounding into you mercilessly.

The pleasure, the pain, the heat of him… was too much and you couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Bucky–,” You choked on your words as you came undone, walls clenching around him, and a loud moan erupting from your mouth as he made you come hard. It was almost blinding.

His thrusts became irregular as he came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning out loud when he felt your walls pulsating violently around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” He came while biting down hard on your shoulder. So hard that even you cried out, still coming down from your high as you felt him spill deep inside you.

That bite on your shoulder hurt. And like a chain reaction, everything began to hurt. Having him here hurt. Memories of being with him in the city, in the dark rooms of that club hurt. Realising how fast your life changed hurt.

You didn’t realise you were sobbing quietly until you heard Bucky apologising profusely. Suddenly no longer angry. No longer feeling betrayed.

“Fuck, baby. I’m so sorry.” He kissed that sore spot softly, his bite mark on your shoulder repeatedly as he wrapped his arms around you, securing you in the comfort of his embrace. “I don’t know what came over me, babygirl. I’m so sorry, please look at me. Hey, hey,” He pulled away and turned you so you faced him, still with tears in your eyes. “Babygirl, I’m so sorry.” He whispered, wiping your tears away, then kissing your face repeatedly.

You remained like that for a few minutes. Arms wrapped around one another, standing there against that wall while it rained like hell outside. Bucky didn’t stop apologising.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been an animal like this with you, I—,”

You cut him off finally, “Shh, it’s okay.” You pulled away from his warm chest to look up at him. “I needed this.” You said, sniffling as you gently cupped his rough cheek, caressing his face with your thumb. “I needed you like this.”

He just hugged you close again, kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry.” He apologised one final time. “I’ll listen, I promise. I’ll listen to whatever you have to say.”

You smiled faintly at him. “Then I should lock up down here and we can go upstairs. I don’t want to scare my neighbours by risking them finding us like this.” You looked down at your partially torn dress and Bucky’s unbuttoned trousers.

Much to your surprise, Bucky said, “You go ahead, I’ll close and lock up.”

You frowned at him even as you desperately tried to get the top of your sundress to cover your chest. “You wouldn’t know how to…” You trailed off as realisation set in. He was a calculated, smart man. He didn’t just apparate on your doorstep with no planning. “You’ve been watching me.” You stated, raising an eyebrow at him.

Bucky gave you a rare, guilty look.

You sighed and shook your head. “I guess I chose this life by getting involved with you.” You gave him a faint smile. “Alright then, lock it. Leave the key in the little basket by the door.” You started walking towards the stairs, then turned around again and said, “Make sure the windows are properly locked too, because of the rain and stuff.”

“Yes ma’am,” Bucky nodded.

You smirked at him.

With that you took the stairs and Bucky watched you go with a fond smile on his face. No one ever ordered him around. He hated it. But coming from you, he quite liked it.

Bucky chuckled at himself because never in his life had he ever imagined he would one day be closing up a bakery in a small town, all for the woman he’s obsessively in love with. But he didn’t mind it one bit.

After following your instructions and double checking the windows, he made his way upstairs as well. Again, he didn’t know what he expected your place to look like – and all that spying only allowed him glimpses of your apartment – but he never expected your space to look so…

Pink. With occasional gold accents. Pale pink couch, the one you often fell asleep on while watching TV, and fluffy white pillows and rugs to go with. Paintings hanging on even paler pink walls. The kitchen he couldn’t quite see but he assumed it’d have to be all white. Pink dog beds, with fluffy balls of brown fur sleeping on them – wearing pink collars no less.

He couldn’t see your bedroom from the living room given the door was closed but given the pink, fluffy robe and socks you wore he could imagine just how pink it must be.

“It’s so girly.” He commented, as if surprised. Maybe he was a little. After all, he knew you as the seductive goddess he met almost every night at the club. He never realised that it was all just a show, that it was all just a persona at work. In a way, stepping into your space felt so intimate. He liked it.

You chuckled. “Coquette, please.” You corrected as you handed him a glass of red wine while he took a seat beside you. He did look a little out of place in your apartment, a dark and broody man like him. But then again, he was here and that’s all that mattered.

He turned to look at you and couldn’t resist holding your hand and pulling you onto his lap again. “Come here,” He said, “I’ve missed you.”

As you straddled his lap, your robe exposed some of your shoulder and Bucky saw the very noticeable bite mark he left on you. He grimaced when he saw it. He placed his wine glass to the side and traced the bite mark with his thumb carefully.

“I’m sorry, babygirl.” He whispered, leaning in to nuzzle your neck and kiss the bite mark. And breathe in your scent. Fuck, he’d missed it so much. “You smell a little different. Fruitier.”

You giggled when his hair tickled your skin. “I made blueberry compote earlier this morning. Perhaps that’s why.”

You could feel him smiling against your skin. Then he pulled away to look at you. His hands shamelessly slid under your robe, eager to touch your skin. Relishing it this time, not in a feral hurry like he was earlier. He seemed visibly calmer too.

“We used to spend hours like this at the club, remember?” He spoke, and immediately you were overwhelmed with nostalgia.

Hours, days, weeks, months. Some days back then you would wake up in the morning already excited to see Bucky in the evening. And it wasn’t because it was all sexual. So many nights all you two did was drink, laugh and talk about everything. He once told you that apart from Sam, you were his only real friend.

Bucky kissed you, breaking you out of your reverie surely thinking of the past as well. It was a slow, gentle kiss. It was consuming you. His hands caressed your thighs which were still a little sore from earlier. You winced in pain when he massaged the spot where he spanked you.

Bucky pulled away from the kiss, apologising again as he kissed down your chin. “I’m sorry, babygirl.”

You smiled at him after taking a sip of your wine. “Stop pretending as if we were always vanilla or that this is scandalous in any way shape or form.” You chuckled as you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “We both know this was nothing compared to how we used to be.”

Bucky smiled, a little sadly. “I missed you.” He repeated. “Tell me,” He said, “Tell me everything.”

You finished your wine. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you start working at the club?” He caught the look of sadness that suddenly appeared on your face upon hearing the question.

“I… I had to drop out of uni because my grandparents fell sick.” You explained. “Mom and dad were travelling for work at the time, and I was the only one who could take care of grandma and grandpa. The treatments and all ended up costing a little more than what we had so I needed a job that paid well, I also needed one that would allow me to be flexible with my time so I could take care of my grandparents.”

Bucky nodded, “Hence the club.”

You nodded in confirmation.

“Your parents never intervened? So you could finish your education?” He questioned.

“No.” You said, almost emotionless. “When they found out what I was doing, where I was working to earn the extra money we needed… they kind of disowned me. And vowed to never talk to me again.” You chuckled, humourlessly.

“They don’t deserve you.” Bucky said quickly, wrapping his arms around you and hugging you close. “You were so brave baby, I wish you would’ve told me all of this.”

You slid your fingers into his hair and massaged his scalp gently. “You were already taking care of me.” You said, “You mended my heart a little each night when I saw you.”

“I wish I could’ve done more.” He kissed along your collarbones, then froze again as if he remembered something. “I almost forgot,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a sleek black box. “I got you something.” Then clarified, “Well, I got you this months ago. I would’ve given it to you had you not run away from me.”

You rolled your eyes at him, “I didn’t run from you, I–,”

He cut you off with a finger on your lips. “Tell me about that part in a minute,” He opened the slender black box to reveal the red diamond choker inside. “I had this made for you.” He watched your face intently.

“Bucky…” You hesitantly reached for it, running your fingers over the beauty of it. It was a simple design. Elegant, timeless. Way too expensive. “I can’t take this,” You began protesting, “It’s too much.”

Bucky made a face and said, “Oh shut up.” He was already clasping it around your neck before you could protest any further. “It’s a gift from daddy,” He whispered against the corner of your lips. “You deserve it, babygirl.”

When he pulled away to look at you, his heart almost broke again at the sight of the tears in your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked, wiping your tears away for the second time today. “Is it that ugly?”

You laughed through the tears. “No, it’s the prettiest thing I own.” You sniffled. “The only piece of real jewellery in fact.” You leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”

“Remind me to get you a whole collection.” Bucky pulled you closer and kissed you deeply.

Then it turned into something more and by the time the afternoon rolled around, the two of you had lost count how many times you’d made love on your pink couch. Slow touches and cuddles, and soft kisses always resulted in the two of you fucking again.

—

In the late afternoon, while snacking on random things Bucky realised you still hadn’t explained how you ended up here.

“Grandma and grandpa’s bakery.” You explained, watching the rain pour outside. “They left it to me. They died within weeks of each other,” You said with a melancholic smile on your face, “I always knew that would happen. They loved each other too much to live without one another for too long.”

You turned to look at Bucky who pulled you onto his lap again and held you as tightly as possible. You weren’t crying this time, but being held felt nice.

You continued, “I had funerals to plan, I had to pack up my life and move all the way here, I had to take on the responsibility of the bakery and renovate this apartment. And you were already gone at the time so…” You sighed. “I didn’t know if I should leave a note or not. I didn’t know if you were actually coming back or–,”

“I would never abandon you. I thought you knew that.” Bucky said, a little annoyed at that. “I made you a promise, did you not–,”

You couldn’t help but argue, “Yeah well, I didn’t know if what we had was real enough for you to come back to.”

Bucky frowned. “Baby…”

You gave him a small smile, and pressed your forehead against his, rubbing your noses together. “I know now. It is.”

When you finally pulled away from his addicting embrace you said, “I’m gonna get started on dinner. You can shower in there,” You pointed at your bedroom door as you got up from the couch. Bucky tried to grab you again but you pulled away laughing. “The weather is clearing up, we can have dinner outside on the patio.”

You threw him a wink and made your way into the kitchen.

Bucky finally got up and walked into your bedroom. Just as he imagined, the place was all white, gold, and pink. He actually laughed when he walked into the bathroom and found it pale pink as well. He’d grown to love it too by now.

–

You were busy at the stove, making your best seafood pasta, when you felt strong arms wrapping around you from behind.

“How’d you like my bedroom?” You asked, smirking already as you pictured him in your very girly space.

“It’s very pink. The bed looks comfy,” He whispered into your ear, “I’m gonna fuck you in it later.”

You chuckled and passed him another glass of wine. As you turned to face him again, you couldn’t help but laugh out loud. There he was, one of the scariest men you knew, standing in your grandma-core kitchen, wearing a fluffy white robe with pink clouds on it.

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Oh don’t comment on it. I can already hear Sam laughing his ass off and he’s not even here.”

You laughed even harder before you kissed his cheek. “It suits you.” You said. Then you handed him a couple of plates and pointed at the patio which could be seen from the kitchen window, “Can you set the table?”

He finished his wine and then mumbled on his way out like a grumpy old man, “First close the bakery, now set the table,” He shouted from outside, “You know, if this whole thing was your elaborate plan to hire me as your domestic helper, you could’ve just asked, babygirl.”

You laughed at him from inside the kitchen. You shook your head as you watched him. Wearing your fluffy robe, setting the small table on your patio. The view of the ocean from that patio was to die for, and the setting sun was just sublime. The golden lights you’d hung above the cute little dining area added to the cosy atmosphere. Now with the weather a lot nicer than it was hours ago, you could hear the small town coming alive again. Voice and laughter, children cycling down the cobblestone.

And Bucky. Bucky was here too. Winking at you from the patio. And you thought your life had ended when your parents disowned you. You scoffed at the thought. Then you thanked whatever god was listening for bringing Bucky back to you.

—

During dinner, Bucky filled you in on what he was up to while you were gone. And you did the same. One bottle of wine turned into two, then you and Bucky laughed at random things while you did the dishes.

Then you found yourselves in your bed. And like he promised, Bucky made love to you there as well.

His muscular body hovered above yours. He looked down at you with nothing but love and desire in his eyes as you undid the ridiculous robe to let his cock out. He was hard already.

“Think I like you a lot in this robe.” You teased.

Bucky laughed before leaning in for a kiss again. He nibbled along your skin, from your mouth to your neck as he parted your legs and slid into you.

You gasped as your walls welcomed him perfectly. He was nice and snug inside you, stretching you out in a way that had you whining and whimpering under him in no time.

Bucky laced your fingers together and pinned both your hands above your head on your pink covers as he sped up into you. Your eyes rolled back once he started moving in and out of you. Taking his sweet time, loving the way his warm skin rubbed against yours.

He leaned in and kissed your lips again, groaning and panting against your lips as he fucked you slowly. “I love you.” He breathed against your mouth. “So fucking much.” He kissed along your skin and moaned into your ear as he sped up. “I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

“Oh Buck,” You smiled up at him, “I love you.”

“You’re mine.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you as he made you come again.

“And you’re mine.”

—

You woke up some time in the middle of the night, thirsty after all that wine from earlier. But the moment you sat up to get out of bed, Bucky woke up too. Asking in his groggy voice, which you had never heard before but concluded that it was kind of hot, “Where are you going? What is it?”

You smiled and kissed his forehead while getting out of bed, “Just thirsty. I’ll be right back.”

Bucky got up after you, getting out of bed as well. “I’m coming too.” He said, “I worry this girly room might engulf me if you leave me here alone.” He joked, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he followed you out and into the kitchen.

Truth is, he didn’t want to be apart from you for even a second.

You handed him a glass of cold water while you put some water to boil to make tea. Some green tea should put the two of you right back to sleep, you thought.

So there you were in your cosy kitchen, wrapped in a soft blanket. Bucky leaned against the counter watching you. He was shirtless, just in some white, cotton pyjama pants that you lent him. They didn’t fit him at all but something about him in your clothes made him seem adorable.

You were both quiet. But you could feel Bucky thinking. He looked like he was trying to find the right way to ask you something. You didn’t know what. But he had that little frown on his forehead. You wanted to kiss it away.

“What is it?” You asked.

Bucky avoided your eyes, choosing to stare at the floor instead as he asked, “Do you think… I mean, would you ever come back home?”

Ah. The few moments of silence which followed were heavy. You didn’t like how that question put some kind of metaphorical distance between the two of you.

So you took a few steps and leaned into him. You placed your hands on his muscular, toned chest and said, “This is home, for me.” You gave him the truth. “That city was never home now that I think about it.” You smiled faintly, “The only good part was you.”

Bucky nodded. “So,” He began, then stopped to clear his throat and spoke again, “You won’t ever leave this place?”

You slid your hands up across his skin, feeling the warm, strong muscles underneath your palm. You traced his collar bones, then his neck and finally cupped his face in your hands. He wrapped his arms loosely around your middle.

“I love it here, Bucky.” You stated. “It’s quiet, and peaceful. It looks boring at first but it’s what I’ve always wanted.” You said. “Plus my grandparents left me this, it’s all I have of them.” You paused for a while, hating that look of hurt in his ocean blue eyes. “I won’t leave. This is my home now.”

Bucky was quiet. Even his breathing was slow.

You let go of him, took a step back and said, “Maybe you should head back.” It felt like the words sliced you from the inside. It hurt to even utter them. “You have a life there.” You gave him a sad smile. Followed by a faint chuckle. “Unless you want to take up fishing then I’m afraid there’s nothing for you here.”

He scoffed. “There’s you.” He said as if that was more than enough.

“Bucky.” You warned.

He shook his head, then reached for his phone which he’d forgotten in the kitchen earlier tonight. “Sam will probably fly out here to beat me up when I tell him.” He spoke, none of what he said made sense to you though.

“What are you–,”

“And he’ll have to work twice as much. But he’ll do great, I know. He’s Sam after all, strongest man I know.” Bucky carried on, ignoring your questions as he typed away on his phone. “I’ll do as much as I can from here, maybe fly back to the city once or twice a year to show my face.”

“Bucky,” You warned again, “What are you talking—,”

Bucky continued, cutting you off each time you tried to get a word in. “I’ll have to call my people, actually I have a lot of phone calls to make if–,”

You cut him off this time, stepping closer to him again and grabbing him by his broad shoulders. “What are you talking about?”

Bucky gave you a lovesick smile. “Well if you’re not going back to the city, neither am I.” He answered. You froze. He continued. “I’ll have to buy us a bigger home somewhere around here. We’ll keep the apartment and bakery of course, but maybe we could use some staff to help with maintenance and to keep the bakery running.”

He made a mental, makeshift plan while you had silent tears streaming down your face.

He continued, “We’ll get you back in uni, whichever one you want and whichever offers distance learning because there’s no way I’m letting you live on some campus away from me.” He paused, then said, “I’ll have to actually take up fishing. Maybe I’ll buy a few boats, you know I always wanted to be a yacht broker.” He sounded almost… hopeful. “Retirement sounds nice.”

You sniffled. “Buck…”

Bucky kept talking while he gently caressed your back. “I’ll have to learn French,” He groaned, “At this grown age.” He added. “I’ll have to know what's a chocolate croissant and what’s a pain au chocolat if I want to occasionally help out with the bakery. I can’t be uncultured while my wife is this connoisseur, you know? The locals will laugh at me.”

“Wife?” You questioned through tears and a faint, barely there smile.

He rolled his eyes. “Baby, I’m wearing your clothes, sleeping in your girly room, eating off of your floral plates.” He explained, “If you don’t marry me, I will lose my reputation.” He joked.

You laughed, and sobbed as you threw your arms around him, hugging him as tightly as you could.

“You don’t have to do this.” You spoke through tears. Your heart felt so full, you didn’t know how to handle a man like Bucky changing the course of his life for you. All for you.

Bucky hugged you back, kissing the top of your head. “I want to.” He said, “I have to. Otherwise you’ll run away again.” He teased.

You laughed quietly. “I won’t.” You said firmly.

“Good,” He sighed, squeezing you tightly in his arms before letting go. “Now I have to tell Sam.” He looked genuinely worried.

You giggled, then leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Tell him in the morning.” You whispered, your hands already trailing down to the waistband of the pyjama pants.

Bucky chuckled before leaning in to kiss you, deeply. “Okay baby,” He whispered, forgetting everything else as he got lost in you all over again.

He made love to you right there in the kitchen, sliding in between your legs as you sat on the edge of the counter. Slow and gentle. Kissing you softly, making a mess of you as he made you come over and over and over again. Whispering against your heated skin, your wet, open mouth, “You’re mine…”

“All yours,” You answered, holding him tightly. Your nails scratching down his back, your skin burning in all the best ways as his beard scratched it each time he kissed you.

This time, he made you a different promise.

“If you chose to run again, you better run for your life and pray I never find you, babygirl…” He whispered into your ear as he slid inside you again. His cock made it hard for you to focus on anything else but you tried your hardest to hear him out. “Because I won’t be this kind if I ever have to hunt for you again.”

You laughed, but ended up moaning as he bit down on your other shoulder this time. Marking you as his again.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky x reader

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itneverendshere · 10 months ago

Note

ex!reader who loves the game and wants to support her team but hockey captain!rafe is on the ice. he thinks she’s there for him but when she comes in with a date? and when they get put on the kiss cam? rafe slams into the glass to scare them? hate sex????

someone who lets you break them twice - hockey!toxic!rafe x ex!reader (+18)

warnings: veryyy long and 99% smut🙂‍↕️ the things i do for you...

The cold air inside the rink always made your skin tingle.

Your breath curled in front of you like smoke as you moved uncomfortably on the bleachers, pulling your jacket tighter around you.

This is why you hated fall. It was too cold to be outside, too early to be winter. Except tonight wasn’t about the weather—it was about hockey.

Hockey and, the fact that you hadn’t missed a game since… well, since Rafe and you broke up.

“Everything okay?” The voice beside you pulled you back to reality.

Elijah, the guy you’d been seeing for the past couple of weeks, smiled at you, oblivious to the bullshit taking over your mind, and you gave him your best smile back.

“Yeah, just cold,” you said, trying to focus.

You weren’t here for Rafe anymore. You loved hockey, loved watching the boys skate across the ice, their power and grace. Or at least that was what you kept telling yourself.

Elijah wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and you leaned in, feeling his warmth.

The game was about to start, and the arena lights dimmed, casting shadows over the rink. The roar of the crowd drowned your thoughts for a moment as the players took the ice.

Then you spotted him.

Rafe.

Of course, he looked good.

God, why did he always have to look so fucking good? His broad shoulders filling out his number 17 jersey, that stupid smirk as he skated out with the rest of the team, dark blonde hair peeking out from under his helmet.

He was captain this year, and it made sense—he’d been working his ass off since…ever, you genuinely couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than him.

You knew better than to be here, yet somehow you ended up courtside anyway. As painful as it was watching him, you’d never let him run you out of your favorite sport. Not even if he was captain now.

This was your team, the one you’d been coming to see since before Rafe even knew what a slapshot was.

You sank further into Elijah’s side, forcing your eyes away from your ex, but it wasn’t until you caught the dark blue of the jersey you were wearing in the corner of your eye that you realized…

You’d put on Rafe’s jersey, his number. The one you’d always worn to support him when you were together. Out of all the team merch you owned, of course you had to wear his.

“You really like hockey a lot, huh?” Elijah asked, glancing down at your jersey.

“Yeah,” You mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up. “I’ve been following the team for a while.”

Lies. You loved hockey, but you loved Rafe more. Or, you used to.

The puck dropped, and the game started.

For a while, you tried to focus on the action but Rafe was all over the ice, playing like the goddamn superstar he was. You couldn’t help but notice how his gaze kept darting up toward the stands, as if sensing you were there.

Halfway through the second period, he slammed into an opposing player, sending him crashing into the boards. The sound echoed through the arena, and the crowd went wild, but you could feel your stomach knotting up.

That had always been Rafe—intense, aggressive, unable to hold back. On the ice or off.

You tried to focus on Elijah, laughing at something he was saying, but your heart wasn’t in it. And just when you thought you’d survived the worst of it, the kiss cam flashed up on the big screen.

Your laughter died in your throat as you realized what was happening, your face heating up instantly. You weren’t embarrassed, but this was... awkward.

“Aw, how cute,” He said, grinning as he pointed to the screen.

You followed his gaze, heart dropping. They were zooming in on the two of you. You could feel the crowd around you start to cheer and whistle as Elijah leaned in closer, clearly getting ready to kiss you.

You could see him coming toward you, his lips getting personal, but all you could think about was—

Bang!

In the span of a second, a body slammed into the boards right in front you, the sound so loud it made you jump. The entire section gasped, and you turned your head just in time to see Rafe standing there, glaring up at you from behind the glass.

He looked like he was ready to tear Elijah apart, or you, or both of you. His chest was heaving, eyes blazing, standing mere inches away from where you sat.

He had skated right into the glass.

Your heart was practically in your throat, and it wasn't from Elijah being close. You could hardly focus on Elijah, but the way he laughed, oblivious to the scene your ex was causing...it made your stomach churn because Rafe was staring like he owned you.

He always had this way of making you feel like no matter what, no matter who else was around, you were his.

Then, still staring at you, he mouthed the words, "I dare you."

Why couldn’t he just leave you alone?

Those stupid words, silently mouthed, but somehow loud enough to hit you like a punch through the glass. I dare you. God, what was wrong with him? He knew how to push your buttons. And of course, it was working.

You could feel Elijah shifting next to you, still oblivious to the whole freaking drama unfolding right in front of him. He was so sweet, too sweet, and it was infuriating right now because Rafe was standing there, all but daring you to move on.

The breakup had been brutal, a messy, loud explosion where neither of you were willing to be the first to walk away. You were both too stubborn, too prideful.

Now, here you are months later, still dealing with the fallout.

Elijah finally leaned in, lips brushing yours, and you kissed him, but your heart wasn’t in it.

All you could feel was Rafe’s stare burning into you.

The kiss cam lingered for a few seconds, and the crowd cheered, but you felt was... empty.

When the kiss ended, you forced a smile at Elijah although your mind was a mess. Rafe’s eyes were still on you, and you could feel anger radiating off him, even through the thick glass.

You glanced down, avoiding his gaze, and tugged at the hem of his old jersey, suddenly feeling like you didn’t belong in it anymore.

You leaned into Elijah, mostly out of spite at this point. If Rafe thought he could just walk around, acting like he owned you—then he deserved to stew in.

Except, he wasn’t the type of guy to let something like that go. You watched as he skated back into play, but his eyes kept flicking up to where you sat, he couldn’t stop checking to make sure you were still there. Still with Elijah.

His shoulders were tense, movements too aggressive, you knew he was about to snap. You hated this, that he could still make you feel this way, even now, after everything.

After the fights, after the breakup, after swearing you were over him.

The third period started, and Rafe was everywhere, throwing his weight around like he had something to prove. Every hit was harder, sharper.

You felt sickly satisfied, knowing you’d gotten under his skin.

With less than five minutes left in the game, things escalated.

Rafe slammed into one of the opposing players so hard that the guy went down, and the whistle blew immediately. The crowd was roaring, but Rafe didn’t back off.

He stood over the guy, glaring down at him, ready to throw a punch.

"Jesus," Elijah muttered beside you. "What the hell’s his problem?"

You didn’t answer, knowing exactly what his problem was.

The ref skated over, shouting something at your ex boyfriend, but his eyes weren’t on the ref, they were back on you, even as the other guy on the ice slowly got back to his feet.

The arena was buzzing, the crowd still rowdy, you thought Rafe was going to lose it right there. His fists clenched—he looked like he was ready to drop gloves and start swinging.

And then he smirked.

It was that same cocky smirk you knew so well, the one he always flashed right before doing something reckless. The ref sent him to the penalty box, and he skated off, still with that fucking look plastered on his face.

Elijah leaned back in his seat, totally unaware.

“Man, that guy’s intense,” Elijah said, shaking his head, eyes still on the ice.

Intense didn’t even begin to cover it.

Rafe was sitting in the penalty box now, helmet off, running a hand through his hair, too casual for someone who was just about murder a guy on the ice.

The last few minutes of the game passed in an instant.

You weren’t paying attention anymore, not to the score or the plays. You were too busy trying not to think about Rafe, how he had looked at you. About the way it had made you feel.

When the final buzzer sounded, the crowd erupted in cheers.

Elijah stood up, stretching, turning to you with a smile. “Ready to head out?” he asked.

You nodded, forcing a smile. “Yeah, let’s go.”

You made your way toward the exit, weaving through the crowd, tension building in your chest.

It wasn’t over. It never really was with Rafe. You knew—somehow—you weren’t getting out of here without seeing him again.

You reached the bottom of the stands, where a crowd had gathered near the exit. Elijah was still chatting about the game, but you were distracted, scanning the faces around without even realizing it.

Then you saw him. Of course, you did.

Rafe was leaning against the wall, helmet tucked under his arm. His eyes locked on yours the second you stepped into his line of sight.

He didn’t bother pretending to care about the fans around him—his gaze was intense, a predator waiting for its moment.

You hated how your heart skipped.

Elijah noticed you freeze and followed your eyes, his smile faltering when he saw Rafe standing there.

"Isn’t that the captain guy?" he asked, glancing between you and Rafe, confused.

You swallowed hard, forcing your feet to keep moving.

“Yeah. That’s him.”

As you passed by, Rafe pushed off the wall, stepping right into your path. Elijah, sweet, unsuspecting Elijah, paused beside you.

"Leaving already?" Rafe’s voice was casual, but his eyes were locked on yours, ignoring your date completely. "Not gonna stick around to congratulate the team?"

You clenched your jaw, fighting to keep your cool.

"It’s late, Rafe. We’re heading out."

He stepped closer, his towering frame making Elijah shift uncomfortably.

"Used to be the last one out."

You'd always let him fuck you in the locker room.

Elijah cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah, we’ve got plans after this."

Rafe’s eyes dropped to him for the briefest moment, before landing back on you. "Plans, huh?"

Your pulse was hammering, the heat rising in your cheeks. Why did he always have to do this—why couldn’t he just let you go?

“Rafe, we’re done,” you said through gritted teeth, holding on to the last shred of your composure. “You don’t get to pull this shit anymore.”

“You sure about that?”

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to calm yourself. You didn’t need this right now, especially not with Elijah here.

“Let’s go Elijah,” you said, tugging at his arm, desperate to get out of there before things escalated.

Rafe stepped in front of you again, blocking your way like he had some kind of claim on you. And God, the worst part was—you weren’t sure he was wrong.

You glanced at Elijah, who was staring at the two of you like he had walked into the middle of a conversation he couldn’t quite follow.

“Look, dude,” he started, awkwardly laughing, “I don’t know what this is, but—”

“It’s nothing, ignore him.” you cut him off quickly, “Let’s go.”

“Yeah, Elijah,” Rafe's voice dripped with sarcasm. “It’s nothing.”

Elijah’s phone buzzed, and he pulled it out, frowning.

“Shit,” he muttered, distracted. “I’ve gotta take this call real quick. Give me a sec?” He stepped away, leaving you and Rafe standing there in the middle of the hallway.

Shit.

He was on you in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward the locker room door.

“Rafe, what the fuck—” you hissed, but he wasn’t letting go.

You tried to resist, but something inside you broke down—the unresolved pull between you two, he still had that stupid hold on you, your body responding when you shouldn’t.

You’d never fully closed the door on Rafe.

He shoved the door open, pulling you inside the lit hallway that led to the locker room. You spun around, shoving him in the chest, hard.

“You’re such a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe didn't so much flinch, his eyes smoldering as he crowded you against the wall.

“Yeah? You didn’t seem to think so when you were wearing my jersey tonight.”

“That was an accident!"

“Bullshit,” he growled, leaning in closer, so close you could feel the heat radiating off his body. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Bringing a date with you. Do you want me to kill someone?"

Your heart was pounding, Rafe had you pinned against the wall like he always fucking did before— God, why did he have to be so damn close? He was overwhelming, and you hated it.

You hated him for still making you feel like this.

“Get off me,” you snapped, but it came out weaker than you intended.

His eyes were boring into yours, he could see through all your bullshit.

“C’mon, baby, don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted. You show up, wearin’ my number, sitting there with some random guy like I don’t still own you.”

He caged you in completely. You pressed your hands against his chest, but it wasn’t like you were really pushing him away.

“You don’t own shit,” you spat, glaring up at him.

Even as the words left your mouth, you knew you didn’t believe them, part of you was always gonna his.

Rafe’s lips curved into a smug grin as if he was reading every thought running through your head.

“Really? ’Cause from where I’m standin’, you’ve been thinkin' about me all night."

His breath was hot on your skin, and you despised how much you wanted to close the distance between you.

Your jaw clenched, trying to muster the strength to tell him to fuck off, leave you alone for good, but he was right. As much as you tried to convince yourself otherwise, he was still in your head, under your skin.

His hand found your hip, fingers pressing into your skin through your jeans, and you felt your body betray you. You cursed yourself silently as heat pooled low in your panties. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, didn’t want him to know how much power he still had.

But damn it, he knew. He always fucking knew.

“I hate you,” you muttered. It was a weak defense, and you both knew it.

Rafe's lips brushed against your earlobe.

“Yeah?” His voice was a low rasp that made your knees weak. “Funny, you never sound like you hate me when you’re under me.”

Your breath hitched. “Don’t—”

He was already kissing you, like he owned you, you were his and his alone. You kissed him back, like the fucking idiot you were.

His hands were pawing at you, grabbing at your waist, tugging you closer until your bodies were fully pressed together. You wanted to shove him away, slap that stupid look off his face—but your body had other plans.

This was so wrong, on so many levels.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, Rafe was staring you down.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” you bit out, trying to cling to some sense of control.

His pretty grin widened knowingly. He leaned down, lips ghosting over yours. “We both know that's a lie.”

You clenched your fists, frustrated beyond belief, at him, at yourself, at how easy it was for him to pull you right back in.

“Fuck you,” you hissed, but the breathless tone in your voice told a different story.

Rafe’s eyes darkened, the corner of his mouth lifting in that infuriatingly sexy way he always did. “Oh, you will.”

God help you—you knew he was right. That fucking arrogance. It crawled under your skin, set your blood on fire in ways it shouldn’t.

You needed to punch him, shove him, do something to wipe that smug expression off his face.

All you did instead was grab his jersey, pulling him back toward you, kissing him with all the fury you felt.

His lips crushed against yours, it wasn’t gentle—there was nothing sweet about this. It was all months of unresolved anger bursting out in one messy kiss. His tongue slipped past your lips, and you bit down, hard, just to remind him you weren’t going to make this easy.

He groaned, pulling back, his gaze dark. "You always did like it rough."

Your fingers tangled in his hair, yanking back down, kissing him like you needed to get all of this out of your system. His hands roamed your body, possessive, and you hated how much you craved him.

You weren’t his. You couldn’t be, but every heated breath you took, every desperate movement your body made, was telling you otherwise.

When his lips moved down your neck, teeth grazing your skin, you gasped, tilting your head as your resolve crumbled to pieces. He knew exactly what to do, how to make you fall apart.

His hands gripped your thighs, lifting you with ease, pressing you harder against the wall. Your breath hitched, the cold tile behind you making you gasp. Nothing else mattered.

Not Elijah, not the fact that this was so stupidly wrong, not the months of hurt and anger you’d been holding onto.

There was only Rafe. How touched you, the way he kissed you like he was trying to stake his claim all over again.

"Tell me you don’t want this," Rafe begged against your lips.

You bit down on your lip, you did want this. You couldn’t lie—not to him, or to yourself.

“I—” You choked on the words, eyes meeting his, hoping you’d find some kind of resolve to pull yourself back from him.

His grip only tightened, his mouth capturing yours again in a kiss so raw, it was borderline filthy, your last piece of control vanishing with it.

“Fuck,” you gasped, head spinning as his hands explored your body like he had every right to.

“Yeah, baby. That's what I thought."

His hands gripped your ass hard enough to leave bruises, you let out a frustrated, muffled groan, your fingers still lost in his hair.

It was a lot longer than the last time you’d seen him.

It didn't help that you could feel every inch of his muscle through the thin fabric his jersey. It was suffocating in the best way.

“You’re such an ass,” you gasped between kisses, breath hitching when his mouth clamped down to your neck. You felt him grin against your skin, the bastard.

“You say that like it’s supposed to stop you.” His voice was low in your ear, sending shiver down your spine. “I don’t think it is.”

You were about to fire back, but his hands slid under your shirt, fingers teasing your skin, whatever you were going to say swallowed by the heat rushing through you. He still knew exactly how to get to you—how to pull you apart and leave you helpless against him.

“Rafe, this—”

Your words were cut off when he bit down gently on your collarbone, sending a shockwave through your body.

“This what?” he taunted, “This a mistake? Because I don’t think that’s what your body’s saying.”

You just glared up at him, trying to catch your breath.

“I told you,” you managed to say, though your voice was shaky, “this doesn’t mean anything.”

Rafe’s grip on you tightened, lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

There was no denying it—you were here, and you weren’t leaving.

Maybe not for a while.

And Rafe knew it.

His hands moved lower, fingers tracing the waistband of your jeans.

This was dangerous territory.

“Last chance,” he murmured, “You want me to stop?”

You should’ve said yes, shoved him away and walked out of there with what little dignity you had left. But instead, you kissed him again— angrier, needing to prove something to yourself.

He yanked your shirt over your head in one fast motion, and you weren’t gentle either, tugging at his jersey until it was off and tossed aside. His hands were on your back, in your hair, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down with the same rushed urgency you’d been feeling since you laid eyes on him tonight.

“I hate you,” you whispered as your nails dragged down his chest, leaving angry red lines in their wake.

Rafe just laughed.

“No, you don’t,” he growled, his hands grabbing your hips as he settled you onto one of the locker room benches. “But keep telling yourself that.”

Your jeans hit the floor, and he wasted no time, his hands gripping your thighs as he positioned himself between them, pressing you down on the bench.

Everything was messy, neither of you could get enough. A silly attempt to erase the months of distance, of frustration.

“Still think this doesn’t mean anything?” Rafe rasped, his voice hoarse as he pressed his forehead against yours.

You could barely think, let alone speak, but somehow, you managed to gasp out, “Positive.”

His mouth moved down your neck, biting and sucking again, leaving marks you knew would still be there tomorrow.

“You’re such a fucking liar.”

It was wrong, it was toxic, but fuck—there was something about the way he touched you. You were furious with yourself, with him, with everything, but the anger only made you want him more.

His fingers brushed against the seam of your panties, hardly touching you, but doing enough to have you drenched.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, amused, slipping one finger under the fabric to run along your folds, dipping inside before pulling back out, "Was this all for Elijah?"

Sonofabitch.

“Stop talking,” you spat, but your voice was already shaky, showing him the way you were falling apart under his touch.

Rafe chuckled low in his throat, his finger moving back, this time slipping inside you, properly. You gasped, head falling back as he began moving his finger, curling it inside you in just the way you taught him to.

Your body responded immediately, jerking against him, desperate for more, but he took his time. He added another finger, stretching you out as his thumb rubbed circles over your clit. He sped up, fingers thrusting deeper, hitting that spot inside you that made your mind go blank.

“Been wanting this, haven’t you? All those nights pretending you don’t think about me, but look at you now.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders, legs shaking as you felt your hips following the rythm of his hands, driving you closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed. Damn him.

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, sending shocks of pleasure through you. “Tell me how bad you need this.”

“Rafe—” you gasped, hips bucking wildly against his hand. You hated him, hated yourself, but the words slipped out anyway. “I need it.”

He groaned, pleased, and that was all it took. He always delivered when you begged nicely.

Rafe thrust his fingers harder until your body gave in completely.

In your defense, you hadn’t had a proper orgasm in months, nothing could get you off properly.

Your walls clenched around his fingers as the sweet pleasure tore through you. You cried out, leaving half-moon marks in his skin as you moaned beneath him, lost in the sensation.

He slowed down enough to draw out every last bit of pleasure, his fingers still moving inside you as you rode out the aftershocks.

When you finally caught your breath, he pulled them out, his hand moving to cup your cheek, forcing you to look at him.

He shoved his pants down, not bothering to take them off completely, only enough to free himself. Your breath hitched when you felt him against you and every rational thought you had left disappeared in that moment.

Rafe lined himself up, pushing into you in one hard thrust. Your gasp turned into a breathless moan as your back arched, hands gripping his shoulders for something to hold on to. The familiar sensation of him stretching you out was overwhelming to say the least, but exactly what you needed.

Rafe didn’t give you time to adjust.

He pulled back and slammed into you again, setting a punishing rhythm that left you stupid in seconds, gasping for air. There was nothing gentle about it, nothing tender.

His fingers dugg into your skin as he fucked you, reminding you who you belonged to.

You loathed how good it felt.

“You’re mine,” Rafe growled as he thrusted into you, each movement brutal. “Doesn’t matter who you’re with, doesn’t matter how much you try to deny it—you’ll always come back to me.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but you still wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper.

He dropped his forehead to yours, “Tell me you haven’t been thinking about this every night."

You couldn’t.

The words were right there, on the tip of your tongue, but a moan escaped your lips instead, as he hit that perfect spot inside you. Your body arched even further against his.

“Fuck,” you gasped, eyes squeezed shut as the pleasure built.

“That’s what I thought,” Rafe hummed, his pace quickening, the force of his thrusts making the bench creak beneath you.

The sound of the bench, his big toned body pressing into yours so perfectly, his breath against your neck—it all made it impossible to think straight. You should have been disgusted with yourself for letting it get this far, for letting him have this kind of control over you.

“I f-fucking hate y-you” you managed to gasp out.

Rafe chuckled, “Yeah? Then why do you sound like that, huh?” His voice was taunting, filled with the arrogance you hated, “This pussy still mine, huh?”

You loved the way he grabbed you like you were his, even though you’d sworn you were done with him. You were still in love, weren’t you? Even after all the shit, all the screaming matches, the nights spent crying because of him.

Before you knew, his hands were flipping you over so fast, your knees hit the bench.

“Rafe—mmh!” you whined, but your words died in your throat when he shoved you forward, pressing your chest flat against the cold wood, hs hands were gripping your ass, spreading you open for him.

He didn’t give you time to catch your breath, already dragging the head of his cock through your wetness, knowing how much you wanted it, even if you wouldn’t say it.

You squirmed, despite how desperate you felt, “Fuck, stop teasing—”

“Want more?” he cut you off, voice dripping with arrogance. He slapped your ass, hard enough to sting, and you yelped, your back arching instinctively. “Gonna have to beg for it.”

"Like hell," you spat back.

Just like that, his chest was fully pressing against your back, his mouth right by your ear.

“Act tough all you want sweet girl, I still know how much you want this,” he gritted out, fat cock sliding against your ruined pussy again, torturously slow. “Know how much you need it.”

That's when he slid back inside, filling you completely in one sweet stroke. You cried out, hands gripping the edges of the bench when he didn't bother giving you a moment to adjust, pulling out almost completely before slamming back in.

The angle had you seeing stars.

The bench was narrow, forcing your legs closer together, making everything tighter. You couldn’t stop the way your body responded to him, hips greedly moving back to meet his thrusts.

Rafe's rough hands gripped the fat of your ass, pulling you back onto his cock with every thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the small room.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Rafe groaned, head dropped back as he thrust into you. "So fucking tight for me.”

He pressed his thumb against your clit, rubbing in deliberate circles that had you on the edge again in seconds. A embarrassing whimper ripped from your throat, your hips bucking wildly against him as the pleasure built, you felt like you might break apart.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” He rasped. “I can feel it. Fuck.”

You tried to hold on, but it was useless when he knew exactly how to break you.

“I’m gonna come,” you gasped, your voice barely more than a whimper as you felt your second orgasm rising fast.

“Do it,” Rafe growled, his fingers rubbing harder, “Come for me, baby.”

This time around your vision blurred, your body shaking as the pleasure tore through you. You cried out, walls clenching around him, milking him for all he had.

Rafe groaned llike a pornstar as he fucked you through it, relentless, until your entire body was in an entire different dimension.

But he wasn’t done.

He pulled out suddenly, and before you could catch your breath, he yanked you up, turning you around. You barely had time to register what was happening before he lifted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the cold locker. His cock was back inside you in seconds, filling you again, and you moaned, the new angle sending jolts of pleasure through your already overstimulated pussy.

He pounded into you, his grip on your ass bruising, and you clung to him, nails digging into his broad shoulders as he fucked you against the lockers. The sound of metal creaking under the force of his thrusts only made it hotter, more desperate. You could feel another orgasm building, and you hated him for it—hated how easily he could pull them from you.

“You’re mine,” he growled, his voice rough as he buried his face in your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin. “You’ll always be mine.”

And you hated that some twisted part of you wanted it to be true.

Your legs tightened around him, pulling him impossibly closer, deeper, as if you couldn’t get enough of him.

And God, you couldn’t.

His grip on your ass was rough, bruising, but it only made you moan louder. You were on the verge again—your body still tingling from the last orgasm, but the way he moved inside you, the way his teeth grazed your neck, it had you spiraling toward another one, faster than you thought possible.

“Look at you,” Rafe groaned, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with you. His pupils were blown wide with lust, a wild look on his face that sent a thrill down your spine. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you?”

You did. Because no matter how much you hated him, how much you wanted to hate him—there was a part of you that still belonged to him. A part of you that couldn’t walk away.

His lips were everywhere—on your neck, your collarbone, your jaw—and you couldn’t stop the sounds escaping your throat as he kept driving into you.

“Say it,” he growled, “Say you’re mine.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold it in, trying to fight back, but every nerve in your body was betraying you. The way his body fit against yours, the way he moved inside you, it was all too much. You were coming again, and you hated it.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and wild. “Say it.”

You wanted to spit in his face. But your body was telling a different story, hips bucking against him, legs tightening around his waist again.

“R-Rafe,” you whimpered, hating how weak you sounded, how desperate.

His smirk was infuriating, but fuck, it was hot.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured, his pace quickening, each thrust deeper than the last. “You’re mine. Always have been.”

And then he slammed into you one last time, hitting that perfect spot inside you, and the orgasm tore through you, leaving you gasping and trembling in his arms. You cried out, head thrown back against the lockers as your body shook with the force of it, your nails raking down his back.

Rafe groaned, his grip on you tightening as he rode out your orgasm, his movements growing sloppier, more erratic. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, his hips jerking against yours as he finally let go, his release hitting hard. You felt the warmth of him spill inside you, as he held you against him, buried deep.

The second his breathing slowed and his grip on you loosened, reality came crashing back in.

What the fuck had you done?

You pushed at his chest, trying to put some space between you, but he wasn’t letting go that easily. His arms stayed wrapped around you, his body pressed against yours like he still had something to prove.

“Get off,” you muttered, your voice weak, but sharper than before.

He chuckled, that low, arrogant sound that drove you crazy. “That’s not what you were saying five minutes ago.”

You shot him a glare, shoving at his chest again, harder this time. “I’m serious, Rafe. Move.”

Reluctantly, he let go, stepping back just enough for you to slide off the locker and onto shaky legs. You stumbled a bit, and Rafe’s hand shot out to steady you, but you jerked away from him, pulling your jeans back up with shaky hands.

He leaned against the locker, smirking like he hadn’t just torn your world apart all over again. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You wanted to scream at him, to throw something at his face. But instead, you grabbed your shirt off the floor, yanking it over your head as you tried to steady your breath.

“Good luck finding your date.”

Elijah. You’d come to the game with Elijah.

You shook your head as you zipped up your jeans and ran your fingers through your hair, trying to look somewhat presentable. You avoided looking at him, knowing that if you did, you’d see the smug satisfaction on his face that would only make you feel worse.

He pushed himself off the locker and took a step closer to you. You flinched, stepping back instinctively. “This can’t happen again.”

His smirk slipped for a moment as he looked at you. H e closed the distance between you in two strides, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, pulling you toward him before you could react, “You’re choosing him?”

You yanked your wrist out of his grip, your heart racing as you forced yourself to take a step back, putting distance between the two of you, “You’re the one who chose yourself.”

His eyes darkened, searching your face, like he couldn’t believe what you’d just said. Maybe he thought he still had you wrapped around his finger.

“You’re the one who walked away,” you added, hating how your voice trembled, “So don’t act like I owe you anything.”

Rafe’s hand hovered like he was about to reach for you again, but he didn’t. “That’s not how I remember it.”

Your stomach twisted, “I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t—” You glanced at the door, feeling the weight of Elijah waiting for you. The one person who was good for you, who actually wanted to be with you.

But the worst part? You were still thinking about Rafe. Even after everything, you were still here, breathless, a mess because of him.

He took a step closer, his eyes locked on yours, and for a second, you thought he might apologize. Maybe say something real. But Rafe Cameron didn’t do apologies.

He raised an eyebrow, “Really?” His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair out of your face in a gesture that was far too intimate, given everything that had just happened. “Then why are you still standing here?”

You flinched, stepping back. Why were you still standing there? You had no good answer, at least not one you were ready to admit.

“Go back to your date,” Rafe continued, his voice mocking now, “Pretend like he’s enough for you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep the tears at bay. You couldn’t give him that satisfaction, not again. “You’re wrong.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “I don’t think I am.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, throat tight, trying to push back the tears. This was all wrong. It was always wrong with Rafe, “Stop.”

It sounded like a plea—a plea for him to stop talking, stop looking at you like that, stop making you feel so small and yet so overwhelmed all at once.

Rafe sighed, stepping back just a fraction, and for a second, his gaze lifted. But it wasn’t enough. It never was. “I’m not trying to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer now, like that made a difference.

“You always do,” you shot back, finally meeting his eyes. The truth slipped out before you could stop it, and there it was.

His jaw clenched, "I don’t mean to," he muttered, his voice low. "You know that."

"Does it even matter?" You felt the bitterness rise in your throat, along with something else—something fragile and painful. "You still do it. Whether you mean to or not."

Rafe stayed quiet, and you hated that silence. He didn’t have an answer. He never did, not for this. Your fingers fumbled with the zipper of your jacket, something to keep your hands busy so you wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t say something you’d regret. But regret was already everywhere, suffocating you both.

“I thought we were past this,” you said finally, barely more than a whisper. “I thought I was past this.” But clearly, you weren’t. Clearly, some part of you was still here, with him, in the wreckage you’d both created.

He ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, torn. “It’s not that simple.”

"It should be." Your voice cracked. You hated how much this hurt. How much he could still hurt you.

It wasn’t fair. You weren’t supposed to still care this much. You weren’t supposed to still feel this.

Rafe sighed, taking another step back, giving you space. But it wasn’t the kind of space you wanted. It wasn’t the kind that would make things easier. “I don’t know what you want from me,” he admitted quietly, his eyes searching yours for something he couldn’t find.

You swallowed, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. "I don’t want anything from you."

That was the truth, or at least it was supposed to be. You didn’t want anything he had to offer, not anymore. Not when every time you reached for it, it slipped through your fingers like water, leaving you emptier than before.

But there was still that ache, that feeling between you two, the one that dragged you back here even when you knew better. You wished you could kill it, cut it out of you like some infected part, but it was tangled too deep. And maybe a small part of you didn’t want to.

“You keep saying that,” he murmured, his voice almost tender, like he was seeing right through you. “But you’re still here.”

“I don’t know why,” you whispered, blinking back tears. Fuck, you hated this. Hated how vulnerable you felt, how easily he could unravel you, even now. “I shouldn’t be.”

He didn’t say anything, just stood there, watching you, like he was waiting for you to make the next move. Like he wanted you to figure it out on your own.

But you didn’t know how. You never did when it came to him.

"I’m sorry," he said, and this time, it felt real. There was no arrogance. Just Rafe, standing there, as broken as you felt. "I don’t know how to fix this."

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping at your eyes with the back of your hand. “There’s nothing left to fix, Rafe. We’ve already destroyed it.”

His face twisted, like he didn’t want to believe it. Like he was still holding onto some small piece of hope. "We could—"

"No," you cut him off, shaking your head. "We can’t."

You couldn’t keep doing this. The push and pull, the endless cycle of hurt and apologies that never really fixed anything. You couldn’t keep pretending that something would change, that he would change.

Because you both knew he wouldn’t.

He took a breath, exhaling slowly, and you could see it—the realization sinking in.

He knew it too. "I never wanted to lose you," he admitted quietly.

You swallowed hard, your chest tight. "You already did."

2K notes · View notes

myrleius · 2 months ago

Text

a little sweeter every time (snippets!) — tsukishima. k

timeskip tsukishima k. x aspiring baker fem!reader│wc: 6.7k

synopsis: Tsukishima didn’t expect to see his high school crush again—much less help her open a bakery.

cw/tags: slow burn, fluff, mutual pining, friends to lovers, food/baking themes, slice of life, comfort

It had started six months ago, on a day as ordinary as any other.

Caught in a sudden downpour, Tsukishima ducked into the nearest cafe, rain dripping from his coat and his hair matted to his forehead. He was halfway through shaking it off when he froze.

There, at the end of the line, stood yn.

She looked older, obviously. Her hair was shorter now, her expression a little more tired. But the moment she noticed him, her face lit up, the same way it always had. And just like that, it was as if no time had passed at all.

“Tsukishima?”

Her voice was warm, surprised, still so easy to recognize.

He cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses to buy a second. “Huh. Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same to you,” she laughed, digging into her pocket before handing him a handkerchief. “Here. You look like a drowned cat.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, blinking at the tiny cartoon bunnies printed across the fabric, finding the childish pattern to be so typically her.

He hadn’t expected that chance encounter to lead to anything, but somehow, over shared desserts and a slow afternoon, the conversation kept going.

She stirred her coffee absently, a small frown tugging at her lips. “I’ve been thinking about quitting my job.”

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “That bad?”

She nodded, propping her chin on her hand. “Endless work, overtime with no extra pay, coworkers who act like ‘teamwork’ means dumping their tasks on me… I don’t even remember the last time I slept properly.”

Tsukishima snorted. “Sounds like hell.”

“Exactly.” She paused, hesitating a little, then leaned in. “I was thinking of opening up a bakery.”

He looked up. “A bakery?”

“I know. It’s crazy.” Her voice softened, almost shy. “But I’ve always loved baking. It never feels like work. When I’m up at 3AM frosting cupcakes, I actually don’t hate my life.”

He watched her—the way she fiddled with her cup, the hopeful look she tried to hide—before shrugging, casual as ever. “Then do it.”

“Just like that?” She laughed nervously. “What if I’m terrible at it?”

He reached for the last forkful of his cake, chewing thoughtfully before responding. “Then practice. I’ll tell you if it tastes like garbage.”

It was meant to be a throwaway comment, but she had perked up at that, eyes bright and earnest.

“Wait, really? You’d do that for me?”

He fought the urge to look away, instead smirking slightly. “If it means free food, sure.”

She grinned, nudging his arm. “You’re terrible. But… thanks.”

And maybe it was the contact. Or her smile. But for that second, he felt a faint heat creeping up his neck.

Maybe some of those high school butterflies had survived after all these years.

After that, they exchanged numbers. And that’s how Tsukishima became her regular taste-tester.

The next week, they met at the same cafe.

Yn slid a small box of chocolate chip cookies across the table, fingers tapping nervously against the lid before she let go.

“Here,” she said with a sheepish smile. “They’re a little flat and the edges got too crispy… but they should still taste okay?”

Tsukishima eyed the uneven rows, each one slightly different in shape. He picked one up, inspecting it briefly before taking a bite.

“So?” she asked, leaning in, practically holding your breath. “How is it?”

She looks way too serious than she needed to.

He chewed slowly on purpose, dragging out the moment just to mess with her, before swallowing. “They’re tough. A little greasy. And too many chocolate chips. It throws off the balance.”

She nodded, pulling out her phone to type his comment. “Mm. Got it.”

Before she could finish, he grabbed another cookie and popped it into his mouth.

“Wait—!” she yelped, lunging to close the lid.

“Mmf?” Tsukishima blinked, still mid-chew.

“You just said they weren’t good,” she accused, holding the box away.

He swallowed, lazily reaching for it again. “I said they’re not that good. Big difference.”

She squinted at him. “And you still want more?”

“It’s edible,” he said with a shrug, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now, gimme more.”

“You really do have a sweet tooth, don’t you?” yn mused, placing a box of black sesame muffins in the space between them.

Tsukishima took one without hesitation, peeling back the wrapper before biting into it. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all,” she said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Just unexpected. You seem more like a… vegetable kind of guy.”

“Brilliant deduction.” He brushed a few crumbs off his jeans, leaning back against the park bench with an easy slouch. “Next you’ll say I only drink water.”

She laughed, warm and easy, and Tsukishima pretended not to notice how it made him want to say something stupid again, just to keep her laughing.

“I would’ve if I hadn’t seen you downing coffee the other day,” she said with a teasing lilt. Pulling out her phone, she relaxed into the bench. “So? Tell me what you think?”

He turned the muffin in his hand, inspecting it. “The crust’s kind of dark. Bitter, too.”

“It’s toasty,” she corrected, but her fingers were already typing his comment into her phone. “That’s how black sesame’s supposed to taste.”

“Not really my thing then,” he said.

Still, he smirked a little.

“But are you sure you didn’t just burn it?”

“I didn’t!” she insisted.

“These are good,” Tsukishima murmured, taking another bite of the melonpan. He licked the custard from his lips with barely a pause.

“Yeah,” she said, brushing crumbs from her fingers. “I’ve kind of mastered them. My dad’s picky. He won’t touch the convenience store ones. So my mom and I used to bake them on the weekends.”

He nodded. “Makes sense. Fresh ones hit differently.” A pause. “But the chocolate chip ones from Sakanoshita’s? Those are really good.”

Yn’s eyes lit up. “You know those? My dad gives me the stink eye everytime I bring one home, like I’ve betrayed the family or something.”

He huffed a laugh. “You haven’t had one in a while?”

“In forever,” she groaned. “My place is too far. None of the nearby shops carry it.”

He didn’t look at her when he said, “I’ll bring you some.”

She blinked. “Wait, really?”

He shrugged, casual. “I stop by sometimes. I’ll grab a few.”

A slow smile spread across her face. “Thanks, Tsukishima.”

He took another bite, eyes fixed on the table. “It’s nothing.”

But he was already planning which day he'd make the detour.

Tsukishima popped the last bite of castella into his mouth, folded the parchment, and tossed it into the nearby trash can. “You really figured this one out.”

“It took forever,” yn said, grinning down at the remaining slices. “The trick was cooling the flour mixture. If it’s too warm, it sinks.”

He nodded, grabbing another piece without comment.

Across the park, two boys were practicing volleyball. They were clumsy, missing more than they landed. Tsukishima watched them, chewing slowly.

Yn must’ve noticed him watching. “Yachi told me you still play,” she said.

“Sometimes,” he replied, eyes narrowing when one of the kids flubbed a receive. “When I’ve got time.”

“Yeah, because playing pro on the Sendai Frogs is just a casual hobby,” she said, too lightly to be anything but teasing.

He turned to her, caught off guard. “Yachi told you that too?”

“Nope,” she said, leaning back with a small smile. “I looked it up.”

He scoffed, looking away, mostly to hide the way his ears were heating. “So you stalked me.”

“I searched Hinata and the others too, idiot,” she huffed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove.

He laughed, short and quiet. Still, something about her taking the time to look him up made his chest feel annoyingly… nice.

“She was happy for you,” she added, voice softer now. “Yachi, I mean. Said you guys really loved it. That it’s kind of amazing you still get to do it.”

Her gaze drifted to the boys in the distance. She didn’t say much else, but he could see it in the way her fingers fidgeted with the edge of the bench. That distant look when they first met again. Something tired and wistful beneath it.

Regret.

The ball rolled toward them—another failed receive. It bumped his foot.

He bent down and picked it up.

“You didn’t quit either, you know,” he said without looking at her.

And before she could answer, he jogged off, sleeves rolled up, calling out to the kids—ready to demonstrate, and to distract himself from the way his own heartbeat wouldn’t settle.

They bumped into each other in the produce section.

“Woah,” she said, grinning. “Are you stalking me this time?”

Tsukishima didn’t miss a beat. “I wish. Then I could’ve avoided this.”

She laughed. “Harsh, as always.”

They ended up walking through the aisles together, trading off commentary on ridiculous prices and silently judging people who blocked the middle of the lane. It wasn’t planned, but neither of them minded. It was fun, even.

He peeked into her basket. “Cheesecake?”

“Cheese tarts,” she corrected, plucking a carton of eggs off the shelf. “I’ll make them this Friday. I’ll text you.”

He nodded, already storing the date without thinking.

She glanced into his basket next. “Oyakodon?”

“For the weekend.”

She lit up, already on the move. “Add butter when you sauté the garlic. And—hold on—this.” She grabbed a tiny jar of sansho pepper and dropped it in his basket without waiting for permission.

Tsukishima frowned at it, eyeing the addition skeptically. “... That’s not in the recipe.”

“That’s because your recipe’s boring,” she said with a grin. “Trust me. Once you try it, you’ll never go back. I’ll even pay for it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But if it’s terrible, I’m blaming you.”

It wasn’t. Tsukishima made it again three days later, then again after that.

But he didn’t tell her knowing she’d gloat.

“Ah, come in. Watch the corner.”

“I am,” Tsukishima grunted, shifting the heavy box in his arms as he stepped inside. “Where do I put this?”

“By the door’s fine,” yn said, already slipping off her soaked shoes. She propped the umbrella in the corner, droplets pattering against the tile, then glanced back at him. “Wait here. I’ll get towels.”

She turned left down the hallway, disappearing from view.

Left standing in the genkan, Tsukishima glanced around—first to the row of shoes neatly lined up, then to the absurd pair of shark slippers tucked beside them. The left one was slightly crooked, as if kicked off in a hurry.

His lips twitched. Of course.

She returned a moment later, arms full with towels and… were those papers?

He raised an eyebrow, taking one of the towels. “You planning to quiz me or dry me off?”

She snorted and crouched down. “It’s for the shoes, genius,” she said, stuffing the paper gently into her own. “It helps soak the water out. Now yours.”

He blinked. “Oh.”

Wordlessly, he toed his shoes off and handed them over. She took them without hesitation, still crouched like it was the most normal thing in the world.

He watched her, towel hanging forgotten in one hand. The way she tucked her damp hair behind her ear, the quiet focus in her hands. It was weirdly... attractive.

Then, there was a movement out of the corner of his eye.

A cat—small, mostly white with a patch of grey on its head—peeked out from behind the hallway wall.

“Ah, Chobi!” Yn’s voice brightened instantly. “C’mere, girl.”

The cat stared at her, then gave Tsukishima a wary glance before skittering out of sight.

“She’s not good with strangers,” she chuckled, rising to her feet. “Especially tall ones with bad posture.”

Tsukishima scoffed, rubbing the towel over his hair. “She’s got a type then—people who rope their friends into free labor.”

“Right. Thank you, by the way,” she said, sheepishly brushing her fingers through her own wet bangs. “I completely forgot my relatives were delivering that today.”

“What even is in it?”

“Fruits and veggies. They have a farm. I think it’s a lot of citrus this time.”

He hummed, casting a brief glance at the box. “You were gonna haul that up by yourself?”

“Well…” She looked off to the side. “I was gonna try.”

He gave her a deadpan look.

She only smiled innocently and turned toward the kitchen, voice floating over her shoulder. “Anyway, since you’re here already, we might as well do the tasting. To repay you for your noble sacrifice.”

He sighed, trailing after her. “What is it this time?”

“Cinnamon rolls,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder with a small smile. “Still warm, too.”

“She’s really taken a liking to you,” yn said, stirring brownie batter, the spoon clinking softly against the glass bowl.

Across the room, Tsukishima sat cross-legged on the floor, dangling a feather wand loosely from his fingers.

Chobi pounced on the toy, paws wrapped around it like a trophy. She let out a triumphant meow before plopping down to gnaw at it.

“She only likes me because you make me feed her every time I’m here,” he muttered, scratching the top of her head. Chobi didn’t flinch. That was new.

“She associates you with her survival now,” she called over her shoulder, amused. “That’s a powerful bond.”

He cracked a smile, rising to his feet. That was new too—him being here after work, tasting whatever pastry she decided to whip up.

He wandered into the kitchen, leaning against the counter beside her.

“You should be careful,” he teased. “At this rate, your cat might start following me home.”

“She’d never,” she snorted. “She’s clingy. I can’t even wake up without her climbing onto my face.”

He actually laughed at that, picturing the image in his head.

She set the bowl aside and stepped toward the cabinets. One hand steadied her against the counter as she rose onto her tiptoes, the other reaching for a box on the top shelf, fingers just barely brushing.

Tsukishima rolled his eyes, moving in behind her and grabbed it in one easy motion. “Here.”

Her hand dropped as she turned—eyes wide as she realized how close he was.

“Oh… thanks,” she said, taking a step back, only to bump lightly into the counter. She blinked up at him.

He didn’t move. Neither did she.

For a second, the kitchen felt way too small.

She ducked her head, a faint pink rising to her cheeks.

And his mind became quiet. Then unbearably loud.

Without thinking, he raised the box and gently tapped it against the top of her head.

“Next time,” he said, voice a little lower, “maybe ask someone taller first.”

A breathy laugh escaped her, soft with a hint of nervousness. “S-Sorry,” she said, taking the box from his hand, fingers brushing against his for just a second too long.

Chobi meowed loudly from the living room, breaking the moment. Barely.

Things hadn’t changed, exactly. But Tsukishima started noticing the little things now.

Like how yn stared a second too long when he talked, then quickly looked away like she hadn’t been caught. How she’d fuss with her hair when he walked up to her, tucking strands that weren’t even out of place. How she’d suddenly ask him about historical facts or volleyball games—topics she’d never cared about before.

And the calls.

Always with some excuse: “My hands are covered in flour” or “I’m chopping onions,” like she couldn’t just pause for two seconds to type.

But the most obvious thing?

She’d started dressing nicer. Still her, still casual, but… cuter. Stud earrings when they went out. Soft knits instead of shapeless hoodies. And today, a fitted t-shirt instead of the usual graphic tees she used to lounge in.

And then there was this—her fingers, tugging his jacket sleeve to get his attention instead of just saying his name.

“Earth to the nerd,” she said, giving it a light pull. “You good?”

He blinked. “Just wondering how much longer I have to stand here before you actually feed me.”

She rolled her eyes. “ I heard patience is a virtue.”

“So is basic competence.”

She elbowed him, laughing, and for a second, it felt normal again.

But when she turned back to the stove—and there it was. The way she smiled to herself. The slight flush on her neck. How she stirred the saucepan a little too fast.

Tsukishima exhaled slowly.

He wasn’t stupid. He’d dated before. He knew the signs.

And yet.

Maybe she’s just like this with everyone.

Maybe it doesn’t mean anything.

Maybe—

Maybe he just needed to be sure.

“That what you’re dipping it in?” he asked.

“Mm-hm.” Still not looking at him.

“Smells sweet,” he said, leaning in a little.

Her hand faltered.

“Can you hand me the cream puffs?” she asked.

He nodded, pulling back. He grabbed the tray and brought it over.

She turned off the stove, grabbed one, and dipped it in the caramel. Then—almost absently—she held it up to him.

He paused, caught off guard.

She seemed to realize it a second later. Her eyes widened, and the puff wobbled slightly in her fingers.

Tsukishima’s gaze softened before he leaned down and took a bite, careful not to touch her fingers.

Just to avoid embarrassing her, he told himself.

“Not bad,” he said, licking a bit of caramel off the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t burn it this time.”

She made a strangled sound. “It was one time—and it was like, months ago—”

“Sure,” he said, watching the way she suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes.

“You okay?”

“Y-Yeah. Just—it’s hot.”

“The caramel?”

She nodded fast. “Yeah. That.”

Sure it was.

He turned away to hide a smile.

Maybe he wasn’t imagining it.

“Ah, this is so cute!”

“Right! It suits your idea for the interior!”

“Oi.” Tsukishima lightly karate-chopped yn’s head before setting a tray down on the table. “Volume, please. We’re in public.”

Behind him, Yamaguchi offered an apologetic smile to the nearby patrons while Yachi ducked her head sheepishly. Yn rubbed the spot he'd tapped, shooting him a mock glare.

They were supposed to be helping her prep for her bakery launch. So far, it had mostly devolved into their usual chaos.

“What’s got you two so worked up anyway?” Yamaguchi asked as he sat beside Yachi, helping pass out plates.

“Yachi drafted a logo for me!” yn said proudly, sliding the paper to the center of the table.

"Whoa, this is amazing," Yamaguchi said, leaning in for a closer look.

Tsukishima set yn's plate in front of her. "You sure you don't wanna slap her face on it? I've got some truly cursed ones if you need material."

“You said you deleted those!” she hissed.

“And you actually believed me?” he said, adjusting his glasses with zero remorse.

Yachi blinked. “Wait... you have pictures of yn?”

Yamaguchi coughed into his hand, poorly hiding his grin.

"It's not a big deal," Tsukishima said flatly. "I have photos of all of you."

"Oh, but he has a special collection of Chobi," yn cut in, eyes glinting. "Did you know he bought her a sparkly collar for her birthday last month? And a tiny tiara—"

“Shut up,” he muttered, nudging her ankle under the table.

Laughter erupted from the other side of the booth.

“That’s… kind of unexpected,” Yamaguchi mused, eyeing them.

“Right?” yn said through giggles. “He spoils her more than I do.”

“Oh, I meant you two,” Yamaguchi added, a little smug now.

Tsukishima shot him a glare. Yamaguchi merely smiled back, unfazed.

“I agree,” Yachi chimed in, her tone gentle but her smile teasing. “You’ve gotten really close. It’s… nice. You barely talked in high school.”

“Blame Mr. Antisocial over here,” yn muttered, cheeks pink as he gestured at Tsukishima. “He’d only say two words to me back then.”

Tsukishima gently pushed her hand away, his voice dry but not unkind. “And yet you never shut up. Funny how that works.”

She hid her smile behind her drink.

Then he turned to the other two, the picture of innocence—except for the ruthless gleam in his eyes.

“Speaking of close,” he said casually, “cute matching watches. Ginza, right? During that... What was it? ‘Coincidental’ business trip?”

Yachi choked on her tea. Yamaguchi stared hard at the ceiling.

Tsukishima sipped from his drink, perfectly smug.

Tsukishima tapped his foot, checking his phone for the third time in a minute.

Yn was quitting her job today—finally. She’d saved enough for renovations and a few months’ expenses, but that didn’t make it any less nerve-wracking. She’d been texting him about it all morning.

So he’d decided to wait for her outside her office.

When she finally stepped out, she looked pale but composed, a file folder in one hand and her bag slung over her shoulder. No signs of crying. That seemed good.

“… Bad?” he asked, voice quieter than usual.

“Terrible,” she murmured, letting out a shaky breath. But she offered him a wobbly smile. “But at least it’s over.”

He nodded. Silence settled between them, not awkward, just… weighty. He wasn’t great at this kind of thing. The whole comforting-people deal. But he could try.

After a brief hesitation, his hand came up and landed on her shoulder.

“It’s not a mistake,” he said.

“How do you know?” she asked, looking up at him.

He pursed his lips, thinking.

“I don’t,” he admitted. “No one does. Only time will tell.”

Her shoulders dipped slightly, but she didn’t pull away.

“Wow,” she muttered. “You’re terrible at this.”

“I’m not done,” he said, chuckling faintly. “The one thing I do know is that you left something behind that was never going to get better, no matter how much time you gave it.”

Her eyes widened a little, the tension in her face softening. Slowly, she stepped closer. Her hands hovered at his sides, like she was asking permission.

A faint blush crept up Tsukishima’s neck. He looked away, but his hand tugged her just a little closer.

She stared at him for another moment, then let her arms fall back. Instead, she leaned in carefully, resting her head against his chest, leaving the smallest sliver of space between them.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He swallowed. His instinct was to pull her fully in—but they were still in public. And he didn’t want to crowd her.

So instead, he brought a hand up and gently ruffled her hair.

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll treat you to yakiniku and beer.”

She huffed a laugh and leaned back. “You don’t have to.”

“I’m not doing this for you,” he lied terribly. “I’m in the mood to drink. Plus, I want gossip. And I fully intend to talk shit about your co-workers now that you’re free.”

Tsukishima jolted when he felt a sudden pinch at his side.

“What the hell—?”

“You never gain weight no matter how much I feed you,” yn grumbled, eyeing his waist like it had personally offended her. “You eat half a cake and still look exactly the same. How is that possible?”

He scowled, swatting her hand away. “Don’t just go around poking people like that.”

She just laughed, clearly unrepentant.

“I play volleyball,” he added, brushing his shirt back down. “And I don’t sit around all day.”

“Still,” she huffed, fingers twitching like she was tempted again, “you can’t burn it off that fast.”

This time, he caught her wrist before she could make another move. His hand closed gently around hers.

“I walk to work. I’m on my feet during exhibit tours. I walk to your place, and then back to mine,” he said. “Probably genetics too. Everyone in my family’s like this.”

“Well, that’s unfair,” she muttered, pulling her hands back with a pout. “Some of us bloat just from inhaling sugar.”

He gave a smug shrug and pushed his hair back. “What can I say? I’m blessed. And you’re… you.”

She rolled her eyes. “Ah. So that’s where all that weight went—your ego.”

Tsukishima’s lips twitched. Without warning, he reached out and pinched both her cheeks between his fingers.

“Ah—Tsukki! Stop!” she squawked, smacking at his hands. “Let go! I’m sorry! I surrender!”

“You started it,” he said, satisfied as he finally let go.

She rubbed at her face, glaring half-heartedly, but there was warmth behind it.

A beat passed. Then they went back to sorting through labels and notes for her bakery.

Then, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his. “Hey.”

He glanced over.

“You really walk all the way back after visiting?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

She shook her head with a soft smile. “Just didn’t think you’d go that far out of your way. For cake.”

He gave her a long look, before his gaze returned to the papers, moving one to the side.

“It’s not just the cake,” he said quietly, without a hint of sarcasm.

He didn’t need to look up to know that she was blushing. And yeah, his face was a little warm too.

“This area gets decent foot traffic,” Tsukishima said, nodding toward the street. “Close to the station too.”

Yn leaned closer to the window of the vacant space, hands cupped around her face. “It’s just the right size—around 45 square meters. Enough for the kitchen, counter, and display case.”

He nodded, watching her instead of the storefront.

“You think this is the one?” he asked after a moment. “Or want to keep looking?”

She took one last look inside before straightening with a small sigh. “I really like it. But we should check a few more, just in case. Also… can we sit somewhere for a bit? My feet are killing me.”

“Weakling” he muttered, smirking as he reached out and steered her forward by the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s check out the competition and get something sweet while we’re at it.”

She pulled out her phone, thumbing through her map app. “There was a pastry place a few blocks back, remember? We passed it earlier.”

Tsukishima nodded, eyes scanning ahead. “Yeah. That one looked decent.”

“Think you can make it without whining?” she teased, tilting her head up at him.

“I was about to ask you that,” he shot back. Then, slipping his hand from her shoulder, he added dryly, “Want me to carry you?”

She scoffed. “As if you could.”

His eyes glinted. “You’re right. You probably weigh a ton.”

She gasped and swung at him—he easily sidestepped, a low laugh slipping out.

They fell into step again, their bickering fading into comfortable silence. When she veers slightly toward the sunlit side of the street, he subtly moves to block the harsher glare from hitting her eyes.

“I forgot my couch is buried under all this chaos,” yn muttered, eyeing the explosion of color swatches, menu sketches, pastry boxes, and scattered notes across the living room.

Tsukishima barely glanced at the mess before dropping onto the floor. “This works.”

They ended up sitting cross-legged on a mess of pillows and throw blankets, backs leaned against the couch. The low table in front of them held a few leftover pastries and mismatched mugs of steaming tea. On the TV, a documentary he’d picked played softly, its narration a dry murmur under the quiet.

It wasn’t a date. Not really.

But it felt like one.

“Is this the one where they find teeth in that sediment thingy?” she asked, squinting at the screen.

Tsukishima side-eyed her. “‘Sediment thingy’? Real eloquent.”

“My bad,” she said, grinning.

Still, she kept watching.

Onscreen, grainy footage of rock beds and excavation sites rolled past, narrated by a monotone voice that only excited people like him.

“That layer there,” Tsukishima pointed at the screen with his mug, “Cretaceous. Most of the stuff they find there is marine life. Ammonites, mostly. Sometimes mosasaurs if they get lucky.”

“Ammonites,” she repeated, brow furrowed. “Those swirly guys?”

“Very technical description,” he deadpanned. “But yes.”

He expected her to zone out—most people did when he started—but she didn’t. She tilted her head toward the screen, eyes narrowed like she was actually trying to see it the way he did.

“They’re kinda pretty,” she murmured. “In a prehistoric, probably-deadly sort of way.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “You’d hate the real thing. They’re massive.”

“Really? I thought they were just ancient snails or something.”

That made him laugh again, shaking his head at her ridiculous descriptions.

Somewhere between fossils and snails, his arm had found its way up, draped lazily along the couch behind them. Not touching her. Just close. She shifted slightly, leaning into the pillows. The back of her head brushed the inside of his forearm.

He didn’t move it.

Neither did she.

She laughed again at something he said and her knee nudged his. Her hand rested between them, fingers twitching like they might drift closer.

He turned his head toward her then, about to make some remark—but stopped.

She was already looking at him.

And she didn’t look away.

The light from the TV reflected in her eyes. Her lips parted slightly, like she wanted to say something but couldn’t quite find the words.

He wasn’t sure who leaned in first.

But it didn’t matter.

They were close enough for their noses to touch. Her fingers came up, curling into the side seam of his shirt. His arm tensed behind her, ready to close the gap. Their heads tilted ever so slightly, and her eyes fluttered shut.

If he moved just a little more—

Thump.

A blur of fur launched into his lap with a mrow that sounded far too proud.

Tsukishima blinked.

Yn drew back just enough to breathe in surprise.

Chobi, in perfect loaf formation, nestled across his thighs like she’d claimed them on purpose.

The moment shattered instantly.

“Are you serious…” Tsukishima muttered under his breath.

Chobi blinked up at him and purred.

Yn reached for the cat, but she rolled onto her back, paws batting playfully. “Chobi. You are the worst.”

“She’s evolving,” Tsukishima sighed, already giving in. He scratched Chobi’s head without thinking. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

Chobi flopped dramatically, clearly agreeing.

Yn settled back with a soft laugh, picking up her mug. They stayed close, and the air was still warm, but the balance tipped off. Her knee bumped his again, but this time it felt like a reset.

“Well,” she said after a moment, gaze flicking to the screen. “Your ancient snail documentary’s actually kind of decent.”

He didn’t look at her. He couldn’t yet. “Told you it wouldn’t be boring.”

That earned him a soft smile, but the charged air was gone now, tucked into the silence that neither of them dared to acknowledge.

Chobi purred louder.

And Tsukishima tried not to think about what would’ve happened if that damn cat had waited just ten more seconds.

The bell above the door chimed softly and Tsukishima stepped inside.

Yn looked up from where she was stacking menus at the counter, surprise flickering across her face. “Hey. What’re you doing here? It’s late.”

He held up a potted orchid—white with a blush of pink at the center. “I figured you’d get plenty of gifts tomorrow. Thought I’d beat the crowd.”

She smiled, walking over to take the plant from his hands, admiring it. “Wow. You actually got these? For me?”

“I can be thoughtful, you know,” he muttered.

“Must be exhausting.”

He huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Actually… there’s another reason I dropped by.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Okay...”

“I’m not gonna make it to the opening.” His tone dropped a bit. “My co-worker bailed on the Fukui trip last minute, so I’m getting sent instead. I leave first thing tomorrow.”

“Oh.” She took that in slowly, her smile dimming. “That’s… okay. I mean, it’s not your fault.”

He nodded, though the silence that followed sat heavier than he liked.

“Wait here,” she said after a moment, pivoting back toward the kitchen. “I made something for you. Figured you’d drop by for breakfast before going to work.”

She returned with a small plate—strawberry shortcake, pristine layers of sponge and cream, with a single slice of berry on top.

Tsukishima looked at it longer than necessary. “You made it.”

“You wouldn’t shut up about it,” she teased.

He chuckled and took the fork from her. “Guess I’m spoiled.”

They stood shoulder to shoulder behind the counter as he took a bite. And she watched him, like always.

He licked a bit of cream from his thumb. “This is delicious.”

Yn beamed. “That good?”

He nodded. “Good enough that I’m mad I won’t be here tomorrow to have more.”

“I’ll make it again when you come back then.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips. He kept eating in comfortable silence, the hum between them growing thicker.

“You nervous?” he asked.

“Very.”

“You’ll be fine. Everyone’s coming. Even those two morons.”

“Hinata and Kageyama?”

“Yeah. The tall one asked if he needed to dress formal.”

“Oh god,” she groaned, laughing.

The tension broke into warmth, then softened again.

“Want anything from Fukui?” he asked.

“Habutae Kurumi, please,” she said, perking up.

“Of course you’d want the one thing with walnuts.”

“Hey! You asked.”

She leaned in a little then, arms crossed on the counter. Her face tilted slightly, amused but fond.

“Thanks, Tsukishima. For everything,” she said. “If I hadn’t met you again, if you didn’t give me the push I needed, I wouldn’t be here.”

Her words sank in slowly and his heart warmed.

He leaned close too, putting the fork down. “I barely did anything. You did all the work. I just got free food.”

“Oh, shut up.” Her hand slid over his—light, hesitant. “You did more than you think.”

He stared at their hands for a moment, then gripped hers. “And I can do more if you want.”

Neither of them moved, not at first.

Her eyes dropped to his mouth, and when they flicked back up again, the answer was already there.

He leaned in, just a little. Her breath hitched.

Their noses brushed. Breaths mingling. The softest graze of lips—

Then his phone rang.

Loud and jarring.

“Shit.” He pulled back an inch, jaw tight. “Sorry. I have to take this.”

She stepped back just as quickly. “Right. Go ahead.”

The moment slipped through the cracks. Gone again.

Moments passed, and he was by the door.

“Thanks for the cake,” he said, quieter now.

“Thanks for the orchids,” she replied with a small smile.

“Sorry I can’t stay.” He reached up, pausing near her cheek before moving up to ruffle her hair instead.

“It’s fine. Really.” She leaned into his touch. A beat passed before she grabbed his shoulders, turning him around the door. “Now go. It’s late and you have to pack.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

He gave a nod, then left.

It should’ve ended there.

But as Tsukishima walked a few paces down the quiet street, something gnawed at him.

He’d be back. In a week, everything would slide back into place. They’d share dessert. Bicker. Sit too close in her apartment and pretend the silence between them wasn’t filled with everything they didn’t want to say.

Nothing would change.

And that’s what got to him.

Because maybe that was the problem.

This itch in his chest—it wasn’t panic. Nothing bad was going to happen. She wasn’t leaving. He wasn’t moving across the world. There would be a thousand other moments to say something.

But even knowing that, he couldn’t shake the thought.

He just really, really wanted this to be the one.

He didn’t know why. Maybe it was the look she gave him when she said thank you. Maybe it was how warm the place felt when it was just the two of them. Or maybe he was just tired of pretending he didn’t know what this was.

It didn’t make sense. But the feeling wouldn’t let go.

So he stopped walking.

Then he turned around.

The bell chimed again.

Yn blinked, “Tsukki? Did you forget something?”

He stood in the doorway, breath caught between resolve and hesitation. “Yeah. I did.”

She glanced around. “What? Your phone?”

“No.”

In a few strides, he was in front of her.

He used to think his high school crush on her was just a phase. One of those dumb, passing things you look back on and laugh about when you’re older and know better. He never said anything then. Just stayed in the background, convinced she’d never see someone like him.

And for a while, he believed he’d outgrown it. Got older. Dated other people. Learned how to care, let go, to move on and try again.

But then they met again and she had rearranged the way his life moved. Morning texts became habit. Stopping by after work turned into instinct. Even the smallest things—a song he heard her hum before, a cat on the street—automatically led back to her. She’d become his first thought, then his favorite one.

What he felt now wasn’t the same as back then, but it wasn’t lesser either.

He never believed in fate. Never bought into the idea of “the one.”

But standing here now, with his palms sweating like he was seventeen again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just this once—the cliché was right.

Maybe she was it.

So, he didn’t hesitate this time. He reached for her hand, steady despite his pulse hammering in his ears.

“I forgot to tell you,” he started, voice a little too low, like he hoped saying it quietly would make it feel less embarrassing. “That I… I want to be there. For you. Not just with the bakery. But… everything.”

He cleared his throat, gaze flicking down to where their hands were joined. “I mean—I don’t know. Life stuff. Whatever that means.”

God.

He shut his eyes for a second and exhaled through his nose, like maybe this would reset his brain. It didn’t.

“From now on. For a long time. If you’ll let me. Or tolerate me. Either works.”

There. He said it.

And it sounded exactly as awkward as he’d feared. Not charming. Not smooth like earlier or all the other times it almost spilled from his lips. Just him, rambling and way too warm in the face.

Yn didn’t answer right away.

She just stared at him, lips parted slightly—then let out a breath. Almost a laugh. Soft and fond.

“The way you—I mean,” she said, cheeks tinting pink as her gaze dropped to their hands, “that was… barely coherent.”

He opened his mouth, about to defend himself, but she squeezed his hand before he could.

“But I liked it,” she added, glancing up again. “Life stuff with you sounds great.”

That made him smile—relieved, crooked, a little breathless.

His hands found her cheeks, thumbs grazing the soft curves under her eyes. And when she leaned into the touch, something in his chest went loose.

“I love you,” he murmured.

She blinked up at him, eyes shining. Slowly, her hands came up, pressing to his chest, sliding up until they curled around his neck. Her fingers brushed the back of his nape, gentle and a little unsure, like she was mapping him for the first time.

“I love you too.”

He shivered under her touch, from the weight of her words, from everything.

God, he was so far gone for her.

Then she tilted her head, lips quirking up. “So… is this the part where we kiss? Because I’m kind of dying over here.”

He laughed, half-choked, and tugged her in. “Yeah.”

But right before their lips could meet, he pulled back slightly and fumbled into his pocket.

Her brows lifted. “You’re kidding.”

He held up his phone, switched it to silent, and shot her a look. “I’m not getting interrupted twice in one night.”

She laughed, her forehead brushing his.

Tucking the phone away, he leaned in, wrapping an arm around her waist, the other still cradling her cheek. “I’m not going to hold back, okay?” he whispered.

“Tsukishima! Just go for it already.”

He grinned and, finally, leaned in.

It tasted like strawberries.

But more than that, it tasted like something he’d been quietly craving for a long, long time.

486 notes · View notes

no-144444 · 3 months ago

Text

voicenotes- faking it au

꩜summary: voicenotes lando sends you throughout your first year

꩜pairing: fakeboyfriend! lando norris x fem! fakegirlfriend! actress! reader

Imola, 19th of May, 2024. 1:34am

Hey, just wanted to… I don't know. Call you, or something. I think you’re in the US so you’re probably busy with work right now, but I just… I don’t know. I needed someone to talk to who doesn’t hate me because of my driving. You just hate me for fun. [chuckle] So, yeah. I’m here. I can’t sleep. Don’t really want to eat anything else. Started watching one of your movies, the one with Asa Butterfield? Is that his name? From when you were a kid. Hugo, or something, I think. You were really good in it. [pause] I hope you come to Canada. I want to see you. Ok, bye now. Bye.

Barcelona, 23rd of June, 2024. 11:23pm

Hey. I know we didn’t go too well in Canada and I just wanted to call you and apologise. I was being a dick. I’m not even your real boyfriend, and I’m sorry I was just being… whatever it was. It was shit and I feel really bad about it. Anyways… [sigh], um, saw some of your interviews for Civil War. Looks great. You and… Wagner Moura, is that his name? You two are funny together. Close. [pause] Umm… [breathes out] yeah. Wondering if you want to come to Austria? No pressure if you’re busy but… I think it’d be good if you came. I got P2 today, in case you didn’t watch. I’m sure you don’t. But yeah. Getting up there for sure. Well, alright. I’ll hopefully see you in Austria. Bye.

Austria, 31st of June, 2024. 1:52am

Hi. Kinda glad you weren’t there today [chuckle]. Fucking shitshow. I��m kinda… tired of this shit. Everyone just keeps talking and talking and talking and I’m just… trying to drown it out. Thought you’d understand that- [his phone starts ringing], oh shit, that’s you. Um-

[incoming call from Y/n ]

Hey Lando. Your voice was sickly sweet, knowing exactly what he was going through. How's it going?

He took a deep breath. I’ve been better.

Where are you?

Still in Austria. Airport smells like shit and they have no good food spots.

Are you with Jon?

[pause] I am. I just… don’t think he’d get it.

I know what you mean [chuckle]. Most people don’t get murdered online for one simple mistake.

I knew you’d understand. Thanks for calling me back.

I’m here for you Lando. This shit isn’t easy.

You’re telling me. How’s filming going?

[sigh] It’s… going. Drew and I are breaking our backs but… I don't know. Our director just doesn’t seem happy. I’m sure we’ll work it out though. Have you spoken to Max yet?

Nope [sigh]. I might come visit you. If that’s alright.

[pause] Yeah. That’s alright.

Great. Just… want to see you in person. We can post some shit too.

Sounds good to me. You can come meet Drew and the rest of the crew.

I’d like that.

Great. Well, I’ll leave you to your shitty smelling airport but you should really grab some food, yeah?

I think there’s a muffin place down that way [pause]. I’ll eat. Don’t worry about me now, I might get the impression you tolerate me.

You’re a lot more tolerable when you’re beaten down by life [chuckle], less of an ago.

[laughter] I’m glad something good came out of this weekend then, you can tolerate me!

Never said that Norris.

Sure you didn’t. [pause] I’ll leave you to your boring me-less work. Bye.

Bye Lando

[end of call]

Hungary, 21st of July, 2024. 11:53pm

I want to see you again. This weekend was a fucking joke and I need to see someone sane. I’ll come over to you and after Belgium we go away? Call me when you get off work, please. I miss you. Bye. Call me.

Belgium, 28th of July, 2024, 7:49pm

Hey, I’m on my way to the airport now. Can’t wait to go away, thanks for doing this. [pause] Alright, see you soon!

Greece, 11th of August, 2024, 2:54am

[Pause] I’m really fucked up and tired right now, but… [hiccup] I miss you. I miss your perfume. I miss your dresses. I miss your hair and how it smells so good. I miss how pretty you look in the morning. I miss sharing a bed. I miss seeing you fully relaxed. I miss you pulling me to go swimming at 8am, even though we could be asleep. I’m sorry I [hiccup] sprung the… y’know on you, but… I don’t know what the fuck to do around you. You make me feel so… I don’t even fucking know. I’m sorry I called you so late. Just… like hearing your voice I guess [Max’s voice in the distance getting closer]. You’re beautiful. Inside and out. Alright, bye.

Monza, 1st September, 2024, 6:21pm

Hey baby, just wondering where you are? My mum’s here and so’s my dad and they want to meet you, alright, call me when you see this, love you!

Monza, 1st September 2024, 11:35pm

I’m following you to Calgary to see you. I miss you and I feel like shit. Text me, please. [Pause] I’m sorry about earlier but I really don’t know what you wanted me to tell them. What, say their son is so fucking uncontrollable and annoying that he has to pay someone to pretend to be love with him? It’s just… [pause] pathetic. And I know it is, so you don’t need to remind me.

[Long pause]

They loved you though. They think you’re really smart, way too smart for me. They’re probably right. Too pretty for me too. Anyway, sorry I’m taking this shit out on you. I lo-miss you. See you in Calgary. Bye.

Azerbaijan, 15th of September, 8:56pm

Hey baby, how are you? Just having breakfast now and then I’m heading to the track. I’m sure you’re asleep but I just wanted to wish you luck today… and say I love you. Right. Call me when you wake up. Bye. Love you.

navigation for my blog :)

mclaren masterlist

faking it au masterlist

taglist: (just comment to be added!)

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monzabee · 11 months ago

Text

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you.

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems).

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.”

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?”

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?”

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.”

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.”

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you.

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.”

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.”

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face.

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.”

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.”

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.”

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–”

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.”

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous.

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.”

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake.

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father.

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.”

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.”

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?”

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews.

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?”

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?”

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.”

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.”

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.”

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course.

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead.

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you.

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture.

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.”

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead.

“Max,” Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.”

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation.

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.”

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.”

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that.

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.”

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?”

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.”

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.”

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.”

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?”

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.”

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.”

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.”

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.”

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.”

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?”

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?”

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #max verstappen fluff

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court-of-starss · 4 months ago

Text

Figure you out

Pairing: Rockstar Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel performs his new song not knowing that his inspiration is standing in the front row.

Warnings: Angst (sorry not sorry), the word porn like once, Azriel being delulu, slight Elain slander.

a/n: wow I have been gone for so long, i'm so sorry!! I just had to share this so it would stop haunting me <3

p.s highly suggest listening to Figure you out by VIOLA !!

masterlist

The rain was beating down on your windshield as you pulled into the cramped parking spot, you held your phone to your ear and slipped out of the car, ducking your head to avoid water getting into your eyes as you run for the awning on the side of the bar.

“Hey babe.” Your friends joyous voice is almost drowned out by the loud music in the background, some indie band playing.

“I’m here but you have my ticket.” You huff, glancing around the corner and grimacing at the long line of girls waiting to be let in. “And there’s a massive line to get in Fey.”

“Relax, the bouncer’s a friend. Gave him your ticket, you don’t have to que up!” You roll your eyes at a group of girls who pass you, whispering about the lead singer.

“I think it’s very convenient that you wouldn’t tell me what band we’re seeing.” You already know who will be up that stage, who all these girls were lining up in the rain to see.

“They miss you Y/n, I miss you.” She mumbles, you can hear the pout on her face that makes you swallow tightly in guilt. You didn’t mean to isolate yourself from your friends, they always supported you. But he was in their group, and even after 2 years you still can’t see his face or hear his voice, without breaking more of your ruined heart.

“I’ve been busy with work, and Dec.” You cringe at the name of your current boyfriend. The phone is snatched out of Feyre’s hand with an outraged ‘hey!’

“You mean mister 1 minute wonder who loves rubbing your left flap?” Mor’s laughter rings through the phone, a sound you didn’t realise how much you missed. You scowl at the laughs that follow the question.

“Remind me to never drink with you again.”

“Well, do I need to come out there and get you myself? I won’t be happy babe, I spent an hour on my hair.” She retorts, you can already hear her walking away from the group. Your eyes widen and you quickly turn the corner, walking up to the entrance.

“No no! Just meet me at the door yeah?” You rush out, not wanting the lecture that will follow her hair being ruined. She hums and hangs up right as you reach the bouncer, a familiar face.

“Never thought I’d see your pretty face around here again sweetheart.” Despite the anxiety rushing through you and the never-ending rain, you smile widely.

“I’ve got to give you some entertainment don’t I Luci?” You grin, leaning forward to hug the red head. He chuckles and kisses your cheek, leaning back to unhook the red rope blocking the entrance.

“Give em’ hell Sweetheart.” He winks, you roll your eyes and walk in, shaking the rain off before someone is barreling into you. You smile into her blond hair and wrap your arms around her waist, hugging her just as tightly as she is holding you.

“I’m putting a tracker in your phone next time you disappear on me like that again.” She mumbles into your shoulder. You grin and pull back to look at her, taking in her warm brown eyes. Mor has always been the shining star in your life, her friendship carrying a gentle but strong comfort through your soul.

“Maybe I’ll let you.” You tease, hooking your arm through hers as she turns to lead you to the others. You wince at the jabs she throws at a few girls trying to get through the crowd, the closer to the stage you get, the more clothing seems to disappear from the crowd around you.

“You’d think this was a porn convention.” Mor snickers. You try to hide your laugh in your shoulder when a few of the girls turn to shoot her a dirty look. She doesn’t acknowledge them, just continues to drag you to the front barrier of the stage where Feyre is waving like a madwoman. You can’t stop the wide grin as it grows on your face, rushing forward to wrap yourself in Feyre’s arms.

Your words to each other are lost in the crowd’s applause as the bar’s announcer jumps up onto the stage, taking place before the mic with a few squeals from the crowd. You settle under Feyre’s arm as you both turn to face the stage.

“Well ladies it’s nice to see you all! I won’t beat around the bush as I know you’re all waiting for tonight’s main event!” More screams from the crowd of girls at your back, pushing and shoving each other to try and get closer to the stage. “The next set is by far my favorite, and after travelling all over they’re finally back to remember their roots.” You feel your stomach clench in anxiety, the room around you buzzing in excitement. You hadn’t seen him in 2 years, hadn’t seen his arrogant smirk or messy black curls that always fell into his eyes, hadn’t felt his soft but rough fingers tracing up and down your soft skin in the twilight hours.

“Please welcome to the stage, The bat boys!” The crowd squealed as they came onto stage, drowning out your anxious gasps. Rhysand was always first on stage, smirking and blowing kisses into the crowd like the preening Madonna he was. Cassian was next, his hair dripping down to his shoulders as he twirled his drumsticks around his fingers with a boyish grin before settling behind the drums with a few winks.

You felt your mouth dry as Azriel stepped onto stage.

The girls around you screamed even louder, but you couldn’t hear them over the buzzing in your head. His Hazel eyes scanned the crowd with what you knew to be nerves, his shy but confident smirk as familiar as your own reflection in the mirror.

You always forgot just how beautiful he was, the perfect lines of his face that you used to trace in the morning sun surrounded by soft silk sheets. The soft and messy black curls that draped over his eyes, the crinkles by his beautiful eyes that highlighted his wide grin.

How could you forget, for even a second, how much you loved him?

“Hello Darlings.” Rhys purred into the mic, shooting a wink towards Feyre who was blowing him a kiss from beside you. The crowd screamed again, you missed your friends. You missed sitting in Rhys apartment with pizza boxes scattered around you as the group watched Cass serenading Nesta with half his clothes off. You missed the movies night, the nights spent together tossing lyric ideas around for their next song.

You missed the life you had 2 years ago, before he broke your heart.

Your eyes flicked to Azriel again as he started strumming the tune to the first song on their set. The relaxed grin on his face as the crowd started humming along the tune, the one he hummed to you for months as you laid next to him. You watched his eyes focus on his hands, though you were sure he could perform in his sleep. Your heart was cracking as you watched him play, the song a familiar comfort in the back of your mind.

How many times had you been the one screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs? How many times had you been in this exact position but with a wide grin on your face? Now your lips were pressed together to stop the painful sob forming at the back of your throat. Now your eyes that used to gleam with joy, love and happiness, were misted with years of pain.

You felt Mor’s hand slip into yours from your left, a silent comfort to your mess of emotions. She didn’t offer you a soft smile or careful words, didn’t even turn to look at you, just continued singing along with the crowd. You swallowed the tears, the heartbreak and the longing, and pulled her closer into your side as the song came to an end.

The crowd was deafening as Rhys smirked at them, his white teeth gleaming in the red spotlight above him.

“What a warm up!” He chuckled into the mic, running his hand through his hair as he turned to say something to Azriel behind him. Azriel slung his guitar behind him, shaking his hands out as he stepped up to Rhys side.

“Now for something different. You’ll be the first audience to hear this song, something special for someone special.” Rhys grinned before stepping back to Azriel’s spot, picking up his own guitar. You felt your heart fly up to your throat as he stepped up to the mic, his voice floating over the crowd.

I heard he got you a penthouse On the westside when will he learn That you're afraid of heights? I heard he got you a new Benz With the white wheels, when will he learn That you like to tandem bike?

And I hate that

Azriel’s voice rang through the bar, the lyrics shooting straight to your heart. His smile flashing behind your eyes, his laughter ringing through your mind.

I could love you with my eyes closed Kiss you with a blindfold Figure you out I might hold you with my hands tied Show you I'm the right guy To figure you out na-na-na, na, na

You felt your eyes water, stronger this time. Memories flashing through your mind, soft words pressed into your skin in the early hours of the morning. Kisses interrupted by smiles so wide that you thought your skin would split.

I heard he got you some new friends With some big dreams, when will he learn That you already got your own? Oh, I heard he got you the front row At the rap show, when will he learn That you like The Rolling Stones?

How could you ever get over this type of love? How could you walk away from him again after he broke your heart a second time?

And I've been thinking Of all the little things That you've been missing When will you learn?

Mor squeezed your hand tighter as she watched the tears roll down your cheeks, guilt pulling her brows down into a frown.

I could love you with my eyes closed Kiss you with a blindfold Figure you out (figure you out) (yeah) I might hold you with my hands tied Show you I'm the right guy To figure you out na-na-na, na, na

The crowd around you was swaying with the melody, oblivious to the way your heart was being broken by the very angel before them on the stage. To the lyrics of a broken heart that used to belong to you, that used to beat in your body. To a heart that was singing a melody of stolen love.

How dare he?

I could treat you so much better I've known you forever, figured you out Ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh

I could love you with my eyes closed Kiss you with a blindfold Figure you out (figure you out) (yeah) I might hold you with my hands tied Show you I'm the right guy To figure you out na-na-na, na, na

The girls around you screamed again as the song came to a close, cheering for the guitarist that had finally shown his secretive emotions. You tugged your hands out of your friends embrace as you turned away from the stage with a sob.

“I can’t do this.” You pushed and shoved through the crowd, ignoring the calls of your name from your friends. You couldn’t stop. You couldn’t face this again. You couldn’t watch him stand up there and sing like he hadn’t ripped your heart out.

The rain was still pouring when you finally made it out of the bar, making you tuck your arms around yourself to hold yourself together. How were you supposed to shove this away? How does one forget the love of their life?

You stilled as you heard his deep voice call your name. The rain was plastering your hair to your head, running down your face masking the tears that wouldn’t stop.

“Y/n please wait!” He called, his boots thudding through the water on the ground. You whipped around to face him as his hand caught your elbow, anger and heartbreak swirling through your eyes.

“How dare you.” You snarled at him, not caring about the sad look in his eyes. What reason did he have to be upset? He was panting, the rain plastering his stubborn curls to his forehead as he leant forward to wrap a heavy jacket around your shoulders.

“You’ll get a cold.” He mumbled, adjusting the jacket so the hood was covering your already soaked hair. You blinked at him stunned, the anger swirling through you demanding you to shrug the jacket off your shoulders. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t remove the scent of his cologne from invading your senses, a smell that had faded from your pillow years ago.

“What do you want Azriel?” You watched him wring his hands in front of him nervously, picking at the skin around his nails before he opened his mouth.

“I missed you baby and I-”

“You missed me?” You barked out a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You cheated on me. You don’t get to miss me and then trick me into attending your stupid gig.” He shook his head and stepped closer, ducking his head to meet your eyes. You took a step back with a frown on your face.

“I regretted it the second it happened.” He mumbled, cringing when he thought back to that night two years ago. The night he had stupidly kissed Elain Archeron. He didn’t miss the way you flinched back and looked down to the ground, as if recollecting yourself.

“You only regret that you were caught.” You said to the ground, not looking up at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing the heartbreak in your eyes, of seeing how fresh it still was.

“No-”

“Don’t lie to me!” You yelled, whipping your head up to him with a glare Azriel felt twist the organ beating in his chest violently.

“You told me I was the love of your life, your soulmate.” You didn’t bother try to hide the agony bleeding into your eyes. “And then you went and spewed the same bullshit into her ear.” You turned away from him again to try and compose yourself. You squeezed your eyes shut to try and erase the image you had seen that night. Of Azriel pressing Elain up against the wall with the same passion he shared with you just hours before, of him kissing her soft lips as if they were his oasis.

Of him kissing her the same way he kissed you.

“You are!” He sobbed, stepping closer. “You are the love of my life! You’re both my favourite dream and my worst nightmare, haunting me every second of every day.” He panted, trying desperately to get you to turn and face him again. He had been deprived of your beautiful eyes for two years and he wanted, no needed, to see their beautiful colour again.

“Is that the same thing you tell Elain?” You mumbled out. He flinched back at how small you sounded. You had always been the centre of the room, laughing and glowing by his side.

What had he done? How could he fix this?

“I’m not with Elain.” He said, clearing the knot from the back of his throat as you turned back around to face him. Your eyes were red from crying, but Azriel couldn’t look away. You were still the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, a true goddess amongst mortals.

“I don’t care anymore Azriel. I just want you to leave me alone.” He tried to reach for your face but you took several steps back, shaking your head as more tears trailed down your cheeks. His hands shook as he reached for you, his own tears rolling down his cheeks.

“Wait Y/n, please.”

“No more. Please just let me go.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the way your voice wobbled or if it was the roaring agony in your eyes that made his brother step in. Probably both.

“Enough Az. C’mon bunny, I’ll walk you to your car.” Rhys wrapped a warm arm around your shoulders, a familiar brotherly comfort. You shot one last look at Azriel over your shoulder as Rhys started leading you to your car, your heart squeezing in your chest at the pain in his beautiful eyes.

“Goodbye Azriel.” You said softly, offering him a wobbly smile before turning into his brother as you walked away.

He watched you walk away with a heavy heart, knowing that he had lost the love of his life forever.

#acotar series #azriel #acotar #modern!azriel #modern!au #modern!acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x reader angst #azriel angst #azriel x reader fluff #azriel x reader fanfic

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fioredeciliego · 6 months ago

Text

Mommy Issues - Karina x Fem!Reader

11.2k words

Moving to another country wasn’t supposed to be easy. That was the mantra Y/N repeated to herself as she dragged her luggage through the crowded halls of Schiphol Airport. The Netherlands—a world away from the life she had known, filled with unfamiliar faces, a foreign language, and customs she barely understood. Yet, this was what she wanted. This was freedom.

It had taken months to plan, years to gather the courage. Back home, there was no peace. Privacy was a luxury she could never afford in a house that was always full: her mother, her three younger siblings, the constant noise. And then there was her mother herself—a complicated, volatile presence that dominated Y/N’s life. For years, Y/N had felt more like a caretaker than a daughter, shouldering responsibilities that weren’t hers to bear. It wasn’t all bad; she loved her siblings dearly and had moments with her mother that reminded her of the love buried under the chaos. But it was never enough to outweigh the suffocating sense of inadequacy and anxiety.

She rolled her suitcase to the curb and hailed a taxi, her heart hammering in her chest as she gave the driver her new address. The cityscape of Amsterdam blurred past the window as she tried to breathe deeply, grounding herself in the present. She’d rented a small studio apartment on the outskirts of the city—a modest space, but it was hers. No one would barge in uninvited. No one would demand things of her. No one would criticize her every move.

When the taxi stopped, she lugged her suitcase up the narrow staircase to her apartment. The first thing she noticed was how quiet it was. The silence felt foreign, almost eerie, after years of constant noise. She stood in the center of the room, taking in the plain white walls, the tiny kitchenette, the single window overlooking the street below. It wasn’t much, but it was hers.

As she unpacked, her phone buzzed on the counter. Her stomach twisted when she saw the caller ID: Mom.

She hesitated, staring at the screen until it went dark. The phone buzzed again, and this time, she answered.

“Hello?” Her voice was small, almost drowned out by the static of the poor connection.

“Y/N, where are you?” her mother’s voice demanded, sharp and accusatory. “Why didn’t you tell me you landed?”

“I just got in,” Y/N said, already bracing herself for the onslaught. “I was going to call you once I settled.”

“You should have called me right away. Do you know how worried I’ve been? You don’t think about anyone but yourself.”

Y/N closed her eyes, gripping the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned white. “I’m sorry,” she murmured, the words automatic, devoid of feeling.

Her mother launched into a familiar tirade about how selfish Y/N was, how ungrateful. She didn’t ask about the flight, the new apartment, or how Y/N was feeling. It was all about her mother’s own anxiety, her fears, her sacrifices. Y/N listened in silence, letting the words wash over her. She’d heard it all before.

When the call finally ended, Y/N sank onto the couch, tears prickling her eyes. She’d left the country to escape this, yet her mother’s voice still echoed in her head, a constant reminder of her failures. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do something, but instead, she sat there, staring at the bare walls of her new home.

The next few days passed in a blur of monotony. Wake up. Go to work. Eat alone. Come home. Watch TV. Sleep. Repeat. The job was unremarkable, a desk position at a small marketing firm. Her coworkers were polite but distant, their conversations flowing effortlessly in Dutch while Y/N fumbled with basic phrases. She spent her lunch breaks alone, scrolling through her phone and pretending not to notice the sidelong glances from her colleagues.

The weekends offered a slight reprieve. Y/N explored the city, wandering through parks, visiting museums, and losing herself in the maze of canals. She loved the quiet moments, the freedom to go wherever she wanted without answering to anyone. But even in the midst of Amsterdam’s beauty, she couldn’t shake the loneliness that clung to her like a shadow.

Her mother called almost every day, and every call left Y/N feeling more drained than the last. Her siblings would sometimes grab the phone, their voices bright and eager as they told her about school and their friends. Those moments were the only ones that brought a genuine smile to her face. She missed them terribly, but the thought of going back—of returning to that stifling environment—was unthinkable.

One evening, as she sat on the couch with a bowl of instant noodles, her phone buzzed again. She didn’t even need to look to know who it was.

“Hello?” she answered, her voice flat.

“Y/N, have you thought about what I said?” her mother’s voice was softer this time, almost pleading. “You don’t have to stay there. You can come home. We need you here.”

“I can’t,” Y/N said, her throat tightening. “I need to do this for myself.”

“Your siblings miss you. I miss you.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. “I miss you too. But I can’t come back. Not now.”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. “Fine,” her mother said, her tone laced with disappointment. “Do what you want.”

The call ended, leaving Y/N feeling hollow. She set the phone down and leaned back, staring at the ceiling. She’d thought putting distance between them would help, but the weight of her mother’s expectations still bore down on her, even from thousands of miles away.

The following week, Y/N found herself walking aimlessly through Vondelpark, the crisp autumn air a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in her head. She’d taken to spending her lunch breaks there, finding solace in the rustling leaves and the laughter of children playing nearby.

She sat on a bench, pulling out a small notebook she’d started carrying with her. Writing had always been a form of escape for her, a way to process the chaos in her mind. She scribbled down a few lines, her thoughts tumbling onto the page:

I just want to feel loved. Truly loved. Not out of obligation or guilt. Loved for who I am, not for what I can do for others.

She stared at the words, her chest tightening. It felt selfish to admit, but it was the truth. For once in her life, she wanted someone to take care of her, to make her feel safe. She wanted what she’d never had—unconditional love.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning sunlight poured through the window of the cozy townhouse nestled in a quiet neighborhood of Amsterdam. Jimin stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the edge of her soft duvet. The faint aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted up from the kitchen, signaling the start of another peaceful day.

Her family was always an anchor of stability in her life. Her mother, a warm and nurturing presence, was undoubtedly the heart of their home. She had a knack for making anyone feel welcome, whether it was through her perfectly brewed tea or her way of listening that made you feel truly heard. Jimin’s father balanced her mother’s kindness with his grounded practicality, always ready with a steady hand or a piece of advice. Her older sister, Hana, was her confidante and occasional partner-in-crime, always there to lend an ear or offer her unabashed honesty. Together, they formed a bubble of unconditional love that Jimin knew she was lucky to have.

Yet, even with this steadfast support system, a void lingered in her heart—an unspoken yearning for someone to share her life with.

Jimin rose from her bed, padding over to the window to look out at the serene street below. “Another day,” she murmured to herself. She glanced at her phone to see a string of messages from her best friends lighting up the screen.

Aeri: “Morning! Don’t forget, you’re walking Cooper today.”

Minjeong: “Bet she forgets and we have to chase the dog again.”

Yizhuo: “Minjeong’s just mad because Cooper likes Jimin better.”

Jimin chuckled, her heart lightening. Her friends were like family. They had been inseparable since childhood, navigating the ups and downs of life together. If her family provided her foundation, her friends were the walls and roof that sheltered her from life’s storms. But even with them, Jimin felt that persistent ache for something… or someone… she couldn’t quite name.

After a quick breakfast, Jimin arrived at Aeri’s house to pick up Cooper, Aeri’s spirited greyhound. Cooper bounded up to her as soon as she stepped through the door, his tail wagging furiously.

“Hey, buddy!” Jimin crouched down to ruffle his fur, earning a happy bark. “Ready for a walk?”

Aeri leaned against the doorway, smirking. “You’re spoiling him, you know. He’ll never want to come back to me at this rate.”

“Can you blame him? I’m way more fun,” Jimin teased, clipping on Cooper's leash.

“Just don’t lose him,” Aeri called as Jimin and Cooper headed out.

The park was a short walk from Aeri’s place, a lush expanse of greenery dotted with families, joggers, and couples enjoying the crisp morning air. Cooper tugged at the leash, eager to explore. Jimin let him lead the way, her thoughts drifting.

As much as she loved her life, it often felt… predictable. Her days were filled with love and laughter, but there was a part of her that craved something more. She wanted to be the kind of person who could offer someone the same sense of warmth and security her family had always given her. She wanted someone to come home to, someone to share her quiet moments with, someone who would trust her to take care of them.

“Maybe I’m just a hopeless romantic,” she mused aloud, earning a curious tilt of Cooper’s head.

Later that afternoon, Jimin met up with her friends at their favorite café. The cozy space buzzed with chatter, the scent of freshly baked pastries mingling with the rich aroma of coffee. Minjeong was already seated, scrolling through her phone, while Yizhuo animatedly recounted a story to Aeri.

“You’re late,” Minjeong said without looking up as Jimin slid into the booth.

“Cooper wanted to inspect every single tree in the park,” Jimin replied, grinning.

“Sure he did,” Minjeong said dryly, but the corners of her mouth twitched in amusement.

“Speaking of dogs,” Aeri began, “have you guys noticed how much Jimin’s been sighing lately? Like a lovesick puppy?”

Jimin’s cheeks flushed. “I have not!”

“Oh, come on,” Yizhuo said, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “You’ve got that faraway look in your eyes. Spill. Is there someone you’ve got your eye on?”

“No,” Jimin said firmly, but her friends weren’t convinced.

“You know,” Aeri said thoughtfully, “it’s okay to admit you’re looking for someone. We all know you’ve got that whole ‘caretaker’ thing going on. You’d be a great girlfriend.”

Jimin groaned. “Why do I even hang out with you guys?”

“Because you love us,” Yizhuo quipped.

Despite their teasing, Jimin knew they were right. She was looking for someone, even if she didn’t know who yet.

That night, Jimin sat on her bed, scrolling aimlessly through her phone. She paused on a photo from the park earlier that day—Cooper sniffing a patch of flowers, his grey fur glowing in the sunlight. It was such a simple moment, yet it had brought her so much joy.

“Maybe that’s all I’m missing,” she thought. “Someone to share the little moments with.”

She set her phone down and lay back, staring at the ceiling. Her life was full of love and laughter, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was someone out there who needed her just as much as she needed them.

And maybe, just maybe, she would find them.

With that thought, Jimin drifted off to sleep, her dreams filled with fleeting images of laughter, warmth, and a pair of eyes she hadn’t yet met but somehow already knew.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The morning air was crisp and fresh, carrying the faint scent of flowers blooming across the park. Jimin tugged at the leash in her hand, glancing down at the sleek Greyhound trotting alongside her. Cooper’s thin frame and long legs made him look almost regal, but his excitement for sniffing every patch of grass made Jimin chuckle.

"Cooper, can we stick to the path for once?" Jimin muttered, gently tugging the leash as the Greyhound veered toward another tree.

She’d agreed to take Aeri’s dog out for a walk, something she didn’t mind doing since it gave her an excuse to enjoy the peaceful weekend morning. The park was alive with activity—families on picnic blankets, joggers weaving through the paths, and couples strolling hand in hand.

Jimin barely noticed the lone figure sitting on the edge of the fountain, head bowed as if lost in thought. You had come to the park seeking a bit of calm amidst the chaos of adjusting to your new life. The sound of the fountain’s gentle splashes mixed with the distant chatter of park-goers, providing a soothing backdrop to your wandering thoughts.

Suddenly, a blur of movement snapped you out of your reverie. Before you could react, a Greyhound barreled toward you, its leash trailing behind it.

"Whoa!" you yelped as the dog jumped up, placing his paws on your lap and eagerly licking your face.

"Cooper!" a voice rang out, frantic and apologetic.

Despite the surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest. "Okay, okay! I get it, you’re excited!" you said, gently scratching the dog behind his ears.

Jimin sprinted toward you, her heart pounding from both exertion and embarrassment. She grabbed Cooper’s leash and tugged gently. "Cooper, af! Kom eraf!"

At her command, Cooper obediently stepped back, though his tail wagged with unbridled enthusiasm.

"I am so, so sorry!" Jimin blurted, her words spilling out in Dutch. "Hij doet dit normaal gesproken niet—uh, sorry! I mean... uh..."

She froze as soon as you looked up, her breath catching. Your laughter had already left her stunned, but now, meeting your gaze for the first time, Jimin felt her heart lurch. You were looking at her with a mix of amusement and curiosity, your eyes sparkling in a way that made her brain short-circuit.

Realizing she’d spoken Dutch, you blinked, scrambling to piece together the few words you recognized. "Sorry... I don’t speak Dutch," you said, your voice hesitant but kind.

Jimin’s face turned crimson. "Oh! Oh, right! English, sorry," she stammered, switching languages. "He doesn’t usually do this—I mean, he’s usually... better behaved?"

She winced at how clunky her words sounded, her usual confidence completely abandoning her under your gaze.

"It’s okay," you said, a smile tugging at your lips. You brushed some dog hair off your clothes. "He’s sweet. Maybe a little too enthusiastic, but sweet."

Jimin exhaled a laugh, relief washing over her. "Yeah, that’s Cooper for you. Always ready to make an impression."

You crouched slightly, giving the Greyhound one last pat. "Well, he succeeded. Is he yours?"

Jimin shook her head quickly, glad to have a straightforward question to answer. "No, he’s not mine. I’m just watching him for a friend. I’m Jimin, by the way."

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should introduce yourself. But there was something disarming about her—the way she seemed both nervous and sincere.

"Y/N," you said, standing and offering your hand.

Jimin hesitated before taking it, her touch warm and a little unsure. "Nice to meet you, Y/N. And I really am sorry about Cooper."

"Really, it’s fine," you replied, waving off her concern. "Honestly, I needed a distraction today. He’s adorable."

Jimin glanced at Cooper, who was now sitting obediently, his tail wagging lazily. "Adorable is one way to put it. He’s also a bit of a menace."

You laughed softly, and Jimin felt her chest tighten. The sound was so genuine, like a spark of light cutting through her nerves.

"So," Jimin began, shifting her weight awkwardly, "are you touring here?"

You tilted your head, the cliché making you grin. "Not really. I actually just moved a couple weeks ago, so I’m still figuring things out."

"Wow," Jimin said, genuinely impressed. "That’s a big change. How are you finding it so far?"

You shrugged, your gaze drifting toward the fountain. "It’s... an adjustment. Some days are harder than others."

Something in your tone made Jimin pause. She wanted to ask more, to know why your smile seemed tinged with something wistful. But instead, she nodded, her voice gentle. "I can imagine. If you ever need tips or recommendations, I’m kind of an expert. Born and raised here."

Your smile softened, and for the first time in weeks, you felt a little less like an outsider. "I might take you up on that."

“Well, I really feel like I owe you something for all this,” Jimin said, gesturing to Cooper, who wagged his tail innocently as if he weren’t the culprit of the chaos.

Y/N waved it off, awkwardly chuckling. “Really, it’s fine. No need to apologize.”

Jimin shook her head, determination shining in her eyes. “How about I buy you a coffee? My treat. I insist. That way we can start the tour”

Y/N hesitated, glancing down at her phone as if she could escape the situation. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to,” Jimin interrupted gently, “but I want to. Please?”

Faced with Jimin’s earnest smile, Y/N found herself nodding despite her reservations. “Okay, sure.”

They walked together to a small café nearby, Cooper trotting beside them, now behaving like a model citizen. The atmosphere was a little awkward at first; Y/N wasn’t used to spontaneous social interactions, especially with strangers.

Jimin, sensing the tension, started to ramble. “So, do you live around here? Or were you just visiting the park?”

“I live close by,” Y/N replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like to come here on weekends to unwind.”

“That’s nice. I come here pretty often too. Well, not usually with Cooper—that’s Aeri’s dog. She’s one of my best friends. She couldn’t walk him today, so here I am.”

Y/N nodded, her lips twitching into a small smile. “He’s sweet. A little intense, but sweet.”

Jimin grinned. “That’s a perfect description of him.”

By the time they reached the café, Jimin had managed to pull a few more details out of Y/N: she’s taking intensive dutch classes, worked a remote job, and didn’t know many people yet.

Inside the cozy café, they sat by a window with steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Cooper lay sprawled under the table, finally tired out.

Jimin shared funny stories about Cooper and her friends, while Y/N talked about her favorite hobbies and places she’d discovered so far.

Jimin found herself captivated by Y/N’s laughter. It wasn’t loud or boisterous, but it was genuine, and Jimin decided she wanted to hear it as often as possible.

By the time their cups were empty, Jimin didn’t want the moment to end. As they stepped out of the café, she took a deep breath.

“Can I—uh—get your number?” Jimin asked, scratching the back of her neck nervously. “You know, so I can let you know when Cooper’s planning his next ambush.”

Y/N laughed, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Sure.”

They exchanged numbers, and Jimin couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across her face.

As they parted ways, Jimin did a little jump of happiness. Hearing a giggle, she looked back to see that Y/N was still there, looking at her. Blushing, she clumsily waved goodbye and walked Cooper back to Aeri’s place, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time.

Y/N watched her retreating figure, a faint smile lingering on her lips. It had been a long time since she felt this kind of warmth.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The weekend had been unusually lively for you, though not in the traditional sense. Your apartment remained your sanctuary, the world outside still too daunting to face for long. Yet, your phone buzzed more frequently than it had in months, each notification bringing a smile to your face.

Jimin: "Do you think Cooper knows he’s a Greyhound, or does he just think he’s a really fast human?" You snorted at the absurdity of her question, shaking your head as you replied.

You: "Fast human, 100%. With questionable manners."

Jimin: "Hey, Cooper has AMAZING manners! He only licked your face because he sensed you’re nice." Jimin: "…Or maybe he just thought you smelled good. Either way, he’s the goodest boy!"

Her messages were a mix of humor and sweetness, each one pulling you further out of the fog that had settled over your mind since you’d arrived in this new country. It was strange how quickly Jimin had become a presence in your life. Her texts were the highlight of your days, her playful energy a stark contrast to the loneliness you often felt.

You spent most of Saturday exchanging messages with her, laughing at her jokes and learning more about her life. She told you about Cooper’s quirks, her friends’ antics, and her favorite spots in the city. It was easy, effortless even, and you found yourself wishing you could hold onto this feeling a little longer.

Sunday morning was no different. Jimin sent you a picture of Cooper lounging on her couch, his long legs sprawled awkwardly.

Jimin: "Look at this absolute model. He’s posing for Vogue, clearly." You: "GQ, maybe. He’s got the ‘brooding male lead’ look down."

Your laughter filled the quiet apartment, a sound that had been absent for far too long. But just as you were settling into the comfort of this new routine, your phone buzzed again, and your heart sank.

Mom.

The name on the screen felt heavier than it should have, and for a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt crept in quickly, as it always did, and you sighed, swiping to answer.

“Hello?” you said, keeping your tone neutral.

“Y/N,” your mom’s voice came through, sharp and impatient. “Finally. Do you ever check your phone? I’ve been calling all weekend!”

You closed your eyes, already bracing yourself for the familiar cycle. “I’ve been busy, Mom,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady. “Just trying to get things done.”

“Busy?” she scoffed. “Too busy to call your own mother? You have time to move halfway across the world but not to pick up the phone?”

Her words stung, as they always did, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “I’m not ignoring you,” you said carefully. “I just needed some time for myself.”

“Time for yourself,” she repeated, her tone dripping with disdain. “And what about your family, Y/N? What about me? Do you ever think about how hard it is for me to keep everything together without you?”

Your chest tightened, the familiar guilt settling in like an old friend. “Mom, I didn’t leave to hurt you. I just needed space to figure things out.”

“Space,” she said bitterly. “From your own family? From the mother who’s done everything for you? Do you even care about us anymore?”

Her words felt like a punch to the gut, but you bit your tongue, refusing to let the frustration spill out. “I do care,” you said softly. “I just—”

“Forget it,” she snapped, cutting you off. “You clearly don’t have time for me. I’ll let you get back to your oh-so-busy life.”

The line went dead before you could respond. You stared at the phone in your hand, the silence in the room now deafening. You knew you hadn’t done anything wrong, but the weight of her words pressed down on you all the same.

You tried to shake off the heaviness, but it clung to you like a shadow. Desperate for a distraction, you opened your chat with Jimin, your fingers hovering over the keyboard.

You: "Are you free for a call?"

Her reply came almost instantly.

Jimin: "Always! Give me 5 mins to grab headphones."

You smiled faintly at her eagerness, even as your chest still felt tight. A few moments later, your phone buzzed with an incoming call. You hesitated for a second before answering.

“Hey,” Jimin’s voice was bright and cheerful, a stark contrast to your mood.

“Hi,” you said softly, your voice quieter than usual.

There was a pause on the other end, and you could almost feel her concern. “Are you okay?” she asked gently.

You hesitated, not ready to unpack the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “I don’t really want to talk about it,” you admitted.

Jimin didn’t press, her voice lightening instead. “That’s okay. Want me to tell you about how Cooper tried to steal my breakfast this morning?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “Yeah. Tell me everything.”

And just like that, Jimin launched into a dramatic retelling of her morning, complete with exaggerated impressions of Cooper’s antics. Her voice was animated, full of warmth and humor, and it didn’t take long for her stories to pull you out of your head.

“I swear, if he had opposable thumbs, he’d be unstoppable,” Jimin said, finishing her tale of how Cooper managed to knock her cereal bowl off the counter.

You laughed, the sound feeling almost foreign after the weight of the day. “Maybe you should hire him as a food critic. He’s clearly got opinions.”

Jimin gasped theatrically. “Brilliant idea. I’ll start his blog tomorrow: Cooper’s Culinary Adventures.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics—your favorite foods, her favorite spots in the city, and a heated debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza (Jimin was adamantly against it, to your amusement).

As the hours slipped by, you found yourself relaxing more and more, the tightness in your chest easing with each passing moment.

“Thanks for this,” you said quietly, interrupting her mid-sentence.

“For what?” Jimin asked, her voice genuinely puzzled.

“For... just being here,” you admitted. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Her voice softened. “Hey, anytime. Really. I like talking to you.”

Your heart warmed at her sincerity, and for the first time that day, the weight of your mom’s words didn’t feel so crushing.

The call stretched late into the night, neither of you wanting to hang up. Jimin’s laughter filled the empty corners of your apartment, her warmth seeping through the phone and wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

By the time you finally said goodnight, the heaviness in your chest had lifted

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The scent of spices and sizzling food filled the air as you approached Jimin’s apartment. Your stomach churned—not from hunger, but from nerves. Meeting Jimin’s friends felt like stepping into uncharted territory. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this yet, but Jimin had insisted.

“They’re going to love you,” she’d said, her voice warm and confident over the phone.

You adjusted your grip on the small bouquet of flowers you’d brought—a gesture you hoped would make a good first impression. Maybe this would be okay.

When the door swung open, Jimin stood there, dressed in a simple yet effortlessly stylish sweater and jeans. Her warm smile eased some of your tension immediately. “Hey, you made it!” she said, stepping aside to let you in.

Her apartment was cozy, with string lights lining the walls and the faint hum of music playing in the background. The voices of her friends carried from the kitchen, punctuated by bursts of laughter.

“You didn’t have to bring flowers,” Jimin said, taking the bouquet from your hands. “But they’re so pretty. Thank you!”

“I just thought it’d be nice,” you replied, your voice quiet but steady.

Jimin placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Seriously, they’re going to love you. Promise.”

You nodded, though the knot of anxiety in your stomach remained as you followed her deeper into the apartment.

As you entered the kitchen, three people were clustered around a counter piled high with food. Their laughter faded as Jimin announced your arrival.

“Guys, this is Y/N,” she said, her tone bright and cheerful.

Three pairs of eyes turned toward you. For a split second, you wanted to retreat, but their faces broke into warm smiles that made you feel a little less out of place.

“Finally!” said a tall girl with sharp features and an easy grin. “Jimin’s been talking about you nonstop. I’m Aeri, by the way.”

“Minjeong,” another introduced herself, shorter with a mischievous twinkle in her eye. “Nice to meet the person who’s been monopolizing Jimin’s attention lately.”

“Don’t mind them,” the last one said, her tone playful. She was bubbly and energetic, her bright smile instantly infectious. “I’m Yizhuo. And I promise we’re not that scary. Just a little.”

You smiled shyly, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “It’s nice to meet you all,” you said, clutching the strap of your bag tightly.

“Come on, sit down,” Aeri said, gesturing to the table. “Jimin’s been cooking all day. She refuses to let us help, so if it’s bad, we’re blaming her.”

“Excuse me!” Jimin interjected, hands on her hips. “You’re the one who burned the rice the last time we let you cook.”

The banter flew back and forth easily, the teasing and laughter filling the room with a warmth that started to chip away at your nerves.

The table was laden with dishes—steaming bowls of pasta, fresh salad, and crispy garlic bread. As you took a seat, you noticed the effort Jimin had put into making everything perfect.

“This looks amazing,” you said, glancing at her.

She grinned. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my thing.”

As everyone dug in, the conversation flowed effortlessly. They teased Jimin mercilessly, recounting stories that had you laughing despite yourself.

“Did she tell you about the time she fell into the canal trying to impress someone?” Minjeong asked, her grin wicked.

“Hey!” Jimin protested, her cheeks flushing. “That was years ago!”

“And yet, here we are,” Aeri said, smirking.

“She never learns,” Yizhuo added. “The other day, she tripped over Cooper’s leash and spilled coffee all over herself.”

“That wasn’t my fault! Cooper’s deceptively strong!” Jimin defended, throwing a napkin at Yizhuo.

“So, Y/N,” Aeri said, leaning forward with a curious grin, “what’s your deal? How’d you end up stuck with Jimin?”

You hesitated, but their faces were open and inviting. “We met at the park,” you said, glancing at Jimin. “Your dog kind of ambushed me.”

Classic Cooper,” Minjeong said, shaking her head with mock exasperation.

“Sounds about right,” Yizhuo agreed. “But hey, at least something good came out of it.”

You smiled, feeling a little more comfortable as the conversation turned to lighter topics—favorite movies, travel destinations, and the best local restaurants.

At one point, Yizhuo turned to you with a mischievous grin. “So, Jimin’s been on her best behavior, right? No embarrassing serenades or awkward pickup lines?”

“Yizhuo!” Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands.

You laughed softly. “She’s been great. No serenades yet.”

“Key word: yet,” Minjeong teased, earning another napkin thrown her way.

As the night went on, you felt the weight of your anxiety begin to lift. Jimin’s friends had a way of making you feel like you belonged, their easy camaraderie wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

By the time the plates were cleared and everyone settled into a more relaxed conversation, you found yourself leaning back in your chair, feeling a sense of comfort you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“So,” Aeri said, raising her glass with a teasing grin, “if Jimin ever messes this up, just know we’re all here to steal you for ourselves. No pressure, Jimin.”

Jimin groaned dramatically. “Can you guys not scare her away?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound light and genuine. “I think I’ll stick around for now,” you said, glancing at Jimin with a soft smile.

Her eyes met yours, and for a moment, the room seemed to fade away.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The evening sun cast a golden glow over the city as you and Jimin strolled through a quiet street, the rhythmic hum of bicycles filling the air. The two of you had spent the day wandering through local shops, sharing little anecdotes and indulging in pastries from a nearby bakery. With every moment, you felt a little lighter, your laughter coming more easily around her.

“You have powdered sugar on your face,” Jimin said, pointing at the corner of your mouth with a teasing smile.

“Where?” you asked, swiping at your cheek.

Jimin shook her head, chuckling. “No, not there. Here—” She reached out, her thumb brushing gently against your skin. The touch was brief but enough to make your cheeks warm.

“Thanks,” you mumbled, looking away to hide your flustered expression.

Jimin’s grin widened, but she didn’t tease you further. “I’m just saying, it’s a sign you enjoyed the pastry.”

“Maybe I did,” you replied, your voice softer now.

The two of you continued walking, the atmosphere comfortable and filled with the kind of quiet contentment that didn’t need words. But as you reached a small bench by the canal, your phone buzzed in your pocket, pulling you out of the moment.

You hesitated before pulling it out. The screen lit up with a name that made your heart sink: Mom. For a moment, you considered letting it go to voicemail. But the guilt that always lingered when you ignored her calls was too heavy to bear.

“Sorry, I have to take this,” you said, stepping away from Jimin.

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she nodded. “Take your time.”

You walked a few paces away, answering the call with a tentative, “Hello?”

Your mom’s voice came through, sharp and insistent. “Y/N, finally. I’ve been calling all day. Why haven’t you answered?”

“I’ve been busy,” you said, keeping your tone as neutral as possible.

“Busy? What could you possibly be doing that’s more important than answering your mother?” she demanded, her voice rising slightly.

You sighed, already feeling the familiar weight settle over your chest. “I’m just out right now. I can’t talk long.”

“Out? With who? Are you making bad decisions again?” she asked, the accusation in her tone cutting deep.

“No, Mom,” you said firmly, trying to keep your composure. “I’m just with a friend.”

Your mom’s tone softened slightly, but the edge remained. “You’re always so distant these days. I don’t understand why you can’t make more time for your family. Do you even care about us anymore?”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Of course I care,” you said, your voice quieter now. “But I’m trying to build my own life here. I need space.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice dripping with disbelief. “You’ve had all the space in the world since you left. But do you even think about how hard this has been for us? For me?”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Mom, I—”

“No, Y/N. You don’t understand. You’ve abandoned us, and now you’re too busy to even talk? What kind of daughter does that?”

Her words, laced with guilt and frustration, made your grip on the phone tighten. “I’m trying my best,” you said, your voice breaking slightly.

“Clearly, your best isn’t enough,” she said sharply before the line went dead.

You stared at your phone, the screen dimming as the call ended. The knot in your stomach tightened, and the guilt clawed at you, even though you knew you hadn’t done anything wrong.

You turned back toward Jimin, who was watching you with concern. She stood as you approached, her expression soft.

“Everything okay?” she asked gently.

You tried to nod, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to speak. Instead, you sat on the bench, staring at the ground.

Jimin hesitated for a moment before sitting beside you. She didn’t press you for details, but her presence was steady and comforting.

You forced a small smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

Jimin studied you for a moment, her gaze searching. “You sure?”

You hesitated, then nodded quickly. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” she said softly, her tone understanding. She didn’t push, didn’t pry, and you were grateful for it.

imin didn’t look away, though, her presence steady and grounding.

After a while, she broke the quiet. “You know, if Cooper were here, he’d probably be trying to sit on your lap right now. All 30 kilograms of him.”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Yeah? Sounds like a handful.”

Jimin grinned, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “He is. But he’s also a giant baby. Last week, he tried to hide behind me because he saw a pigeon.”

“A pigeon?” you repeated, laughter bubbling up despite the heaviness in your chest.

Jimin’s smile faltered, her tone turning sheepish. “Okay, so... I might’ve been a little scared, too.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, are you telling me you’re afraid of pigeons?”

Jimin groaned, burying her face in her hands. “It’s not a fear! It’s just... they’re unpredictable, okay? They move too fast, and they’re always staring at you like they know your secrets.”

You burst out laughing, the sound startling even yourself. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering amuses you,” Jimin said with a mock pout, though the sparkle in her eyes betrayed her teasing.

“Seriously, though,” you said, your laughter subsiding into a grin, “a Greyhound and a grown woman scared of a pigeon? That’s a story for the ages.”

“Hey, don’t knock it until you’ve been on the receiving end of a pigeon’s wrath,” Jimin said, crossing her arms in mock indignation.

Her animated expressions and playful tone pulled you further away from the storm of emotions left by the call. The ache in your chest didn’t disappear, but it dulled under the warmth of Jimin’s company.

“Thank you,” you said suddenly, your voice quiet but sincere.

Jimin looked at you, her brows lifting in surprise. “For what?”

“For just... being here,” you said, meeting her gaze briefly before looking away.

A soft smile spread across her face. “Always.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of lighthearted conversation and quiet companionship. Jimin didn’t push you to share more, didn’t try to fix what she couldn’t understand. Instead, she simply stayed by your side, her presence a steady reassurance that you didn’t have to face everything alone.

And for now, that was enough.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The café was bustling with life, the hum of conversation mixing with the clatter of coffee cups and the hiss of the espresso machine. You and Jimin had claimed a small table by the window, the sunlight streaming in and casting a warm glow on her features.

As always, Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her laughter contagious and her stories brimming with energy. But today, your mind was elsewhere, pulled into a spiral you couldn’t seem to escape.

It started when a girl had walked up to your table—a tall, confident woman with a dazzling smile. She greeted Jimin with an ease that spoke of familiarity, her tone playful as they exchanged a few quick jokes. You tried to focus on your coffee, pretending the interaction didn’t bother you, but the way Jimin’s face lit up as they talked sent a pang of unease through your chest.

The woman left as quickly as she’d arrived, waving goodbye to Jimin with a wink. Jimin returned to your conversation seamlessly, completely unaware of the way your heart was now hammering in your chest.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. Jimin wasn’t yours; you weren’t dating. She was just being her naturally kind and warm self. But the thought didn’t stop the flood of doubts that followed.

Why would someone like Jimin ever want someone like you?

You stirred your coffee absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on the swirling liquid. Jimin’s voice cut through your thoughts.

“Y/N?”

You looked up, startled to find her watching you with concern.

“Everything okay? You’ve been quiet.”

You forced a smile, hoping it looked convincing. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

Jimin didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she launched into a story about her friend’s latest antics, her animated gestures drawing a small, genuine laugh from you.

But even as you smiled, the doubts lingered.

You lay in bed, staring at the ceiling as your thoughts raced. Images of Jimin laughing with that woman played on a loop in your mind, each one twisting the knife of insecurity a little deeper.

You reminded yourself again that Jimin wasn’t yours. She had every right to talk to whoever she wanted. But no matter how much you reasoned with yourself, the feelings wouldn’t go away.

It wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more insidious. A voice in your head whispered that you weren’t good enough for someone like Jimin. That she deserved someone brighter, someone more put together, someone who didn’t carry the baggage you did.

By the time morning came, the weight of those thoughts felt unbearable.

Jimin noticed immediately when you met up that afternoon. She always noticed.

“You’re quiet again,” she said, tilting her head as the two of you walked along the canal. “Are you sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded quickly, avoiding her gaze. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Jimin stopped walking, her hand gently catching your arm to stop you too.

“Y/N,” she said softly, her eyes searching yours. “Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You hesitated, your first instinct to deflect. But the concern in her eyes made it impossible to lie.

“It’s nothing, really,” you said, your voice shaky. “I’m just... in my head, I guess.”

Jimin didn’t let go of your arm. “In your head about what?”

You looked away, your gaze fixed on the water. “I just... I feel like I don’t measure up sometimes. Like I’m not... enough.”

The words felt heavy as they left your mouth, and you braced yourself for her reaction.

But Jimin didn’t look at you with pity or disbelief. She looked at you with so much care it almost hurt.

“Why would you think that?” she asked gently.

You shrugged, still unable to meet her gaze. “Because it’s true. I mean, look at you—you’re amazing, Jimin. You’re kind and beautiful and confident. You could have anyone you wanted. Why would you ever...”

You trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Jimin stepped closer, her hand moving from your arm to your hand. Her touch was steady, grounding.

“Hey,” she said, her voice firm but kind. “Don’t do that. Don’t compare yourself to anyone else. You’re amazing too, Y/N.”

You shook your head, your throat tightening. “You don’t understand. I’m a mess, Jimin. I’ve got so much baggage, and I’m not... I’m not like you.”

Jimin squeezed your hand, her grip warm and reassuring. “You’re right—you’re not like me. And that’s a good thing. I don’t want you to be like me, Y/N. I want you to be you.”

Her words made your chest tighten, the sincerity in her voice breaking through the wall you’d built around yourself.

“But what if me isn’t enough?” you whispered, the question breaking your voice.

Jimin stepped closer, her other hand coming up to gently rest on your shoulder. “Y/N, you are more than enough. You’re kind, and funny, and smart. You make people feel seen and heard. You make me feel... happy. Really happy.”

You blinked, her words sinking in slowly. “I do?”

Jimin nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. “You do. Every time I see you, every time we talk, I feel like my day gets brighter. You don’t have to be anyone else or do anything special—you just have to be you. That’s enough for me.”

The lump in your throat grew, but this time it wasn’t from sadness. It was from the overwhelming warmth of Jimin’s words.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your voice trembling.

Jimin smiled, her hands giving yours a reassuring squeeze. “You don’t have to thank me. I just want you to see yourself the way I see you.”

For the first time in what felt like days, the weight on your chest began to lift. Jimin’s words didn’t erase your insecurities completely, but they made them feel smaller, more manageable.

“Can we... just keep walking for a bit?” you asked, needing a moment to process everything.

“Of course,” Jimin said, her smile gentle. She let go of your hand, but only to fall into step beside you, her presence steady and comforting.

As you walked together, the canal glinting in the afternoon sun, you realized something important: Jimin saw you—truly saw you—and she didn’t run away.

Maybe, just maybe, you could start seeing yourself the way she did.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Jimin had texted you the day after the call that had left you shaken. Her message was simple:

“I was thinking... maybe we could hang out this weekend? Just you and me? Nothing too fancy, just... a date?”

Your heart had skipped a beat at the word "date." It was the first time she’d said it outright, and though the thought filled you with nervous excitement, you agreed.

So now you stood in your apartment, nervously smoothing down your outfit, when a knock sounded at the door. You opened it to find Jimin standing there, a shy smile on her face—and a small bouquet of tulips in her hands.

“These are for you,” she said, her voice a little sheepish as she held them out.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “You brought me flowers?”

Jimin shrugged, her cheeks flushing. “I figured... I don’t know, I thought you might like them.”

A soft laugh escaped you as you took the bouquet, the vibrant petals a burst of color against the duller tones of your thoughts. “I do. Thank you, Jimin. They’re beautiful.”

Jimin’s smile grew, and she glanced down at her shoes. “I’m glad you like them.”

You invited her in, setting the flowers in a vase with water before grabbing your coat. “So, what’s the plan for this date?”

Jimin’s grin turned playful as she said, “You’ll see.”

The surprise didn’t last long, though. Instead of a bustling restaurant or a noisy café, Jimin led you to her apartment. The choice made your heart settle—it was thoughtful, quiet, and personal, exactly what you needed.

Her place was cozy and inviting, with soft lighting and a faint scent of vanilla. The living room was small but thoughtfully decorated, filled with plants and little knick-knacks that spoke to Jimin’s personality. A blanket was draped over the couch, and the coffee table was set with snacks, two glasses, and a bottle of wine.

“I figured we could keep it simple,” Jimin said as she slipped off her shoes. “Movies, snacks, maybe a little wine? No pressure, though—just whatever feels comfortable.”

“Perfect,” you said, meaning it. After the emotional turmoil of the past week, this kind of quiet, personal setting was exactly what you needed.

You settled on the couch, and Jimin joined you, a movie queued up but forgotten as the two of you started talking. Jimin had a way of making you feel at ease, her energy infectious and her laughter like a warm hug.

Hours passed without you even realizing it, the two of you sharing stories, teasing each other, and laughing until your sides hurt. But as the evening wore on, the warmth of the moment began to stir something deeper within you—a longing to share the parts of yourself you usually kept hidden.

Jimin must have sensed the shift because she turned to you, her smile softening. “You okay? You’ve gone quiet.”

You hesitated, your fingers picking at the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “I’m okay... I think.”

Jimin didn’t push. She just waited, her presence steady and reassuring, giving you the space to find your words.

Taking a deep breath, you began. “I haven’t told you much about my past... about why I moved here.”

Jimin’s expression grew serious, her gaze never leaving yours. “You don’t have to if you’re not ready,” she said gently.

“I want to,” you said, surprising yourself with how certain you felt. “I think... I need to.”

Jimin nodded, her body angled toward you as if to shield you from the rest of the world.

“It’s my mom,” you started, your voice barely above a whisper. “She’s... she’s always been hard on me. Critical, demanding, never satisfied. Nothing I ever did was enough for her. And when I told her I was leaving, that I needed space, she made me feel like I was the worst person in the world for even thinking about it.”

Your hands trembled as you spoke, and Jimin reached out, her hand warm and steady on yours.

“She’d call me selfish, ungrateful,” you continued, your voice breaking. “She’d guilt me, make me feel like I owed her everything. And even now, when I’m here, she still calls and texts constantly, like she can’t let me go. And I...” You paused, swallowing hard. “I know I did the right thing by leaving, but I can’t stop feeling guilty. Like I failed her.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you blinked them away, but they fell anyway. “And it’s not just her. It’s... it’s everything. She’s in my head, telling me I’m not good enough, that I’ll never be good enough. And no matter how much I try to drown it out, it’s always there.”

Jimin’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, her touch grounding you. “Y/N,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion. “I’m so sorry you’ve been carrying this. You didn’t deserve it—not then, not now.”

Her words broke something in you, and the tears came harder, spilling down your cheeks in a torrent of emotion you couldn’t hold back. Jimin didn’t say anything more; she just pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as you cried into her shoulder.

For the first time in a long time, you felt safe.

When the tears subsided, you pulled back, your face warm with embarrassment. “Sorry,” you mumbled, wiping at your cheeks.

“Don’t be,” Jimin said, her voice firm. “Never apologize for feeling what you feel.”

You nodded, your throat tight. “I just... I want to feel loved, Jimin. Really loved. Not judged or criticized or made to feel small. I want to feel... safe. And cared for. Is that too much to ask?”

Jimin’s hands cupped your face, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “Y/N, you deserve all of that and more. You deserve to be loved, to feel safe, to be cared for in every way. And I want to be the one to give that to you.”

Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. “Jimin...”

“I mean it,” she said, her voice trembling with sincerity. “I know it won’t be easy, and I know you’ve been hurt. But I promise you, I’ll be patient. I’ll prove to you every day that you’re worth loving, that you’re more than enough just as you are. You don’t have to do anything or be anything for me—you just have to be you. That’s all I need.”

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they weren’t from pain. They were from the overwhelming warmth of her words, the kindness and love she poured into them.

“Why would you want to do that for me?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Jimin smiled, her thumbs brushing away your tears. “Because you’re worth it. Because you’ve already made my world brighter just by being in it. And because... I think I’m falling for you.”

Her confession took your breath away, the weight of it settling in your chest like a warm glow.

Jimin took a deep breath, her hands still holding your face. “Y/N, will you be my girlfriend?”

Your heart swelled, a mix of fear and joy swirling inside you. But as you looked into her eyes, you saw nothing but sincerity and warmth.

“Yes,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Yes, I will.”

A radiant smile spread across Jimin’s face, and before you could process what was happening, she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours.

The kiss was soft and gentle, a promise in itself. It felt like the walls you’d built around yourself were finally crumbling, replaced by the warmth and safety of Jimin’s embrace.

When she pulled back, her forehead rested against yours, her eyes closed as she whispered, “You’re safe with me, Y/N. Always.”

And for the first time in a long time, you believed it.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

Life with Jimin was a series of small, joyful steps forward.

In the weeks following your first official date, the two of you settled into a rhythm. Weekends became sacred—a time for just the two of you. One weekend, you introduced Jimin to your favorite books, curling up on her couch as you read aloud together. Another, she taught you to make her grandmother’s favorite dumpling recipe, both of you laughing as you fumbled with the dough.

“You’re better at this than I thought,” Jimin teased, nudging you with her elbow as you successfully folded another dumpling.

“Natural talent,” you joked, feeling lighter than you had in years.

It wasn’t just weekends, though. Jimin had a way of weaving herself into your daily life in the most unexpected ways—sending you silly selfies in the middle of her workday, texting you goodnight every evening without fail, and making you laugh with her ridiculous dad jokes.

And you found yourself wanting to do the same for her. You started surprising her with little things—a playlist of songs you thought she’d like, a sketch of her dog that made her beam with delight, or simply a thoughtful text to brighten her day.

It was new, unfamiliar, but also wonderful. For the first time in a long time, you felt loved, cared for, and seen.

But as you were beginning to build something beautiful with Jimin, the shadows of your past refused to stay quiet.

It was a quiet Tuesday evening when your phone rang, the name on the screen freezing the smile on your face.

Mom.

You hesitated, your thumb hovering over the screen. But the part of you that still craved her approval won out, and you answered.

“Hi, Mom,” you said softly, your voice tinged with trepidation.

Her tone was sharp from the start. “So, you’re too busy to call your mother these days?”

You closed your eyes, the weight of her words settling on your chest. “I’ve been busy with work and... things. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” she snapped. “Do you even care about how I feel? Or is this just about you, as always?”

The accusations came quickly, each one sharper than the last. No matter how much you tried to defend yourself, to explain, she wouldn’t hear it.

“I gave you everything,” she said, her voice breaking into a sob. “And this is how you repay me? By running away, by abandoning me? You’re worthless. Selfish and worthless.”

Her words sliced through you, reopening old wounds you thought were healing. You managed to stammer out a weak “I have to go,” before hanging up, your hands trembling as you dropped the phone onto the table.

You tried to breathe, but your chest felt tight, each inhale jagged and shallow. The room seemed to close in around you, the weight of her words pressing down until you couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

Your phone buzzed on the table, but you didn’t look at it. You couldn’t.

Jimin frowned as she stared at her phone, her latest message to you still unread. She’d been texting you for over an hour with no response, and something about it didn’t sit right.

Normally, you’d at least send a quick reply, even if you were busy. But tonight... nothing.

She grabbed her coat, worry gnawing at her as she headed to your apartment.

When she arrived, she knocked on the door, but there was no answer. Her worry deepened.

“Y/N? It’s me,” she called out, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m coming in, okay?”

Using the spare key you’d given her just last week, she unlocked the door and stepped inside.

The sight that greeted her broke her heart.

You were sitting on the floor, your back against the couch, your knees drawn up to your chest. Your hands were clutching your head, and your breaths came in shallow, rapid gasps. Tears streaked your face, and your whole body trembled.

“Y/N,” Jimin said softly, dropping to her knees beside you.

Your eyes darted to her, wide and filled with panic, but you didn’t speak.

“It’s okay,” she said, her voice calm and soothing. “I’m here. You’re safe.”

She sat down beside you, close but not crowding, her presence steady and grounding. “Can you try to breathe with me?” she asked gently, demonstrating slow, deep breaths. “In for four, out for four. Just like that.”

You tried to match her breaths, but your chest felt too tight, the panic refusing to release its grip.

“It’s okay if it’s hard,” Jimin said, her voice unwavering. “Just keep trying. I’m not going anywhere.”

Her words were a lifeline, pulling you back, little by little, from the edge. After what felt like an eternity, your breaths began to slow, the tightness in your chest easing.

Jimin reached out, her hand hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “You’re doing so well,” she said softly.

The warmth of her touch grounded you further, and the tears started again, but this time they weren’t from panic. They were from exhaustion, from relief, from the overwhelming mix of emotions you couldn’t untangle.

Jimin didn’t speak; she just held you, her arms around you like a shield against the world.

When the tears subsided, you finally found your voice, though it was barely a whisper. “She called me worthless.”

Jimin stiffened slightly, but her embrace didn’t falter. “She’s wrong,” she said firmly, her voice filled with conviction. “You are not worthless, Y/N. Not even close.”

You shook your head, the weight of her words still pressing down on you. “It feels like I am. Like no matter what I do, it’s never enough.”

Jimin pulled back just enough to look at you, her hands cupping your face. “Listen to me,” she said, her tone steady and unyielding. “You are enough. More than enough. Your mom... she doesn’t see it, but that doesn’t mean it’s true. You are kind, thoughtful, strong, and resilient. And anyone who can’t see that doesn’t deserve to have a say in how you see yourself.”

Her words pierced through the fog of doubt and pain, reaching a part of you that still believed in the possibility of hope.

“I don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” you admitted, your voice trembling.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” Jimin said. “We’ll figure it out together. One step at a time, okay? You’re not alone in this, Y/N. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Her unwavering support, her presence, it was more than you’d ever dared to hope for.

For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to lean into her, to let her hold you, to let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as broken as you felt.

And as Jimin whispered words of comfort and love, you felt a glimmer of something you hadn’t felt in years.

Hope.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

For the first time in what felt like forever, you stood at the edge of your past, ready to confront it.

The past few weeks with Jimin had been a revelation. She had shown you love and care in ways you hadn’t thought possible. With her, you felt safe enough to begin unraveling the tangled mess of your emotions and experiences.

But there was one thing you hadn’t yet faced: your mother.

Every time she called, you felt the same pull—the ache of wanting her approval mixed with the dread of her inevitable criticism. But you couldn’t live like this anymore. You couldn’t move forward with the weight of her words dragging you down.

And so, on a crisp Saturday afternoon, you decided it was time.

Jimin was by your side as always, sitting with you on the couch. Her presence was steady and reassuring, her hand warm in yours.

“Are you ready?” she asked softly, her dark eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt.

“No,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I need to do this.”

Jimin squeezed your hand. “You’re stronger than you think, Y/N. I’m right here, okay?”

You nodded, drawing strength from her unwavering support. With a deep breath, you picked up your phone and dialed.

It didn’t take long for your mom to answer. “Finally,” she said, her tone sharp. “I was starting to think you’d forgotten you had a mother.”

You closed your eyes, steadying yourself. “Hi, Mom. I wanted to talk.”

The words came out calmer than you expected, but your heart was racing.

“Oh? You have time for me now?” she said, her voice dripping with bitterness. “How kind of you.”

You fought the urge to apologize, knowing it would only validate her behavior. “I need to say some things,” you said instead, your voice firmer now.

“Say what?” she demanded. “How ungrateful you’ve been? How you’ve abandoned me?”

Jimin’s hand tightened around yours, grounding you as you pressed on. “No, Mom. I want to talk about how I feel. About how your words have affected me.”

Your mom scoffed. “Oh, here we go. Playing the victim now, are we?”

You clenched your free hand into a fist, forcing yourself to stay calm. “I’m not trying to play the victim. I just need you to understand that the way you’ve treated me—calling me worthless, criticizing everything I do—it’s hurt me. It’s made me feel like I’ll never be good enough.”

There was a beat of silence, and for a moment, you thought she might actually listen. But then she spoke, her voice trembling with indignation. “After everything I’ve done for you? I sacrificed so much, and this is the thanks I get? You’re so ungrateful.”

The guilt hit you like a wave, but Jimin’s gentle touch on your hand kept you steady. She leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, her silent reminder that you weren’t alone.

“I’m not ungrateful,” you said, your voice breaking slightly. “I know you’ve done a lot for me. And I love you, Mom. I always will. But I don’t like the way you treat me. I don’t like how I feel when we talk.”

“How you feel?” she snapped. “What about how I feel? Do you even care?”

Tears pricked your eyes, but you refused to back down. “I do care, Mom. That’s why I’m saying this. But I can’t keep sacrificing my happiness just to make you feel better. I need space. I need time to heal.”

“Space?” she repeated, her voice rising. “You’re abandoning me again. Just like you always do.”

“I’m not abandoning you,” you said firmly, though your hands trembled. “I’m asking for space. I’m asking you to respect my boundaries. I can’t keep living like this. It’s not fair to me.”

Her voice cracked. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You’ll regret this.”

Maybe you would, but you also knew you couldn’t go back to how things were. “I’m sorry if this hurts you, Mom. But I have to put myself first for once.”

There was a long silence on the other end of the line. Finally, she spoke, her tone cold and distant. “Fine. Do whatever you want. Just don’t come crying to me when it all falls apart.”

The call ended abruptly, and for a moment, you stared at the phone in your hand, the silence ringing louder than her words.

Tears blurred your vision, but Jimin’s arms were around you before you could fall apart completely.

“You did it,” she murmured, her voice soft and full of pride.

“It doesn’t feel like it,” you said, your voice trembling. “It feels like I’ve just lost everything.”

“You haven’t lost everything,” she said gently, pulling back to look at you. “You’ve just taken the first step toward finding yourself again. And I’m so proud of you.”

Her words broke the dam inside you, and you leaned into her, crying into her shoulder as she held you. She didn’t try to fix it, didn’t tell you to stop crying. She just held you, letting you feel everything you needed to feel.

When the tears finally subsided, you sat together in silence, Jimin’s fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back.

“I feel so... empty,” you admitted.

“That’s okay,” she said. “Sometimes you have to let go of what’s hurting you to make room for something better. And I promise, Y/N, there’s so much better waiting for you.”

Her words stayed with you as the days passed. Slowly but surely, you began to feel lighter. The guilt and pain didn’t disappear overnight, but they began to fade, replaced by something new.

Hope.

One sunny afternoon, you and Jimin took Cooper for a walk in the park. The greyhound trotted happily ahead, his tail wagging as he sniffed every blade of grass.

The park was alive with the sounds of laughter and birdsong, the crisp autumn air filled with the scent of fallen leaves.

Jimin reached for your hand, lacing her fingers with yours as you walked. Her touch was warm, grounding, and you felt a quiet sense of peace settle over you.

As you rounded a bend in the path, you spotted three familiar faces waiting by a bench.

Minjeong waved excitedly, her grin as bright as the sun. Aeri and Yizhuo were beside her, both of them holding drinks from the nearby café.

“About time you showed up!” Yizhuo called out, her voice teasing.

“Cooper needed to inspect every tree,” Jimin said with a laugh, giving the leash a gentle tug.

You couldn’t help but smile as you approached them, the warmth of their welcome washing over you.

As you sat down with them, Cooper flopped onto the grass, content and happy. Jimin’s hand never left yours, her thumb brushing softly against your knuckles.

For the first time in years, you felt like you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Loved. Supported. Happy.

And as you laughed with your friends, Jimin’s hand in yours, you knew that this was just the beginning of something beautiful. a/n: this one was easier to write, probably because it hits a bit to close to home lol

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nfr-girly · 3 months ago

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Healing hands 🩺 🩹 Michael Robinavitch x reader (spoilers)

Angst + fluff ❤️‍🩹 :: I’m not a medical expert at all so some of the information may be wrong 😵‍💫

Masterlist

~~~~

It was 12 hours into the shift. Robby was barely holding it together. Too much had happened today, Nick Bradley’s overdose, mr Spencer’s death, the little girl who drowned saving her sister, the shooting, Langdon, on top of today being the anniversary of Adamsons death. He wasn’t even supposed to be here.

It was like a never ending dance, every turn he took he had to deal with another problem, on top of that dealing with the stress of trying to save Jake and his girlfriend from bullet wounds. Luckily he had managed to save them both. (let’s pretend she survives 🤗)

It’s not an easy job, he knows that. It drains him every single day. But what motivates him to keep on going is very simply because of you. He does this job to build you two a life, he keeps on going because he knows you’ll be there at home waiting for him.

He knows you worry about him, how could you not? You see it on his face after work every day. All the lost patients, all the exhaustion. You know today is the most hardest on him. He hasn’t worked today for four years, when he got ready this morning you were hesitant to let him go. You knew he wasn’t stable enough, even though he told you he was, countless times.

No one at the er even knows about you two. The only ones who do are Dana, Frank and Dr Collins.

Right now, Robby seems to actually have a moment to himself. He sits at his computer, but really he’s only looking at his phone. He texted you a few hours ago how you were doing. It was your day off today, you made sure you had time off to be with Robby. (Before he ultimately decided to go to work). You hadn’t texted him back yet.

He didn’t want to worry himself too much, already on the verge of breaking down. So instead he sorted out documents.

He heard someone being brought in behind him, turning his head he tried to look, but the face of the person was covered by someone.

“They were involved in an attack by a drunken man. They were just walking in an alley when a man came up behind them and stabbed them in the shoulder.”

Robby overheard this as he got up and followed them into a room. Still not being able to see their face.

“Where’s the man now?” He asks, back turned to the patient as he puts his gloves on

“He’s been arrested, a man saw it and reported it to the police. He’s out there right now making a statement”

Robby nods, and quickly turns around, prepared to check their shoulder when he stops.

He felt his heart drop. All wind goes out his lungs and he can feel his ears ringing. Fuck.

There you were, lying on the gurney, your eyes were closed but you were alive. You were mumbling out incoherent words.

Suddenly the room was spinning, he could feel countless eyes on him as he spent about 20 seconds trying to assess the situation. Trying to convince himself that somehow you aren’t the one lying on the table.

“Alright catch me up on what-“ Dana speaks out as she walks into the room, but ultimately stops as she realises who the patient is. She looks towards Robby, who still hasn’t moved.

Dr Santos, now confused by the two, speaks up. “They have a stab wound on their right shoulder, got involved with a drunken man in an alley and he just stabbed them. It’s a little too close to the axillary artery for my liking.”

Dana nods in understanding, deciding to take charge of the situation while Robby still tries to figure out what to do. The room works around him, Dana occasionally leads the students on how to handle the wound. Suddenly, a voice can be heard.

“Robby”, it was muttered so quietly, any softer and no one would have heard it. Everyone looks towards him and he realises you’ve just called his name. He doesn’t know whether to sigh in relief or break down on the spot. He doesn’t leave time to think as he rushes to your side.

“Hey honey, I’ve got you you’re okay” he holds the side of your face and you give him the smallest smile you can. In the state you’re in, that smiles a godsend. Everyone around him seems to finally understand what’s going on. A newfound pressure is felt on everyone.

Robby immediately speaks up and gives out orders what to do, he doesn’t leave your side for a second.

Eventually, your shoulder is cleaned and is being stitched up now by Robby. Everyone has left you two to be on your own.

No words were exchanged between you two. You weren’t sure who would break the ice first.

While he stitches you up, you turn your head to look towards him, you can see the concentration on his face, but you can also see the worry, the stress from today. You don’t know what’s happened but you don’t need to be a genius to know he’s not okay.

“Robby.” You say, softly

He looks up at you and lets you speak.

“Are you okay?”

Robby chuckles quietly, not because of your question but just at how unbelievably caring you are. Even though you’re lying there, stab wound in the shoulder and half sedated, you still want to make sure he’s okay.

“I should be asking you that. What were you doing in an alleyway?” He feels guilty, if he hadn’t gone into work today you two would be at home right now, and you wouldn’t be hurt.

“I went to the shops, figured I’d cook us something special, I knew today would be hard so I wanted you to come home to something nice”

Robby looks at you in adoration. Jesus. He doesn’t deserve you.

“Has it been hard?”

Robby looks down at the floor. He doesn’t need to think about it, today’s been awful. He’s lost too many people, he almost lost Jake, and for gods sake he almost lost you.

No words come out his mouth, he just simply nods and looks up.

You look to him in worry, he’s done with your stitching, so you move your hands and invite him into your arms.

He smiles slightly, he doesn’t want to hurt your shoulder so he walks around to the other side of the bed, gets in it and lies his head on your chest. You carefully wrap your arms around him, your hand going through his hair.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him

He shakes his head, “not now. Maybe later”

You bring your lips to his hair. “Okay”. You hold him tighter, not wanting to let go. Robby knows he has to be back out there, but a few minutes won’t hurt anyone.

He can’t think of a single moment today where he got the chance to just take a minute. To try and move on from the lives he hasn’t been able to save. Finally, in this moment he can, and with you it makes it significantly better.

~~~~

#michael robinavitch #Michael robinavitch x reader #dr robby #dr robby x you #dr robby x reader #Michael robinavitch x you #noah wyle #the pitt

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niningtori · 1 year ago

Text

mastermind | oneshot

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: you should be used to your relationships failing by now, but after finding out your boyfriend, yeonjun, cheated on you, you're devastated yet again. and beomgyu, your best friend, is there to pick up the pieces, just like always. but isn't it a little odd that things just never seem to work out?

genre: romance, angst, smut (MDNI), yandere

warnings: YANDERE!GYU, manipulation, gaslighting, SMUT (MDNI!) creampie, breeding kink, pregnancy kink, dirty talk, degradation, if i missed anything pls lmk!

word count: 5.1k

notes: ... hi. i'm reposting this with major edits but i hope you all still like it!

｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡｡o.ﾟ｡*･♡♡･*｡ﾟo｡

do you love your boyfriend? of course. do you trust him? of course. so are you surprised to see a photo of him very clearly making out with another woman? well, of course.

your friends, your family, and even passersby would simply tell you you shouldn’t be, though. yeonjun used to be very well known for his sexual escapades, so when you announced he was your boyfriend, nobody was particularly happy for you. especially not your best friend in the whole world, beomgyu.

“he’s just gonna hurt you, just like the last one!”

you remember flinching at this. you remember how hurt and indignant you felt at the time. you also remember the silent treatment you gave him, and the cold war that began shortly thereafter. he apologized afterwards, of course, but you had asked him what was so bad about you that he couldn’t just believe that yeonjun had changed for you. he was silent at this, which only made you even angrier. it was all pointless in the end, you suppose.

as you sit on beomgyu’s couch, your phone rings again. you have a special ringtone for yeonjun, so you don’t even bother to check the caller id before you silence it. he’s been calling you incessantly since you texted him that you saw the picture and were done with him. your face is downcast and if you weren't so consumed by your sadness, you'd notice the faint look of delight in beomgyu’s eyes.

“i think you should just block him,” he says as nonchalantly as he can muster. maybe in another state of mind, you'd register the satisfaction in his tone, but right now? all you can sense is his urgency, which can easily be explained away by selfless and sincere concern. just how he likes it.

“you’re right,” you sigh. “i guess i just don’t understand. things were going so well, and then he goes and does this to me. i don’t know what i did wrong,” you say while burying your face in your hands. he almost can’t control the way his lips want to curl up at this, but he’s become nothing if not a master of containing his true emotions. he’s kept them from your prying eyes for years, after all.

“aww, baby. it’s not you, it’s him. he’s just not the right guy for you,” he coos, but for some reason, you can’t help but be annoyed at his kindness.

“i know you want to say i told you so, so say it,” you snap, pulling your face from your hands and scowling at him.

“i don’t want —”

“if you wanted me to learn my lesson, i’ve learned it, alright? i don't need to be taught again,” you say with a huff. you know you’re being unreasonable. you know you’re being a bitch, but you just can’t help it. who told beomgyu to be right about your potential partners all the damn time? fuck his crazy-accurate intuition.

he looks genuinely hurt by your harsh words, though, so you can’t help but feel a wave of regret wash over you. you’re drowning in it, even, as you watch his puppy eyes gloss over.

“beomie, baby, i’m so sorry,” you say, gently grabbing his face with one hand and pushing his long hair behind his ear with the other. “i know i’m being awful to you when you’re just trying to help.”

“it’s okay,” he says solemnly, looking like a kicked puppy. “as long as you’re sorry.” somehow, his easy acceptance of your apology makes you feel even worse. you pull him in for a hug and he buries his face in your neck to a) soak up your scent and b) hide his growing smirk. but you’re too caught up in your feelings to notice.

“it’s really okay,” he assures once you part.

“no, it isn’t. i’m being a shitty friend. how about you stay over tonight? we can watch a movie and i’ll order something for us to eat,” you suggest. he graciously accepts your peace offering and the night is spent with giggles and an overt amount of cuddling.

as you’re drifting off to sleep, you feel beomgyu plant a kiss on your forehead. to anyone else, this might come across as oddly intimate, but you know better. people have said that you two would make a good couple, but you two do nothing but laugh it off every time. they just don’t understand your dynamic. he’s a man like any other, you guess, but seeing him as anything other than a friend is simply laughable. you know he feels the same exact way about you, too, which is why you are unfazed by his next words.

“i love you. it’s just — i just love you so much, you know?” he whispers.

“aww, beomie. you know i love you, too. you’re my best friend in the whole world,” you murmur as sleep finally overcomes you.

if the lights were on, you’d see how his face falls and contorts into something like a grimace.

yeonjun has been spamming you like crazy, so you listen to beomgyu and block his number as well as his social media accounts. you think this whole chapter of your life is over, but, as always, you are wrong.

a week or so after your messy breakup, a sudden knock at your door pulls your attention away from mindless scrolling on your phone. you don't think much of it — it’s probably just beomgyu with some takeout, or something. however, when you look through the peephole, you realize that yeonjun is not finished bothering you just yet.

“baby, please. i know you’re there. please, just open up. i’ll explain everything!” he pleads. you’re not particularly known for your callousness of heart, so it doesn’t take much more begging for you to feel guilty and let him in. you open your door with a sigh.

“thank you!” yeonjun says with a look of pure relief as he hurriedly enters your apartment. he takes a seat on your couch (unprompted, you might add) and takes a shaky breath. you cautiously seat yourself on the other end of the couch and prepare to listen to whatever bullshit he has conjured up for your viewing pleasure before you decide that it’s best just to cut to the chase. ripping the band-aid off, and all that.

“look, i don’t care that you’re sorry. there’s nothing you can say to make me change my —”

“it was beomgyu!” he exclaims before you can get another word out.

“... what?” you ask confusedly. where the hell is he going with this?

“the girl, the picture, fucking everything was all his fucking fault. he did it,” he rants. oh. he must think you’re fucking stupid.

“yeonjun, please don’t waste my time,” you sigh. “i think you should leave,” you add, getting up from your seat.

“wait!” he pleads, reaching for your hand and gently pulling you back down. “remember how i always told you that i had a weird feeling about him? like how something always felt… off?” oh well. if he wants to continue putting on a show, then so be it. besides, it’ll be a funny story to tell beomgyu later on.

you nod.

“well, he always looked at me weirdly. like, whenever i’d walk into the room, there was always this… this tension and i never knew why, but i understood it as soon as we made things official. it’s because he likes you.” you’re silent for a moment and yeonjun actually thinks he’s getting through to you before you burst into near-maniacal laughter. his face falls.

“beomgyu? beomgyu likes me?” you say between giggles. beomgyu loves you like a sister. no way in hell does he harbor a shred of romantic love for you.

“you’re not listening,” he grunts, slightly tugging at his own hair in frustration. “he’s always been weird, and the other night at the bar, he introduced me to that girl you saw me ‘kissing’. they kept giving me drinks until i could barely fucking see straight. then she kept coming onto me, but i said no. i finally told her to kick rocks, but the next thing i knew was that she was kissing me. i know it sounds crazy, but you have to believe me.” you want to dismiss everything he’s saying, but his utter sincerity seems to strike a chord within you. you can’t say you believe him, but he continues before you can properly digest his words.

“think about it. why the hell would i cheat in such a public place where all of our friends hang out? don't you think i would be smarter than that? and even if i wasn't, you know me. you know i would never cheat on you.” he seems desperate now, but it’s still hard to believe that beomgyu orchestrated this entire thing instead of the very real possibility that yeonjun just got drunk and acted recklessly.

“alright, this isn’t funny anymore. you need to stop,” you warn, not liking how much he’s making sense.

“think,” he repeats with conviction.

so you do. you think back to all of the tumultuous relationships you’ve had until now. they've all ended in different ways, yes, but they all had one common denominator: beomgyu. oh, beomgyu saw your boyfriend getting cozy with his ex. you’re having an argument with your boyfriend? beomgyu thinks he’s a piece of shit because of how he treats you, you obviously deserve better! wait, your boyfriend keeps taking too long to text you back? he’s just losing interest! it’s clearly better to break it off now rather than getting too invested when you’re inevitably going to break up, anyway. and all the other greatest hits. your face twists from focused to horrified as the realization sinks into your bones. it's beomgyu. it’s always been beomgyu.

you look to yeonjun with pure shock in your eyes and he meets your gaze with a look of sympathy. you finally get it.

“junie, i’m so sorry,” you say, tears springing into your eyes. “i’m so sorry i doubted you.”

“it’s okay,” he replies with a melancholy smile. “he manipulated you.”

“does… does that mean we’re back together now?” you ask, voice tinged with hope. his smile falters at your question, and you feel a sense of dread.

“i need some time,” he says after a pause, dropping his hand from yours. “you really hurt me. i understand that beomgyu manipulated you, but it really hurts that you didn't trust me, you know?”

“i understand,” you quietly reply. you’d be hurt if the tables were turned — it’s only natural. you just hope to god above that you haven’t let beomgyu ruin another good thing for you.

beomgyu is confused as to why you’ve been ignoring him for the better part of a week. you don’t respond when he texts or calls, and his intuition is telling him that it has something to do with yeonjun. maybe you’re just shutting down because of the breakup? it was particularly brutal this time around, after all. he’s lucky that yeonjun has such a lascivious sexual history, or else you might not have bought his little charade, even with the proof presented directly in front of you. that’s how much you love(d) yeonjun. the thought causes jealousy to rear its ugly head in his stomach, but whatever. there’s no way you’re going back to him after the way the scandal has made its way through your social life. even if you do want to get back together with him, there's no way your pride will let you. your pride has been a particularly nasty sort of obstacle in beomgyu’s pursuit of you, but it’s absolutely delicious to be able to use it against you like this. serves you fucking right.

still, it’s his job as your dutiful best friend to cheer you up. with this in mind, he picks up your favorite takeout and heads to your place. he smiles when he imagines the way you’ll gratefully embrace him once you realize that he’s here for you. maybe this time you’ll understand that he’s always been the one who’s there for you when someone hurts you. maybe this time will be his big break, finally freeing him from the purgatory he has been in for god knows how long.

he knocks on your door with a hopeful smile on his face. surprisingly, you’re swinging the door open mere seconds later with your eyes similarly lit up with hope.

“yeon— oh. it’s you,” you say, deflating immediately. there’s a certain sense of resentment in your tone that he catches onto, but he chalks it up to disappointment. his face falls. goddamn it. damn it all to hell.

“i brought you some food to cheer you up,” he says while shaking the plastic takeout bag, completely ignoring the slip of another man’s name.

he invites himself in, slipping off his shoes and sitting down on the couch as he usually does.

he waits for you to join him, but when he looks up at you, all he sees is you staring at him, arms crossed and face contorted in anger. surely you can’t be that upset that he’s not yeonjun, right? now that he thinks about it, why would you be expecting yeonjun, anyway? hadn’t you effectively cut him off? did you talk to him and take him back after all that (you think) he’s done? that can’t be right. unless… unless you actually let him talk to you. oh god, please tell him that’s not what happened.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, face devoid of anything deeper than curiosity and worry.

you’re silent for a moment before you carefully choose your next words.

“i talked to yeonjun,” you reply, and his heart sinks to his stomach. “he told me some… interesting things.”

beomgyu hopes you don’t notice how hard he gulps. you do not.

“what did he say?” he asks, face tense but still showing no clear signs of guilt.

“he told me what happened that night. he told me how you got him drunk and basically forced that girl onto him. he also said that you’re the reason none of my relationships work out,” you declare, opting to stop beating around the bush and just get some answers. you study his face for a crack of some sort, but there is none.

“and what do you think?” he asks quietly.

“i think… i think he might be telling the truth,” is what you say, but you’re sounding increasingly unsure with every word because beomgyu looks more hurt than you’ve ever seen him.

“you believe him over me?” he asks, voice cracking and lips trembling with his brown eyes glossed over in what you can only describe as devastation. god, either beomgyu’s a really good actor, yeonjun’s a really good actor, or you’re just fucking stupid.

“i… i don’t know what to think, beomgyu,” you whisper after a pause. all he does is nod before his next words pierce your heart.

“is that why you’ve been ignoring me?”

jesus christ. you were so sure that yeonjun was telling the truth when he told you about beomgyu, so ignoring him only seemed natural under the circumstances, but he looks every bit like the victim in light of your accusations. his trembling lips and wounded gaze make you want to strangle yourself for ever doubting him. as you feel yourself being consumed with remorse, though, you remember the sincerity and desperation in yeonjun’s words. maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding? maybe they’re both convinced that they’re right?

“y-yes. i’m sorry. i was just confused. maybe he just misunderstood?” you babble. he likes your hesitancy, but it’s still wearing on his patience. as much as he wants to say he can’t believe that you’d question him because of some guy you dated, he can believe it when it comes to you. you always, always, always hurt him like this, and he’s had just about enough.

“and what if it’s true?” he asks, pathetic facade wiped clean off of his face while something more somber replaces it entirely. your eyes lock with his and you’re stunned silly.

“what?” is all you can manage to reply with.

“what if i pushed that girl onto yeonjun? what if i ruined all of your relationships? what would you do?”

“so it’s true?!” is all you can say, guilt flaring into sheer rage and hurt.

“so what if it is?” he asks, as if he doesn’t comprehend how twisted this is.

“so… so how could you do that to me?!”

“i was only doing what’s best for you,” he impatiently replies. “they were only gonna hurt you, can’t you see that? even before i did anything, there were still all those men who cheated on you, lied to you, used you. what’s wrong with wanting to protect you from people like them? i just couldn’t stand to see you living like that!” he argues, clearly believing he’s completely justified in all of this.

sure, you’ve been hurt before even without his intervention, but that doesn’t mean he can just play puppeteer in your love life to “protect” you from anything similar happening ever again. you trusted him and he manipulated you. he acted like a knight in shining armor this entire time while knowingly sabotaging any potentially good thing that could come your way. and he did it all because he wants to protect you? bullshit.

“you know, i thought that even if everyone other man in the world could hurt me, you never would,” you say shakily, either from sadness or anger. maybe both. “i guess i was wrong.”

“hurt you?! hurt is watching the person you love fuck other people over and over and over again! hurt is watching you laugh me off and never even fucking considering me as an option, goddamn it!” he yells while slamming his hand on your coffee table.

“so your solution was to fuck up every relationship i have just to have me to yourself?! do you not realize how fucked up that is?!” you yell back, trying to appear unfazed by his increasingly enraged behavior. he seems to falter at this, genuinely at a loss for words at your unforgiving pinpointing of his erratic actions. the desperate, eager-to-please beomgyu you know all too well is finally back and you feel your confidence surge because of it.

“i only did that because —”

“why? because you love me? or think you do?” you mock with a hollow laugh. “you don’t purposely ruin the life of someone you love.” he looks genuinely wounded by your words.

“but i —”

“i don’t care. get out,” you say mercilessly. you’re absolutely through with listening to his fucked up ideations about love and what his twisted moral compass deems as justified because of it. you’re so preoccupied with preaching on your soapbox, you don’t even realize his attitude has once again shifted from the compliant beomgyu to the one you don’t recognize at all.

“... no,” he says flatly.

“did you not fucking hear me? i said get out,” you repeat through clenched teeth. normally, your raised hackles would be enough to scare him off, so you figure he’ll tuck his tail and leave right about now. oh, how wrong you are.

“are you deaf?” he asks with a sneer. “i said no.”

“what do you mean, no?” you ask. somewhere in the depths of your mind, alarm bells begin ringing, but it’s far too late to heed them. plus, you’re still under the impression that he’ll bend to your will.

“oh, so you’re not deaf. just stupid,” he snorts. your jaw is agape at his audacity. beomgyu has caught an attitude and gotten fresh with you before, sure, but nothing like this. to say you’re dumbstruck would be to put things in the mildest of terms. you can barely get out your next sentence.

“w-what do you mean?”

“i’m not leaving this apartment,” he says firmly, and before you can even ask him to explain, he’s dragging you away with a painful grip.

“ow! beomgyu, you’re hurting m—”

“shut up. i told you what real hurt is, but you're not fucking listening. i don't want to hear another word come out of your mouth,” he says in a monotone voice. if the alarm bells were ringing in the depths of your mind before, they’re absolutely blaring at the forefront of your brain right now.

“what are y-you —”

“i thought i told you to shut up,” he snaps before roughly grabbing your face and planting his lips on yours. the kiss is crude. it’s absolutely vulgar with the way it’s all tongue and teeth and saliva, but after a few seconds of uncertainty, you find yourself melting into it. this is wrong. you two are the best of friends, almost like brother and sister. and more than that, you love yeonjun, right? you’re supposed to be working on getting back together with him, aren’t you? but your reason starts to be sucked away as you feel his hands caress your body, leaving nothing but fire in their wake.

you don’t know how you got here, almost completely naked as you lay on your back while beomgyu continues attacking your lips. it’s blazing hot and you can’t help but feel your underwear becoming wet with every moan that escapes his mouth and consequently reverberates onto your tongue. as if he already knows the intricacies of your internal battle, one of his hands finds its way to your now soaking wet pussy and he uses his index and middle fingers to spread the slickness around. he swirls his fingers around your hole and just barely pushes one of them into the entrance. you gasp at the shallow intrusion and you can feel his notorious shit-eating grin pressed across your lips as he feels how tight you are. you’re ridiculously turned on and he knows it. he pauses his actions only to unzip his pants and yank them down to his knees. your eyes widen at what you can only describe as his huge appendage, all reddened and already leaking. you feel your cunt throbbing with even more need at the sight, but your last shred of reason still makes you hesitate.

“beomgyu, we can't… we're friends, and yeonjun is —”

“can’t you just let me make you feel good? god, you’re making this so difficult, but what the fuck else is new,” he growls.

he's right. you are making things difficult. there's no way of salvaging your friendship after this, so what's the point in holding back now? you realize that while he may be absolutely unhinged, his feelings for you are real. do you reciprocate them? you don’t know yet, but the thought of him doting on another person the same way he dotes on you makes you feel uneasy. as for yeonjun? well, he deserves better than the cesspool of turbulent emotions that you currently find yourself in.

“you still sure you don’t want me?” he asks cockily. you, with all of your pride, can only muster up a feeble shake of your head. he knew the answer before you gave it to him, but his condescending gaze shows you that your words have scratched a certain itch of his.

he rubs his hardened length against your folds and it’s all you can do to resist locking your ankles around his waist and pulling him into you, but something stops you. protection. you don’t even have to say it, because he knows you too well for your own good.

“let me fuck you raw,” he says breathily, just barely poking his length into your tight hole. “i know you need it, baby. just let me take care of you.” you’re silent for a moment before pinching out your next words.

“p-pull out?” he won’t because he knows you’ll be begging him for his cum when he’s done with you, and you already know he won’t, even when he nods and promises he will. you don't know why you even asked.

the ache you feel to have him buried inside you is quickly replaced by the ache you feel once he begins to stretch you out. it’s a stinging, burning sort of pain, but that’s nothing in comparison to the pure pleasure you feel as his flared tip drags along your walls. he begins with thrusting shallowly, fucking you open like you’re a virgin, and you’re so tight while he’s so big, you might as well be.

painfully slowly, he pushes each and every inch of himself into your gummy hole. he reaches places you didn’t even know existed and stretches you open so good all you have the brainpower to call the sensation is fullness. overwhelming fullness. when he finally sheathes himself in you completely, a strangled cry leaves both of your throats as you feel him throbbing inside of you and he, in turn, feels you pulsating around him.

after you adjust, you expect him to start drilling into you with reckless abandon, but he does nothing of the sort. just watches you with a strange look on his face.

“b-beomie? what are you doing?” you ask pathetically, head raising up from its place on the pillows to meet his wanton gaze.

“beg me for it.”

“beg for w—” your question is interrupted by a sharp smack on your sensitive pussy.

“beg me for it. beg me to fuck you like a whore. i won’t tell you again,” he says menacingly. your bleary eyes are so confused, so stupid, and so, so cute, but he’s determined to use the last of his self-control to get you to feel even a fraction of the desperation he’s felt for years. well, even if you don’t, he’ll spend the whole night fucking you dumb until you do. but you’re so hungry for his dick, you don’t even realize that he’s bluffing.

finally, you understand what he’s asking of you, and you waste no time to comply.

“n-need your cock, beomie. need you to make me f-feel good,” you say, trying to retain even a semblance of your dignity. this brings a mean smirk to his face, but he’s not done with you, yet.

“surely you can do better than that?” he taunts, rocking his hips ever so slightly so you can feel every inch of his length and girth teasingly hitting your cervix, but providing no relief. fuck your dignity. you need him.

“please! please, i need you! need your cock to fill me up!” you whine.

“mhmm, and?”

“need you to fuck me! need you to fill me up with your cum!” well, there goes your resolve to have him pull out. this seems to satisfy his sadistic desires.

“oh, my love. all you had to do was ask,” he says with a grin. and that’s when he starts.

his hips meet yours in the most punishing way, and that’s what this is: a punishment for the way you’ve treated him all these years. you can feel it in the way that his fingernails dig into your skin and in the way that he mercilessly presses down on your tummy until all you can feel is pressure building up to something unknown.

“who else can fuck you like this? who else can split you open like this?” he asks as lewd squelches reverberate throughout the room.

“n-nobody! only you, beomie!” you cry.

“that’s my good girl, such a good girl. baby just needs me to use her like a fucktoy, right?” and all you can do is whine and clench in carnal need as the poor springs of your bed squeak with every unforgiving thrust.

“oh, you like that, don’t you?” he snickers. “you like being my little whore. you’re just a toy for me, alright? free to use whenever i feel like it.” you nod in agreement and he lets out a chuckle as he pounds into you at an unimaginable speed, balls slapping your ass with every fiery thrust. each time he pumps into you, your pussy’s clamping down on him and sucking him in like that’s where he’s meant to be. and maybe it is.

“god, i’m close,” he groans after pumping into you for what feels like hours, and you whimper like a bitch in heat. “honey, don’t worry,” he tuts. “i’ll fuck you every day, i’ll fill you with my cum so you can’t leave. not that you’ll want to after this. you’re made for me, made to be my cumdump whenever i want.”

“y-yes!” you shriek, somehow liking the idea of being full of his cum forever and ever.

“that’s my girl. baby just wants me to fuck her good. that’s all you needed, right? that’s why you’ve been such a brat. you just needed me to show you what it’s like to be fucked right,” he says, rolling your clit for good measure, which is enough to make you reach your high as it comes crashing down around you. beomgyu wasn’t lying when he said he was close, so when he feels you clenching around his big cock as if you’re milking him for all that he’s worth, you feel it twitching before hot bursts of cum paint your inner walls until you’re leaking white and seeing stars. he continues with slow, lazy pumps until he softens. you stay like that for an indeterminable amount of time, breathing raggedly while your bodies are overcome with thrums of delight.

when he finally pulls out and lays down beside you, bodies slick with sheens of sweat, he pushes your hair back behind your ear and plants a kiss on your temple. shakily, he takes his hand and rubs it along your distended tummy, full of his cum. he lovingly strokes it with an awed smile on his face.

“such a good girl for me,” he repeats. “i can’t wait until you’re pregnant. you’ll have as many babies as i can give you, right?” and all you can do is nod deliriously. he smiles in satisfaction as you eagerly agree to his every nasty, perverted thought. “god, i love you so much. and you love me too, right? say it. say you love me.”

“i love you.” and you realize that you do. this man is deranged, but he’s yours, and for better or for worse, you're his. especially now that you might very well be carrying his children. and even if you aren’t, you know he’ll make good on his promises to keep fucking you until you are. should you be glad that he effectively ruined every potential relationship for you? you were unsure before, but you realize that nobody has or ever will love you as much as he does, even if he has a demented way of showing it. well, it is what it is. there’s no way out after this.

notes pt. 2: i hope this goes over better after the editing!

taglist: @my313 @superbbananananana @lonelybutterflytae @cherrycolaberry @midwinterblizzard @everythingvirgoes @sooberryworld @20-cms @inkigayocamman @hyueika @boba-beom @vicurious28 @blossommi @lickingan0rchid @katsukis1wife @binniebakery @notevenheretbh1

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#niningtori #mastermind #beomgyu smut #txt smut #yandere beomgyu #yandere txt #beomgyu hard thoughts #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu angst #txt angst #beomgyu hard hours #txt hard hours #beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #beomgyu fic #txt fic #nini's hard hours #mdni

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0omillo0 · 6 months ago

Note

I’m so glad you’ve finished your school! I know school can be rough especially end of the year. Speaking of free time. 🥺👉👈 How about (surprise) angst/hurt with Han this time (at this point I’m trying to go through all the members at least once) Y/N is having just like, the worst day. They come home to Han for comfort but he is also having just like, the worst day. So they argue and Han walls out, but later there’s a fire at the apartment complex and when he comes back there’s like a whole scene and he freaks out. Y/N is already in the back of an ambulance and they’re fine but Han takes five ever to find them and is freaking out the entire time.

Calling you clingy

Han Jisung x Reader 한지성

a/n: Hi! I’m sorry if this took so long but I’m kinda struggling with my emotions lately and I don’t really like the way I write… hope you’ll like it tho

The day felt doomed from the moment you opened your eyes.

Your alarm hadn’t gone off, leaving you scrambling to get ready. You spilled coffee on your only clean shirt, missed your bus, and when you finally arrived at work, it was like the universe conspired against you. A project you’d poured your heart into was torn apart in a meeting, and the snide comments from a coworker still rang in your ears. By the time you walked through your apartment door that evening, you felt like a frayed wire—one spark away from snapping.

Han sat on the couch, earbuds in, a notebook balanced on his lap. His pen moved furiously across the page, his frustration evident in every stroke. Seeing him there, a small part of your tension eased. He’ll make this better, you thought. He always does…

“Hey,” you said softly, closing the door behind you.

He didn’t look up. “Hey.”

You hesitated, unsure if he’d even heard you. “Han… I’m sorry to bother you but I had the worst day. I don’t even know where to start. I just… I really need you right now. Please…”

You had always been nice to him, always making sure to give him his space. And he knew.

But this time, he sighed, setting his notebook aside but still not meeting your eyes. “Y/N, I can’t do this right now. I’m kind of drowning here myself.”

His words hit you like a cold wave. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, rubbing his temples, “I’ve been dealing with my own stuff all day. I’m exhausted too.”

You stared at him, your throat tightening. “I’m not asking you to solve anything, Han. I just wanted… I needed you to be here with me... I’m sorry-”

Finally, he looked at you, irritation flickering in his eyes. “Stop saying you’re sorry! It’s like… you can’t handle anything without me. You’re always leaning on me, and it’s—” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “It’s clingy, Y/N.”

The word sliced through you like a knife. “Clingy?” you echoed, your voice cracking.

Han stood, pacing in the small space. “Yes, clingy. Every time something goes wrong, I’m the first person you run to, and I can’t—”

“And what?” you interrupted, anger bubbling up. “You can’t handle that? I thought that’s what relationships were for—being there for each other!”

His voice rose to match yours. “It is! But I’m not your emotional punching bag! I have limits too!”

Your chest tightened, tears prickling at your eyes. “Fine. If I’m so clingy, maybe I should stop coming to you altogether.”

“Maybe you should.” His voice was cold.

He grabbed his keys from the counter and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. The silence that followed felt deafening. You stood frozen, tears spilling over as his words echoed in your head.

You’ve never seen him like this. It hurt so bad it felt like you were drowning in your own tears.

You decided to listen to some music to distract yourself, until..

*Sniff sniff*

The smell of smoke was faint at first, so faint you ignored it. You thought it was coming from outside—someone burning leaves or a neighbor cooking. But then the fire alarm shrieked through the building, and the panic set in.

When you opened the door, smoke poured in, thick and choking. Flames flickered at the end of the hallway. Grabbing your phone and bag, you stumbled into the chaos, your heart pounding as the smoke burned your lungs.

By the time you made it outside, the cool night air felt like relief, but your head swam, and you couldn’t stop coughing. Paramedics found you, guiding you to an ambulance. You barely registered their words as they placed an oxygen mask over your face, the world spinning around you.

While you were fighting for your own life, Han wandered the city, replaying your argument in his head. At first, he felt justified—you’d been overwhelming lately, hadn’t you? But as the minutes stretched into hours, guilt started creeping in. You weren’t clingy; you trusted him enough to lean on him when things got tough. And he’d thrown that trust back in your face.

He turned toward the apartment, ready to apologize, when he saw smoke curling into the sky. His heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no,” he whispered, breaking into a sprint.

The fire was massive, consuming the upper floors of the building—your floor. His lungs burned as he ran, panic rising with every step. By the time he reached the scene, fire trucks and ambulances surrounded the complex.

“Y/N!” he shouted, shoving through the crowd of evacuees. “Have you seen Y/N?”

No one answered. He called your name again, louder this time, his voice cracking. His legs felt like they might give out, his thoughts racing to every worst-case scenario.

Finally, he spotted you in the back of an ambulance. Relief hit him so hard that he nearly collapsed.

“Y/N!” he cried, rushing to your side.

You looked up, your face pale but alive, the oxygen mask resting on your lap. “You came back,” you said hoarsely.

Han dropped to his knees in front of you, his hands shaking as he reached for yours. “I—I thought—I thought I lost you,” he stammered, tears streaming down his face. “I’m so sorry. I never should have left. I was selfish, and I was wrong. I’m so, so sorry.”

You stared at him for a moment, your expression unreadable. Finally, you pulled the mask down, your voice trembling. “You called me clingy, Han. You left me when I needed you most. Do you know how much that hurt?”

His face crumpled. “I know. I was an idiot. I didn’t mean it—I was overwhelmed, and I took it out on you. But I’ll never do that again. I swear. You mean everything to me, Y/N. Everything.”

Your lip trembled, tears welling up in your eyes. “You made me feel like I didn’t matter to you. Like I was just… too much.”

Han cupped your face gently, his thumb brushing a tear from your cheek. “You’re not too much. You’ll never be too much. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to. I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, you hesitated, the pain still fresh in your chest. But the sincerity in his eyes—the fear, the guilt, the love—broke down your walls. You nodded slowly, leaning into his touch.

“Okay,” you whispered. “But it’s going to take time.”

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, his hands steadying as he held you close. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here.”

That night, you stayed together in your apartement, after making sure you were all right at the hospital, the weight of the day still heavy but no longer unbearable. Han didn’t let go of you for a second, whispering soft reassurances until your eyes closed.

You weren’t sure how long it would take to heal, but as you drifted off, you knew one thing: Han was willing to try.

@intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @omgsecretsecret @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght @flourishmoon

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wolvietxt · 8 months ago

Text

unexpected confession prompts!

moments when the truth slips out before they can stop it, and everything feels suddenly different

🌀 it’s the middle of a heated argument, voices raised, hands gesturing wildly. suddenly, they stop mid-sentence, chest heaving. “you’re all i ever think about,” they blurt out, the anger draining from their face as if they only just realized it themselves.

🌀 you’re teasing them relentlessly, fingers brushing their arm, lips curved into a playful smile. they grab your wrist, pulling you closer until you’re practically nose to nose. “keep it up,” they murmur, voice low and rough, “and i’ll show you just how much i’ve been wanting this.”

🌀 you’re both stuck in an elevator, tense silence filling the small space. out of nowhere, they nervously start rambling about their day but end up confessing, “…and then i realized i’m in love with you.” you both stare at each other, wide-eyed, as the elevator dings and the doors open.

🌀 it's your birthday party, and they’re giving a heartfelt toast. “you’ve always been my favorite,” they say, looking directly at you with a softness in their eyes that wasn’t there before. the room goes silent, the confession hanging in the air like an electric charge.

🌀 you’re casually scrolling through old photos together, laughing at the memories. then they point to one, saying, “this was the moment i knew i loved you,” their voice soft, barely above a whisper. your heart skips a beat as you realize they’ve been holding this in for years.

🌀 it’s 4 am, and you’re both delirious with exhaustion, trying to assemble a piece of flat-pack furniture. between the chaos and laughter, they suddenly say, “i love you more than i hate this stupid shelf.” it takes you a moment to realize they’re completely serious.

🌀 the confession slips out in the middle of a mundane conversation, like they just can’t hold it back anymore. you’re discussing grocery lists and laundry detergent when they casually say, “by the way, i think i’m in love with you,” before going back to debating the merits of fabric softener.

🌀 you’re stuck in traffic together, both of you getting increasingly annoyed. without thinking, they hit the steering wheel in frustration and yell, “i hate this! …but not as much as i hate pretending i don’t love you.” it’s a confession wrapped in irritation, as raw as it gets.

🌀 it happens during a game of truth or dare, the lights dimmed, everyone gathered in a circle. someone asks them the most dreaded question: “who do you like?” there’s a long pause before they finally look directly at you, eyes unflinching, and say your name.

🌀 you’re working together late into the night, the room lit only by your laptop screens. the silence is broken when they absentmindedly say, “if i die first, just know i’ve been in love with you.” they brush it off as a joke, but there’s a flicker of truth in their eyes.

🌀 it’s raining, and you’re both huddled under a shared umbrella, racing to get home. as you laugh about being soaked, they suddenly stop in the middle of the street and pull you closer, “i don’t want this to just be friendship anymore.”

🌀 you’re playfully wrestling over the last slice of pizza, both of you laughing breathlessly. they pin you down, faces inches apart, and suddenly their laughter fades. “god, i want you,” they whisper, voice husky and eyes dark, like they’ve been holding it in forever.

🌀 you’re both tipsy at a wedding, swaying to the music. they lean in, voice almost drowned out by the noise, “i’ve been in love with you since that one time you spilled coffee on me.” you laugh it off, thinking it’s a joke, only to find them staring at you with a seriousness that steals your breath away.

🌀 it’s a text sent by mistake - meant for someone else, but sent to you. “i can’t keep pretending i don’t have feelings for them anymore. they’re everything i’ve ever wanted.” when you confront them, they go pale, realizing the confession was about you all along.

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reidmarieprentiss · 10 months ago

Text

Breaking Point

Summary: Spencer has a partner, his partner is not necessarily a great person. You really just want to connect with him, he is your roommate, Penelope's, friend after all. But Spencer just does not seem to like you, can you change that?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: Spencer has a partner, implied bisexual Spencer, non-graphic cheating, emotionally distant partner, controlling partner, Spencer is sassy and kind of mean, mention of Spencer's drug problem, insecurities

Word count: 14.6k

a/n: i know i can treat you better than they cannnnn -- happy one day early post !!!!

main masterlist part two

The evening was typical for you—a night out with the team at one of their usual spots, a lively bar that served as the backdrop for many of their post-case celebrations. You were perched on a high stool at the bar, sipping on a cocktail Penelope, your roommate, had insisted you try, something bright and fruity with just the right amount of sweetness. The music was loud enough to make conversation a bit challenging, but not so much that it drowned everyone out.

You leaned back slightly, your eyes casually scanning the room. Derek was engaged in a playful argument with JJ about some obscure movie reference, and Rossi was deep in conversation with Hotch. Everyone seemed relaxed, their faces lit with the glow of well-deserved downtime.

But then, something caught your eye—a flash of movement at the other end of the bar. Spencer, the quiet and reserved member of the team who had always been somewhat of a mystery to you, was engaged in what looked like a rather intense conversation with someone you didn’t recognize. The contrast between Spencer’s usual timid demeanor and the animated gestures he was making now piqued your curiosity.

You leaned closer to Penelope, who was sitting beside you, tapping away on her phone as usual, her fingers a blur of activity. "Who’s that?" you asked, nodding toward Spencer and the unknown person.

Penelope glanced up from her screen, following your gaze, and immediately sighed, rolling her eyes in a way that suggested this was a scene she had witnessed more times than she cared to count. "That’s Eli," she said, the name laced with a tone that was hard to miss. "Spencer’s partner."

Your eyes widened in surprise. "Spencer has a partner?" The revelation blew your mind. You'd known the team for over a year, seen and been seen in all sorts of situations—some more embarrassing than others—and not once had Spencer ever mentioned having a partner. It was like discovering a hidden chapter in a book you thought you knew well.

Penelope gave you a knowing look, her lips pressing together as if she were debating whether or not to continue. You nudged her lightly, urging her on. "What is it? You can’t just leave me hanging."

She sighed again, this time more softly, and leaned in closer so that only you could hear. "It just doesn’t seem like they’re very happy together, you know? They always seem to be arguing about something or other. I don't think I’ve ever seen them have a normal conversation."

You turned your attention back to Spencer and Eli, who were still deep in conversation—if you could even call it that. From where you were sitting, it looked more like Eli was doing most of the talking, their tone sharp, while Spencer listened, his face a mask of confusion and quiet frustration.

"Why does he stay with them if they’re so unhappy?" you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

Penelope shrugged, taking a sip of her drink before responding. "Spencer's complicated, you know? I think part of him feels…responsible or something. Like he has to make it work, even if it’s not working."

You nodded, still watching the exchange between Spencer and Eli, feeling a strange mix of emotions. Part of you was shocked that Spencer, someone who always seemed so put-together, was caught up in a relationship that didn’t seem to bring him any joy. And another part of you, the part that had always felt a bit of an inexplicable attachment to him, felt a pang of something else—something almost like protectiveness.

"I never would’ve guessed," you murmured, more to yourself than to Penelope.

"Yeah, well," Penelope replied, her voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "There’s a lot about Spencer that’s easy to miss if you’re not looking closely."

As the night wore on, you couldn't help but keep glancing in Spencer's direction, wondering what else you might have missed about him over the past year. The more you thought about it, the more you realized how little you actually knew about the man who had somehow managed to become both a puzzle and an enigma in your life.

—

You’re not sure what brought on this new damn near obsession with Spencer Reid, but ever since you found out about him having a partner, you’ve been thinking about him differently. It was as if knowing he was capable of being in a relationship made you want to be the one who showed him what a healthy one looks like. The thought had wormed its way into your mind and now, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop thinking about him in your daily life.

Whether you were at work, at home, or out with friends, your thoughts always seemed to drift back to Spencer—his quiet demeanor, the way he fiddled with his hands when he was nervous, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was passionate about. You found yourself daydreaming about what it would be like to be the one who made him smile, the one who could take away the stress you’d seen him carry.

Weeks passed, and you tried to push these thoughts to the back of your mind, but they always crept back in. So when Penelope proposed a night at Rossi’s, you jumped at the opportunity, hoping that maybe being around him might help you understand why you were feeling this way.

When you arrived at Rossi’s, the place was buzzing with laughter and conversation. Penelope was already engaged in a lively discussion with Derek and JJ, and Rossi was busy pouring drinks for everyone. As you scanned the room, your eyes landed on Spencer, standing off to the side, a drink in hand. He was alone—no Eli in sight.

Your heart skipped a beat, and before you knew it, you were making your way over to him, driven by an urge to finally talk to him alone. Maybe this was your chance to get to know him better, to bridge the gap that had always seemed to exist between you two.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted, nudging your elbow gently against his as you walked up next to him.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” he replied, his voice carrying a hint of confusion as he looked at you. It was as if he wasn’t quite sure why you had come over.

“How are you?” you asked, trying to sound casual, though your heart was beating a little faster than you’d like to admit.

“Fine, thanks,” he nodded, his gaze drifting away from you almost immediately. “And you?”

“I’m great, thank you!” you answered with a smile, hoping to ease the tension that seemed to hang in the air between you.

But Spencer didn’t reply. Instead, he stood there, clearly feeling awkward, his eyes focused on some distant point in the room. You bit your lip, trying to think of something else to say, something that might spark a real conversation.

“So…I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” you ventured, letting out a small, nervous laugh, hoping to lighten the mood.

At that, Spencer stiffened. He finally turned to look at you, his expression hardening in a way that caught you off guard. “Well, you don’t really know me, do you?” he said, his tone colder than you’d ever heard it before.

“What?” you asked, taken aback by his sudden shift in demeanor. The sharpness in his voice sent a jolt through you, making you feel like you’d stepped onto thin ice without realizing it.

But he didn’t stop there. “You don’t know me at all, Y/N,” he continued, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness as he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Why would you be privy to intimate details of my life?”

The words hit you like a slap in the face, and you stood there, stunned and at a loss for words. “Oh—I don’t know, I’m sorry,” you stuttered, your confidence crumbling as you tried to process what had just happened. You had expected many things from this conversation, but this level of hostility wasn’t one of them.

“Yeah, okay,” Spencer muttered, a bitter laugh escaping his lips as he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you standing there, violently confused.

You watched him retreat, your mind racing to understand what had just happened. The warmth and excitement you had felt moments ago were now replaced by a cold, sinking feeling in your chest. What had you done wrong? Why had he reacted that way?

As you stood there, the lively chatter and laughter of the party continued around you, but it all felt distant, muffled. All you could think about was Spencer’s harsh words, and the way he had looked at you—like you were a stranger, like you had crossed a line you didn’t even know existed.

“Hey mama, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. You good?” Derek’s deep, familiar voice cut through the fog of your thoughts, grounding you back in the present.

You blinked a few times, forcing a smile onto your face as you turned to face Derek. “Huh? Oh yeah, I’m fine,” you replied, doing your best to sound convincing. “It’s good to see you!”

Derek didn’t seem entirely convinced, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied you, but he didn’t press further. Instead, he smiled back, his usual warmth returning as he pulled you into a quick hug. “Good to see you too, girl. Let’s get you back in the spirit of the night, huh?”

You nodded, grateful for his easy going nature as you allowed yourself to be swept back into the flow of the evening. Derek had a way of making everything feel a little lighter, and as the two of you rejoined the group, you found yourself easing back into the laughter and conversation around you. It wasn’t hard to get caught up in the fun, especially with Penelope’s infectious energy and Rossi’s endless supply of stories.

But no matter how much you tried to focus on the good vibes of the night, there was a nagging thought at the back of your mind—a quiet, persistent echo of your brief and bewildering interaction with Spencer. You couldn’t shake the image of his face, the sudden hardness in his eyes, and the way his tone had shifted so drastically from the Spencer you thought you knew.

You stole a glance across the room, where Spencer was now engaged in a conversation with JJ, his expression relaxed, his laughter genuine. It was as if nothing had happened at all, as if your exchange just moments earlier hadn’t rattled you to your core.

The contrast was jarring, and it left you feeling even more confused. How could he seem so unaffected, so nonchalant, after what had just transpired? It was like the sweet, shy man you’d come to know had been ripped away in an instant, replaced by someone who was colder, more distant, and completely unreadable.

You couldn’t help but wonder what you had done wrong, why such an innocent question had triggered such a reaction from him. It was just one question—one that, in hindsight, seemed harmless. And yet, his response had been anything but.

“Hey, earth to Y/N,” Derek’s voice snapped you back again, this time with a playful nudge. “Where’d you go just now? I was asking if you wanted another drink.”

You blinked, realizing you had zoned out again. “Oh, sorry! Yeah, I could use another one,” you said, offering him another smile. This time, you meant it. Maybe another drink would help you forget the odd tension for a little while, help you push Spencer out of your mind.

—

That night, as the evening began to wind down, you noticed Spencer slipping out quietly after saying his goodbyes to everyone but you. A pang of something—hurt, maybe?—struck you as you watched him head toward the front door, his figure receding into the night. You tried to brush it off, telling yourself it was just the lingering awkwardness from earlier, nothing more.

But then you noticed something out of place—Spencer had left his satchel behind, the one he always carried with him, filled with books, notes, and who knows what else. Without thinking, you grabbed it and rushed out the door after him, your heart pounding with adrenaline and the hope of another chance to talk.

“Spencer! Wait!” you called out, your voice echoing in the cool night air as you ran down the driveway, the gravel crunching under your feet.

Spencer, already halfway into the passenger seat of the car, paused at the sound of your voice. He looked back over his shoulder, his expression immediately shifting to one of mild annoyance when he realized it was you. For a brief moment, you wondered if he was hoping it would be anyone else but you.

“You left your bag,” you panted, holding it up as you caught up to him.

“Oh,” he replied, his tone flat, his eyes glancing at the bag as if it was the last thing on his mind. “Thanks,” Spencer added, his voice barely above a mumble as he took the satchel from your hands.

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the awkward tension hanging between you. But just as you were about to wish him a good night, your eyes shifted to the driver’s seat where Eli was sitting, glaring at you with a cold, suspicious gaze that sent a shiver down your spine. The intensity of their stare made you falter, your words catching in your throat.

“Have a good ni—” you started, but before you could finish, Eli’s hand jerked the car into gear, and the tires screeched against the pavement as they peeled out of the driveway. The door barely had time to close behind Spencer before they were speeding off into the night.

You stood there, breathless and confused, watching the taillights disappear down the road. The cold night air seemed to wrap around you, a stark contrast to the warmth that had filled Rossi’s home just minutes ago.

You couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that had settled deep in your chest. The way Spencer had looked at you, the way Eli had glared, the way the car had sped off as if they couldn’t wait to leave you behind—it all left you feeling more out of sorts than ever.

—

The next time you saw Spencer, it was completely by accident. You were excitedly attending the grand opening of a vintage bookstore that had been on your calendar for months. The store was rumored to have an original copy of Pride and Prejudice, and you were determined to get your hands on it. As you approached the entrance, ready to join the line that had already started forming, a tall, familiar figure caught your eye.

Spencer was standing off to the side, hunched in on himself as he spoke into his phone. His posture was tense, and his voice, though hushed, carried a tone of desperation and frustration that made you slow your steps.

“—you said you would be here! You know how important this is to me…” His voice wavered, and he paused, listening to whoever was on the other end of the line.

Your heart ached as you watched him, his expression filled with hurt and disappointment. His next words were spoken with an urgency that tugged at something deep inside you.

“I went to your comicon, waited all night in line to get a video game for you, and I did that…thing! This morning, remember?”

You couldn’t hear what Eli was saying, but from the look on Spencer’s face, it was clear that whatever it was, it wasn’t what he wanted to hear. You could hear the strain in his voice, the way it shook as he tried to hold back his emotions.

“Eli,” Spencer sighed, the sound so full of defeat that it nearly broke your heart. He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. “I never ask you to do anything…it does matter! It’s not stupid…okay. Yeah. Bye. Love you too.”

As he ended the call, you watched as he put his phone in his pocket, his shoulders slumping as he sniffled, clearly trying to compose himself. The vulnerability in his posture made you want to reach out, to comfort him, to tell him that he deserved so much better than this.

But before he could see you, you quickly made your way past him and into the line, your heart racing. You didn’t want to embarrass him by acknowledging what you had overheard. It felt too private, too raw, and you knew that if the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t want someone to witness such a moment of weakness.

Little did you know that Spencer had seen you walk by, his heart sinking further as he realized you might have heard his conversation. The idea of you knowing how he couldn’t even get his partner to come to a bookstore—a place that meant so much to him—was mortifying. It was bad enough that Eli had chosen to watch football with their friends instead of joining him, but the thought of you knowing about it only added to his embarrassment.

Spencer fell into line a few people behind you, trying to shake off the lingering feelings of rejection. He wished that the rift between you two didn’t exist, especially on a day like today. The thought of walking through the store with someone, discussing books, sharing little discoveries, was something that would have brought him immense joy. But now, with the awkwardness hanging between you like a thick fog, he knew it wasn’t possible.

As the line moved forward, you tried to focus on the excitement of the bookstore’s opening, but you couldn’t help but steal glances back at Spencer. He looked so alone, so isolated, and it made your chest tighten with an emotion you didn’t quite want to name. The bookstore should have been a place of happiness for him, but all you could see was the shadow of his disappointment.

You had managed to find the original Pride and Prejudice that you wanted, and your heart felt so full it was almost overwhelming. This book meant the world to you, bringing back memories of your grandmother reading it to you when you were sick as a child. The familiar scent of old pages and the sight of the worn, delicate cover brought a lump to your throat, but it was the good kind, the kind of feeling that reminded you of warmth and love.

As you clutched the book to your chest, savoring the moment, a voice came from behind you, pulling you out of your reverie. “Great choice, I can’t believe they have an original.”

You turned, surprised, to see a very attractive stranger standing there. They had strikingly beautiful eyes that seemed to draw you in, making you momentarily forget where you were. “Yeah, it’s my favorite,” you replied with a bright smile. “I’m so glad I was able to get it.”

“Shane,” they offered, extending their hand with an easy, confident smile. “Nice to meet you.”

You took their hand, feeling a pleasant warmth from the gesture. “Y/N,” you said, your smile widening. “Nice to meet you too.”

The conversation flowed effortlessly after that. You and Shane chatted about literature, the excitement of the new bookstore, and your mutual love for classic novels. Their enthusiasm for books mirrored your own, and you found yourself enjoying the banter, feeling a sense of connection with this person you’d just met.

What you didn’t realize was that Spencer was watching from afar, his heart twisting in knots as he observed how easily you interacted with new people. It was something he envied—how naturally you navigated social situations, how the friendly vibes seemed to radiate off you in waves. Anyone could see how nice you were, how approachable, and it only made him more aware of the tension that had built up between the two of you.

He wished things could have gotten off to a better start between you. But every time he thought about trying to fix things, that cold interaction from the other night lingered in his mind, making him think it was too late. And now, seeing you so effortlessly connect with someone else, someone who had already made you smile, only deepened the pang of jealousy in his chest.

As you made your way to the register, Shane walked with you, continuing the conversation. Just before you reached the counter, Shane asked, “Hey, would it be okay if I got your number? I’d love to keep talking about books and maybe grab a coffee sometime.”

You smiled, feeling flattered by the request. “Sure, I’d like that.” You exchanged numbers, feeling a small flutter of excitement as you parted ways with Shane.

Meanwhile, Spencer watched from a distance, the jealousy tightening its grip. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the effortless way in which you interacted with others, or if it was the fact that someone else had gotten your number so easily—something he knew he could never have done. Either way, the feeling gnawed at him, making him feel even more isolated than before.

When it was your turn to pay, you glanced back and noticed Spencer standing behind you in line. His eyes were downcast, his expression unreadable, but you remembered how upset he had been earlier. Knowing he was having a bad day and sensing the awkward vibes that had developed between the two of you, you decided to do something small to brighten his day.

Leaning in to the cashier, you whispered, “Could you estimate how much his books would cost?”

The cashier smiled and nodded, quickly scanning the stack of books in Spencer’s hands with their eyes. They told you the amount, and you quietly pulled out your bills, paying for Spencer’s purchases along with your own. Without saying a word to him, you took your bag and left the store, hoping that this small act of kindness might bring a bit of light into his day.

As Spencer approached the counter, still lost in his thoughts, the cashier smiled warmly at him. “You’re all set, sir. The woman in front of you already paid for your books.”

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned. “She… she did what?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

The cashier nodded, still smiling. “She paid for everything. Said she hoped you’d have a good day.”

Spencer stood there, dumbfounded, holding the bag of books as if it were the most precious thing in the world. His mind raced, trying to make sense of why you would do something so kind for him when he had been nothing but cold to you since you met. The memory of your most recent awkward exchange at Rossi’s house replayed in his head, and guilt washed over him like a tidal wave.

Why would you do such a kind thing? He didn’t deserve it, not after the way he had treated you. And yet, you had done it anyway, without a word, without expecting anything in return.

As Spencer left the store, the bag of books clutched in his hand, he was overwhelmed by a mix of gratitude, guilt, and a growing sense of something missing. He’d had doubts about his relationship with Eli before, but he had always convinced himself that this was just how relationships were—messy and full of compromises.

But after seeing your kindness and how effortlessly you connected with others, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder if he was missing out on something better. For the first time, he questioned whether he deserved more than what he had settled for with Eli. Your simple act of paying for his books had cracked open a door in his mind, making him realize that maybe there was a different, happier path he could take—one that might even include someone like you.

—

When Spencer walked into the bullpen that Monday, he immediately noticed Penelope animatedly talking with Derek and Emily. The moment she heard someone enter, her eyes lit up as she saw him.

“Reid!” she exclaimed with her usual enthusiasm.

Spencer couldn’t help but smile as he walked over to her instead of heading straight to his desk. “What’s up?” he asked, his tone light and amused.

“Look!” Penelope gushed, thrusting a book into his hands with excitement.

Spencer glanced down, recognizing the book instantly—it was a first edition of a title he knew Penelope loved. His eyes widened in genuine awe. “Wow! Where did you find this?” he asked, marveling at the rare find.

Penelope sighed happily, clutching her hands to her heart. “Y/N got it for me! I couldn’t make it to the new bookstore, and she knew how sad I was, so she bought this to cheer me up!”

Spencer processed this new piece of information, feeling a warmth spread through him. Of course you did, he thought to himself, you’re the nicest person ever. “That’s… that’s really great, Garcia,” he said with a sincere smile.

“Isn’t she just the sweetest?” Penelope beamed, taking the book back and staring at it as if it were the most precious thing in the world.

Derek chuckled, adding, “Yeah, mama. That girl is a gem. I’m glad someone is treating you good when I’m not around.”

Spencer nodded, his mind lingering on you. It was just another reminder of the kind of person you were, and it made him think even more about what he might be missing out on.

"Something brewing in that big brain?" Emily teased, noticing Spencer had gone quiet, his thoughts clearly elsewhere.

"Hmm?" Spencer responded, looking up at her, momentarily pulled from his reverie.

"Are you okay, Reid?" she tried again, her voice tinged with concern.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably under the weight of their stares. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just... haven't had my coffee yet," he replied, forcing a tight-lipped smile.

Derek chuckled, sensing Spencer's discomfort. "Rossi just made a new pot. I'll go grab a cup with you, pretty boy."

Spencer nodded gratefully as the two men headed to the breakroom, which was mostly empty, save for a few agents from other departments who were too engrossed in their own conversations to pay them any mind.

"Do anything fun this weekend?" Derek asked casually as he started making his coffee, glancing over at Spencer with a curious look.

Spencer allowed himself a small smile as he replied, "Yeah, I went to that new bookstore. They had their grand opening."

Derek thought for a moment, then asked, "Did you see Y/N there?"

Spencer's hand froze mid-stir, his expression faltering. "Oh, uh, no," he said, clearing his throat awkwardly, clearly caught off guard by the question.

Derek narrowed his eyes, not missing the way Spencer suddenly seemed on edge. "Alright, spit it out, kid," he pressed, sensing there was more to the story.

"Spit what out?" Spencer sassed, attempting to deflect, but his tone lacked conviction.

Derek just sighed, giving him a look that said, Don't bullshit me. "I've noticed you don't necessarily... enjoy Y/N's company. Did you run into her? Was it weird?"

Spencer let out a sigh, knowing there was no point in trying to hide it from Derek. "Yeah, I saw her," he admitted quietly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "But it wasn't weird. I mean, not exactly. It’s just... complicated."

Derek raised an eyebrow, waiting for Spencer to continue. "Complicated how?"

Spencer hesitated, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I think she might have overheard me on the phone with Eli... They were supposed to come with me to the bookstore, but they didn’t. I was upset," Spencer shrugged, trying to downplay the hurt in his voice.

Derek softened his gaze, sensing the vulnerability in Spencer’s words. "I’m sorry, man. Did they give a good reason?"

Spencer shrugged again, his eyes welling up as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. "Um, they said they needed to watch the football game. Something to do with the fantasy league they’re in."

Derek rolled his eyes, his frustration evident. "That is not a good reason. Eli should have known this was important to you."

Spencer cleared his throat, staring intently at his coffee, willing the tears not to fall. "They knew... I don’t know if they cared."

"Reid..." Derek began, his voice gentle, but Spencer quickly waved his hand, cutting him off.

"No, no. It’s fine—we talked about it," Spencer said, his voice wavering but firm, clearly wanting to move past the topic.

Seeing that Spencer didn’t want to delve deeper into the matter, Derek decided to let it go for now, though he still hadn’t gotten the answer to his earlier question. "What does that have to do with Y/N?"

Spencer sighed heavily, the weight of his embarrassment pressing down on him. "She was walking past during the end of the call. I think she might have heard me, but she was too polite to say anything. I don’t know… I’m just embarrassed. My own partner wouldn’t show up to something that important to me, and she probably heard how pathetic that sounded."

Derek frowned, his heart going out to his friend. "You’re not pathetic, Reid. You’ve just been dealt a rough hand. And Y/N… well, she’s not the kind of person to judge you for that. If anything, she probably feels bad that you were hurt."

Spencer nodded, though the shame still lingered. "Yeah, maybe. It’s just hard, you know? I don’t want her—or anyone—to see me like that."

Derek gave him a reassuring pat on the back. "I get it, man. But Y/N… she’s good people. Maybe talking to her might help, even if it’s just to clear the air."

Spencer considered Derek’s words, the idea of reaching out to you both comforting and terrifying. But deep down, he knew Derek was right. It wasn’t too late to make things right, and maybe—just maybe—you’d be the understanding ear he desperately needed.

After parting ways with Derek, Spencer realized he’d forgotten to mention how you had quietly paid for his books at the bookstore. Wrapped up in the emotions of their conversation, it had slipped his mind. But as he returned to his desk, the memory resurfaced, and he found himself holding onto it like a cherished secret.

Spencer wanted to keep that moment to himself, a private reminder of your kindness. It had meant more to him than words could express, especially in a time when he often felt overlooked. Your simple act of generosity was a bright spot, making him feel seen and cared for in a way he rarely experienced.

—

Thursday evening marked your first date with Shane, and it was everything you had hoped for. They had called earlier in the week to make plans, and you were excited to have someone showing genuine interest and making an effort. Penelope had eagerly offered to help you get ready, her expertise in all things beauty proving invaluable.

"Pen, you’re seriously the best," you gushed as she applied the finishing touches to your look. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

Penelope giggled, her eyes twinkling. "Probably show up looking a lot less flamboyant!"

"And we would not want that," you teased with a smile, savoring every moment of girl time with your roommate and best friend.

When Shane arrived to pick you up, they were the epitome of courteousness—opening doors, pulling out your chair, and keeping the conversation lively throughout the evening. It was an amazing first date, made even better by Shane’s undeniable attractiveness. You enjoyed yourself thoroughly, feeling a spark of excitement about where this could lead.

Meanwhile, across the restaurant, Spencer sat at a table with Eli, his view of you unobstructed. What should have been a special anniversary dinner had been overshadowed by the effort it took to even get Eli to agree to go out. Spencer had to beg them to celebrate, with Eli initially resisting, claiming they didn’t want to spend the money. Spencer had insisted it was worth it, that their relationship was worth celebrating. Eli eventually caved, but only because they didn’t want Spencer to start crying—again.

As Spencer watched you laugh and smile with Shane, he felt a sharp pang in his chest, the desire to drown his sorrows in a bottle of wine nearly overwhelming. The contrast between your joyous date and his own crumbling relationship was stark. Eli sat across from him, more interested in checking their fantasy football league stats than in engaging with him.

Of course, you would go on a date with the attractive person from the bookstore. In Spencer’s eyes, they were everything he wasn’t. It made sense that you’d find happiness with someone like that, while he watched his own chances at joy slip further away. It was just another reminder that good things, happiness, were always just out of reach for him. As he sat there, barely holding back his tears, he couldn’t help but feel the weight of his own choices, the realization that he had pushed away someone who might have brought him the kind of happiness he saw reflected in your smile from across the room.

After Shane paid the bill for your dinner, causing you to swoon at the kind gesture, the two of you walked toward the exit, Shane’s hand resting intimately on your lower back. As you passed by Spencer's table, you couldn’t resist saying hello, the expensive wine Shane had ordered loosening your tongue.

“Spencer! Hi!” you greeted excitedly, your smile wide.

Spencer looked up at you, clearly caught off guard, his expression quickly shifting to a polite smile. “Hello,” he replied, trying to mask his surprise.

“What are you doing here? Is this Eli?” You turned to the person sitting across from him, offering a warm smile.

Eli, however, gave you a cold, sinister look. “Wow, beauty and brains, what a catch,” they remarked snidely, directing their comment at Shane.

The sarcasm completely flew over your head, and you responded cheerfully, “I think you’re pretty too! It’s so nice to meet you, and Spencer, so good to see you! Bye!” You gave a little wave, before taking Shane’s hand and dragging them toward the car, their laughter following behind you. Shane, having had much less to drink, simply smiled, amused by your tipsy enthusiasm.

As soon as you were out of earshot, Spencer grew even more quiet, while Eli’s anger simmered, their face contorting with irritation.

“What the fuck was that?” Eli asked, their voice low and venomous.

Spencer’s head snapped up, startled by the harshness in Eli’s tone. “What? Y/N? She’s drunk,” he replied, trying to defuse the situation, though he felt increasingly uncomfortable under Eli’s glare.

“No shit, Spencer,” Eli scoffed, rolling their eyes with frustration. “But why did they say hi to you?”

Spencer fumbled for an explanation, feeling cornered. “Umm… I guess we’re kind of friends by association?” he offered, his words uncertain, as even he wasn’t sure how to define your relationship.

Eli’s eyes narrowed, their anger intensifying. “I told you not to talk to her. I asked you to do one fucking thing in this relationship—how hard is it to not talk to some dumb bimbo?” they snarled.

Spencer shrank in his seat, feeling like a scolded child. His embarrassment was palpable as he tried to explain, “I can’t help that she’s Penelope’s roommate. I like to be civil.”

“Civil, sure,” Eli spat, their tone dripping with contempt. “But I’m serious, Spencer. Don’t. Fucking. Talk to her.”

Spencer sat there, shrinking further under Eli’s gaze, a sense of helplessness washing over him. The contrast between your cheerful, lighthearted demeanor and Eli’s seething anger left him feeling more isolated than ever. The joy you had shown in such a simple greeting only highlighted the growing chasm between him and his partner, making him question, yet again, why he was holding onto something that felt so toxic and damaging.

—

It was a few weeks before your paths crossed with Spencer again, and during that time, he couldn't help but wonder if Eli had somehow managed to keep you away from him. But today, here you were, standing in the bullpen with Penelope’s phone in hand, panting slightly from your rush to deliver it.

“Y/N! You’re a lifesaver!” Penelope cried out, pulling you into a tight hug.

You laughed, catching your breath. “I don’t even know how you made it out of the house without this thing, I thought it was attached to you!”

Derek and Emily joined in the laughter, clearly enjoying the interaction. “Baby girl was excited to come in today—they gave her a new monitor,” Derek teased, grinning.

“Ohh, show me!” you clapped your hands in excitement, your enthusiasm infectious.

As you followed Penelope to her office, you passed by Spencer’s desk, giving him a soft, “Hi, Spencer,” your voice low and warm.

But Spencer didn’t look up. He simply stared down at the file in front of him, his mind far from his work. Eli’s threat echoed in his head, reminding him that he couldn’t talk to you. The lack of response went unnoticed by everyone except for you and Emily.

After you disappeared into Penelope’s office, Emily walked over to Spencer’s desk, her expression concerned. “Reid…? Is something wrong?” she asked cautiously, her voice gentle.

Spencer looked up, shaking his head as if to brush off her concern. “No,” he replied curtly, but his tone was anything but reassuring.

Emily wasn’t convinced. “Okay, well, it’s just… you ignored Y/N pretty harshly. I think she was just trying to be nice.”

Spencer knew it was an overreaction, but the turmoil in his mind was overwhelming, clouding his judgment. He felt cornered, and before he could stop himself, he snapped, “Oh yeah, Emily? Is that what you think? I’m sure you’re right, seeing as you know everything.”

With that, he abruptly stood up, storming out of the bullpen, leaving Emily and Derek in stunned silence.

Rossi, who had been quietly working at his desk nearby, looked up, his brow furrowed with concern as he fixed Emily and Derek with a questioning gaze. “Is he using again?” he asked, his voice heavy with worry.

“Fuck,” Derek muttered under his breath, quickly getting up to chase after Spencer, his heart pounding with fear and urgency.

Emily exchanged a worried glance with Rossi, both of them hoping that whatever was going on with Spencer could be addressed before it spiraled out of control.

"Reid, wait up!" Derek called out as he watched Spencer stride quickly down the hall, his pace fueled by frustration and confusion. Spencer, too caught up in his thoughts, didn’t stop or even acknowledge Derek's voice. But Derek was determined, and he quickened his pace, finally catching up to Spencer and grabbing his arm, halting him in his tracks.

"Kid, I need you to tell me right here and now if you’re using again," Derek panted, his concern clear in his voice.

Spencer's face immediately morphed into one of shock and offense. "What? No! I’m clean," he replied, his tone defensive but honest.

Derek sighed deeply, relief flooding him. "Okay, thank God."

Spencer frowned, still reeling from the accusation. "Why would you think that?"

Derek looked at him intently. "Did you hear yourself just now? You were out of line with Prentiss. She was only trying to help."

Spencer let out a bitter laugh, the sound harsh and sharp. "Isn’t that what everyone wants to do? Help poor, defenseless Spencer," he said sarcastically. "Why can’t I ever just take care of myself?"

Derek gave him a sympathetic look, his concern deepening. "That’s not what I meant. I’m just worried about you. Is it more stuff with Eli?"

The mention of Eli’s name set Spencer off again, the anger bubbling back to the surface. "Christ, is there no privacy anymore?" he snapped, his voice tight with frustration.

Derek held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I’m not trying to invade your privacy, man. I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’ve been off lately, and I’m concerned. We all are."

Spencer’s shoulders slumped slightly, the weight of everything pressing down on him. "It’s… nothing, Derek."

Derek nodded, his tone softening. "It doesn’t seem like nothing, kid."

Spencer looked down, his voice small and almost defeated. "Can you just… stop being a big brother for a second?"

Derek’s expression softened even more as he asked gently, "Who do you want me to be?"

Spencer let out a weary sigh. "I don’t know… a wizard? Then maybe you could help me go back in time."

Derek started to ask, "Why do you need–" but before he could finish, his phone rang, the familiar tone signaling a new case. He glanced at the screen, then back at Spencer with a resigned look. "Time to go."

Spencer nodded, the moment slipping away as the reality of their work took precedence. But as they walked back toward the bullpen, Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more going on beneath the surface—something that Spencer wasn’t ready to share yet.

—

When the team arrived back from the case, Spencer dreaded going home. He hadn't talked to Eli since the day they left, sending only a brief text to let them know he was heading out on a case and another just now to inform them he was back. But as usual, there were no messages waiting for him in return. Eli had done this before—the silent treatment. It was their way of letting Spencer know he had messed up, though the reason was often unclear until Eli decided to spell it out.

As Spencer approached his front door, the familiar feeling of anxiety settled in his chest. He knew what awaited him: the cold, silent disapproval from Eli, followed by the inevitable confrontation. It was why he was dreading going home, but there was no avoiding it.

When Spencer unlocked the front door, he was greeted by the sound of football blaring from the TV, and not much else. The usual signs of Eli’s presence—a drink on the coffee table, their shoes kicked off haphazardly—were all there, but the silence from Eli themselves was telling.

He announced his presence quietly, hoping to gauge the mood before he ventured further into the house. Without much of a response, Spencer headed to the laundry room, deciding to busy himself with washing his clothes. It was a mundane task, but it gave him something to focus on, a way to delay the inevitable confrontation.

What Spencer wasn’t expecting was for Eli to suddenly come up behind him, wrapping their arms around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. The affectionate gesture caught him off guard.

“Hey, baby,” Eli whispered, their voice soft and intimate.

“He–hey, Eli,” Spencer stammered, unsure of how to respond. He couldn’t tell if this was going to lead to something good or if it was just a precursor to another argument.

“I missed you while you were gone,” Eli mumbled, their lips trailing across Spencer’s neck, planting gentle kisses along his skin.

“Yeah?” Spencer sighed, tilting his head slightly to give Eli more access, his body instinctively responding to the affection despite the uncertainty gnawing at him.

“Mhm, it’s so lonely here without you,” Eli murmured, continuing their gentle assault of kisses.

That evening, Spencer found himself in the company of a sweet, loving, and cherishing Eli. It was a side of his partner he didn’t see often, and he was left wondering what he had done to deserve this sudden tenderness. But instead of questioning it, he allowed himself to be swept up in the rare affection, choosing to savor the moment rather than dwell on the why.

For that night, at least, Spencer let himself believe that everything was okay, that maybe this time things would be different. Even if it was just for a little while, he wasn’t going to complain.

—

You got a mysterious text from Shane, asking if they could come over to talk. You agreed, of course, but a nervous feeling settled in your stomach. Things had been going really well between the two of you—multiple dates, kisses, and they had even met Penelope. But as you opened the door to let them in, you immediately sensed that this wasn’t going to be good news.

"Hey, Y/N," Shane greeted with a sigh, giving you a sad smile. "Can I come in?"

You opened the door wider and motioned for them to enter, trying to brace yourself for whatever was coming. The two of you sat in the chairs by the window, the tension palpable as you waited for Shane to speak.

"What’s up, Shane?" you asked cautiously, your heart already preparing for the worst.

Shane sighed again, scratching the back of their head, clearly uncomfortable. "Well, I really respect you, so I felt it was only fair to tell you face to face... that I met someone. Someone I want to pursue things with exclusively."

Your heart sank. Of course, the one genuine person you meet found someone better than you. "Oh," was all you could manage to say, the word barely escaping your lips as you processed the rejection.

"I’m sorry, Y/N," Shane continued, their expression full of pity. "You’re a lovely person, and I really enjoyed our time together. But I just—"

"You don’t have to explain," you interrupted, forcing a small, tight-lipped smile despite the ache building in your chest. "I get it."

Shane frowned, clearly feeling bad, but they didn’t push further. They stood, clearly sensing that it was time to leave. "I really do wish you the best, Y/N. You deserve someone amazing."

You nodded, but the words felt hollow in the space between you. After you closed the door behind them, you sank into your chair, the weight of disappointment settling heavily on your shoulders. You hadn’t expected this, and now you were left alone, wondering why this always seemed to happen—just when things seemed to be going well, they unraveled.

As you sat there, staring blankly out the window, the weight of the rejection settled deep into your chest. You tried to convince yourself that it wasn’t a big deal, that these things happen, but the familiar voice of self-doubt crept in, louder and sharper than ever. Of course they found someone better. Why wouldn’t they?

You couldn’t shake the feeling that it was always you—never enough, never quite the right fit. You replayed the last few weeks in your mind, analyzing every detail, every moment, searching for where you might have fallen short. Maybe you weren’t interesting enough, not exciting enough, not worth sticking around for.

What if I’m just not the kind of person people choose? The thought gnawed at you, sinking deeper into your mind. Every small flaw, every insecurity felt magnified, and you couldn’t help but wonder if this was just how things would always be. Always second place. Always left behind.

—

Meanwhile, everything between Spencer and Eli seemed to improve dramatically. Eli was suddenly attentive in ways Spencer hadn’t experienced in a long time. They bought Spencer flowers, cooked him dinner, and even made an effort to engage in the things Spencer loved—whether it was sitting with him through documentaries or accompanying him on long walks through the city.

Spencer wasn’t sure what had sparked this radical change in Eli, but he didn’t dare question it. Part of him was afraid that if he asked, the magic would break, and everything would go back to the way it was before—the cold indifference, the emotional distance. For now, he clung to the fleeting happiness, allowing himself to believe that maybe this was the turning point he had been waiting for.

But in the back of his mind, a quiet voice whispered that good things never lasted for him, and any moment, it could all disappear. He knew better than to get comfortable, but for now, he basked in the attention, unwilling to let go of this brief glimpse of a perfect relationship.

Eli had never been one for grand gestures, but lately, everything felt different. Spencer came home one evening to find a bouquet of brightly colored flowers on the kitchen table, their fragrance filling the room.

"Hey, you’re home!" Eli called from the kitchen, a warm smile on their face as they stirred something on the stove. "I made your favorite—pasta with garlic bread. Thought you might like something comforting after your day."

Spencer blinked, his mind racing as he tried to process the shift. He set his bag down, cautiously approaching the flowers. "You… got these for me?" he asked, his voice soft, unsure.

Eli chuckled and walked over to him, wiping their hands on a dish towel before wrapping their arms around his waist. "Of course, I did. You deserve it, Spencie."

Spencer smiled, though his brow furrowed slightly in confusion. This wasn’t like Eli at all. "I… thank you. They’re beautiful." He leaned down to smell the flowers, a wave of warmth flooding him, but a lingering doubt hovered at the back of his mind.

Later that week, they were sitting together on the couch, something they rarely did. Eli had insisted on watching one of Spencer’s favorite documentaries, something about ancient civilizations that Spencer would usually watch alone.

"I never knew this stuff was so interesting," Eli commented, their head resting on Spencer’s shoulder. "Why didn’t you make me watch this with you sooner?"

Spencer looked down at them, unsure of how to respond. "I didn’t think it was really your thing," he admitted, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of Eli’s shirt. "You’ve never really… wanted to before."

Eli sat up slightly, turning to face Spencer, their hand coming to rest on his knee. "Well, I want to now," they said, smiling softly.

Spencer’s heart swelled at the words, but the confusion deepened. This was everything he had wanted from Eli for so long, but the sudden shift left him off-balance. Still, he wasn’t ready to question it—not when things were finally good. He forced himself to smile back, leaning in to kiss Eli’s forehead.

"I appreciate that," he whispered, a hint of vulnerability in his voice. "I just…I’m happy."

Eli kissed him softly on the lips, pulling him closer. "I love you, Spencie," they murmured, their words sweet and tender. "And I want to make sure you know that."

Spencer wrapped his arms around them, his mind swirling with unanswered questions. He wanted to ask what had caused this change, what had made Eli suddenly decide to be the partner he had always hoped for. But the fear of losing this fleeting happiness kept him silent. He wasn’t ready to risk it all, not yet.

—

Penelope had been watching you closely for days, her eyes filled with concern. She knew something was wrong, but you had been keeping your walls up, retreating further into your sadness after things fell apart with Shane. Every attempt she made to drag you out of the apartment had been met with a firm, “I’m just not feeling up to it, Pen.”

But Penelope wasn’t one to give up so easily. "Come on, honey, you can’t just sit here and stew over that idiot forever," she urged, practically bouncing on her feet. "We need to go out, have some fun, and remind the world who the hell we are!"

"I don’t know…" you trailed off, glancing at the TV as though it had something to offer. But you knew it didn’t. You just didn’t have the energy.

"Y/N," Penelope said firmly, placing her hands on her hips, "I love you, but sitting in pajamas while watching reality shows for the third night in a row is not how we get over this. You are coming with me."

You sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to relent. "Fine," you groaned, finally giving in.

Penelope’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Yes! Shower, now. I’m doing your makeup, and we are going to paint the town red!"

It wasn’t long before she had you dolled up, feeling like a different version of yourself. The two of you hit the town with one goal: to get drunk and forget all about stupid people like Shane. JJ, Emily, and Derek met up with you at the bar, and soon you were all dancing up a storm. The music, the energy, and the friends surrounding you were doing exactly what Penelope had intended—they were lifting you out of your funk.

You loved the attention you were getting, and it was absolutely helping you feel better about everything that had happened. The compliments, the laughs, the warmth of your friends—it was like a balm to the hurt you had been carrying.

After a while, you started feeling parched from all the dancing, so you drifted away from the group to grab some water at the bar. As you reached the counter, you bumped into someone.

"Oh, I’m sorry," you yelped, turning quickly to see who it was you’d run into.

To your surprise, the body turned around, and there, standing in front of you, was Eli. Your stomach dropped slightly, expecting some snide remark, a cutting comment like the ones you’d heard before.

But instead, Eli let out a light laugh. "No problem!" they said with a smile, their tone unusually friendly.

You blinked, taken aback by the unexpected response. Even Spencer, standing next to Eli, looked just as surprised, his brow furrowed slightly at Eli’s easygoing attitude toward you.

"Uh… thanks," you said, forcing a polite smile, still not entirely sure what to make of the encounter.

Eli nodded, still smiling, before turning back to their drink, leaving you standing there, feeling slightly bewildered. You couldn’t help but glance at Spencer, who gave you a small, almost apologetic smile, as if to acknowledge how strange the moment had been.

The interaction left you feeling a bit off-kilter, but as you grabbed your water and headed back to the dance floor, you pushed the weirdness aside. Tonight was about you, about having fun and moving on. Whatever Eli’s sudden kindness meant, you weren’t going to let it throw you off track.

Soon, you couldn’t just brush off the strange interaction because, much to your surprise, Spencer and Eli joined the rest of you on the dance floor. It was a sight you hadn’t expected.

“Whoa, pretty boy! I didn’t think you’d show!” Derek cheered, clearly having invited Spencer without anyone else knowing.

Spencer gave a half-smile, looking awkward as he stood on the outskirts of the group. “Yeah, uh… Eli thought it would be fun,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, his discomfort obvious.

“Well, loosen up, genius!” Emily called out, playfully nudging him. “We’re here to have fun.”

Eli, however, had no problem jumping right in, grabbing Spencer by the hips and guiding him into the rhythm of the music. Spencer’s movement was stilted, clearly uncomfortable with the attention, but Eli didn’t seem to mind, dancing all around him, their hands sliding over his shoulders and down his sides. The contrast between Spencer’s stiff posture and Eli’s free-spirited movements made for an interesting sight.

You tried to brush it off, but the more you watched, the more an odd sense of jealousy began to brew in your chest. It’s just because I’m newly single, you told yourself, trying to rationalize the pang of envy. But it didn’t feel that simple, and as you watched Eli spin Spencer with a grin, you couldn’t help but wonder why it bothered you so much.

Penelope noticed your mood shift immediately, her eyes following your gaze. She knew you too well, and it wasn’t long before she saw you slipping off the dance floor, making your way outside for some air. She wasn’t surprised at all—you needed a moment to clear your head.

What did surprise you, though, was when the door opened a few minutes later, and Spencer stepped out, his hands shoved into his pockets as he came to stand next to you. The cool night air felt refreshing against your heated skin, but Spencer’s presence made your heart race slightly, unsure of what to say or do.

Neither of you spoke for a moment, the silence hanging between you like a thread waiting to be pulled.

“You okay?” Spencer finally asked, his voice soft as he looked at you, the concern clear in his expression.

You shrugged, trying to keep your tone light despite the heaviness in your chest. “Yeah, just needed some air. It was getting a little... crowded in there.”

Spencer nodded, his gaze drifting down the street before returning to you. “Yeah, I get that,” he said quietly. He shifted his weight, looking almost as uncomfortable out here as he did on the dance floor.

You glanced over at him, curiosity tugging at you. “You don’t really seem like a club guy,” you said, half teasing.

Spencer chuckled awkwardly, his shoulders rising and falling in a small shrug. “I’m not,” he admitted. “I, uh, don’t really dance. Eli’s more into that.”

You nodded, watching him for a moment. There was something in his eyes—something that made you feel like he wasn’t entirely thrilled to be out here either.

“Eli seems really into it,” you said, testing the waters, unsure why you even brought it up.

Spencer’s smile faltered for a split second before he nodded again. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice quieter this time. He didn’t elaborate, and the silence between you grew, filled with unspoken thoughts and emotions that neither of you seemed ready to address.

After a moment, you decided to break the tension. “I didn’t expect to see you out tonight.”

Spencer chuckled softly, kicking at a loose pebble with his shoe. “I didn’t expect to be out, to be honest,” he admitted. “But, well... here I am.”

You smiled, feeling a strange connection in that shared sentiment. “Yeah, here we are.”

Spencer didn’t know why he followed you. Maybe it was the way you quietly slipped away from the group, or maybe it was something deeper—a feeling he couldn’t quite explain, like an invisible string pulling him after you. He had hesitated for a moment, glancing at Eli before deciding he needed to step outside.

“Hey, uh... is it okay if I step out for some air?” Spencer asked, trying to sound casual.

Eli’s eyes flickered toward the door, then back to him. “With Y/N?” they asked, their tone neutral, but it made Spencer catch his breath, suddenly nervous that Eli might get upset in front of everyone.

Spencer swallowed hard. “Is that... okay?” he asked tentatively, trying to gauge Eli’s reaction.

Eli’s face softened, a sweet smile forming as they nodded. “Yeah, Spencie! Go check on your friend.”

Relief washed over Spencer, though a small knot of confusion lingered. Eli’s sudden sweetness left him feeling a bit unsettled, but he didn’t question it. Instead, he gave a small smile in return before quietly making his way outside to join you.

As he stood next to you in the cool night air, the questions he had about Eli faded, replaced by an inexplicable need to be there with you, to share this quiet moment away from the chaos of the night.

You and Spencer remained side by side, chatting politely, both enjoying the quiet reprieve from the crowd inside. The cool night air felt refreshing, a stark contrast to the warm chaos of the dance floor.

“Are you, uh—still seeing that person from the other week?” Spencer asked awkwardly, his words stumbling out as he glanced at you.

You stiffened slightly at the mention of Shane, the wound still fresh, not something you wanted to discuss right now, especially not here. "No," you said simply, hoping to leave it at that.

Spencer shifted uncomfortably, his eyes darting away before he coughed. "Oh," he mumbled, then added, "I’m sorry. They’re an idiot."

You couldn’t help but smile, the warmth of his words cutting through some of the lingering pain. "Thank you," you said softly, genuinely appreciating his attempt to comfort you.

Spencer nodded, and when he finally looked at you, something in his expression changed. His eyes locked with yours, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still. He realized in that instant that what he felt looking into your eyes—this connection, this spark—was stronger than anything he’d ever felt with Eli. Every moment he had shared with Eli over the course of their relationship paled in comparison to what he felt standing there with you now.

The realization hit him like a tidal wave, both exhilarating and terrifying. He wasn’t sure what to do with this feeling, and the fear of what it meant gripped him tightly. Spencer wasn’t ready to confront it, but in that moment, he knew something had shifted between the two of you. And that scared him more than anything.

—

The next time you saw him, Eli was by his side once again. The team was gathered to celebrate Aaron Hotchner’s birthday with a fancy dinner followed by a play, and the atmosphere was light, filled with laughter and easy conversation. The dinner had been delicious, and everyone was in high spirits as you all made your way to the theater, excitement buzzing in the air.

Finding your seats, you realized the universe must have been playing some sort of twisted joke. The numbers on your tickets had placed you directly next to Spencer. It seemed innocent enough—JJ was on your other side, and Eli sat beside Spencer—but the proximity between you two felt charged in a way that was hard to ignore.

The lights dimmed, and the show began, captivating the audience almost immediately. You focused on the performance, but you had no idea that Spencer's mind was far from the stage. Since the moment you walked into the restaurant tonight, Spencer’s mind had been a chaotic kaleidoscope of images of you. The way you looked, the way you moved, the sound of your laugh—it was overwhelming.

Sitting so close to you now, he felt a primal, almost feral need stirring inside him, something he'd never experienced so intensely before. It was beyond mere attraction; it was hunger. He could barely focus on the play as his thoughts drifted to you again and again.

Spencer’s chest tightened with guilt as his mind began slipping away from innocent thoughts. At first, his musings were harmless, but they quickly escalated to PG-13, and then further, to places he had never allowed himself to go before. He couldn’t shake it, this wild, uncontrollable pull toward you. He wanted to tear his thoughts away, but every fiber of his being was hyper-aware of your presence next to him.

It was horrible—he felt like he was betraying Eli, even though the thoughts stayed locked inside his own head. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white as he tried to suppress the desire building within him. He knew he shouldn’t be thinking about you like this, not when Eli was sitting right next to him. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the intense attraction coursing through his body. The guilt gnawed at him, but the desire burned even stronger.

He felt trapped, stuck between the relationship he had and the undeniable draw he felt toward you. And in that dark theater, surrounded by his friends, Spencer’s thoughts were anything but innocent.

During intermission, Spencer excused himself, practically fleeing to the restroom. Once there, he splashed cold water on his face, hoping to wash away the guilty, indecent thoughts that had plagued him throughout the first half of the play. What the hell is wrong with me? he thought, staring at his reflection, trying to regain control of himself.

Meanwhile, you headed to the concession stand, grabbing a lemonade. It came with a straw, which you twirled absentmindedly as you made your way back to your seat. You settled in, sipping slowly as everyone found their spots again.

When Spencer returned and sat next to you, he tried to focus on anything but you—the play, Eli, anything—but his eyes kept drifting to your lips as you wrapped them around the straw, sipping your drink. The way you casually sipped, completely unaware of the effect you were having on him, made his throat dry.

You noticed his lingering gaze and raised an eyebrow, suppressing a small smile. "Want a sip?" you offered, holding the drink out toward him, your voice teasing but light.

Spencer hesitated for a second, knowing that accepting it would be a bad idea. But then again, what harm could one sip do? "Sure," he replied, his voice low, almost strained.

Instead of taking the cup from your hand, Spencer leaned over, resting his hand lightly on your thigh as he bent toward you. His touch sent a jolt of warmth through you, and your breath hitched as he brought his lips to the straw still clasped in your hand. He took a slow sip, his hand remaining firmly in place, his fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of your dress.

Your face flushed a deep crimson, the simple act of him drinking from the same straw suddenly charged with an intimacy you hadn’t anticipated. You glanced quickly at Eli, but they were preoccupied, furiously typing away on their phone, not even noticing what was happening between you and Spencer.

As the lights flickered, signaling the end of intermission, Spencer pulled back, the drink slipping from his lips, but his hand stayed where it was, resting warmly on your thigh. The lights dimmed once more, and the play resumed, but Spencer’s touch remained, grounding you in a way that made it impossible to focus on anything else.

Neither of you said a word, but the unspoken tension between you hung in the air, heavier than ever. You didn’t dare move, and neither did he. And as the minutes passed, you could feel the weight of that moment, the quiet acknowledgement that whatever was happening between you was more than just fleeting glances or stolen moments.

Spencer’s hand stayed on your thigh for the rest of the show, and you tried to rationalize it. It’s probably just the wine he had with dinner, you thought, convincing yourself he was just feeling a bit more friendly than usual. After all, the two of you had bonded that night at the club, and maybe this was just an extension of that. Still, the warmth of his hand lingered longer than it should have, sending ripples of confusion through you.

When the lights came back on and the play ended, you quickly stood, clapping in applause and efficiently removing Spencer’s hand from your leg. You didn’t want to dwell on it, but the moment left you feeling uneasy. As the theater cleared, the group gathered outside to say their goodbyes, but you found yourself avoiding Spencer’s gaze.

Leaning over to Penelope, you whispered, "I’m not feeling so great. I think I need to head out."

Concern flashed across her face, but she didn’t question you. "Of course, babe. Let’s go."

After wishing Aaron a happy birthday, you and Penelope left before you could make any eye contact with Spencer. Your thoughts raced as you hurried away, unsure why he had acted the way he did. You didn’t hate what had happened, and that made it worse. He has a partner, you reminded yourself, the guilt settling heavily in your chest.

Meanwhile, Spencer and Eli made their way home as well. The silence between them was thick with unspoken tension, but when they arrived, Eli wasted no time initiating an intimate night. Spencer let it happen, going through the motions as his mind drifted back to you. He felt a surge of guilt and self-loathing. As Eli’s hands moved over him, Spencer’s thoughts were filled with the image of you, your laughter, the feel of your thigh beneath his palm. It made him feel like a monster, like he was betraying not only Eli, but you as well.

But what Spencer didn’t realize was that he wasn’t the only one with someone else on his mind. As Eli kissed him, their thoughts weren’t on Spencer either. The unspoken fractures in their relationship were growing wider, with both of them secretly imagining someone else, locked in a cycle of unaddressed desires and unvoiced doubts.

—

It was October now, and Halloween was rapidly approaching—Spencer's favorite time of year and his absolute favorite holiday. The excitement had been building for weeks, and it was palpable. He loved everything about Halloween—the history, the traditions, and, of course, the chance to dress up and lose himself in the festive spirit.

But as the holiday approached, so did the Halloween party you and Penelope were throwing. The entire team had been invited, along with their partners and a few other friends. It was going to be a night full of fun, laughter, and celebration, and you couldn't wait to show everyone the apartment, which was fully decked out in spooky decorations.

Though you were looking forward to the party, there was one thought that kept crossing your mind: Spencer. He’d be there, of course, with Eli by his side. It was hard to shake the feeling that no matter how much time had passed since that strange, tension-filled evening at the theater, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The truth was, you knew you couldn’t have him—he was spoken for, and no matter what had happened or hadn’t happened, he was off-limits.

But that didn’t stop you from hoping your costume might catch his eye.

You’d spent extra time picking out the perfect outfit—something that was fun and playful, but with just enough edge to make an impression. Part of you wondered if he would notice, if he would look at you the way he had during the play. Even though you knew it was dangerous territory, the thought lingered in the back of your mind.

As you finished adjusting the final Halloween decorations, you glanced around the apartment, satisfied with how everything had turned out. The anticipation of the party and seeing everyone—especially Spencer—left a mix of excitement and nervousness brewing inside you.

One night, you thought. One night to celebrate, to have fun. Just let it be enough.

By the time people started arriving, your apartment had been fully transformed into a Halloween wonderland. The living room is draped in warm, spooky hues of purple and orange, with bats hanging from the ceiling and a wreath made of autumn leaves and tiny pumpkins framing the window. The couches are decorated with plush pillows and blankets, and a coffee table sits adorned with jack-o'-lanterns, flickering with eerie candlelight, surrounded by scattered fall leaves.

The hallway leading to the party area is wrapped in dark, twisting branches and shimmering orange lights, creating a haunting yet whimsical path. A skeleton sits at the dining table, illuminated by the warm glow of string lights that crisscross overhead, casting playful shadows along the walls.

Further in, an archway framed with grinning pumpkins welcomes guests into a dining area, bathed in the glow of purple lights. Jack-o'-lanterns of all shapes and sizes line the walls, giving the space a playful but eerie ambiance. It’s the kind of atmosphere that will make the party unforgettable, setting the perfect tone for the night.

You and Penelope stood by the door, greeting your guests as they entered your neon-lit, spooky apartment, handing out glowing necklaces as a fun touch to set the party's mood. Amid the excitement and stress of hosting, you nearly forgot that Spencer would be walking through that door any minute now. Your thoughts had been focused on making sure everything was perfect, greeting the steady stream of guests, and keeping the energy light and fun.

Just as you were handing another glowing necklace to a guest, the front door burst open, and in strolled Derek, as confident as ever, with Emily on one arm and JJ on the other. Emily looked striking in her sleek Morticia Addams costume, with her sharp features highlighted by her dark makeup, and JJ exuded playful fierceness in her Kill Bill-inspired outfit. Penelope, as usual, was a burst of color and creativity in her neon-pink, revealing Alice in Wonderland-esc cat costume.

Derek, dressed as a dashing fighter pilot, took one look at you and Penelope, his eyes wide with exaggerated awe. “Wow! My god, you gorgeous ladies are gonna give me a heart attack!” he playfully swooned, placing a hand dramatically over his chest.

Penelope grinned, striking a pose next to you, her Cheshire cat grin almost matching the one she had painted on her face. "Careful, Morgan. You might need to be resuscitated."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the exchange, but your heart fluttered slightly as you realized that any moment, Spencer would be walking in, and you wondered what he would think when he saw you in your costume.

The whole team had arrived about 20 minutes ago, with everyone dressed to impress, save for Spencer. You couldn’t help but worry he wasn’t going to come, despite his excitement about Halloween. You tried to stay positive, especially since everyone else seemed to be in good spirits. Even Hotch and Rossi had put in some effort, dressing up as Men in Black, though it was hardly a stretch from their usual look—very creative you thought with a smirk.

The party had started in full swing, laughter and music filling the room, but you couldn’t shake the slight disappointment. What if he doesn’t show?

Then, suddenly, there was a knock at the door. Without thinking, you crossed the room and swung it open, your jaw practically hitting the floor when you saw who was standing on the other side.

There, in all his unnervingly handsome glory, was Spencer—no Eli in sight. He was dressed as Patrick Bateman from American Psycho, complete with a suit, raincoat, and an ax slung over his shoulder. His normally disheveled hair was slicked back, and the blood splatter across his face made him look dangerously alluring. You could feel your heart stutter in your chest.

You stood there with your hand still on the door, staring at him for far too long to be socially acceptable. But Spencer wasn’t faring much better. His eyes had widened when he saw you in your Ghostface costume—though this was your take of the infamous killer, your fitted corset and thigh-high slit showing more than enough to leave Spencer speechless.

His lips parted slightly, the two of you caught in an awkward, electrifying silence. Neither of you moved or spoke, both seemingly frozen in the moment. You tried to find something to say, but your brain refused to cooperate. He looked breathtaking, and from the look in his eyes, you were certain he thought the same about you.

"Uh… wow," Spencer finally managed, his voice low, almost reverent.

You blinked, snapping out of your trance and feeling your cheeks heat up. "Spencer… you… look…" You trailed off, biting your lip as your eyes roamed over his form again.

"Yeah," he murmured, his gaze dropping to your costume. "You too." He cleared his throat, shifting awkwardly but never taking his eyes off you.

You stepped aside, finally remembering your manners. "Come in," you said, your voice breathless.

As he walked past you, your heart fluttered wildly in your chest. Tonight was going to be interesting.

“Boy wonder!” Penelope squealed as she caught sight of Spencer walking into the party. Her arms flung open dramatically before pulling him into a big squeeze.

"Hey, Pen, great party!" Spencer laughed, his voice warm as he returned her embrace.

JJ approached, tilting her head curiously. "Where’s Eli?"

Spencer didn’t seem fazed by the question as he shrugged casually. "Oh, their friend is having a party tonight too. They might stop by later, but I wouldn’t count on it," he replied with a small laugh, seemingly unbothered by Eli’s absence.

Derek, being a sharp observer of Spencer’s moods, raised an eyebrow. “...And you’re cool with this?”

Spencer just smiled brightly, brushing it off with a light chuckle. “Yup! We don’t have to do everything together.” He laughed again, the sound easygoing and relaxed.

Everyone seemed to accept his answer, nodding along before the party really began to kick into gear. Laughter and conversation flowed easily around the room, the energy of the Halloween festivities keeping everyone entertained.

But despite the natural rhythm of the night, you couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. Something about Spencer seemed off—not in a bad way, but different. He seemed almost too happy that Eli hadn’t joined him. There was something about his energy, a lightness that hadn’t been there before, and the more you watched him throughout the evening, the more you wondered what was really going on beneath that bright smile of his.

You were in the kitchen, pouring yourself a drink, when the sound of footsteps behind you caught your attention. Without hesitation, you glanced over your shoulder and saw Spencer standing there. Instinctively, you turned to face him, not wanting to give him the chance to sneak up on you.

"Hello, Spencer," you greeted with a warm smile, trying to mask the sudden nervous energy that surged through you.

"Y/N," he nodded, stepping a little closer. "You know, maybe we should team up. Might make things easier," he added with a smirk, his costume and demeanor making him look every bit the psycho he was dressed as. The sight of him like that sent your heart racing, and to your dismay, you found yourself stuttering.

"Wh–what? You, an–an–me?"

Spencer just laughed, the sound low and amused. "Ghostface and Patrick Bateman? We’d make quite the team."

You chuckled nervously, trying to shake off the butterflies in your stomach. "Oh, hah, yeah, you’re right. So, um, who’s our first victim?" you asked, playing along with the joke.

Spencer rubbed his chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Hmm… I’d say we start with the Men in Black. Take out the authority first."

You couldn’t help it—the laugh that erupted from you was genuine and loud, a real cackle that caught you off guard. You quickly covered your mouth, embarrassed by how loud it was.

But before you could fully hide, Spencer reached out and gently grabbed your wrist, lowering your hand. "Don’t cover up," he said softly, his eyes locking with yours. "I like your laugh."

His touch sent a warm shiver down your spine, and for a moment, the playful atmosphere shifted into something heavier, something unspoken hanging between you both. You smiled, the blush creeping up your cheeks, unsure of how to respond to the sudden intimacy.

"Thanks," you murmured, your heart thudding in your chest, the moment feeling far more charged than a simple Halloween joke should have been.

You cleared your throat, turning back to focus on your drink, trying to regain some semblance of composure. "So, um, how do we take them out?" you asked, trying to keep the conversation light and playful.

Spencer tapped his chin in mock thought before flashing you a mischievous smirk. "Let's make it a game," he said, his voice low, adding to the playful tension between you. "We have to turn off their glowing necklaces without them noticing. If you’re successful, you get a point. Most points by the end of the night wins."

You grinned at the idea, nodding in agreement. "Alright, you’re on."

And just like that, the game began. You and Spencer spent the rest of the evening sneaking around the party, laughing and conspiring together like mischievous children. You’d catch each other’s eye from across the room, silently plotting, and then spring into action, working to stealthily turn off people’s glowing necklaces without them noticing.

Every time one of you was successful, you’d stifle giggles, slipping back into the crowd with a triumphant grin. The whole dynamic between you and Spencer had shifted into something new—something light, fun, and undeniably flirtatious. Your shared laughter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of the other guests.

It didn’t take long for people to notice the change. Derek raised an eyebrow at the two of you, watching as you and Spencer darted around with smiles and whispered jokes. JJ and Emily exchanged knowing glances, clearly curious about this unexpected shift in your relationship. Even Penelope caught on, throwing you a sly look that said she’d definitely be asking you about this later.

Everyone seemed to be wondering the same thing: Since when did these two get along so well?

But you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you were having fun—real fun—with Spencer. And, despite the attention from everyone else, you weren’t ready for it to stop.

—

As the night wrapped up, the energy was still buzzing. Everyone had enjoyed themselves, and the party had been a huge success. You felt a sense of pride as you waved goodbye to your guests, making sure everyone had a designated driver or had called a cab. Once the last person had left, you closed the door, feeling the peaceful silence settle in.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

Penelope wasted no time, immediately bombarding you with questions, her eyes wide with curiosity. "Okay, spill! What was that? You and Boy Wonder sneaking around, giggling like a couple of high schoolers? Since when are you and Spencer all… flirty?!"

You laughed, still riding the high of the evening, but you could see the concern in Penelope’s eyes. She leaned in closer, her expression softening as she lowered her voice. "Look, I loved seeing you have fun tonight. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that," she admitted, "but I just want you to be careful. Spencer and Eli seem very happy together, and I don’t want you getting hurt."

You hesitated, knowing she was right. "I know, Pen," you sighed. "It’s just… it was harmless fun, you know? Nothing serious."

Penelope gave you a look, the one that said she wasn’t buying it. "I just don’t want you caught up in something messy," she said softly. "You deserve someone who’s all in, not someone who’s already got someone else."

You nodded, appreciating her concern, but at the same time, you couldn’t shake the way Spencer had looked at you tonight, the way you’d both laughed together like nothing else mattered.

Meanwhile, Spencer drove home in silence, not having had a single drink all night. His mind was still racing from the party, the memories of sneaking around with you and laughing filling his head. The evening had been… unexpected. He couldn’t deny that he’d had fun, maybe more fun than he’d had in a while.

When he pulled into the parking garage, he noticed Eli’s car wasn’t there. He assumed they were still out, maybe spending the night at their friend’s place. It wasn’t unusual for Eli to stay out late when they were with friends, and Spencer didn’t give it much thought as he unlocked the front door and walked inside.

He moved through the apartment quietly, heading down the hall to the bedroom. But what he didn’t expect—what stopped him dead in his tracks—was the sight that greeted him when he opened the bedroom door.

There, in his bed, was Eli. And they weren’t alone.

It took a moment for Spencer’s brain to register what he was seeing, but when it did, the shock hit him like a tidal wave. The person with Eli—the one tangled up in the sheets, very clearly entwined with his partner—was none other than Shane, the same person who had taken you on a date.

His heart pounded in his chest as the weight of the betrayal sank in, the scene before him twisting his stomach into knots.

Shane looked up at the sound of the door opening, pulling away from Eli and quickly covering both of them with the blankets, their face contorting into a mix of shock and confusion.

“What the hell?” Shane yelled, voice panicked.

That finally snapped Spencer out of his state of shock. “What the hell? What the hell! Get out of my fucking bed!” he screamed, his voice cracking with raw emotion.

“Your bed?” Shane’s face instantly fell, their eyes darting to Eli, whose expression was now cold, almost indifferent. “Are you married?” Shane asked, their voice trembling with fear and disbelief.

Eli scoffed, pushing themselves out of bed, making no effort to cover up. “No,” they said with a lazy shrug, “this is Spencer.”

“And who is Spencer?” Shane asked, sounding utterly heartbroken.

Spencer’s voice trembled with emotion as he stood frozen in the doorway, tears welling up in his eyes. “Yeah, Eli... who is Spencer?”

Eli rolled their eyes, casually pulling on a robe, unfazed by the entire situation. “My partner,” they said dismissively, as if it meant nothing.

“What?” Shane cried out, turning to Spencer, tears streaming down their face. “I am so sorry, I had no idea. We—we’ve been seeing each other for weeks.” Shane’s voice cracked with guilt and devastation.

Spencer felt like he should have been more hurt by the revelation, but the truth was, Shane’s emotional investment was far greater than his own. He saw now why Eli had been so suddenly attentive and kind—there had been someone else.

“It’s—it’s fine,” Spencer muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair, trying to keep it together. “I’ll, um, I’ll stay somewhere else tonight. Eli, let’s talk later, okay?”

Eli just nodded, entirely unaffected. “Cool.”

With that, Spencer grabbed a few things and left the apartment, feeling numb and hollow.

—

Back at your place, you and Penelope were still sitting on the couch, talking about the party, when there was a sudden knock at the door. You exchanged a curious look, not expecting anyone else to stop by at this hour.

Penelope shot up, tiptoeing over to the door and peeking through the peephole. She gasped loudly before rushing back to you, whispering in a hurried panic, “It’s Spencer!” And then, without any warning, she dashed off to her bedroom, the unmistakable sound of the door locking echoing through the apartment.

You let out a long sigh, standing up and making your way over to the door, wondering what could have brought Spencer here so late. You expected him to say he’d forgotten his phone or maybe just needed something small.

But when you opened the door, Spencer didn’t say a word.

He didn’t ask for anything, didn’t explain himself. Instead, he stepped forward, his eyes heavy with emotion, and before you could even react, he reached out, grabbing your face gently but with a sense of urgency. Then, without hesitation, Spencer pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that was both desperate and full of longing.

The world seemed to stop in that moment, your heart pounding as the warmth of his lips consumed you, every thought and question vanishing into the kiss.

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