#a million out of ten game. perfection

[velvetjune]

Herald of Darkness | Alan Wake 2

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 4

in which spencer reid and inexperienced fem!reader are interrupted at the most inopportune of times. he calls you on the first night of his case. dirty talk turns into a hard conversation. we get a glimpse into spencer's past, and we finally learn why he's so hesitant to sleep with you.

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: dirty talk, phone sex/mutual masturbation, softdom!spence, obligatory he talks u through it, lots of graphic discussions of sex, established relationship, angst (sorrryyy!) a/n: so remember how i said you'd need the bonus chapter to fully appreciate/understand this part? i was wrong!! it will come in handy probably in the next part tho:) also idk how these parts keep getting so long im sorry! anyway, i love you all so bad. thank you for bearing w/ my craziness. PLEASE let me know your thoughts on this part!! i adore hearing from you!! kisses

(also special thank you to @fliesforeyes who convinced me phone sex w/ spence could be done!! i will link his phone sex blurb here :)) thank u binx!!

“Three million six hundred eighty four thousand three hundred thirty two times fourteen million seven hundred sixty one thousand nine hundred seventy one.”

You’ve lost count of how many stupid math questions you’ve asked your human calculator boyfriend, just to see if he can actually do them. Spencer is silent for a second, and you think you’ve finally stumped him. 

“That one is complicated.”

You sit bolt upright in his bed, looking down at him and pointing an accusatory finger. His brows raise at the manic look in your eye. 

“You don’t know.”

“I do know. I meant it would be hard to explain if you aren’t a math person.”

“Bullshit!” You scoff, “you don’t know!”

“It would display on a calculator as five-point-three-eight-eight-E-thirteen. It’s a really big number.”

“Oh, really big, huh?” you mumble, searching for your phone blindly in the sheets and scrambling to open the calculator app. “Um… what numbers did I say?”

Spencer repeats them back to you and you press the equals sign. 

You look at it. 

And then you set your phone down. 

“I was right, huh?” he smiles up at you, probably reveling in your pouty wrongness. 

Too proud to admit it, you collapse on top of him, burying your face in his shoulder. 

“I don’t like this game anymore. What the fuck even is an e? Why are we doing algebra?”

Spencer laughs, brushing your hair aside. 

“The e stands for exponent. It’s to the power of ten.”

“Ever heard of a rhetorical question?”

“Yes, I have.”

It’s hard not to snort even at his dumbest jokes. 

“You’re annoying. Let’s do something else.”

You roll over onto your back again, letting your head flop over to look at Spencer, whose hair is exactly the right amount of messy after a long day, falling in impossibly soft waves over the perfect lines and contours of his face. Despite lounging, he’s still in his suit from work—he’d left Quantico and immediately picked you up. There were no solid plans for the evening, so after both of you pretended that you wanted to go out for a while, you ended up back at his apartment. 

He looks good. Almost too good. 

“Something like what?” he smiles lazily, reaching over and tracing his fingers over your cheek. 

“Something… naked?”

His grin widens and he shakes his head. 

“Me naked or you naked?”

Pretending to think about it, you roll your bottom lip between your teeth. 

“Mm… why not both?”

“Hm. Why do I feel like I know where this is going?”

The mattress sinks underneath your elbow as you prop yourself up, dropping your head over Spencer’s to kiss him. 

“Because you’re so smart, and you think it’s a great idea.”

He entertains your kiss for a moment. Just a moment.

“You sound sure of yourself.”

“Because I am!” You finally give in to your impulses, tangling your fingers in his hair and looking at him meaningfully. “It doesn’t make any sense for us to have not had sex. I don’t care about any of your weird, cryptic moral reasoning.”

He grabs your wrist carefully. 

“It is not moral,” he scoffs. “We haven’t even talked about it yet.”

“Really? Because I feel like we’ve talked about it a lot.” 

He begins to reply, but you realize you don’t want to get into a debate over whether you’ve technically talked about it yet. “I don’t even care! If that’s all that’s standing in your way, then let’s talk about it. Right now.”

Spencer sighs, his eyes darting between yours as he reaches up to cradle your cheek. 

“Fine. But I have things to say you’re not going to like.”

“So business as usual?”

He rolls his eyes. You allow yourself a tiny self-satisfied smirk, forever relishing in his poorly-hidden soft spot for your constant teasing. Spencer ignores this. Which is probably for the best. 

“I know you probably won’t see it this way, but—sex is different than everything else we’ve done so far. It can be really fun, obviously it feels good, it facilitates deeper feelings of connection—that’s all true. Which is why, in my opinion, it’s incredibly important that you be selective with who you sleep with. Because it’s so easy to do something you regret, and sex is vulnerable. It should always be with someone you trust and—and… care about.”

A pink flush stains his cheeks like watercolor as he stumbles over the last few words. It makes your heart flutter against the confines of your chest.

Maybe best not to think about the absence versus presence of certain four-letter words and what they may or may not mean. You’ll move on to more pressing matters and pretend like it doesn’t ache just a little in your whole body. 

You cover his hand with your own. 

“Are you going to break up with me anytime soon?”

Spencer’s eyes widen, filling with genuine horror and confusion. 

“What? No!”

“Are you going to cheat on me?”

“Absolutely not, I—”

“Then I’m not going to regret it. Issue resolved. Moving on.”

“Honey, I just want you to be 100% sure that I’m what you want.”

“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto your back once more. “I have begged you to sleep with me on multiple occasions. We have been dating for months and I liked you even longer before that. I think about it literally every time I see you. I don’t know how to be any surer.”

It’s quiet for a moment as you study the imaginary pattern on the ceiling. The rebuttal you’d been anticipating doesn’t come—instead, the mattress shifts next to you. Spencer enters your field of vision, now leaning over you with a little smile on his face that gives you butterflies. 

“Every time?”

“…yes, every time,” you agree, voice considerably thinner than it had been a moment ago. Spencer glances at your lips as he speaks. 

“Interesting. And what is it that you think about exactly?”

You groan again, attempting to roll facedown, but he pins your shoulder to the bed. The way he’s sweetly kissing down your cheek and jaw is infuriating because you know it’s a false pretense. 

“Ugh, I don’t know! Don’t make me answer that!”

“You said if talking about it was all that was standing in my way, we would talk about it. Now I want to talk about it. Come on,” he says, voice low and cloying against your throat as he attempts to tease the answer out of you. “Tell me what you think about when you think about us having sex.”

You let out a shaky breath at the feeling of his lips skimming your neck, hating how easily he can reduce you to this. 

“I… I always wonder what it will feel like. Sometimes I wonder if it will hurt.”

Spencer sighs, interrogation by way of seduction momentarily forgotten. You silently curse yourself for saying something so un-sexy. 

“It might, sweetheart. That’s one of the reasons we’ve held back. I… really don’t want to hurt you. I don’t even know if I can.”

You grab his face in both hands, forcing him to look at you with more confidence than you feel. 

“Sometimes I worry about it, too. But I like you a lot more than it scares me. I still want to.”

He kisses your palm. 

“You’ll be okay. It doesn’t hurt for everyone, and even if it does, you’re resilient.”

“Exactly. So you have to get over yourself.”

Spencer laughs like he wasn’t expecting to, eyes sparkling as he regards you.  

“Yeah. Yeah, maybe I do.”

He’s smiling again as he leans down and kisses you—a slow, lingering thing which tastes like spearmint as you part your lips for him. 

“Please?” you whisper against him after a long moment. He hums, keeps kissing you. 

“What is it that you think you want? You don’t even know what you’re asking for.”

“Tell me,” you beg, chasing his lips. “Tell me what you’re going to do with me. We can talk about it. This is talking about it.”

Spencer exhales deeply, wedging a thigh between yours. Immediately you clamp around it, trying not to grind against him too overtly. 

“You want to know what I’d do to you?”

“Yes—” you paw at his jacket. Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you from pushing it off. Your heart pounds. 

“Well… we both know how anxious you get,” he muses, pressing his lips so delicately to your fluttering pulse-point in emphasis, and then back to your mouth. His thigh pushes harder against you to supplant the absence of his lips as he speaks, though he kisses you sporadically and between sentences. “You’re hard to get out of your head when you’re nervous, you know that? I watch it happen. One minute you’re with me, and then you start overthinking, and getting self-conscious. The only thing that seems to relax you is letting me touch you—so first I would touch you like I’ve touched you before. I’d make sure you know how pretty you are and how good you deserve to feel.” You whimper inadvertently at his words, arching into him and grinding against his leg as he pauses to kiss the sensitive soft spot below your jaw. “You’re going to need to be really ready to let me in. Do you know what I mean by that?”

As he asks, he pushes his thigh against you harder. Your body responds immediately, arching into him and seeking more friction. When you squeak, he takes it as a no. 

“I mean I need you relaxed and wet. You’ll excuse my crude language.”

You pull at his tie, breathing heavier now and so turned on it’s almost painful. 

“What are you gonna do after that?”

“What else is there to do but fuck you after that?” he breathes. “You want me to tell you how I’d fuck you?”

Something about it makes you whine salaciously. You’ve heard him curse—you’ve even heard him talk about fucking you. But it feels more real now; when it’s low in your ear and you’re covertly undressing him and he’s pushing your shirt over your stomach promisingly. 

“Yes, please.” 

He hums against your jaw, nipping and brushing his lips over the skin as he considers. Leaves you waiting. 

“I would have to take my time with you. You’ll be overwhelmed. I know you think you won’t, but you will. I’m going to have to be so, so careful with you, angel. It’s going to drive me insane. But it will feel good for you.”

“Why careful? I don’t want that.”

He chuckles. A chill runs down your spine. 

“Yeah, you do. You’re going to want me to be careful when I’m—” he pauses, pressing his thumb to your bare lower tummy and dragging up to a spot below your belly button. He presses down lightly again. “Right here. Approximately.”

The surface of the sun has nothing on the temperature of your skin in this moment, as you writhe underneath him in both arousal and embarrassment. Mostly, burning need. You feel almost sick with it. 

“Please don’t make me wait anymore. Just do it, please, Spencer. I need it to be you, I don’t want it to be anyone else. I promise I’m ready.”

It’s silent for a moment. Your heart quickens. You sense his walls wearing away, his instinct to keep you intact for god knows what reason crumbling. He’s finally going to give you what you’ve been begging for. 

Spencer opens his mouth, eyes glimmering—

And then his phone rings. 

You both freeze—he melts dejectedly before you do, more accustomed to an ill-timed phone call and realizing the finality it can present. 

He’s breathing heavily against your neck, as if maybe whoever it is will just hang up. But the phone keeps ringing. 

“I’m sorry.”

Your stomach sinks as he sits up, grabbing his phone from the side table and rubbing circles on your inner thigh as he answers.

“This is Reid,” he says, lackluster. 

If you wanted, you could hear what Penelope is saying—but you don’t bother listening. It’s going to be a case. Spencer is about to leave. The details are his problem. 

“Okay. I’ll be there in an hour.”

He hangs up, tossing the phone onto the mattress and not speaking for a moment, just continuing to rub your leg apologetically. Watching you almost mournfully—taking in your disheveled hair, your likely blown-out pupils, the shirt pushed almost over your chest. 

“I have to go right now,” he finally manages with a heavy sigh, gently pulling your shirt back into place. 

You sit up, shedding all the hopes that had been building for the evening, and try to sound chipper—though all you feel is bitter disappointment that goes deeper than you understand. 

“I know. Go ahead, I can get a cab home.”

He frowns, running his hand over the back of your hair. 

“I don’t love the idea of you standing on the sidewalk waiting for a car in this part of town so late. Do you just want to stay here for the night and go home tomorrow?”

You force a smile. Great. So you’ll be spending the night in his bed after all—just without him. 

“Sure. Thanks.”

“Yeah.”

Neither of you are feeling particularly grateful. 

Soon you’re walking him to his own door. Both of you come to a stop in front. 

“I’m sorry,” he sighs again. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. It’s your job. You don’t need to apologize. You were very clear about this part when we started dating.”

“I know, but… it’s easier in theory than in practice.”

You smile. If Spencer is a reflection of you, it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. His hair is still messy from your fingers running through it and he’s missing his tie. You hope all his coworkers see and feel bad about taking him away from you. 

But it’s not their fault. You just want someone to blame. 

Instead you mould yourself to his body, wrapping around him like you belong there. He returns your embrace, pressing his lips into the crook of your shoulder and rubbing your back in that way he always does with you. 

In that moment, your affection for him becomes so profound it’s like a chemical reaction—everywhere he touches burns and you love him so fucking much it aches in every inch of your body the way your muscles do when you have a bad fever. Love is the most terrible of afflictions, you realize. It is a fever dream. It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon. Pared down to your most basic components, the barest version of yourself, you require him. Your soul needs his soul. 

“Spencer?”

“Hm?” 

It’s nothing more than an absentminded hum against your skin. 

“I…”

Should you be looking him in the eye when you say this? Should you say it right before he has to leave? Just because you say it doesn’t change the fact that he’s about to be gone for several long days. Maybe this is a terrible time to admit something that suddenly feels so true and so consequential. 

He senses your internal conflict, pulling back despite your resistance and holding your face between his hands. 

“You what?” He murmurs, soft eyes bouncing back and forth between your own. Fuck—you feel so observed, now. Like he can read your mind. 

“I forget.”

FUUUUUUCK. 

Spencer blinks. Processes. You watch the disbelief crystallizing over his eyes like ice freezing over a lake. 

He knows. 

He knows you didn’t forget, and he probably knows what you were going to say, and he’s going to tell himself he was wrong to spare your dignity. 

Everything hurts when he kisses you. You wonder what regret tastes like. 

“Well, let me know if you remember.”

It’s too gentle and at the same time he can’t hide the edge with all the tenderness in the world. You nod as if in a trance, already looking forward to dissociating as you lie in bed and stare at the dark ceiling.

Two small goodbyes are exchanged, slightly stifled now, as if shared between drunk strangers who have sobered up and are mutually embarrassed about how candidly they’d interacted before. 

You close the door behind him, doing up all the locks, and meticulously flick every light switch in the apartment off before climbing into his bed—though you don’t really feel like you deserve to be there anymore.

But perhaps this is all an overreaction. It’s not like you owe it to him to say I love you, or anything—it was bad timing, anyway. And why can’t he say it? In fact, why hasn’t he said it? 

Maybe you have it all wrong. 

Maybe he doesn’t feel that way about you. 

You fall asleep before you allow these questions to make you sick. 

24 hours go by. 

24 hours go by and you really had meant to leave his apartment—it was just that you woke up late, and your phone was dead so you couldn’t call a car, so you charged it while you made breakfast, and then you ate, and then you decided to take a shower and wash your clothes, and then it was two in the afternoon and you hadn’t left yet and you decided to walk to the store and replenish the groceries you’d used up. 

Maybe you got a bit distracted looking at flowers and other beautiful things at the market and by the time you got home it was 5:00, so you decided to wait until seven to skip rush hour. And then eight, just to be sure. 

Before you know it, it’s midnight, and you’re dozing off in his bed again (teeth cleaned with the brush you’d bought at the store—maybe this whole situation hadn’t been entirely unwitting on your part.)

Throughout the day, you tried to let all your anxiety about the previous night melt away. If it’s something that needs to be addressed, Spencer will address it. Everything will work out in the end. That thought is how you’re able to doze off. 

You’re almost asleep when your phone lights up and begins buzzing on the side table. You wince as your eyes open, not adjusting well to the harsh bright display and unable to discern who’s even calling you at this hour. Stupidly, probably because you’re half asleep, you answer without checking. 

“Hello?”

Your voice is groggy, quiet with sleep. 

“Shit, did I wake you?”

“Spence?” you whisper, stomach flipping at the sound of his voice on the other line. You feel caught, still sleeping in his bed. 

“… yeah,” he chuckles. “Did you not check who was calling before you picked up?”

“I was asleep,” you pout. “Kinda.”

“Okay. Go back to sleep, honey. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

You sit bolt upright, phone balanced between tense fingers and speaking directly into the microphone. 

“No! No, I’m awake. What’s up? Why did you call?”

A longer stretch of silence—you’re too sleepy to comprehend what it might mean, though never too sleepy to worry about it. With a pang of pain, you recall your strange goodbye, the words you hadn’t said. 

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he sighs. You frown, staring at nothing in particular in the pitch black room. 

“Oh. Is everything okay?”

“As much as it can be.”

“Right.”

More quiet. You chew on the inside of your cheek, stricken with a sudden feeling of awkwardness that you haven’t had with Spencer in a while. 

“I’m sorry… I don’t really know what to say.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice which makes you feel a bit better, “why don’t you tell me about your day? Or you can absolutely go back to sleep, if you’re too tired.”

“Don’t ask me about my day,” you whisper, flopping down on the bed once more. Shame seeps into your voice. He laughs. 

“What? Why?”

“Because if I tell you you’re going to think I’m super weird and you’re going to break up with me.”

Laughter tapers off into gentler tones. 

“I already think you’re super weird. It’s actually one of your most attractive qualities.”

Blood rushes to your cheeks. 

“But it’s like… borderline crazy.”

Immediately, he replies, “for better or worse, I also frequently find myself attracted to crazy.”

“Thank you for calling me crazy and super weird,” you grumble. 

“I also called you attractive twice. Tell me.”

When his tone takes on that easy, assertive quality, and it’s sort of raspy and low because it’s late and he’s been talking all day, and you can hear the lazy smile on his face—you imagine him laying on his hotel bed, arm slung over his eyes in the dark as he grins into the microphone—you have a very difficult time saying no. 

“Fine. Guess where I am right now.”

“Um, I would hope you’re in bed?”

You smile to yourself, basking in the victory of successfully throwing him off his game even slightly. 

“Guess whose bed.”

Silence. 

“What an interesting question.” That cocky smile, the low drawling is back, and you chew on your lip, ignoring the shiver that runs down your spine. “If it’s not mine or yours, we’re going to have issues.”

“But if it is yours? You’re not going to call the police on me?”

“Why would I call the police? To tell them there’s a pretty girl in my bed and I don’t want her there?”

“To tell them your psychopathic girlfriend broke into your apartment and might be holding hostages there.”

Spencer laughs; a brittle, drawn out thing, flat and quiet as the desert.

“If you were a psychopath, calling the cops would be a waste of time. I would handle you myself.” The idea of being handled has your thighs clenching. “But—yeah, don’t invite anyone else in.” More humor finds its way into his voice, momentarily relieving some tension that had sneakily begun to build. “Having people in my space makes me anxious.”

“But not me?” Your whisper is half flirtatious, half insecure. Spencer’s reply is soft, as if he’s picking up on this from hundreds of miles away.

“No, not you. You are always the exception.”

“Good,” you say, cheeks aching as you half-bury your warm face into his pillow. “Because I made myself really comfortable. You have a nice shower, by the way.”

Spencer groans. 

“You’re killing me.”

“What? What did I do!”

“Don’t talk to me about my bed and my shower. I might start to think you’re intentionally being a brat.”

“You asked me about my day! I’m just telling you what I did!”

But you’re also intentional teasing him for sure.  After a pause, he sighs in defeat. 

“You’re right. I did do that. Tell me what else happened.”

“Well,” you begin, all too eager, “I had to put my clothes in the dryer after I got out, so I borrowed some of yours. But then they were way comfier than mine, so after I went to the store I put them back on, and—”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?” you frown. 

“Tell me what this is.”

“I—I don’t know what you mean.”

Lying to a profiler is usually pointless. 

“I’m not stupid, sweetheart. Tell me why you keep talking about my shower and my bed and my clothes.”

Caught red-handed. Your skin heats up. 

“I don’t know. I miss you.”

He hums in a way that blurs the line between sympathetic and patronizing. Even through the phone you can feel the bass of it in your bones.  It changes the frequency you’re vibrating at. It’s hypnotic. 

“But that’s not really why you’re being intentionally provocative, is it?”

“No,” you admit quietly. “I’m still upset you had to go last night.”

“So you’re frustrated and you’re taking it out on me?”

Your brow furrows. Well, when he puts it like that…

“I’m not taking anything out on you.”

“I think you are. And I don’t appreciate that, because I’m on your side, honey. Do you think I prefer being in a hotel bed by myself or being in my bed with you?”

Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

“Your bed with me,” you murmur, skin prickling with the coldness of his absence even as you curl under the blanket. 

“Right. So why don’t you tell me what I can do for you right now, instead of punishing me for things that are beyond my control?”

“I wasn’t punishing you,” you mutter. 

“No? You weren’t intentionally talking about using my shower and sleeping in my bed and putting on my clothes so that I’d have to think about what I can’t have right now?”

“I—”

“Believe me when I tell you I have been thinking about what I can’t have, all day. Your efforts are entirely redundant and you can’t say anything about yourself that is even close to as dirty as the frankly disrespectful thoughts I’ve been having about you for seventeen hours.”

The lack of air is making you so dizzy your vision goes gray at the edges. 

“What… what thoughts?”

“None that you need to concern yourself with.”

“You can’t just say something like that and then not tell me!” you insist. He’s obviously giving you a taste of your own medicine and it’s fair but it doesn’t mean you have to like it. 

“I can do whatever I want,” Spencer corrects cooly in a way that pisses you off beyond belief because he’s right. It triggers some adolescent immaturity within you—a desire to get back at him, so to speak. He wants intentionally provocative? He can have it. 

“Fine. Then so can I. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it even if I could.”

“Spencer,” you warn. “If you don’t tell me what you were thinking I’m gonna—” you look around the room for ammo. “I’m gonna look through your nightstand!”

“Go ahead. I’ll warn you, it’s not very interesting.”

“Sounds like what someone who has something hide would say,” you mumble, crawling across the mattress through tangled sheets and using your phone flashlight to open the drawer. 

Spencer is patient and silent as you take in its contents—a small blue leather-bound notebook (full of what looks like Russian), a fountain pen, a glasses case, various kinds of vitamins, and—

“Spencer Reid,” you say, dragging out his name and pretending nothing is fluttering in your stomach, “what are these?”

“I don’t know. I can’t see what you’re referring to.”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Oh, I have one. But I’d like to hear you say it.”

You realize you may have gotten yourself in deeper than you meant to by going through his stuff. Well—they don’t say karma is a bitch for nothing. 

“What are you doing with a box of condoms?” 

He chuckles and you feel it in your whole body, warm as you stretch across his mattress and eye the box like it might jump out at you. 

“Those are years old. I’ve used three since I bought them.”

“Don’t tell me that,” you whine. “I don’t wanna think about all the other women you’ve seduced.”

“You wanted them to be for you, huh?” 

You flush. Honestly you hadn’t even thought about that. 

“I… I don’t know. I kind of just assumed…”

It’s silent for a second and you frown, realizing you hadn’t even considered protection when you’d imagined sleeping with him before. 

“You assumed what, honey?” he asks, voice soft. 

“It’s dumb. I can’t tell you.”

“You can tell me anything. I’m not going to think it’s dumb, I promise.”

You chew on your lip, letting your eyes unfocus on the box as you muster the courage to be honest. 

“Whenever I imagined it… we didn’t… use anything.”

The words make you cringe even as you’re saying them. So does the quiet that follows. 

“When you imagine us sleeping together, we don’t use a condom?”

“Ah!” The phone drops to the mattress as you cover your ears and roll onto your side, curling into yourself once more. “You didn’t have to say it! You make me sound so weird!”

“It’s not weird,” he laughs, because he can probably imagine exactly what you just did, “I just wanted to make sure I was understanding you. That said… we would definitely use protection.”

“Do we have to?”

The quiet words take even you by surprise—and they seem to stun Spencer as well. Several false starts are punctuated by a sigh as he gathers his thoughts. 

“We really should, baby. That’s the kind of thing we need to take seriously.”

“But you’re… you’re good, right?”

Thankfully he picks up on your meaning. 

“I am. I wouldn’t touch you if I weren’t.”

“And I’m good. So...”

“Hm. And has anyone ever explained to you where babies come from?”

You groan in frustration. 

“Spencer, I’m being serious! There are ways to negate that.”

“Honey,” he murmurs, “I understand that. But it would be irresponsible of me to say yes. We can talk about it in the future, but—”

“I’m telling you it’s already dealt with. The chances of an accidental pregnancy are slim to none.”

The new information hangs in the air for a moment until Spencer speaks—to your surprise, his voice is low and humorous. 

“That is… good to know. But even so—I’m setting a dangerous precedent if I always let you get exactly what you want.”

“Is it such a bad thing that I just wanna—I wanna know what it feels like? You don’t want that?”

“That’s not what I said. I want to know exactly what you feel like. I’m just hesitant to give in so quickly because it makes me look weak.”

You laugh breathlessly, caught between being turned on by the first part of his sentence and amused by the sarcastic second half. Your thighs clench and your hand absentmindedly wanders between them. 

“You know what I was thinking about?” you ask. Spencer hums curiously. “I was thinking about when you let me, um… when you let me touch you how you touch me.” He hums again, but you can hear the amused curve of a smile in it now.

“When you had your mouth all full of me and you looked so pretty?”

“When I—yeah,” you agree, too caught up to deny his compliment as your fingers brush your most sensitive spot through clothing. “And  how you got me all messy after. And I was wondering what it would feel like… inside me.”

He sucks in a breath. Your legs brush against each other and you twist slightly as you pretend like you’re not touching yourself just a little bit. 

“You want me to come inside you?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, brain short-circuiting at the way those words sound in his voice. 

—

On the other side of the line, Spencer isn’t doing a fantastic job of thinking clearly either. His dick is half-hard already and it’s only getting worse with each little noise you make that you don’t seem to realize you’re making. 

“Really? That would be very messy, baby. I’m surprised that’s what you want.”

“But I really want it,” you breathe. He’s not even looking as he slips his hand under the waistband of his pajamas and palms himself, his other hand rubbing tiredly over his face as his phone rests on his chest. This was not how he intended for this call to go, believe it or not—but he’s here now. 

“Yeah? Is that why you’re touching yourself right now?”

You go silent—which is more or less exactly the reaction Spencer had been expecting. Patiently he waits for you to deny it, in three, two—

“’M not.”

Now, he could explain how he knows that’s a lie. How your breathing pattern changed, and your voice got softer and airier, and how you started speaking with smaller words in fragmented sentences. But he doesn’t feel like explaining any of that. 

“I know that’s not true,” he murmurs. “You know what? It wasn’t fair to get you all worked up last night and then leave. I don’t want you frustrated, honey. I want you to do whatever you need to do.”

You make a little gasping noise, and Spencer can imagine the way your back would arch when you did it. His own hips buck slightly as his dick twitches under his fingers. 

“Where are you touching?”

“Um—over my clothes.”

Cute. 

“Go under them for me. Tell me how it feels when you’re touching yourself like that.”

It takes a moment, in which all he hears is the rustling of fabric, until you’re whispering, “feels… it feels good. I wish you were here.”

He inhales, freeing his cock and squeezing the base. 

“I know. Just listen to my voice, pretty. I’m right here.”

Spencer allows himself a few slow tugs as he imagines what’s happening in his bed. You make a squeaking noise, like a held-back moan, and his eyes screw shut. 

“I need them inside,” you whine, and he knows you’re referring to his fingers—the ones currently stroking his own leaking cock. 

“You can use your own, just give yourself a minute first. Remember what I said about needing to be ready?”

“I am ready—” judging by the surprised chirp you interrupt yourself with, you’ve proven yourself right. What surprises Spencer is the weak sound of disappointment you make next. “Spence, it doesn’t feel the same.”

“We’re different sizes, honey. Your hands aren’t as big as mine. But you can still make it feel good.” 

He almost says, 90% of the nerves in the vaginal canal are located in the lower third—in other words, within approximately 2.36 inches from the opening, which you can most certainly reach—but he refrains. He’s not sure if that’s good dirty talk. 

“You have a really sensitive spot about three inches up, right in front. It’s going to feel a little different than the rest of you when you touch it. I want you to try and find it for me, okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, ever-eager to please even from a great distance. There’s a quiet moment. “I can’t—I don’t think I can r—oh,”

The moan is so pretty Spencer can’t help speeding up the motion of his hand, hissing slightly as his fingers brush against the angry tip with every pump. 

“Did you find it?”

“Yeah,” you whine, a weak, high-pitched thing. “Oh my god.”

“Be gentle,” he warns with some effort as his own hips jump slightly. “You’re really sensitive there. If you’re not careful you’ll make yourself sore.”

“I don’t care—holy shit—” the way your voice rises and tightens to a squeak at the end has Spencer moaning as he fucks his fist. A black hole forms and warps time, turning every minute into a second and every second into an infinity until he has no idea how much time is going by. He drags his thumb over the tip, smearing precum over his cock and whining as his jaw drops at the feeling. “Oh my god, Spencer,” in that same strained, high voice. “’M gonna—ah!”

He gets the general sentiment. 

“What, baby? You’re gonna make yourself come all over your fingers? Is that what you wanted to tell me?”

“Mhm!”

“Yeah, I bet you are. It feels good, huh?”

“Yes,” you cry. 

“See? You don’t need my fingers to feel good. Mine barely fit, you know that? I have to hold your fucking hips down whenever I put my fingers in you because you can’t stop squirming. I don’t know how you think you’re going to take my cock.”

“Spencer!” 

He knows. 

“Come, baby. Let me hear you.”

The delicate sounds you make as you bring yourself to orgasm tip him over the edge of his own—grunting as he comes all over his fist. 

“Jesus,” he strains under his breath, the word dragging out into two long syllables as his hips buck involuntarily and cum drips down his knuckles. He’s lightheaded and he’s created a mess and it all happened so quickly. “Fuck,” he breathes, a rasping chuckle as he reaches for the towel he’d dropped on the bed after his shower earlier. “You conscious over there?”

“I’m conscious,” you slur, breathing heavily. “I’ve never had an orgasm by myself before.”

“Are you proud of yourself?” Spencer smiles, wiping his hand off and making sure he’s otherwise clean. “You should be. I am.”

He’s barely kidding. 

“I’ll be proud when I can do it without your help,” you tease. 

“But I’ll always want to help you with that.” His already warm face flushes further as he goes over what he’d said. “Sorry I was so vulgar.”

You laugh. He blushes even more. 

“Are you? I think you secretly love being vulgar.”

“I don’t know why! I have no idea where it comes from. I would never speak that way in any other context. I should probably work on that. Sometimes I look back on the things I say and I’m genuinely appalled.”

“Well, don’t stop on my account. Personally I enjoy it.”

“Yeah, I think I’m corrupting you. You probably shouldn’t enjoy it.”

The truth of it weighs heavy on his mind, but he’s pretty sure his voice alone doesn’t betray that and you can’t sense it through the phone. 

“Oh, my god. Do not do that falling on your sword shit. I like being corrupted by you. If you stop I’ll be very upset.”

“Well god forbid you get upset,” he teases gently. Idly he wonders if the reason he’s suddenly feeling so depressed is because his cortisol levels were already high from the case, and then he jarred his system with an orgasm, spiking his dopamine and ultimately causing it to plummet without the oxytocin release that post-coital physical contact would usually provide. 

Or if it was something else. It could also be something else. 

For the millionth time, he wishes he was with you. Part of him also wants to go to sleep. But mostly he wishes he was with you. 

—

A comfortable silence settles over the conversation. In the ditch between words, you’re mapping constellations in the texture of Spencer’s ceiling. If you squeeze your eyes almost shut, you can imagine it really is the night sky. You can imagine he’s really here. 

You think about what he said—his apparently mindless vulgarity. Did it mean anything? Or was he just rambling to get you off?

“Spencer?” you murmur. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you a question?”

He sounds earnest, perhaps a little tired, as he replies, “always,” through the little metal rectangle on your chest. He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength. 

“If Penelope hadn’t called, last night… were you going to have sex with me?” 

Your lip tastes like his toothpaste as you chew it. Spencer sucks in a breath of air like he’s about to speak—and lets it fizzle out like foam on a carbonated drink. 

“I don’t know,” he finally admits, lamely. “That wasn’t my plan, but you can be extremely convincing when you want to be.”

“But why can’t it be your plan?” It’s an almost whine, pouty and childish—but the next words are quiet and pained. “Is it something I’m doing wrong?”

“No, no! It’s not you. You’re perfect. It’s—it’s complicated. It’s a me thing.”

Such trite words—such a ubiquitous, simple excuse sounds almost comical from his mouth when you know he’s capable of all the eloquence in the world. It’s not you, it’s me. It’s ridiculous. 

“Okay. Let me simplify this for you,” you begin with an uncharacteristic assertiveness that surprises even you. “I want to have sex with you. Either we are going to have sex or we’re not. So your future branches in two diverging paths. In one, we have sex, and then we keep having sex. In the other we never have sex ever. If you want to ever have the privilege of fucking me, then we just have to do it. Otherwise it simply will never happen. And I’m not eternally patient, Reid.”

Go me, you think, slightly breathless from your monologue. 

“Watch your mouth,” he says dryly. Something about the chastisement makes your stomach flip and your whole body tingle. “When you talk to me you call me Spencer. I will also accept Doctor Reid.” You wrestle down a smile, refusing to let him change the subject. A delayed sigh from him sobers up the conversation. “You know what I want. I’ve been very clear with you about that. But…”

“But…?”

Another sigh. A deeper, shuddering sigh, like his breath is searching for balance. Like Spencer is in a precarious position for which he was unprepared. 

“But—but to be completely honest… I worry that you’ll regret choosing me. And I know virginity is a social construct and I’m not implying that your worth will somehow be diminished if we have sex but regardless of my views on virginity as a construct, having sex for the first time can be weird and scary and it’s incredibly intimate and I don’t want you to regret your first time like I regret mine because you chose the wrong person.”

The words come at you so rapid-fire it takes you a moment to process them. And aside from all the ways you want to reassure him that you will not regret choosing him—that you could never, ever regret anything about him—one thing stands out. 

“You regret your first time?” 

Something between a scoff and a sigh travels through the line. You can tell he’s not annoyed at you for asking so much as he’s flustered himself with all his own words as he occasionally does. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sometimes I do. The person—she didn’t… like me as much as I liked her. And I was really, really in love with her, and she knew that and she knew she wasn’t in love with me—or maybe she was, I don’t know—but my point is, when one person likes the other more than the other person like them, things get complicated. And however you feel about me—that’s fine. It’s fine. I don’t want you to feel bad if we don’t feel exactly the same way about each other. I understand that this is newer for you, it’s different, I—I just don’t want us to do something we can’t undo because I don’t want to relive that. And I’m not saying it will never happen but I just don’t want you to make this choice when… when right now, I think we’re in different places emotionally. Regardless of that, I want you to choose the right person. I don’t want you to choose me and then find out that we feel differently after we sleep together and leave you feeling like you signed up for something you didn’t understand. I’m sorry. Maybe telling you this is selfish. But I’ve been thinking about it and trying to ignore it and I think I just have to be completely honest.”

Your ears ring like Spencer just fired a blank right into the microphone. Like you just got backhanded across the face and now you have the world’s worst case of whiplash. 

Every finger is numb and your blood is so cold it feels blue as it slithers thick through your veins. 

What you want to do is scream. What you want to do is go back to last night and stop yourself from almost telling him I love you, slap yourself and keep your cards a little closer to your chest. Because now he knows, and he doesn’t feel the same. 

You want to scream bloody murder. 

But when you try, when you unhinge your jaw and part your chapped lips and expect a bellow to come hurdling up the corridor of your throat with so much force it rattles your bones, all that falls out is a small, “oh.”

Maybe that’s worse. 

Spencer doesn’t reply. You hate yourself for feeling obliged to fill the silence. 

“I didn’t realize you…”

I didn’t realize that you don’t love me back. 

I didn’t realize I like you more than you like me. 

I didn’t realize you’d tell me to masturbate in your fucking bed and then drop this not even five minutes later. 

If Spencer Reid was able to talk to you over the phone with the same amount of affection and familiarity as always, like everything was still okay, knowing you love him and he doesn’t love you the whole time, he is not who you thought he was. 

“I’m sorry,” he lamely says again, like it could ever help. 

More silence. Now you can’t bring yourself to speak, so Spencer does. 

“I realize how awkward this is. I really didn’t mean to put you in this position. Especially not over the phone when I—god, I’m stupid. I’m sorry. But can we—can we talk about this in person when I get back? Please?”

Is that what grownups do? Is the proper etiquette for him to take you out to dinner and explain why he’s not in love with you? Is he going to break up with you?

What does one even wear to a breakup date?

“Okay,” you whisper. Your eyes sting, your everything stings, like you’ve been wrapped in a shroud of briar. Sheets that were soft a moment ago feel like sandpaper on open wounds. You feel like an open wound. 

Spencer sighs. It’s a sound of relief that confuses and hurts you even more. 

“Okay. I—okay. Thank you. Um—I’ll let you go back to sleep, now.”

“Okay,” you repeat—as if any of this were okay. But you can’t keep being that stupid girl who feels it all so much harder, who loves easily and begs to be loved in return, too naive to assume that someone who treats her so kindly might not reciprocate her feelings. It has to be okay, because if it’s not, you’re silly and dramatic and you’re just proving him right. 

“Goodnight,” Spencer whispers, and you can’t help but feeling that it’s the last time you’ll ever hear those words from his mouth while you’re in his bed. And he’s not even fucking here.

So you pull the blanket a little higher. You let your tears stain his pillow because they’ll be invisible by the morning. It will be like they were never here. Like you were never here. 

“Goodnight.”

-

part five

[lcriedlastnight]

Lando calling reader his wife even though they’ve only been together for about a year

oh my god yes anon i love this idea!

tw: fem!reader, swears maybe, she's on the shorter side! lmk if you want me to add anything.

w/c: 944

lando was the perfect boyfriend. he was everything you had ever wanted in a partner. you liked to think he was literally made for you. how can someone be so perfect for you and not be? it was not possible.

you loved pet names and he loved calling you them. you loved touching him in anyway you could and he loved touching you ten times more. you loved doing things for him to show him just how much and how deeply you cared for and loved him and he loved sitting back and letting you help him destress from a busy race weekend. when you needed space? he would just go away to race for the weekend and let you realise that you could barely function without him and his love.

you had been out shopping with some of your friends for one of their birthdays. it had been nice catching up with them but your separation issues from your boyfriend had ended up kicking in and you could not wait to get home. you were itching to just sit on his lap and have him explain the plot of some dumb film that he had put on while waiting for you to come home.

when you trod back into lando's place, slipping off your shoes and leaving them by the door, the first thing you hear is lando's infectious laugh booming from his streaming room. it makes you smile as soon as you hear it even though it makes you realise you probably will not be able to sit with him for at least another hour, at least. your hands are still holding onto your shopping bags as you pass by his room as quietly as you possibly can, so as not to disturb him and his friends. you dump the bags in your bedroom and plan to head back into the living room to watch some tv and relax.

lando hears you this time and calls out for you, the door is creaked open a touch as you prepare yourself to be seen by millions of lando's fans. as you enter the room you hear one of the guys lando was streaming with (you were almost positive it was ginge) ask lando something you could not make out. lando's response almost kills you off though, his fans too.

"nah, the wife is just back home from shopping so i'll be finishing this game then hopping off." if you were holding anything it would have just fallen and shattered to the ground. you hoped your expression was hidden from his camera. you clear your throat and lando spins around mid-game to greet you. he slides his gaming headphones down to rest on his neck and reaches back to mute the stream but not before he mutters out in the warmest voice he can muster, a "hiya, honey."

you smile down at him as he shuffles his chair closer to you then sticks hims arms out like a child, practically begging for a hug from you. your mind is still stuck on the wife thing but you fall into his arms willingly anyway.

you straddle him on the big gaming chair, the tops of your heads at the only things that can be seen on the camera. lando presses a few kisses into your hair as he holds you close.

"missed you while you were gone." lando speaks into your hair, it makes you laugh.

"i was gone for three hours."

"ugh, don't remind me! i almost died from bordem." lando groans, head falling back against the soft material of the chair. you just laugh into his neck, nose brushing his throat softly.

"drama queen." you roll your eyes.

lando looks down at you with the biggest heart eyes you have ever seen and you feel your heart melt into a massive puddle in your ribcage, you feel it drip down to settle into your stomach.

"so i'm your wife then, huh?" you ask with a smile and a teasing tone. you feel lando tense up a little but he relaxes as soon as he feels your smile against his skin. his hand comes to splay out across your back to keep you supported. then he is smiling as he explains himself.

"guess i'm just so used to called you my wife when i'm with my friends that i accidentally did it on stream. sorry honey, didn't mean to embarrass you." lando says, almost shyly. his eyes peer down at yours to see your reaction.

"you call me your wife to your friends?" you smile back at him, hand coming up to run through his messy curls. the other resting on the side of his neck.

lando grins a stupid big smile at you as your hand rakes through his hair. "well you're gonna be one of these days right? might as well get the practise in. don't wanna slip up and call my wife my girlfriend now do i?" he is cheeky in his words and tone but you let him off. even though his logic makes no sense. you know it makes sense to lando so you let that go too.

"okay, sure. whatever you say husband." you did not think lando's smile could get any bigger. you were so wrong. he laughs and holds you close. little did either of you know that lando had missed the mute button and around three thousand of lando’s fans, plus all his friends had heard you both. lando would find out once he went back on his phone the next day, spending the rest of the evening and then the night with his girlfriend (wife).

[mrchiipchrome]

Girlfriends?

W.C. - 5.7 k

a/n: wonze kid is backkkkkkkkkk and with a bang.

----------------

Growing up in Sevilla, life was perfect. Three older brothers that encouraged your footballing ability practically from the second you took your first breath, a set of parents that pushed you to be the very best at everything, and an academy that proved to be the absolute best for your development made for a good childhood.

A quick learner by far, you had already started playing with girls twice your age when you were 10, and by age 12 (and a half) you had already started to train with the senior girls, not old enough to be allowed to play in matches. 

It was a weekly routine you had built up over the years, go train with the senior girls during the weekdays, school work completed during the afternoon, games with the girls your age on fridays, games with the U21s during the sunday afternoon. It was hectic, sure, but you were good, really good.

Some weeks you would have to skip the U21 matches in favor of tournaments with the other youth teams, which in turn gave you perhaps the best gift of your lifetime, a (by now) 5’6 brunette with the most encaptivating greenish eyes and the feistiest demeanor you’ll ever encounter.

Julia Romero, una true madridista.

Her white clad frame had been a constant in your life since you were practically too short to reach the kitchen table, as feisty as she always had been. 

That almost chaotic energy always translated onto the pitch, with creative passes and shots from distance being a regular occurrence in her game. She had your heart captured since the moment you’d first laid eyes on her.

Through the multitude of years you’d come to know each other, you had formed a special partnership both on and off the field, a connection that led to more than a few trophies for the youth national teams. 

A package deal as most would label you two as, playing for teams miles upon miles away from each other. It was funny when they (mostly parents of the other kids) would refer to you as that, a package deal. 

It was even funnier when they’d refer to you as twins, each fiery and competitive in your own rights, but knowing the hidden affections quickly developing, it just felt wrong.

The weekends you were meeting up to play against each other quickly became the highlights of your weeks, waiting patiently for the next opportunity to challenge the other. 

When, at the ripe age of 13, you both got your very own cell phones, communication became ten million times easier and in turn you became ten times more in love with the breakout madrid star. Best in Spain, Y/n/n and Juli. 

Strangely enough though, neither of you clocked the fact that you were both madly, undoubtedly, so in love with each other until that night when you both turned 14.

Julia always liked to boast about the fact that she was 10 minutes older than you, born right before midnight, whilst you were born right after midnight. 

Sitting on the hotel bed in your shared room at the under 21 Spain camp, the only players under the age of 17, you and your best friend obviously got to room together.

Right across from you sat Julia, with her normal mischievous smile, looking deeply into your eyes as the clock ticked down to midnight, anticipation filling her body more than your own. Your knees touch hers ever so slightly, you both sitting crisscrossed so that you’d be able to even fit on the bed in the first place.

“What are you going to wish for?” She asks, eyes wide in suspense, as if the answer had been something she had been waiting for since the dawn of time. Leaning back into the headboard, you look up towards the ceiling, contemplating (but not really at the same time) about what you would wish for as you blew out the lit match only minutes from now.

“Maybe a contract from Barcelona.” You tease, looking down at her unamused face, shrieking when she ‘attacks’ you, jumping onto your body and tickling your sides. “No, no, stop, stop, I won’t, I promise.” You gasp out between fits of laughter, Julia quickly retreating with a satisfied look on her face.

“Mhm, better keep that promise. I can’t stand seeing your little sad face when I beat you.” Laying down beside you, Julia starts the teasing again, the look on her face one of amusement, eyes widening as she notices the arms of the clock on the wall almost at midnight.

Watching her spring up from the bed, your eyes follow her all the way until she stops at her bag, pulling a box of matches out of the front compartment.

Pretending you weren’t just studying her entire being when she turns around, Julia makes her way back to the bed, resuming her position on the bed.

“Sit up lazy.” You roll your eyes at the playful insult slipping from her lips, begrudgingly sitting up and facing the shorter girl. 

She pulls out a match and strikes it against the match board, lighting up in the span of milliseconds before she holds it out closer to you, waiting for you to blow the flame out. It was the next best thing to a cake, with diets and all.

Actually pondering over what you would wish, only one thing comes to mind. 

Closing your eyes, you blow the flame out quickly, only one thing repeating in your mind as you do.

‘All I wish for is you, Julia.’

It puts a small smile on your lips, that much you can’t deny, and as you open your eyes you see the smile is mirrored by the girl across from you, her soft, plump lips stretching into that familiar smile you love oh so much.

“Soooo, what did you wish for?” She asks playfully, smirking at the silly smile painted on your face. 

“I don’t wish and tell Juli, those are the rules.” You make a play on the popular saying, backing away from her slowly, as if she wouldn’t notice. Her eyes narrow at you, like she knew something you didn’t.

“Oh really, that’s how it is?” She moves closer to you on the bed, knees just about touching now as she continues her interrogation, looking up at you through her painted lashes. 

“Mhm, that’s exactly how it is mi amor.” The casual nickname slips out from between your lips as she leans in closer to you, face only centimeters from your own. You see the way her eyes flick down to rest on your lips for just a second, her hands creeping onto your knees carefully, like she didn’t want to startle you.

You copy her, eyes looking down at the soft lips not too far away from yours, wanting nothing other than to just close the gap between you.

“Do it.” The faint whisper comes from the girl across from you, her lips barely parted as she speaks in that low faint tone, her eyes briefly meeting yours as they look up from your lips. Your eyes look back down at her lips, tongue peeking out to wet your lips quickly. “Kiss me.”

You don’t waste another second after that, leaning in and capturing her lips with your own. They were everything you could have hoped for and more, sweet like the candy you had shared before, with just the smallest hint of mango from the lipgloss she had put on earlier in the day. Her lips were soft like pillows and it felt like you were dreaming, in what world could she not be a figment of your imagination.

When she starts to pull away you chase after her lips, one taste of her and you were already hooked on the drug that is Julia Romero. 

“Was that what you wished for?” She asks, her hand pressing against the middle of your chest to almost stop you from catching her lips with yours again.

“Yes, you, all I wished for was you.” Julia smiles with her whole face, looking at you all sweetly like she always did, that love in her eyes stronger than ever. 

“Good, because that’s what I wished for too.” Your expression turns confused, like you couldn’t understand what she was saying.

“You wished for yourself too?” The girl has to keep herself from rolling her eyes at your stupidity, instead laying down on the bed just beside where you’re still sitting up and extending her arms out for you to crawl into.

“You’re a dumbass.” She says, laughing as you bury your face in her neck and sigh loudly, throwing your leg around her hips and pulling her entire body into yours.

“Yeah but I’m your dumbass.” Now that you knew she liked you, you would never let her go. And based on the way she laughed and hummed in agreement, you were pretty sure she liked the idea of that too.

—----------------------

The next few months go surprisingly well, with Julia coming down to visit on the weekends every month and you going up to Madrid two weeks after that. The months neither of you had time to visit, that’s when facetime was used the most. 

It hurt, not being able to see each other every day, but that was simply life. School and training started picking up again, especially as you had finally been moved up to the senior team permanently, playing in the dying minutes of games and even scoring at times.

But you knew that it would pay off, all the time spent on the pitch and away from your girlfriend, as you got to dedicate all the goals you scored to her. When you scored, the first thing you did was kiss the tape you always had around your wrist (from an old injury that still caused some pain), her name hidden beneath a layer of it, before you ran towards the camera at the corner flag to do your half of the duo celebration you’d both come up with years ago.

In reality it was just a handshake, but you did your half of it in front of the camera every time, no matter what, because you knew she was at home doing the other half.

That was until the last game of the 21/22 season, Sevilla v Barcelona. The team hadn’t lost a game the whole season, undefeated in Liga F and you wanted to break their streak. 

Definitely not because a certain someone was in the crowd, waving enthusiastically every time your eyes met as you warmed up. No, it wasn’t her. 

You wanted to impress her, not that you’d ever tell her that, seeing as you’d never hear the end of it if you did. 

Like usual, you sat on the bench for most of the game, exchanging silly faces with your girl, not even batting an eye as Barcelona hit the net one, two, three, four, five times. She was all you could focus on when you sat on the uncomfortable bench, leg bouncing up and down in anticipation for the call to get on the pitch.

“Y/l/n, it’s time, go warm up.” Your coach told you, watching with careful eyes as you started going through the motions of warming up. It was only the 65th minute, so you had plenty of time to make your mark on the game, like you wanted to.

Only a minute or two later you’re standing at the sidelines, looking back to where your girl is sitting for a bit of reassurance, the girl flashing a big smile and two equally enthusiastic thumbs up your way. Taking a big breath in, you breathe out through your mouth, holding your hands up for your teammate to slap as she makes her way off the pitch for you to enter.

“This is surely not what Barcelona have expected from Sevilla, 14 year old superstar in the making Y/n Y/l/n stepping onto the pitch, towering over her grown opponents as she takes her place in the striker position.” The commentators explain to the people watching the game online, looking on as the game restarts, the ball in Barcelona’s half. You can feel the atmosphere in the stadium, the small section of Sevilla fans cheering louder than the Barcelona fans for just a moment as you step on. 

The academy product, scoring against women twice her age most of the time, a superstar from their very own city. They had the right to be proud.

Loudest of all was your girlfriend, standing and cheering for you in one of your old Spain jerseys, as much as she did love you, there was no way that she would ever wear another team’s shirt.

The Barcelona team you were meeting was probably the most difficult team to play against, their skilled midfielders keeping the ball from you and the centerbacks keeping you from ever getting close to their goal. Still, you were nothing if not determined.

Getting the ball back to your feet, you think about all the videos you’d watched and analyzed of the opposing team, how they built up their attacks, how they closed down other teams, everything. All of it is in your head, you know them, you know how they play and you know how to use it to your advantage.

Starting your run through the middle of the pitch, the first player you encounter is Ana-Maria, her style was easy, and it was even easier to tap the ball between her open legs and push around her, continuing your run. 

The next player running towards you is a certain Aitana Bonmatí, undoubtedly one of the best players in the world and a player that’s more difficult to get through, given not only the technical skill she possesses but also the pure physicality of the shorter woman. Switching the ball onto your non-dominant foot, you quickly maneuver it to the other one, flicking the ball up in the air before taking advantage of the height difference to run around her and head the ball back down to your foot. 

Next up was Mapí Leon, a player that wouldn’t hesitate to use brute force to stop you from getting the ball in the goal, still, like Bonmati she was quite short. Running straight at her, like you predicted, she slides in to get the ball, only you’ve already chipped it straight over her outstretched legs, running to the edge of the penalty box. 

The last line of defense, Paños, the one you have the most trouble reading. The goalkeeper rushes out towards you, making herself as big as possible to be able to deflect any shot from your foot. The one thing she doesn’t realize is the fact that you have a knack for curling the ball around the keeper in the most infuriating way possible.

The whole team watches with stunned expressions as the ball travels towards the goal, landing in the bottom corner with a satisfying swish. Two minutes, that’s all it took for you to make your mark on the game, two damn minutes.

Running towards the Sevilla fans on the opposite side of the pitch, you dutifully kiss the tape on your wrist, then tap the badge atop your heart before stopping in front of your girlfriend, holding your hand out to do your celebration.

Moments later, after the whole handshake is done, you wink at her before taking your leave, not forgetting to bow down in front of the screaming fans. Sure, you were still 5-1 down, but you had just scored against the biggest team in the country so you were allowed to celebrate.

Returning to your position, the game restarts and you immediately notice the increased mancoverage on you, you could barely even get the ball before there would be an annoying Barcelona player breathing down your neck.

Using this to your advantage, you distracted the women around you as your teammates built up attacking plays. At the same time, you were still freshly on with loads of energy, leaving the tired players to chase after you as you made runs upon runs.

In the 76th minute you see your teammate run up the wing and you just know she needs a head to meet the ball she plays into the box. Running as fast as you can, you launch yourself up towards the ball, angling it down to the ground just inside the goal with your head, like a bird of sorts.

A brace off the bench against one of the best teams in the world, yeah that’s just something you would do. This time you run towards the cornerflag, your team surrounding you as you get various pats on your head and shoulders. When the team starts to leave to their positions on the field, you decide to do one last thing in front of the furious Barcelona fans. 

You blow a kiss to the crowd, laughing at their overreactions to the simple gesture.

In the 89th minute, you find yourself surrounded by shorter women, all trying to keep you from rising up above them and heading the ball from the corner into the goal. Like the slippery eel you are, you try to run circles around them, trying to confuse them with your position.

When you finally settle between two of their defenders you decide to be a little cheeky, one of your favorite pastime activities.   

“So are all Barca defenders this short? Or have I just struck gold today?” You tease Mapi, who’s elbow meets your ribs harshly, almost making you double over in pain. There wasn’t much muscle protecting your dear ribs yet, or the rest of your body to be fair, so impact was felt to the full extent.

“Are you not meant to be doing your fifth grade homework?” She asks in the same tone as you had before, looking back at you with that oversure expression on her face. You just know that you have to wipe it off her face, with a goal preferably.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing bingo with the other elders? Or can you just not reach the table?” Before Mapi can retort, the ball is played into the box and with athleticism that only Zlatan could rival, you leap up into the air, twisting around so that your heel meets the ball with your back to the goal, a perfect scorpion kick.  Well as perfect as it could be with you ending up on the ground in the goal.

Dying minute bangers, another specialty of yours.

Blowing another kiss, this time towards the Spanish defender standing dumbfounded in front of you, you get up off the floor, running past her to get back to your own half, not without yelling a quick “that one was for you” to the world class defender. All in good fun of course, you wouldn’t do it maliciously, especially not seeing as they were still leading.

The final whistle is blown only moments later, leaving you to collapse onto the pitch in pure exhaustion from the game. Considering the fact that you’d already played a full 90 against a U23 team earlier that week, you were pretty tired.

Wondering silently if you could just take a nap in the middle of the field, you’re interrupted in your daydreaming by a hand in front of your face, a hand leading up to a player in blaugrana. 

“You had a good game kid, next time though, could you not score a hattrick off the bench?” Mapi helps you up and off the ground, shaking your hand properly as you just stand there, a silly smile on your face.

“I can score a double hat trick with a start if that would make you feel any better?” The older defender ruffles your hair quickly at the teasing before she lets you go, sending you on your merry way to wherever it is you went after games.

Trudging across the pitch, you almost fall into your girlfriend’s arms as soon as you get close enough, pretty much falling asleep in the crook of her neck. She giggles sweetly and the sound paints a smile on your face, her whispered complaints of how sweaty you were drowned out by your playful yawns. 

Pulling away from her neck, your eyes meet and your cheeks turn even more red than before, the physical exertion from the match clearly catching up to you. But no kiss was exchanged, you two wanted to keep your blooming relationship to yourselves and away from the public eye, leading to the act of just being best friends continuing out in the open.

Your girlfriend’s eyes shift from your own to something behind you, eyes widening exponentially at what she found.

“What’s up?” You ask Julia, who just continues to stare at something over your shoulder.

“Enemy, 6 o’clock.” Is all she says in response, rolling her eyes when you just look at her confused, placing her hands on either side of your head to turn it back to where she was looking. A smiling Alexia Putellas making her way over to where you’re standing next to your girlfriend is the last thing you were expecting, but that’s exactly what was happening.

��What the fu-” You start before one of the hands placed on the sides of your head lands over your mouth, Julia clearly not wanting you to swear in front of a legend. Licking her palm, Julia snatches her hand back as quickly as she had put it there, wiping her hand on the front of her shirt.

Looking back at her with a smirk, Julia rolls her eyes again before she slaps the back of your head, Alexia having stopped right in front of you, an unreadable expression on her face.

“You played really good today Y/n, impressive for your age, don’t be surprised if you hear from your agent within the coming days.” She smiles before turning on her heel, almost whiplashing you with the quick statement. 

Looking back at the brunette, she meets your gaze with a knowing look in her eyes and a smile stretched across her lips.

“Accept it.” Julia tells you silently, the fond look never disappearing off her face.

“What?” You ask the Real Madrid youth player, not understanding what she meant by that. There wasn’t a world wherein Julia Romero would tell you to join Barcelona.

“If you get a contract offer from them, you have to accept it.” She clarifies, looking you in the eyes deeply, like she was telling you that she was being fully truthful, which she was either way.

“Why?”

“It’s what’s best for your career, I won’t let a little rivalry destroy us. Plus it'll make El Clasico 10 times more fun when I’ll absolutely crush you.” She winks at the end, making you blush once again.

“Oh in your dreams, pretty girl.” Starting to walk back to your locker room, you keep up the conversation with your girl, walking backwards to see her.

“You know you are.” Stumbling over your feet, you fall back onto your butt at the words, the already visible blush on your face growing darker, both at the words but also what you had done.

It’s just like you to score a hattrick against the best team in the world then trip over your own feet walking backwards.

—---------------------------

Just like that, a few days later Barcelona offered you a contract and the rest was history. You moved out of the small house in Sevilla to Barcelona, where you moved into the home of the two overbearing English women. A key part in the 22/23 Champions League winning squad, you scored a goal in the final of the competition, the winning goal that got you the shiny gold medal hanging over your bed, which then led to you being called up to the senior national team and winning a World Cup gold, but that’s a story for another day.

You continued to see Julia on the weekends neither of you had anything to do, getting on a train to Madrid under the guise of having a sleepover with Vicky, meeting up with your girl, spending the night and then going back to Barcelona just in time for Lucy to pick you up from Vicky’s house. Sure it cost you a good 100 euros every time, with the train tickets and the so-called ‘Vicky bribe’, but it was so worth it.

You got a weekend with your girlfriend and Vicky got 20 euros. A win-win.

During the two years you’d lived with the English women, they hadn’t suspected anything, not that you had a girlfriend nor that you went and visited her as often as you possibly could.

Well they didn’t suspect anything until the Clasico, where they had seen you both laughing and smiling all secretly to each other, like something was going on between you and the Real Madrid player.

Coincidentally, that day was also the day when your girlfriend first met your unofficial parents. 

—-------------------------

The first El Clásico you had played against your girl had ended in a 4-1 win to Barcelona, with you scoring a brace and Julia scoring Madrid’s sole goal. She had been moved up to the first team at the start of the 23/24 season and despite her technically being your enemy, you were still over the moon for her.

As soon as the final whistle had been blown, you dropped to the floor like you always did, ready to take an impromptu nap right there and then.

A recognisable giggle sounds from above you, opening one eye to look up at the white clad midfielder standing in front of you with a hand out, you don’t waste a second before taking the hand in your own, pulling the girl down onto the ground instead of pulling yourself up.

“Lia, my sweetheart, what are you doing down on the ground?” You ask her playfully as she slaps your shoulder, sitting up and looking down at you with that captivating smile on her face, rolling her eyes at you like you loved.

“You’re an idiot, you know that.” Nodding along with her words, you mirror her, sitting up and leaning your weight back onto your hands, smiling mischievously her way.

“Yeah, you’ve told me like a gazillion times.” Wifting your arms around as you speak, you don’t notice Lucy and Keira making their way over to you and your ‘friend’.

“Told you what?” Lucy interrupts, looking between you and Julia rapidly, trying to understand the relationship there, friends or something more. 

“Nothing special Lucifer, did you want anything or did you just come to interrupt?” Stifling a laugh at Lucy's expression, you look at your girlfriend, thinking you’d see a smile stretched over her pillowy lips, instead finding what you assume to be a look of dread on her face.

Rolling your eyes good naturedly, you stand up from your sitting position and dust yourself off before offering a courteous hand to your secret girlfriend, who takes it and stands up, half hiding behind you.

“Right, Robert, Keira, this is my childhood friend Julia, who unfortunately plays for Real Madrid which means she’ll never win anything ever.” You tease the brunette, like you always did, it was just too easy. Still, you were met with a slap to the back of your head, like usual, before she sticks her hand out to properly introduce herself to your pseudo moms. 

“Julia Romero, nice to meet you both.” The way you’re looking at her definitely exposes you more than it should, but you don’t mind it, the two women in front of you knew nothing about your love life as it was.

“Childhood friends you say? Nothing else…?” Lucy really wasn’t smooth, or subtle for that matter as she tried asking you the question they were both thinking.

“Childhood friends, we’re actually best friends but I didn’t think that was a worthwhile distinction.” You respond sassily, Lucy ruffling your hair before you could even try to stop her, and whilst it was annoying for you, it did put a smile on Julia’s face and that was all that mattered.

“Alright, alright, just wrap it up soon, the bus leaves in 15.” The two leave after that, and suddenly you’re just standing with your girlfriend, all alone. 

“Well, I should get going, my teammates are probably wondering where I am.” Her voice trails off as she points over her shoulder and you smile, raising your eyebrows softly.

“I’ll see you in a couple weeks.” 

As you both make your way back to your respective locker rooms, you’re both oblivious to the bets being placed on what your relationship actually is.

—------------------------------

Champions League final 2024, one of the biggest games of your career, big games that keep piling up as you play for Barcelona. A final, it was a final and Jona had insisted on starting you.

Big breath in, big breath out. It’s fine. You can do this.

Walking out onto the pitch, your eyes immediately search for her, the twinkling green that you love so so much. She waves at you all excited in the old and tattered spain jersey she had insisted on wearing. Breath in, breath out. It’s time.

The first 20 minutes or so are calm, filled with counter attacks and defending against another one of the best teams in the world, it’s just Lyon.

Weaving through defender after defender, not unlike how you had against your current team nearly two years before, your brain is on autopilot, just focusing on getting the ball in the goal no matter what. And that you do, curling the ball around the defenders, watching as it ends up in the top corner of the goal.

Champions League final, yeah right.

Pointing to the brunette in the stands, everyone in the arena understands that the goal was dedicated to her, no one seeing the wink you send her though before you return to restart the game.

The rest is pretty simple, Aitana scoring just before half time and then Alexia scoring only minutes after coming on as a substitute. It all goes so fast, because suddenly the final whistle goes and you’ve won another Champions League.

You won the Champions League. 

You don’t realize it until after you’ve all gotten your medals and done the trophy lift. No, it isn’t until there’s a sprinting Julia Romero heading your way that you actually register it, you won. 

There’s a split second between when you catch her and when you make the decision to kiss her that you can’t help but think about all that has happened since you first got together. Two Champions League finals won, a World Cup victory, a contract from Barcelona, her getting into the senior squad at Real Madrid, her winning various tournaments with the youth teams, her joining you in the senior national team. So much had happened in so little time, and yet she was the best thing of all.

And so, you kiss her. For the first time, you actually kiss her in public, in front of friends and family, but also the millions of people watching from behind their screens. Her legs wrap tightly around your waist, arms tangling around your neck, fingers running through your hair. Your hands settle under her thighs, supporting her body so that she wouldn’t be able to just fall off.

The kiss is just magical, PG enough so that you don’t get yelled at but still some tongue action going on. Her lips are as soft as the day you first kissed her, just as sweet but now there’s a hint of salt, wet tears rolling down her cheeks as she kisses you.

Pulling away, your hands roam up until they settle against the sides of her face, thumbs brushing away the tears that just seem to keep on falling. Her forehead leans against yours, nose nudging yours as she asks for another kiss.

Releasing her legs from their grip around your waist, Julia stands in front of you, her arms threading around your neck again as she brings you down for yet another kiss, this one not as passionate, more like a congratulations kiss. Pulling back, she pecks your lips twice before fully letting you go.

“Why are you crying baby?” Tears were still rolling down her face, no matter how much you tried to wipe them, they kept on coming. 

“I’m just so proud of you, look at how far you’ve come. You won the Champions League.” Smiling at her adorable reasoning, you lean in to kiss her once more, well that is until you’re interrupted, yet again by a certain someone.

“Childhood friends huh? Nothing more? I knew you were together, I could see it.” Turning towards Lucy, you roll your eyes at the statement, clearly she did know a little, but obviously not everything.

“So you know that I actually didn’t sleep over at Vicky’s all those times then? That I was really in Madrid all those times?” You tease, which was probably a bad idea, considering the fact that you definitely were not allowed to go to Madrid over the weekends. “Amor, I’ll see you in a little.” You rush out before you start running, Lucy wasting no time and chasing after you.

A calmer looking Keira comes up to Julia, who’s standing there dumbfounded, and offers her the hand that’s not clutching onto the trophy.

“Welcome to our little family, they do that sometimes, same level of maturity, them two.” Julia shakes her head fondly, looking at the terrified expression you’re wearing as you get chased around the pitch. “They’ll calm down soon, then we can take some pictures together, all of us. You’ll come home with us later, right?” 

And even though Julia knew she’d be teased for the rest of her life, she still stood and posed for photos with you and the CL trophy her rivals had won. 

Photos that later got posted to your instagram with the caption;

My trophy and my wife, nothing better in life.

[7s3ven]

Hear me out guys… retired soldiers now bodyguards! task force 141 x spoiled heiress! reader

( just an idea )

You’re like, a nutcase. Your father adores you but sometimes you can go out of control. Like for instance, the time you jumped off a cliff into the ocean below to impress a boy.

Yeah, your father wasn’t very impressed with your behaviour.

On top of your recklessness, your father has enemies who always seem to target you. You’re his obvious weakness and he can’t spend another moment of anxiously wondering if you’re okay while he’s working.

So, he hires the best bodyguards he can find. And they turn out to be retired soldiers from an elite unit known as Task Force 141. Perfect.

You don’t take kindly to being continuously followed by four large men who don’t even try to be subtle. It’s not like taking care of you is easy either. You’re a troublemaker, you always have been since your mother left you for another family (your reckless tendencies tend to stem from the fact that you’re causing trouble to get her to notice you again).

Task Force 141 has had enough when you attempt to sneak out of the house to a party on a Friday night. But it seems apart from shopping and acting like a brat, you aren’t good at anything else.

They hear a crash and someone swearing loudly before you roll off the roof, landing in the bushes right outside the window where the four men have a perfect view of you. They were watching a football came until you interrupted.

Jonny bursts into laughter, slapping Gaz out of amusement, while Price fetches you and forces you back inside.

“You know, your house has a back door for a reason.” Simon utters as he cleans your scratches but there’s a mocking indication to his tone.

“Yeah but like, going out the window felt more cool.” You argue back, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Was it cool when you face planted into the ground?”

You can only pout in annoyance.

From then on, they don’t leave you alone, especially not on Friday nights. You have to deal with being squished between Price and Simon as they watch a boring documentary on… fish? Jonny definitely chose that one.

But hey, you aren’t exactly complaining. Being stuck between the two men means being able to feel their muscles and smell their strong cologne. You tolerate the four men more after they cleaned your scratches from landing in a bush and carried you to your bed.

And so what if you catch feelings? Anybody else in your position would have done the same.

“We can’t date ya, lovie. We’re too old and we work for your dad.”

Do you care? Not really.

“My dad literally hired you because I was a troublemaker. Ya think I give a shit? ‘Sides, the older the better.”

Jonny jabs a thumb in Price’s direction, “Even the captain? You should’ve seen ‘im in his prime. Way better looking.” He hands you a picture that he just happens to have of Price.

You glance at it then lift your head to look at Price. Your lips curve into a teasing smile. “Yeah, you’re right. What happened, Captain?” You joke.

INCORRECT QUOTES FOR THE LAUGHS:

Kidnapper, negotiating with TF 141: We have the annoying heiress. Give us ten thousand dollars and they will be returned to you unharmed

Y/N: Whoa, whoa, wait, you think I’m only worth ten thousand dollars. MAKE IT ONE MILLION–

Price: Y/N, STOP

Simon: Can I be frank with you guys?

Jonny: Sure, but I don’t see how changing your name is gonna help.

Gaz: Can I still be Gaz?

Y/N: Shh, let Frank speak.

Gaz: In your opinion, what’s the height of stupidity?

Simon: *turning to Y/N* How tall are you?

Price: Where's Simon, Gaz, and Y/N?

Jonny: They're playing hide and seek.

Price: Where?

Jonny: I don't think you get how this game works.

Y/N: You really put aside everything and came all this way for me? How did you even get here so fast?

Simon: Several traffic violations.

Gaz: Three counts of resisting arrest.

Jonny: Roughly thirteen cans of energy drinks.

Price: Also, that’s not our car.

[helioooss]

hard times

part two

synopsis: you have been dating mina in secret for nearly five years now. things start to fall apart after her fans finally raise speculations about your true relationship with her

w/c: 7.4k ((oops, got carried away and dragged it out))

warnings: mentions of alcohol…lots of angst. actually just pure angst

a/n: if i had a dollar for every time i yelled “girl, stand up for yourself” while writing this, i’d have like $6. againnnn, not proofread, was sleep deprived writing this, also only had 12 hours of free time at work <//3

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The early rays of sunlight cracked through the blackout curtains of your apartment window, sending out golden hues of light to wake you up. You turned over to wrap your arms around your girlfriend, but to your surprise, were met with cold sheets and an empty bed instead.

In confusion, you slowly opened your eyes - melting away any remnants of sleep. As far as you were aware, she had nothing written down on her schedule today.

You were about to reach out for your phone when you noticed the answer to your question: a handwritten note sitting on the bedside table from no other than Mina herself.

A smile tugged on the corners of your lips, she knew you too well.

good morning my love, i got called into a morning meeting with head office today. i should be back home for lunch!

love, minari <3

Sitting up, you let the familiar silence settle around you. You were suddenly reminded of how lucky you were to be a part of Mina's life - to be able to call her your own, she chose you even when the rest of the world wanted her.

Four years later, your love for her only grew deeper with every sunset and beating of your heart. The timeless moments that built your relationship; from the late-night game dates, flying to every tour show, holding her hand as she achieved her dreams and even the silly little arguments that made your relationship stronger — you were grateful for them all.

The light that she brought into your life was otherworldly- she was everything (and perhaps more) you needed.

Though sometimes, there were moments where you wished you could just tell the world about your girlfriend because the world outside of yours, you were only one of her closest friends. At least, her family and friends knew, and to some extent, her company. You could write a million books about her and it still wouldn't be enough.

There was a delicate balance in the fragile world you built together. Mina worked as a popstar and you were an independent producer.

It helped that you grew up with one of her bandmates, Jihyo, who (unfortunately) was always a good first excuse whenever questions were raised as to why you were so dedicated to being present in almost every show. Secondly, you were one of their producers.

Besides that, you had pretty much perfected the art of being Mina's best friend. Anniversaries were orchestrated carefully, always planned months ahead of time and any public appearances involved being friendly with her as possible. Your longing smiles and shared looks were a soft reminder of your love for each other, and that was enough for now.

In the corner of your dimly lit studio, you worked in front of the mixer endlessly - isolated from the rest of the world as you poured yourself into your craft. You were constantly attempting to push JYP into releasing more music outside of TWICE's comfort zone, something the girls had respected you for.

The buzzing of your phone pulled you out of your work trance as you frantically grabbed it out of your pocket. It was Jihyo and it had to be something important if she was calling you at ten in the morning.

"What brings forth the Queen's presence?" you chuckled, however, she held her silence on the other end. "Hello, earth to Jihyo?"

"Have you seen the link Momo and Dahyun sent you?"

You frowned at the seriousness in her tone, the weight of her emotions passing to you. "Good morning to you too, and no, I've been working since I got up."

She heaved out a sigh. "It's not looking too good, Y/N, not good at all."

"What are you on about?"

Within a second, you were scrolling through the group chat you shared with the other members. Multiple links were sent out and you wish you hadn't clicked on it because the sudden doom you were feeling was horrifying - your world had just been turned upside down.

Mina and Y/N - more than friends?

The first one you had clicked was a video compiled of Mina's longing stares, the changes in her mood whenever your name was mentioned and of course, the moments you two shared together in public as friends being carefully dissected. She wore a different persona around you - the one you were only meant to see, and it didn't click to you how painfully obvious it was.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you clicked another link, heart racing as you watched the headlines unfold.

This time, it was a tweet; a photo of her in one of her many disguises next to a photo of you and her holding hands at the beach...the only indication pointing to her was the fact that she wore the exact same outfit.

There were more "evidences" but you had seen enough.

You have never felt this violated in your life, years of cherished memories were now tarnished by the mere fact that it was being shared around for the public to scrutinise. It would be a lie to say that you two had not prepared for this, but there was always the illusion of your lives being separate - safe in the world you had built.

"It's going to be okay," Jihyo tried her best to comfort you in her soft voice. "Is she not home?"

"No, she told me she got called into a meeting and I'm assuming it's all because of this mess," you plopped your head against your pillow, a million thoughts already running through your head. "Do you think she'll get kicked out of the group?"

"Are you kidding me?" Jihyo scoffed at you. "We aren't Twice without Mina. The only options for JYP are to either confirm, deny or not say anything at all."

"I'm going to lose her, I know it," you gasped out, running your fingers through your hair. "What am I going to do?"

"You know what Mina always says about you, Y/N?" it was Chaeyoung's voice on the line this time. "That she wouldn't be able to do all of this glitz and glamour if she didn't have you in it. You're her anchor, remember that.

"Thank you," you strung out, voice heavy. "I appreciate it."

"Your relationship will always have our support, we love you as much as we love that penguin."

Mina suddenly barged into your studio a mess; puffy eyed and hair messy. Her face showed a mix of anger, uncertainty and more importantly, fear of what the future held for the both of you. In the middle of all the chaos surrounding your relationship, you opened your arms wide for her and you were met with a crying Mina falling into your chest.

"I'm so sorry, baby," her voice was barely above a whisper. "Tell your family that I'm sorry. Everyone's going to pry into your life and —"

You squeezed her body tight, making her stop as you kissed her temple lovingly. You were just as lost as her. "Have you forgotten that everyone was prepared for this? Don't worry about my family, they'll be fine, I'm more worried about your career."

She looked up at you, biting her bottom lip as hard as she could. "They want me to confirm the old dating rumours I had with Jeno."

"What?" your question held so much frustration and turmoil. Out of all the possibilities you two had considered, you didn't see a fake relationship with another idol coming. "How the fuck is that going to help you?"

"They're convinced a relationship with him will be more beneficial for me than damaging, and it'll stir away all those rumours about us if the public is convinced enough," she replied, her tone mirroring your bitterness. "They also want you to go on friendly dates with other idols and make it look like you do this with everyone else."

Your eyebrows furrowed, your grip on her arms loosening. "And you said okay to all of this?"

"I had no choice," she bellowed out, another set of tears prickling out of her eyes. "It was either I lose you forever or for a short amount of time and I picked the latter!"

You sent her an apologetic look, letting out a sigh. It was a mission to contain the surge of anger flowing through you in front of Mina, it was the last thing she needed. This storm would pass, however, it was sailing together that worried you the most.

"I love you, Y/N," Mina firmly reassured you. "Do you know that?”

"I love you too, I'm sorry."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

In the days that followed, against both of your wills, Mina temporarily moved out of your apartment and "officially" started dating Jeno. Alongside that was the release of a series of photos of you with other idols - seemingly justifying your intimate dates with her.

It felt like a blow to your place in the industry. You weren't just a mere producer to the public now, you were linked to almost every member of Twice and Blackpink, years of hard work overshadowed by dating rumours just like that.

The thing that convinced the public the most were old photos of you and Rosé's friendship resurfacing, all the way back from her debut days. A recent one caught Mina's eye out of all of them; the blonde idol was kissing your cheek at your favourite Italian restaurant out of all places - the one you took her out to for your first date.

It was the sole reason for Mina's silence tonight.

You and the members of Twice were all seated around the dorm's dinner table; candlelights flickering and casting shadows in the room as Japanese jazz played in the background.

She was sitting right across from you, absentmindedly twirling her ramen but still refusing to eat it. The soft hum of their conversations were drowned out trying to figure out how to push your girlfriend's sour mood away. And, she looked so beautiful in the light - jet black hair cascading past her shoulders and perfectly framing her divine features.

"My love, aren't you going to eat?" you whispered gently, a tinge of concern beneath your voice. "You haven't touched your food since I got here. Did you not miss me?"

You hadn't seen her in over a week due to your clashing schedules, most of her free time were spent doing publicity stunts with Jeno and most of yours consisted of missing Mina and hanging out with idols you have worked with at least once.

She sent you a tight-lipped smile, pushing a strand of her hair to the back of her ear. "I did miss you, a lot, I'm just bothered."

You gazed at her, raising an eyebrow. "What about, my darling?"

A rush of warmth made its way to her cheeks as she shook her head. "It's nothing important, I'll tell you after dinner, yeah?" she reached for your hand over the table, resting it on top of yours.

Albeit unconvinced, you nodded with her. She didn't speak to you for the rest of the night, choosing to engage in conversations with the group. It would've been reasonable if it weren't for the fact that you hadn't spoken to or seen her all week - the longest you have spent away from each other so far since you started dating.

It didn't seem to have an effect on her and it stung.

Nayeon nudged you with her elbow, noticing the shift in your behaviour. "And what's going on with you, Y/N? I miss seeing you lurk everywhere, and now all these other girls get to be in your presence."

All eyes were on you now, but yours fell on Mina whose jaw was noticeably clenched. You nervously chuckled, taking a big sip out of your chardonnay. "I know, it sucks, but also a perfect opportunity for me to play around with my tunes, you know? It's exhausting, but hopefully it'll all tone down soon...specially with Mina dating Jeno."

"So, having fun with Rosé?" Mina cleared her throat, tone coming out harsher than intended with hurt evident in her eyes. And it caught you and the rest of the girls off-guard. "I didn't know you guys were that close until those photos came out."

"Yeah," you awkwardly trailed off. "I used to work for Teddy at the Black Label. We've always been close but the years have grown us apart, can we talk about this later?"

"Why later?" her voice cracked, burning you with her stare.

Your face was flushed with embarrassment as you took notice of the girls sinking on their seats, trying to make themselves invisible and far away from her wrath because angry Mina was bad, but jealous and angry Mina was the worst version of her to exist, ever.

"Because I haven't seen you in so long and I'd like to have a good night with our friends," you said quietly. "Is that too much to ask, Mina?"

She got up, not before exchanging strained looks with you, unable to hide her emotions any longer. "She's kissing your cheek in one of the photos for god's sake," she shot back at you, footsteps bearing the heavy weight of the mess she created. "Girls, I'll be in my room if you need me, I'm really sorry for ruining the night."

The stunned silence that followed after her departure hung heavy between all of you. You were completely blindsided by her reaction because it was unusual of Mina. She trusted you and your judgement regarding everyone in the industry, and you had always been transparent about your previous relationships. Rosé wasn't even on the list of people you've dated, she was like a sister to you.

"Go after her, Y/N," Jeongyeon was the first to break the silence, a gentle contrast against the previous heated exchange. "She's under a lot of pressure from the company right now - please go easy on her."

You silently excused yourself from the table, trailing behind Mina a minute too long. You opened the door to her room and your heart instantly ached at the sight of her sitting on the edge of the bed with a defeated look on her face.

She glanced up at you, tears streaming down her face. "I don't know where that came from, that was unacceptable and -"

You took a deep breath, kneeling in front of her as you cupped her face in between your palms. "Baby, what's going on?"

"I'm scared and I'm so tired of following rules and I hate holding the hands of someone I barely know and don't love," she started, shoulders trembling with silent cries. "And I hate seeing you with girls who are so much better than me.”

"My love, there is no else better for me in this world. I will always choose you no matter what," you said, wiping streaks of tears off of her face with your thumb. "I love you more than anyone else in the world, you matter to me the most."

She searched your eyes for any ounce of lies, and all she found was sincerity. "You promise?"

"I promise," you took her hand into yours, placing a chaste kiss on the back of it. "I'm all yours."

Her head was resting against yours and you sat frozen in that position for a long time, cherishing this moment for the rough waves ahead of you two.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

After the first wave, it wasn't long before the cracks in your relationship began to show. You weren't allowed to see Mina for a certain amount of time each week and every interaction with her had to be meticulously orchestrated by her managers - date nights are now rare and she barely replied to any of your texts, it felt like your place in her life was slowly being taken over by Jeno.

Arguments were more common than ever, most of it coming from Mina's side with all the built up frustration at the lack of control in her own life getting lashed in your direction.

In one of the rare nights management had allowed you to see her in the space of your own home; a month and a half after the unraveling of the biggest chaos in your lives, she had specifically told you she only had limited time for two rounds of Fortnite and and maybe an hour or two of Minecraft before she had to leave.

Nonetheless, for you, that was more than enough.

You went out of your way to set up a pillow fort in the centre of your living room, Mina's favourite snacks all on display and even putting up fairy lights all over the space. It was the only way you could try to bring back the intimacy that you both lost ever since being outed by the public.

And honestly, you wanted to remind her that you were so much better than Jeno - that you knew her more than he did.

"So, how long ago did she leave?" you were on the phone to Jihyo like normal. These days, with your movements still limited (the rumours between you and Mina have thankfully died down) you confided in her and she let you.

"She should be there any minute now," the other girl hummed, clapping her hands in excitement. "This is going to make her feel so much better, Y/N, I just know it."

"I really hope so, Ji," her old nickname rolled off your tongue like clockwork. "I miss her so much, I wish things could go back to normal."

"Just hold on a little longer, yeah?"

As soon as you heard the locks turn, you stumbled on your feet trying to make yourself somewhat presentable in front of your girlfriend. "I gotta go, I'll let you know how it goes."

Mina appeared behind the door, a tired smile on her face. In an instant, your arms wrapped around her, being smothered with all the kisses she missed from you.

She planted multiple kisses on your lips, equally missing you. "I missed this."

"I'm so glad you're here, Minari," you pulled her into the living room with your back turned towards her. "Just like old times, hey?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you were met with silence, confused as to why she wasn't saying anything. So, you turned towards her and you wished you hadn't because you felt so small under her cold gaze.

"What's this?" she began, her tired giggles replaced by an angry scowl.

Your hopeful smile was gone. "What do you mean?"

"I'm so fucking tired, I told you not to do anything special, didn't I?" she rubbed her temples in irritation. "You never listen to anything I say."

Your heart sank at the entirety of her words. Tonight was supposed to be special for you both but Mina's lack of effort and gratitude were beginning to show and it hasn't even been five minutes. "I thought it would've been nice to bring a sense of normalcy back into our relationship."

"Normal?" she scoffed at you, clearly offended by the words that came out of your mouth. "There's nothing normal about our whole situation. It's hard for me to keep up with you when you're always at my back for the smallest things. There is only one of me, Y/N, can't I catch a break from you?"

"Mina...what are you saying? What am I doing wrong?" you stood there, dumbfounded at the lack of context in her words. She was simply rejecting you and it felt like a punch to the stomach.

"You're obviously rubbing it in my face that I'm not putting in enough time into our relationship," her voice was laced with nothing but anger. These days, it was a common tone from her. "Do you know how exhausting it is to act like everything is fine when it's not? To act like I'm in love with someone I'm not? I didn't ask for any of this, I just wanted a night of peace - not a fucking extravagant date."

Your expression softened, heart aching at the sight of her scrambling to let all of her bottled emotions out. She was struggling to balance everything and you hoped that she would let you carry some of the weight on her shoulders. "Okay, we'll get all of this silliness out the way," you were trying so hard not to cry in front of her - you hated making things worse but feeling a sense of rejection from your own girlfriend wasn't exactly the best one.

"Forget about it, don't follow me, please," she added, walking out of the living room and into your shared bedroom.

Your heart broke as she stirred away from you with every step, all you could do was sink on the couch - the fort you built crashing after you. Burying your face into your hands, you let the tears fall: you were losing her, and that realisation had cut way too deep.

Minutes later, deep within your thoughts, you failed to notice the presence in front of you until she wrapped her arms around you, muttering gentle apologies and reassurances.

"I'm here, baby," Mina's tone was laced with a heavy sense of regret, drawing circles on your back just like how she used to. "I'm sorry I took it out on you, again."

"I don't understand what I'm doing wrong," you turned to face her with bloodshot eyes. "I'm trying my best for you and none of it seems good enough."

"None of this is on you," she reassured, placing a kiss on your neck - lips lingering longer than usual. "I love you so much, I don't want to lose you."

"It feels like I'm losing you, Mina."

"I'm here until forever, remember?" she promised, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

"I hope so."

"I do know so," she smiled at you with sincerity, that was all it took for you to forgive her. "Let's smash a few rounds in, shall we?"

Mina somewhat kept her promise of putting more effort in, she fought with her managers more, never failing to defend you from their wrath. With the rumours toning down, you were allowed to be out in public with her and Twice again. Of course she was still dating Jeno in their eyes, but with their schedules constantly not aligning due to his group's upcoming album, the rift that was building between you and her grew smaller because it meant she could see you more.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Things were nearly back to normal again, until you had to meet him.

"Remind me why I have to meet this guy again?" you raised an eyebrow as Momo and Sana both circled around you.

"Because the public is starting to notice that despite being Mina's best friend, you have never been seen around Jeno," Momo described the situation perfectly.

"Um, what?" you chuckled. "I could literally say the same thing about you and him!”

"Okay, but we're idols, and our worlds are bound to crash with each other," Sana defended their situation.

You rolled your eyes. "Whatever you two say."

That same night, you were seated around the candlelit dinner table once again. Arriving a little later than usual, you had exchanged formalities with Jeno against your will, and as much as you wanted to hate him, he genuinely seemed like a nice guy and if the circumstances were any different, you would've liked him.

Cutlery clinging and small conversations that were filled with laughter took up the sound of the room. Instead of taking the seat across from Mina like you always did, you chose the one next to Tzuyu. She didn't even notice.

With him around, she barely acknowledged your presence. If anything, she seemed to enjoy being wrapped under his arms as they all laughed to a stupid joke he made.

"Are you alright?" Tzuyu whispered into your ear when she noticed your white knuckles on the wine glass, carefully treading around your anger.

"Me?" you forced a smile.

"I'm asking you, lovely."

"Why would I not be?" you swallowed the bitterness along with your drink. Her eyes held a bunch of questions, frowning when her bandmate who moved a little too close to you for liking. "I'm feeling great, Tzuyu."

Tzuyu didn't press you any further for the rest of the night and as the evening drew to an end, you had nursed at least a bottle of wine to distract yourself. It only heightened the growing knot of jealousy and despair in your chest as Mina laughed to another joke Jeno had said; leaning in closer to him.

"Please enlighten me on what the fuck the show they're putting on is all about," you asked Chaeyoung with a low voice, and heard by Tzuyu and Jihyo as they turned to you. "Are there cameras around?"

"No," Jihyo shook her head, confusion plastered on her face. "You're going to have to ask Mina that."

Chaeyoung sent Jihyo a warning glare, not wanting her to add any more fuel to the fire. "Y/N, are you sure you're meant to be pouring another glass?"

"We've already taken photos, why the fuck is she acting like this in front of me?" your voice feigned with hurt, ignoring the concerned looks from your friends.

The sight in front of you frayed with your emotions and clawed at your insecurities. They looked so perfect together and she seemed happy. At your expense, you watched as he leaned in closer and captured her lips unexpectedly.

You were met with nothing but only horrified looks from everyone in the room, including Mina. The pain in your heart grew, and the temporary bandaid placed on it ripped apart - the wound you thought was healing was gaping open once again. Without thinking, you slid off your seat; chair scraping harshly against the wooden floors.

"I'm sorry, but I have to go attend more important matters," you held your composure firmly, looking Jeno right in the eye before bowing your head down. "It was nice meeting you, you're perfect for Mina. I hope the rest of you have a good night."

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they finally pieced what the breaking point in your relationship would be. You turned on your heel, not bothering to look behind you. And with one certainty, you held your head up and slammed the door shut.

Outside, you stumbled down the pavement; the cool winter breeze hitting sharply against your flushed skin. You clenched your fists as you tried to steady yourself through the alcohol and the free-falling of your tears - the picture of Mina and Jeno kissing replaying in your head, sealing it into place.

Behind you were audibly hurried footsteps, and Mina's voice echoed throughout the street as she called for you to halt. You quickened your pace but anyone sober was guaranteed to be faster than you. "Please let me explain, Y/N," she pled desperately, grabbing your arm.

"Explain what?" your voice was cold, another set of tears making its way down your face. "How do you explain kissing someone else in front of me? You barely spared me a glance tonight and now you want me to listen to your bullshit?"

Her grip tightened, fearing that you would slip through the cracks and leave her completely. "He doesn't know about us. It's all my fault, I'm sorry, I know I should've told him beforehand but I assumed he would've gotten the hint after meeting you —"

It felt like another punch to the gut. "He doesn't know we're dating?"

The fake relationship with Jeno was supposed to make things better for you and Mina, but it felt like he was slowly seeping into your lives, casting you to the sidelines. You failed to notice all the Jeno this and Jeno that, but it all came to you at once now.

What you had witnessed tonight; the way she slipped into that fake relationship felt too real - it looked like what you two once had.

Mina's features were etched with fear, eyes glistening with tears, and despite all this mess, she looked gorgeous under the streetlights and your hazy vision. "I love you, please stay over tonight."

Your breath shuddered in disbelief. "You want me to go back and watch you play housewife with this guy? Don't you think your actions have embarrassed me in front of our friends enough, Mina?"

"Okay," she heaved out a sigh, pausing to consider her other options. "Then please let me come home with you tonight."

One thing about her was that she was stubborn - always almost determined to win you back immediately after arguments. You've never felt to defeated in your life; in the back of your mind, you knew you were never good enough for Mina.

In your eyes, she was a bright star with so much ahead of her future and the shadow you casted over only dimmed her; she deserved someone who would let her shine. And tonight, you saw that in him.

You shook your head, turning away from her. "Forget about this, okay? Go home, Mina.”

"Y/N, you're not listening to me," her voice trembled. "I wanna come home to you."

Ignoring her desperate pleas, you continued to walk ahead of Mina - widening the gap between the two of you. In one last final act, her body collided with yours from behind, arms wrapped around your waist tightly.

"Mina," you tried to wriggle your way out, but you undermined the extent of her strength. "Let go, people are going to fucking see!"

"Then let them," she cried out. "I'll end this stupid contract and tell him about you and how I have loved you for the past four years. No more drifting apart, my love, it all ends tonight."

You finally gave in to her touch, allowing yourself to lean against her. You began to think about all the things she gave up for you; ones that would've been beneficial for her career but in the end, Mina always chose you. And tonight was no different from that.

She was willing to defy everyone else, with her career on the front lines, just to keep you in her life - but why?

"I love you," she whispered, breaking the silence. "Please don't give up on me now."

You took a deep breath, turning around to face her. "Okay," a flash of hurt appeared in her eyes as she took a good look at your tear-streaked face - regret filling her body knowing that she caused it.

"Okay what, baby?"

"Okay, you can come home to me tonight...after you do all of that."

Her eyes lit up, pulling your face in for a kiss but you immediately stopped her. She looked at you, a mix of hurt and confusion plastered on her face. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want his germs on me, please brush your teeth first," you put your hand up in disgust. "I'll see you at home, okay?"

She chuckled, nodding her head in understanding. "I love you baby, text me when you get dropped home."

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

For the next three months, things settled down for a while. In the eyes of the public, Mina was still dating Jeno - you two figured out that it would be too soon to end it and would only make things worst for the both of you. Their dates were less frequent due to her insistence; she fought for your relationship like she would. And he was extremely apologetic about his actions that night.

The two of you were rediscovering your love for each other, coming out stronger than before. Days were filled with laughter and heartfelt conversation - you were rebuilding your safe space together once more.

Things were good, until they weren't.

You were more careful than before, even after JYP offered an extension of your contract that came with a new apartment in the same building as Twice.

This allowed you to spend more time with the girls whenever you had the chance, hence why you were currently sitting on their couch with a bowl of bulgogi in your hand whilst Mina was away...which seemed more frequent nowadays.

After some blissful weeks together, the shadows of the past were creeping up behind Mina, and the person the came with it was Jeno.

They had frequent shoots for international brands together and were practically the face of the industry after one of their Prada campaigns went viral. The thought that often lingered in the back of your mind, the one that told you that you weren't good enough for Mina, was beginning to resurface in her absence.

"Can you cut more trees for us, Somi?" Chaeyoung rasped out. "Stop swooning that useless and ugly man over, the village doesn't need more mouths to feed right now!"

You chuckled at her frustration, eyes glued to the screen. Tonight's game was Medieval Dynasty, and both Chaeyoung and Somi were new to it. Usually, it was Mina playing it with you but with her often gone, you managed to convince one of her members to play with it - who also swayed her friends, Somi, into it.”

"I don't care, I wanna see useless and ugly babies," she snickered, eyes quickly falling on you. "Can you throw a mouthful of that into my mouth, please? It smells really good.”

"Have some damn shame, Somi," Chaeyoung said, fake annoyance laced in her tone. "Put some in my mouth first.”

"And what makes you two think I'll give you some?" you quirked up an eyebrow. "I asked if you wanted any but you chose to order sushi instead, so live with that decision."

"I just cut you thirty-four trees you ungrateful brat!"

"And I just built you three houses and a hunting lodge, plus I gave you my copper axe."

As the night continued, the nagging doubt inside your mind gnawed stronger - constantly looming over your thoughts. It was nearly midnight and it was unusual for her to be out this late.

to: minari

hey baby, you good? when are you coming home

from: minari

Was out with jeno and some of his members tonight, on mg way home now. Sorry!!!

You frowned; she couldn't even tell you that beforehand. Jamming your phone back into your pocket, you grabbed the controller in frustration again. Jihyo woke up from her "nap" (which was six hours long, you counted) and took the empty space on the couch next to you.

"Was that Mina?" she mirrored your expression. "Why isn't she home yet?”

"Went out with Jeno and his friends," you mumbled, eyes focused on the screen and failing to notice the glances your friends exchanged with each other. "Chaeng, I think you should build a huge orchard. I have all these seeds for you."

Not too long after, the door rang open and Mina stumbled inside; hair messy and eyes red. The scent of alcohol entered the room with her and the laughter faded into concerned looks.

"Hello," she slurred, struggling to kick her heels off her feet. "Hello everyone, sorry for interrupting."

Your heart immediately sank at the state of her, walking over towards her to hold her up. "Christ Mina, how much did you drink?"

She sheepishly smiled at you. "I'd rather not count."

"Okay, let's get you to bed," you said, suppressing your anger for tomorrow's conversation.

As you laid next to Mina with a million thoughts running through your head, you took note of his scent lingering a little too long on her.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The next few days grew longer. Mina was out almost every night, barely making time for you. You were seated on the edge of your bed, hands buried in your face after Mina had slammed the door on you after voicing out your growing concern about her spending too much time with Jeno.

"You know this is important for my career, right?" she immediately turned defensive after hearing the familiar tone in your voice. "Y/N, the man you speak of is actually boosting Twice again. The girls are getting booked more -"

"And that's awesome," you said gently, going back into the mental box you built around yourself after stepping a foot out. "I don't have a problem with that, but Mina, it's affecting our relationship. I'm not seeing you, you're always out and when you come home, you're hammered. I'm not getting any sleep just staying up to look after you, it's unfair, I have work to do too."

That didn't help your case because she just seemed angrier than a second ago. "Why are you being so selfish? It's always about our fucking relationship and never about my career, do you even care about me?"

"Is it selfish to ask you for the bare minimum?" you bit your lip. "I want you to show our relationship a tinge of respect."

"You're so clingy all the time, I can't stand it," her frustrations were cut short with the sound of her phone ringing. "Why do you always start pointless arguments when I'm just about to leave?"

You sent her a glare. "If you leave now, you can sleep at your dorm tonight."

"Perfect," she clenched her jaw with no hesitance in her voice. "Goodbye, have a nice night!"

That night, you accidentally found out from Momo that your girlfriend didn't end up coming home. Accidentally...because she ended up asking where Mina was after she didn't show up to practice.

You knew the worst had already happened a long time, you felt it in your gut. Something shifted in Mina and its been going on for weeks now, the distant look in her eyes, their intimate photos together - she had been pulling away from you for some time now but you loved her too much to let her go.

Four years. Four years of building your life around your future and this was how it was going to end, tainted by her betrayal.

That wasn't even the turning point for you. No, it wasn't when the girls cornered you into a table in an attempt to talk you into confronting Mina about her late nights, not the photos plastered all over online - the ones with her head on his chest outside of a restaurant in Gangnam and definitely not the smell of his perfume on her clothes.

You knew it was truly over when she barged into your apartment one night with marks all over neck.

The room was illuminated by the television, a random Anerican show playing in the background. Your eyes were glued to the clock on the wall, a glass of whiskey on your hand as you waited for her to come home. She was supposed to be here four hours ago for your anniversary dinner...and she didn't turn up.

Mina was now living a fast life and you fell behind. You sprawled out on the couch, loosening the tie on your neck as you pictured a desolate life without her. It would end all the heartbreak, for sure, but could you really do it without her?

The door creaked open, revealing the disheveled woman in front of you. The knot in your chest tightened, eyes failing to ignore the dark spots on her neck.

"Y/N baby, you're still up?" your presence startled her, assuming you'd be asleep by now, she didn't even bother to hide it.

"Do you know what today is?" your grip on the glass tightened when she remained silent. "Happy fifth anniversary."

The severity of her shortcomings instantly dawned on her, rendering her frozen in her spot. It seemed like those three words pulled her out of the safe bubble she had been living in - away from all the guilt that had been eating its way into her chest. She knew that you have known for a while now, yet she was too selfish to let you go.

Deep inside, Mina needed you more than you needed her.

"It's not what you think -" she stammered, struggling to find a decent explanation.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" you asked her, voice dangerously calmer than expected. "You forget our anniversary and come home to me with hickeys on your neck? After five years together, you dwindle me down into a stupid idiot - how could you stoop so low?"

She flinched at your tone, noticing the half-empty bottle of whiskey and a gift box on the table. "I know there's nothing in this world -"

"You only get to speak when I'm fucking done talking to you, Mina," you stood up, towering over her - your anger rising. You couldn't look at her, she was a stranger to you now and the thought of it hurt. "How fucking dare you. After all these years!"

Tears welled up in her eyes, never having seen this side of you. You were always gentle, even during heated arguments where all she did was yell at you, you remained calm. "I don't know what happened, Y/N, but please, give me another chance to make it right."

She searched for love in your eyes and found nothing but indifference. You were enraged, her betrayal slashing deep cuts into the home you built for her inside your heart. Everything was crumbling apart, each fall carrying the weight of your love for her.

"Get out of house," you said through clenched teeth. "And my life."

This was the end.

Mina stepped closer, eyes filled with regret. She reached out for you, but you slapped her hand away. "I love you so much, I'm so sorry for everything. I know I ruined it, but we can fix this, Y/N, I'll do anything just to get what we had back."

You shook your head, refusing to shed another tear for her. "Fix this? I can't even look at you without feeling disgusted. It's gone, Mina, the love that we shared is gone. You threw it out of the window."

She remained silent, the weight of her own actions bearing heavy on her shoulders. "I understand," she nodded slowly, choking a sob out. "But I'll wait for you, until you're ready to fix things with me."

You held your breath. "Don't you get it? There's nothing left to fix. Please go now before I say anything I'll regret.”

"No," she shook her head, trying to intertwine your fingers together. "You and me always forever, right? I love you, please don't leave me."

A forced smile tugged on the corners of your lips as you were starkly reminded of the happy memories you shared with her over the years. It calmed you in an instant. "And let's keep it that way by letting each other go. Don't ruin any more memories for me, Mina, I don't think we can fix this. We have to move on separately."

"Let me remember you," her fingers desperately traced your face, her eyes closed as she brushed over your features - heart shattering at the thought of not seeing them anymore. "I don't know how to let you go."

You gently placed a hand on top of hers, stopping her. "Goodbye, Mina."

Tears cascaded over her cheeks as she tried to understand why she needed to let you go. "I've hurt you enough, haven't I?"

You didn't say anything as your eyes followed her towards the door, each step she took felt like another knife to your chest. As soon as her hand reached the handle, she turned towards you with a grateful smile on her face amidst her tears.

"Thank you, for everything. For being you. And for allowing me to love you. Goodbye for now, Y/N."

The door behind her closed with a gentle thud, the harrowing silence of your loss echoing. The loneliness was beginning to settle in your heart as you threw yourself back on the couch. Memories of her felt so distant now, but the way they made you feel were real. She loved you in those moments.

You weren't certain about what the future held for you, it was going to be a rough road ahead of you but you hoped to find yourself again. And maybe, live a life where love didn't have to hurt this much.

[littlelamy]

how you met

rockstar!rafe x model!reader

The pulsing bass and dim lights made it easy to get lost in the heat of the underground club. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the kind of energy that came alive after midnight. It was the perfect place to forget… or be forgotten. Exactly what you’d needed after your friends all but forced you out tonight, insisting that life didn’t end just because you’d left your famous ex in the past.

"Look around!" one of them yelled over the music, nudging you with a sly grin. “This is exactly what you need!”

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of whatever drink they’d ordered for you, scanning the room with a sort of lazy detachment. You weren’t really looking to rebound with anyone here. That is, until you saw him.

He was on stage, barely ten feet away. Shirtless, tattoos splashed across his skin, he had that dark, brooding edge that made him look like he was born for a stage like this, all arrogance and mystery wrapped up in a stunning face with a jawline that could cut glass. His voice was raw, gravelly, like he was spitting out every word with a vengeance, and somehow, he had the entire crowd hooked.

Rafe Cameron.

You recognized him immediately—he’d been the face (and body) of a million indie music magazines you’d been in too, though your worlds had never actually crossed. But seeing him up close, hearing him live, felt different. You watched, your heart picking up speed with each word he growled into the mic, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room until—

He saw you.

There was a beat, maybe two, where the energy between you was so thick it was almost tangible. His gaze raked over you slowly, starting from the glossy heels that matched the clingy little dress your friends had practically begged you to wear. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and every time he looked at you, you could practically feel the heat licking at your skin. You arched a brow, pretending not to notice, barely giving him a second glance, which only seemed to make his stare even bolder.

“God, he’s looking right at you,” your friend whispered, practically squealing in excitement. You kept a cool exterior, giving Rafe the most casual of glances before looking away, leaning back to take a slow sip of your drink. His band continued their set, but he never stopped glancing in your direction, his attention flickering between the song and whatever spell you’d cast over him.

The moment they finished, you expected him to disappear backstage. Instead, Rafe practically leaped off the stage, heading straight for the bar, for you.

“Didn’t think a girl like you would ever show up in a place like this,” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he leaned an arm on the bar next to you. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of smoke, and somehow, it was intoxicating. Up close, he was even more gorgeous, a mix of rugged, careless appeal and a confidence that was probably earned from too many one-night stands.

“Maybe you don’t know what kind of girl I am,” you replied, shooting him a little smirk. You wanted him, yes, but the game was too fun to rush. Besides, you were still reeling from the effect he had on you. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Rafe chuckled, and there was something wicked about it, like he already knew exactly what you were doing and had every intention of breaking down your resolve. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen your face on more magazine covers than I can count. Got them all over my place, by the way.” His eyes roamed your body again, this time with no hint of shame. “But trust me, you’re even better in person.”

“You talk like you think you’ve got me all figured out,” you shot back, the smirk playing on your lips as you turned to face him. His stare was unrelenting, blue eyes devouring every inch of you, and there was no hiding the smolder in them. He’d probably perfected that look a long time ago, and it was undeniably sexy.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just past your ear. “You want me to figure you out?” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Because, baby, I’ll take all night if that’s what it takes.”

You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at his words. He was crass, unapologetic, and entirely too good at this game, but you weren’t about to let him know he’d gotten under your skin. Yet.

“Oh, please,” you replied coolly, rolling your eyes as if unaffected. “Like you could handle it.”

Rafe’s grin widened, flashing that perfect smile that made your pulse thud in your chest. “Big words for a girl playing hard to get,” he said, his hand reaching to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. He was close enough that you could see every detail of the tattoos etched along his collarbone, and you had to focus hard to keep your cool as he looked at you like you were something he was seconds away from devouring.

You arched a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Playing?” you echoed, feigning nonchalance. “This is just my normal.”

His laugh was a dark, husky sound, and the way his fingers brushed along your arm left a trail of heat on your skin. “If that’s the case, sweetheart, consider me hooked.”

He paused, eyes locking on yours as he closed the distance, his hand coming to rest on your waist. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, smell the scent of whiskey on his breath. You knew exactly what he wanted—and, if you were honest with yourself, you wanted it too. But you weren’t about to make it easy.

You let a long moment of silence stretch between you, your eyes flicking to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his gaze again, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Then I guess you’ll just have to work a little harder for it, won’t you?”

Rafe’s smirk softened into something that was almost a grin. “Oh, trust me, I don’t mind putting in the work.” Without another word, his lips crashed against yours, hungry, unrestrained, a kiss that held every bit of the reckless energy he had on stage. His hands held you firmly, like he was staking a claim, and the way he kissed was more than just a kiss—it was a promise, a challenge, a taunt all in one.

As you pulled away, a satisfied smirk played on your lips. Rafe was left standing there, his hand still lingering at his side as if reluctant to let go. You met his heated gaze, letting a slow, coy smile spread across your face before stepping back, savoring the way his eyes stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

With one last lingering glance, you turned on your heel, swaying your hips with each step, knowing full well he was watching every second. Each sway was deliberate, your heels clicking against the floor in time with the pounding bass of the music, and you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel his eyes tracing every curve.

Rafe’s husky voice rang out, half-amused, half-starved, over the music. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You glanced back, giving him a sly wink. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up and see.”

His smirk grew, and you knew you’d just sparked something wild in him. Just the way you wanted it. And as you slipped into the crowd, you could already feel the tension simmering, ready to pull you back to him the second you both decided to stop playing games.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[lailols]

Txt as Love Languages <3

Soobin

Giving

Acts of Service

Soobin isn’t good with words :(

he’s such an overthinker and his brain goes a million times faster than his mouth

but he does his very best to show it in other ways

keeping track of your schedule and making sure you’re eating properly

restocking things around the house before you even know they're running out

refilling your body wash/perfume/lotions when they get low

he WILL try to cook for you and it MIGHT be bad but it’s okay cause he tried

he will peel every orange on this earth if it means you don't have to lift a finger when you're around him

he shows his affection in the ‘little ways’ that are often overlooked but has love written all over them

Receiving

Quality Time

PLEASE spend all of your time with him

let him game while you do your own tasks off to the side

just spending time in your presence makes him feel so loved and cared for

you don’t even have to talk :(

you wanna scroll on TikTok while he games? YES do face masks while he’s scrolling on TikTok? PLEASE nap while he’s "reading"? HOP IN THE BED

he just wants to be around you all of the time :(

you’re so comforting to him

Yeonjun

Giving

Physical Affection

ALWAYS has a hand on you

hand in yours while you’re walking

hand on your waist while you’re standing

hand on your thigh while you’re sitting

he just has to be touching you :(

not even in a sexual way

he just wants to make sure you’re by his side at all times

if you go too far at any point in time, he’s searching for you like a lost kitten :(

also, Jun IS a back pocket holder, I fear

Receiving

Words of Affirmation

catch him off guard with your words

say the intrusive compliments as soon as they enter your head

look deeper into him and say you love whatever you find below the surface

he gets so flustered whenever he gets complimented genuinely :(

he’s the most attractive then

he just stops for a bit and flushes

he’s also an overthinker so PLEASE don’t let him fall victim to his thoughts

tell him you love him every second!

make sure he knows he will always be loved when he's with you

remind him that he’s not perfect, but he’s doing his best

just absolutely shower him in praise cause he deserves it

Beomgyu

Giving

Words of Affirmation

gyu IS the real loser loverboy yearner

as soon as he’s in your presence hymns flow from his lips

he's a ten but he HAS to tell you how much you mean to him or he’ll blow up

he feels like he was put on this earth with no other purpose but to cherish you

it’s so random too

you’ll be walking in the freezing cold and he’ll just stop and pour his heart out to you

literally makes you cry in the middle of the street

Receiving

Gift Giving

gift giving in the “this made me think of you” way

send him songs that remind you of him and he’ll cherish them forever :(

make him little trinkets to keep around his room

get matching jewelry for y’all and he’ll never take it off :(

it just makes him feel so seen, so loved :(

he def has a box of all the things that you give to him and he rotates things so nothing feels left out

I kid you not, he has the first gift you gave him all those years ago proudly in the center of his dresser

buy him things that pertain to his interests and he’ll just melt

but DO NOT forget to give him gifts that remind him of you

most of the plushies you gave him are a weird mix of his and your names

Taehyun

Giving

Quality Time

the universal love language imo

can mean a variety of things and still be so special

whether it’s actively doing something together or just existing in the same space

he’s such a comforting person and he just wants to spend time with you

always in your space, but he frames it as if YOU wanted him there (you did, but you didn’t say it)

complains as if HE isn’t holding you tight

cooking together, watching shows together, working out together

anything that may seem like something a person can do along is actually something for TWO PEOPLE

yes, he needs to run to the store with you because what if you can’t carry it alone? (You wanted a bag of chips)

Receiving

Acts of Service

tae is such a reliable person that I think he would want to be taken care of a bit

having someone to look out for him, y'know (if the four men already doing that aren't enough)

not in the 'you can't do it yourself' way but in the 'I love you and want to make your life easier for you'

cooking for him (though you will have to strong-arm him into sitting down and not joining)

massage his (beautiful, hot, sexy) shoulders when he has a bit of pain

just do the little things that show you care and that you listen to him

make sure he’s pampered like the king he is

Kai

Giving

Gift Giving

Kai WILL gift you everything under the sun

it’s just how he shows his love

you ARE coparenting near a hundred plushies

he WILL buy cringy shirts for you guys to wear and YOU BETTER WEAR IT

proudly wears his “I <3 my gf/bf” shirt with your face on it at least once a week and expects the same in return (even better if you’re doing it together)

makes up holidays to give you gifts (it’s NAWT just a random Tuesday, it’s national kitten day, so YES he has to give you a kitten plush, wdym?)

flowers anytime he’s seeing you

no, he does not change

your parents adore him because he never shows up to the house empty handed no matter how long you’ve been dating

almost sobs when you have to stop home for something and he didn’t have anything on hand

literally keeps something in his car now for this purpose :(

Receiving

Physical Affection

PLEASE stick to Kai like glue

he deserves it :(

he’s such a physical person himself that he’d just love it in return

he’s so tactile, molding to fit his body against yours like it was meant to be (it was)

rests his head in your lap when you’re sitting near each other :(

RUB HIS TUMMY :((

give him head pats

forehead kisses PLEASE

cling onto him when you’re out and about

cuddles will follow anything you do

[javierpena-inatacvest]

Chapter 8- Something to Believe In

Summary: Frankie makes good on his promise to pick you up from work.

Word count: 3.7K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (reader has a name/nickname, no use of y/n)

Warnings: Having a panic attack (cue Frankie to the rescue), mentions of death and grieving, angst, yearning, could we perhaps be ✨making progress✨?

A/N: Hi friends!! Thanks for bearing with me after no new chapter last week! This one's also on the shorter side, but that's not to say there aren't some BIG things happening 👀 My hope is to have another chapter done by next week, but with holiday business, it may have to be two weeks between chapters again (sorry sorry sorry!!) Thank you as always for your lovely and kind words, ily all so much MWAH

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Frankie, Present 

“I’m done at ten.” 

By the time he gets back home at 6:43, he’s already counting down the hours until you’re finished with your shift. 

Three hours and seventeen minutes, to be exact. 

For as much as Frankie could easily spend the next three hours and seventeen minutes doing nothing but staring at the clock hanging adjacent to the TV in the living room, he knows he’ll drive himself out of his goddamn mind. He needs something to do. 

If he keeps himself busy, he can’t fester on the million and one ways he could manage to fuck this up. 

Frankie forces himself to eat some sort of half-assed dinner, despite his nervous nausea that’s got the best of him. He purposely uses as many dishes and utensils to make a sandwich as humanly possible- if he does, it gives him something to do after. 

He cleans out his entire truck, down to vacuuming every last crumb crunched between the driver’s seat and center console. He debates washing the car himself in the driveway, but if he drives it to the carwash three blocks down the road, it’ll kill more time. 

On his way home, he stops at Auto Zone to get you a new car battery and exchanges it for your old one, dead, under the hood of your car. 

Frankie takes a shower so long, he can feel in real time the water shift from boiling hot, to luke warm, to ice cold. He washes his hair twice. His body, three times. 

He unpacks just about every item of clothing from his suitcase, laying them out on his bed in multiple combinations of pants and shirts, debating whether you'll think he’s a psychopath for showing up in a different outfit only a few hours after dropping you off. Frankie settles on shorts and a t-shirt- nice enough he doesn’t look like a fool, but casual enough for you not to suspect he’s been staring at every article of clothes he owns for the past thirty minutes. 

And somehow, after all of that, he still ends up in the Parrot’s Nest parking lot at 9:23. 

Thirty-seven minutes worth of waiting is a lot more manageable than the better part of three hours. 

Unfortunately, the last thirty-seven minutes he spends sitting in the parking lot are the most agonizing of his whole endeavor. 

He throws the last few innings of the Tampa Bay Rays game on the radio in the background, unable to stand the sound of silence that haunts him when he’s alone with his thoughts. 

Frankie tries not to panic at the fact that it seems like he’s forgotten how to engage in basic human conversation, praying that no one can see the way he’s rehearsing his greeting to you upon your arrival into the passenger seat. 

“Hey, what’s up? No, fuck, that’s stupid.” Frankie mutters to himself, running his palm over his face, “Hey, MacKenzie, how was work? No, ‘cause what if work was fucking awful and I’m just gonna piss her off more. Jesus.” 

He takes a few more long, deep breaths, staring at the roof of his truck while he tries to concoct the perfect set of words to string together. 

“Hey, Kenz. Kenzie? MacKenzie? Does she even fucking go by Kenz anymore? Fuck. Hey, miss me?” He jokes by his lonesome, his fake smile quickly fading at the anticipation of your response, “She obviously didn’t miss you, idiot. You’re lucky you can barley get her to fucking talk to you. Fuck me.” 

His pained groan and scrunched shut face are enough cut off the awareness to his surroundings just long enough to leave him oblivious to the fact you’ve not only exited the Parrot’s Nest, but have made your way across the parking lot and have your hand wrapped around the passenger door, rattling the handle. 

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Frankie shouts, nearly jumping out of his own skin at the way you’ve announced yourself by shaking at the locked door. 

So much for rehearsing. 

“F-fuck-” He stammers, taking a moment to catch his breath from your scare, praying he hasn’t managed to shit his pants from how badly you’ve startled him. Once his pulse settles to rate low enough he’s convinced he hasn’t died of a heart attack, he leans over to unlock your door, unable to make eye contact with you as he grimaces his face in embarrassment. 

“S-sorry.” you murmur, sheepishly climbing into the seat next to him, quietly clicking in your seatbelt. 

“Jesus Kenz, you scared the shit outta me.” Frankie gulps, still trying to compose himself. He runs his hand through the curls of his hair, taking one last slow inhale and exhale with his eyes peeled to the floor, hoping the pink drains from his cheeks before he looks over at you. 

“Sorry, I- I didn’t mean to. I thought maybe you fell asleep, or something. You shrug, trying to defend your reasoning. 

“I wouldn’t offer to come pick you up and then fall asleep on you, I’m not that big of an assho-” 

Frankie cuts himself off before he can finish the rest of his thought, feeling the “L” and “E” of “asshole” die off somewhere in the back of his throat, killed by the death glare you give in proclamation of his own self-righteousness.  

He starts the car without another word, pulling out of the parking lot and hoping that his silence begs enough forgiveness. 

The crackling static of the car radio fills the void between you, Andy Freed’s ecstatic voice capturing both of your attentions enough to let the current state of the Tampa Bay Rays game shift your focus. 

“What’s the score?” You ask, nonchalant, eyes wandering anywhere but Frankie’s direction. 

“Oh- uh, I- I think it was 1-3 last time I checked, but it sounds like someone on the Rays just hit a sac fly, so I’m guessing it’s 2-3, now.” 

There’s a moment of silence, Frankie assuming you’ve got it in you to at least make one question’s worth of small talk. You seem just as surprised as him that you don’t let the conversation die there. 

“Did you um- you watched the game when you got home?” 

Your gaze won’t lock with his, but now, it’ll at least travel in his general direction. 

“N-no, I just uh- I just turned it on while I was waiting in the car.” 

“How long were you waiting for?” 

“N-not that long.” He barely gives you enough time to breathe, let alone call him out on his bullshit before he’s changing the subject, “How uh- how was work?” 

“Oh- It was uh- it was fine. Went by really slow. B-because it wasn’t um, it wasn’t that busy.” 

Frankie’s no code breaker, but he hopes the way you’re so quick to give him a reason why your shift had dragged on is a secret way of saying you spent just as long thinking about him as he did about you. 

“Sorry it was so slow.” 

Frankie knows his apology doesn’t do anything for you, but the way he’s picking each word that comes out of his mouth has him feeling like he’s tiptoeing through a minefield, too scared to make any move besides the one that seems the safest. 

“It’s okay, not your fault. That’s honestly part of the reason I took this job- was to give myself something to do, so I don’t spend every last second that my dad is alive dwelling on the fact that pretty soon, he’s not gonna be alive. It’s stupid, but I guess if being preoccupied with serving middle aged couples mozzarella sticks and over-cooked steak tacos for a few hours helps, then so be it.”  

He knows better than anyone that your attempt at humor is your shield, but it’s not hard to see how weathered and worn it’s become, barely hanging on by a thread to protect you from the worst battle you still have yet to face. 

“N-no, it makes sense. Distractions help. I-It’s been hard, having to see him like this. I get it.” 

His last sentence makes your head snap up from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye, Frankie hopes that maybe your attentiveness means he’s had a breakthrough, showing enough genuine empathy that you’ll cut him a little slack. 

When he turns enough to see the scowl plastered across your face, he realizes he’s stepped on a bomb, and he’s moments away from explosion. 

“Oh, you ‘get it’, huh?” You scoff, sadistic smile curling in the corner of your cheeks. 

Frankie can see the way your blood is beginning to boil, trying to backtrack as quickly as possible to find any way to save himself. 

“N-no- I mean, shit-  no, Kenz, you know what I mean.” Frankie pleads. 

“No, I don’t know what you mean, Frankie. Please, explain.” 

The way your arms are crossed and head is cocked tells him everything he needs to know. Against his better judgement, Frankie decides not to take cover. He goes headfirst into the warzone. 

“C’mon, Kenz, don’t be like this.” Frankie sighs, preemptively kicking himself that this is the route he’s chosen to take. 

“Like what?” You snap back, sharp and sarcastic. 

“Like it’s not hard for me, too. Like I can’t be sad about it. You’re not the only person who cares about him, MacKenzie. He was the closest thing I had to a dad, too.” 

“But he’s not your dad, is he? And if you were, that’d make you a pretty shitty son, wouldn’t it?” 

It hits him like a cold, hard slap to the face, the way you don’t dare to show him even an ounce of mercy. There’s something about the bitterness in the way you ask it that hurts even more than if you would have just screamed at him, cursed him out, punched and pushed him until he bruised. 

A stark silence falls over the car, tension so thick, it’s like a bag of bricks has been dropped from the sky, drowning him in a useless pile of cement. There’s no use in crying for help. He doesn’t dare to speak, simply out of fear that if he does, this won’t be the worst of what’s yet to come. 

Frankie stays trapped for what feels like hours, each second passing by more painfully slow than the last as you stare out your window, watching the shadows of street lights dance across your body, illuminating you just enough to see the way your chest trembles with short, frantic breaths as you unravel. Your sobs can’t hide behind the silence in the way your tears can in the darkness. 

“Do you know how fucking lonely it is, Frankie? How lonely it is when everyone you’ve ever cared about leaves you? It’s like I’m fucking Midas, but everything I touch, eventually, I lose. A life before cancer, my soccer career, an engagement, a future, my dad, you? You don’t get to tell me how hard it is for you, because you get to let go of what you want on your terms, when it’s convenient for you, don’t you? I’m so sick of losing, Frankie. I’m so sick of it.” 

He watches in real time how something inside you snaps, like a bottle of soda that’s erupted after someone’s violently shaken shaken it, the twist of the cap releasing all the pressure and tension that’s been stored up and compounded upon with each rattle of their wrist. 

Frankie knows he’s not responsible for all of it, but he's the last bump you can take before you have no other choice but to overflow, leaving every ounce of you to seep out, vulnerable and exposed. 

What starts off as softs sobs, quickly shifts to heart wrenching heaves of your chest, every word you’re trying to get out lodged in your throat. He sees how your eyes fill with fear at the way you suddenly can’t catch your breath, body shaking as you shrink into your seat, fingers wrapping around your seatbelt with an iron grip around the worn fabric. 

“Kenz? Kenzie, are you okay?” It only seems fair he’s completely disregarded everything you’d had to say, beginning to panic at your tremoring figure crumpled next to him, speaking in nothing but violent wails you can’t control. 

“I- I- f-fuck, f-f- Frankie, fuck, n- no, no, I-” 

He won’t let you finish your thought- he only lets you stammer out the few words you can manage before he’s pulled off on the nearest neighborhood side street he can find. He blames it on military habit, how quick he is to react in the face of your panic, but he knows damn well it’s nothing but instinct the way he’s all but throwing off his seatbelt so he can reach across the center console and wrap you in his arms. 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here. Just try and breathe, okay?” Frankie whispers, squeezing you so tightly in his arms you just might break. 

“I c-can’t, I can’t, fuck, i-it- it, it f-feels like I can’t breathe.” You sob, feeling your tear stains pool in the fabric of his shirt covering, face buried against his chest. 

“I know. I know it’s scary. I promise you’re okay, it’ll pass. Just try and breathe with me, okay?” 

He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his own breaths are, trying his best to stay calm with each long inhale and exhale he takes. The wave of grief that washes over him is different than the one you’re drowning in, the kind that makes his heart break at the type of panic he’s known all too well- he’d give every bone in his body to absorb your pain and make it his, but the best he can do is hold you until it subsides. He’ll hold you all night, if that’s what it takes. 

It’s a few minutes before he can finally feel your heart rate starting to slow, the stiffness of your muscles beginning to ease in his grasp as you come back down to earth with him. Your tears haven’t stopped, but at least your chest starts to rise and fall with his. It’s a baby step, but he’ll take any steps he can get in the right direction. 

“There ya go. Just like that. It’s okay. Worst of it’s over, I promise.” 

With the way one thumb is gently stroking your back and the other is carefully brushing the back of your head, it’s safe to say every inhibition Frankie could have has flown out the window. He hates how there’s a selfish part of him that can’t describe the way it feels to hold you again, even if it’s like this, but that’s a battle of his own he’s not willing to face today. For now, he’ll accept the sweet bliss of his self-indulgence while you’re curled against him. 

“You’re okay, Kenz. I’m here. I promise, you’re okay.” 

Enough time passes that his t-shirt isn’t getting any wetter, finally brave enough to peek your head up from the crook of his neck to wipe your tear stained cheeks with the back of your hand. Frankie’s grip only loosens enough to let you sit up, arms still engulfing your frame, tight enough to make sure you don’t float away on him again. 

“I- I’m s-sorry.” 

It’s so soft as it leaves your lips, if he wasn’t waiting on your every word, Frankie just might have missed it. Little do you know, he’s hanging on your every breath. 

“Hey,” he pauses, your eyes locking with his, softly pouting at the way your panic has made your face red and puffy, carefully swiping his thumb across your cheek to catch the wetness still streaming down the corners of your eyes, “you have nothing to apologize about, okay?” 

He waits in the silence again, letting you softly nod your head in agreement, watching the gears turn in your head as you process everything that’s just happened. You’ve come to enough to notice the way his hand still sits on the small of your back- he’s just as surprised as you when you let him keep it there for another moment before subtly shifting back in your seat. 

Your face scrunches shut, wincing with the last few deep breaths you take, like you're trying to push the rest of it out of your system for good. Frankie runs his hand through his messy hair and down the nape of his neck as he takes you in, still riding his melancholy high of the weight of your body pressed into his. 

“Thank you. For um- just, t-thank you.” You mutter, too sheepish to look him in the eye again now that full blown embarrassment has set in. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” 

Frankie nods, trying his best to let you know that he means it- really, truly means it. It’s the way he won’t take his eyes off you that must let you know he understands, watching you shift just enough in your seat for him to notice how your body turns ever so slightly to face him. 

“They’ve uh- fuck, it just comes out of nowhere sometimes. It’s um- it’s happened before, but these past few weeks, it just- it’s been a lot, I guess.”  

“It’s been a while since I’ve had one, but I um- I got ‘em all the time after I came home. Feels like you’re dying. It sucks.” 

It’s not graceful, but it’s genuine. Vulnerable. Honest. Frankie knows it’s the most truth he’s given you in more years than he’d like to admit. It’s not much, but it’s enough to see you scale the top of the wall you’ve built between you and him and kick down one of the bricks that’s holding it together. It’s not much, but it’s one less brick than that wall has had for a very, very long time. 

“What are you talking about? That was so much fun.” 

In the shared moment of soft, sympathetic laughter, it’s that he realizes the softest smile that’s stretched in the corner of your lips. Frankie tries not to stare, but when he sees it, he remembers how much he’s hated living without it. He takes it in for as long as he can, memorizing every crease and crinkle in your face, no matter how subtle. He’ll soak in every second he can. He’s thankful he does, because it’s only a matter of time before it starts to shift, corners of your cheeks shifting as you pick at the skin around your nails. 

“I- um- I’m sorry- a-about what I said earlier.  I- I didn’t mean it.” 

Frankie lets out a huff of confusion, convinced you must be playing a joke on him with your unprompted apology. He’s almost tempted to laugh again, but the way your jaw shifts back and forth, anxiously grinding on your teeth while your eyes stay peeled to the fingers working away at your skin reminds him of every other apology you’ve ever offered. The same look when you accidentally popped the brand new basketball he got for his 13th birthday, the same fidgeting of your fingers when overreacted to the dent you thought he put in your brand new car backing out of your driveway, the same tick of your jaw when you had told him why you hadn’t written him more while he overseas on his last tour of duty. 

You really do mean it. 

“It’s okay. I deserve it.” Frankie admits. As hurtful as it was, he knows you weren’t completely unjustified in what you said. He also knows if you’re offering him an olive branch, he’ll offer you nothing short of a whole olive tree back. 

“No- well, I mean, maybe a little-” your sarcastic self correction makes him laugh again, something long forgotten warming in his heart at the way your hidden grin reappears in the corners of your cheeks, “No- I just- that was shitty of me to say. I’m sorry. It’s- it’s just a lot right now. Not totally fair to take it all out on you.” 

“I know. It’s okay.” Frankie pauses, captivated by the way your eyes flicker up to meet his, still wet and sparkling from the last of your tears, shimmering in the warm glow of the streetlights. He wants to reach out, to grab you, hold you, press you against his chest again and tell you that everything will be okay, but he won’t risk burning the bridge of the progress he’s built. Not yet. The best he can do is keep building, nail by nail, plank by plank. 

“If you um- if you ever need someone to- to talk to, or whatever, I’m always-” 

“I know.” 

There’s a different kind of silence that fills the empty spaces of his truck the last ten minutes of the ride home. It’s no longer heavy, burdened by pain and fear with every breath that enters its void. It’s the quiet kind of reassurance that doesn’t need any words. The kind that says everything it needs to from stolen glances back and forth, accompanied by the warmth of pink cheeks hidden in the black of the night sky. 

The last thing that’s said after he’s pulled into your driveway is a simple “thank you”. It’s only two words, but something about those 8 letters put together seems like enough to fill a book with how much it says. 

The only thing that says more is the way you look over your shoulder when you make it to your porch, so brief that if he wasn’t looking for it, he surely would have missed it. 

Because in that moment you look back at him, he swears there’s a smile straining against the line of your lips that you’re trying desperately to fight. 

Maybe he’s imagining it. Maybe he’s truly lost his mind. Maybe he’s crazy. Whatever he may be, Frankie Morales knows he won’t sleep a wink tonight at the thought that he’s finally the reason for the smile on your face again. 

@chaotic-iguana @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

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[bowsnstrings]

🎀♡Love In The Studio♡🎀

Masterlist

Warning!: Nothing much, just fluff!😭💖

It took four months just to book this studio session, four long months of waiting and waiting, now Ony finally has the chance to shoot his shot, and he damn sure isn’t about to screw up this opportunity to work with his dream artist. Princess, the girl he couldn’t get his mind off of, especially after he heard her voice for the first time and began streaming her music every opportunity he had, even her underrated songs that she had released before she got a deal.

He got her number from Sasha, Mikasa's mutual friend. He sees Mikasa all the time, producing with her sometimes, and last year, one of their collabs went viral and got her over a million more monthly listeners on all her streaming platforms. She owed him a favor, so she pulled a few things and got her agent to connect them.

Sasha was tough, wanting to make sure he had the best intentions before she let her number-one client and best friend go to a studio with someone she didn’t know, but Ony was fine playing the long game. He asked to reach out to Princess personally so they could get familiar with each other, and they had been texting back and forth for two weeks.

It started casually, simply sending a text saying, “Hey, this is Ony, how are you?” After typing and re-typing the message about a hundred times. He stood over his phone for ten minutes as he waited, nearly jumping out of his skin when she finally replied, saying, “Hi Ony, I’m good. How are you?” Their texts only got more comfortable from there, which led to him inviting her to his studio.

He was already geeking out a bit, showing up an hour early just to make sure the place was clean and the track was ready for her to hop on and get to work. They had negotiated a nice payout for her; Ony didn’t even want to charge her a flat fee, only taking ten percent of the share once it’s released. He thought that was fair given the fact that he asked who he considered one of the best singers ever to make a song with him.

Two soft knocks sounded on the door, causing Ony to quickly scramble to clean himself up to look presentable. He shouted out, “Come in!” Once he felt like he looked appropriate, shoving his hands in his pockets to appear nonchalant. She arrived four o’clock, on the dot. Punctual and perfect as she stepped through the door. Her hair was the first thing he saw, swaying gently in thick long strands, her nails raking through one side as she looked up to greet him. Her smile would’ve had him melting to the floor if he were standing, so cute with her full blush tinted cheeks.

She wore a pink dress, fitting but casual, tight at the top around her breasts, and rounding out down her hips. It made her look so effortlessly beautiful in nothing but thin cotton as she naturally swayed in with her white and gold Coach purse.

“Hi Ony,” Princess began as he pushed himself away from the table, getting onto his feet to properly greet her after staring dumbfounded for a moment. He’d almost forgotten how beautiful she was in person, having to rely on photos for the past four months to make up for the absence.

“Hey Ma,” He greeted her with a smile, his teeth absent of his usual grills, out of his amped up rapper persona and more calm, which she noticed immediately. The last time they saw each other he had been drinking and partying, but now she saw a much bigger effort on his part to be nice to her. The studio was absent of the clouds of smoke and alcohol she expected, though that’s what it would usually be like, Ony knew she would like a relaxing space to work.

He had the lights turned down some, and sprayed the room with some lavender spray that Connie said she might like. He’d have to remember to thank him after Princess looked around the room, smiling until she looked up at him and realised how he was towering over her. His arms were the size of her head, and even in the hoodie she could tell by the way he restrained himself in their hug that he was huge everywhere. Her face suddenly became very warm, suddenly remembering how nervous he made her.

“Come take a seat.” Ony nodded towards the chair next to his, moving to the other side of the room, opening the door before turning to her. “You want something to drink, eat? We got soda, waters, chips.” He listed off, trying to gauge her as she spun to face him. She still had that warm smile, like he was doing a good job so far, trying his hardest to be a gentleman.

“If you have bottled water that would be nice.” Princess asked politely, shrinking in on herself under his gaze. He was looking at her like she was everything, and she couldn’t understand why he was treating her like some guest of honor.

“Lemme get that for you.” He said as he stepped out into the adjacent kitchen. His studio was fitted out, custom made and obviously tailored to his style. Retro posters of iconic rappers all over the walls, leather chairs and couches, even the engineer console had matching knobs. Ony obviously took the time out for the upkeep of this place, the floors even looked like they’d been mopped.

As he stepped back into the room carrying a bottle of water for her, she turned to him beaming. “This place is so nice Ony.” Princess gushed as he walked up to her, dropping her drink onto the table and taking a seat.

“Thanks, I just finished it up a couple weeks ago.” He said, leaving out the part about rushing to finish it before their studio session. Connie and Eren were pissy for weeks when Ony had them come in and help clean and decorate the place.

“Well, you did a good job. I heard from Mikasa that you’ve been doing your thing as well, you had two songs chart in the top ten.” Princess congratulated him as she opened her purse, pulling out a pink notebook with a matching pom pom pen.

“Yeah, still haven’t gotten a number one yet though. That’s why I had to hit you up.” It made her feel good to know that he was thinking of her. Especially after she spent so much time today just to look nice for their session. She’d never admit it, but she spent four hours trying to get dressed and look casual at the same time.

“Listen,” She began, nervously biting at her bottom lip, her gloss shiny under the studio lights. “I know last time we saw each other-”

“Don’t sweat it, Ma.” Ony shrugged it off, leaning back to look at her. She looked confused, but let him finish, tapping her nails against her thighs. “You gave me the idea for this song. Wrote the lyrics same night, swear.” He excitedly explained, turning to the messy composition book he had overflowing with random papers and scribbles.

Princess watched him flip through his own messy handwriting until he found the right page. Big bold letters titling the song, “Cinderella”.

“Ony what’s up with the name?” She giggled out, glancing at him to catch the way he lit up at the sound of her voice. A grin finding its way to his face, letting out a chuckle, he felt so different around her. Like being himself was more than accepted, and her laugh, he could bottle her laugh up and hear it for days.

“Told you, you’re my inspiration. My Cinderella.” Their eyes locked for a moment, fleeting but sincere. Princess felt like she was a kid again, falling head first into her first crush, butterflies fluttering in her belly. Ony never really felt what it was he was feeling, he didn’t even know what to name it, but it felt so good. “Whatever you don’t like we’ll change. Even the name, but I hope you keep it.”

Painstakingly, they went over each lyric and note of the song, Princess listening to the beat and Ony showing her the parts of the song he’d really like her input on. He was nervously glancing at her every two seconds as he watched her silently think over everything until she finally said, “I like it,” Ony finally letting out a breath of relief, watching her look over his notebook a bit.

“I just want to change up the last part a little.” She shyly mumbled, tapping her nails against the side of the table. Her stomach bubbled with anxiousness, usually agreeing to whatever another artist wanted to do without complaining, but Ony seemed genuine enough to be open to some criticism. Besides, he asked her to change things as she saw fit.

“Yeah?” He turned to her, curiosity painted on his face, excited to see her get out of her shell a bit and give her input. “What were you thinking?”

“Well, I think the lyrics should be, You’re on my mind all the time, like every day, every night. I don't want to fuss or fight; just want to make you mine.” Her voice carried out in the room, high and light in her perfect soft tone. She scribbled on her journal for a second to take down the lyrics before looking up at him and seeing his star-struck face.

“Yeah, that’s-that’s perfect.” He mumbled, nervously smiling and scratching the back of his head. “Let’s roll with that.” She smiled at him, nodding her head and making sure to finish writing down her bridge. He admired her as she did, feeling like he was acting down bad for her already, but he couldn’t really care much about it at the moment.

“And the chorus?” She asked, her hair falling close to her face, and Ony wanted nothing more than to reach out and move it for her, especially to lay a kiss onto those pretty lips of hers. Her pink pen tapping against the notepad as she concentrated, her face in a scrunch with a pretty pout that had him looking away to keep from growing in his sweats.

“Yeah, play around with it. Make it your own, y’know?” He suggested, happy with how comfortable she seemed in her element working with music. In a way, her passion reminded him of when he was still coming up, just hoping for his big break. It was nice to see she hadn’t lost that. “Why don’t we order some food? Seems like we’ll be here a while.”

They agreed on the sushi place nearby, mostly because Princess recommended it, and even though Ony doesn’t eat sushi he wasn’t going to turn down a spot she wanted to eat at. While the food was being delivered they worked through all of the lyrics, finally finished and ready to step in the booth. Ony asked to go first, wanting to knock out all of his parts as quickly as he could to get most of the legwork done faster.

As Ony was rapping he couldn’t help but feel like all of his hard work so far led him here, to impress one person with all he had to offer. His sacrifice led him to be in the studio with someone he not only respected, but was feeling a type of way about. He locked eyes with her multiple times as he spoke into the microphone, his lyrics leaping from within like he was speaking directly to her. It gave Princess something to try and focus on, especially since he was distracting her by looking so good in the booth.

Princess nearly hopped out of her chair to do her part, Ony sitting down and watching the way her hips swayed as she walked away from him, nearly pulling the knobs off of his mixer. The shit was too expensive for him to be tearing it up like he was, but he really couldn’t help it with the way she pulled him in a trance every time they were near. “Do I sound alright?” Princess speaking up, her voice floating through the speakers like her voice was made for it.

“Yeah, sounds good, Ma.” He spoke back to her, shaking his head to get back into the mindset he needed in order to work. “Don’t be nervous. I know it’s your first time doing R and B, but you got the talent and the lyrics for it.”

It sure boosted your confidence to hear from a hot man how talented you are, maybe that’s why the first few takes were giggly and full of little mistakes. While it took her a minute to get started, Princess was a natural as soon as she put her mind to it, singing her heart out while following the melody. Ony watching her with a smile, knowing deep down that this was going to be his best record of all time as he saw her really get into it. Nothing could throw her off from the zone she was in, not even when it was time to add her ad-libs in, zooming through the last leg of the song with ease.

When she finally stepped out of the booth it was nearing seven-o’clock. Her sushi and Ony’s chicken and rice half eaten, both pouring all of their attention into the final product. Ony was finishing up synthesizing their voices as Princess sat back next to him. “What are you going to do when you leave?” Ony asked, glancing from the side to see her flush and turn to him.

“Oh, I have to meet the girls for rehearsals. I got a big performance coming up.” She spilled excitedly.

“Alright, you singing gospel?”

“No, I only sing gospel in church now. I’m about to drop my first R and B single in a week.” Ony tried to ignore those same feelings that he felt in his stomach every time Princess would smile or ramble with excitement. She was just so sweet, so different from what he was used to. Everyone he knew was jaded, hardened by life, but she still had that magic. It made him want to be around her just to have a bit of that too.

“Well, let me know when the performance is. I wanna support, ya’ know?”

“Sure, I’d love it if you could come. It’d be nice to see you again.” Princess admitted softly, twirling the ends of her hair as she tried to look everywhere but at him. That only gave Ony a glimpse at the earrings she was wearing, gold diamond hoops, classy and expensive. He thought she wore them well, but could use some more like them.

“I’ll be sure to be there then.” Ony smiled, genuine, without thinking. Finally pressing play on the finished project, he and Princess sat together and listened to how they sounded. It was perfection, so good both of them sat up and looked at each other in awe, giddy at the sound of their new number one hit they were going to drop. Their minds were racing with all of the things they had to do next, photoshoots, performances, a music video. The ideas were endless, but one thing was for sure, when they work together, they make magic happen.

Thanks For Reading! (xoxo) - Bow 🎀

[msmk11]

Congratulations: You Like James Potter

James Potter x fem!reader

Word count: 4k

CW: Idiots in love, kissing, unbearable fluff

Summary: Clothes are a game changer when it comes to feelings. Who would've thought?

A/n: Happy Wednesday everyone! I hope you are having a lovely week. Currently I am in the midst of finals week, so I am stressing! That's why I pulled this out of my drive instead of writing something new. I hope you enjoy my loves :)

The cold stone of the dorm seeps through your socks as you pace back and forth across the width of the room. Although you love Hogwarts, winters are never kind inside a large castle with no insulation.

Usually when this happens, you go roast in front of the fire or take a long, hot shower. However, seeing that you have plans to go to the Gryffindor vs. Slytherin game in ten minutes with Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter, those options are out of the question. You go and stand in front of your chest again, looking at the various sweaters and sweatshirts packed for the colder weather. Despite having so many options, none look warm enough, or let’s be honest, cute enough, to wear to the game today. As you stare at your trunk with a sigh, you hear the door to your room open behind you. 

“Are you almost ready to go?” You hear Lily ask.

You turn to her with a glum look on your face, “Not yet. I don’t know what to wear!”

She comes to stand beside you, “Babe, wear one of the many sweatshirts you have sitting in your trunk.”

“But none of them feel right!” You whine. 

“Then take something from one of our trunks,” she suggests.

“I already looked.” You say, collapsing onto my bed. 

“Well you better figure it out in the next five minutes. If not, we’re leaving without you.”

“I know, I know. I promise I’ll make a decision.”

You hear her leave the room as the door thuds behind her. 

As you lay on your soft bed, engulfed by your comforter, you wish you could just wear it outside to the pitch. Dreaming about such a reality where that could actually happen, you realize that although you can’t carry your comforter around, you can think of something that is likely just as comfortable. One of Remus’ sweaters. You throw your shoes on and barrel down the stairs into the common area. You see your friends waiting for you.

“Are you finally ready?” Lily asks again.

“No, but go on without me. I finally figured out what I want to wear but I’ll meet you guys there,” you reply.

“Okay, we’ll save you a seat,” She says.

Once they’re out of the room, you take two steps at a time up to Remus’ room that he shares with Sirius, James, and Peter. You walk to the far right corner where his stuff is and open the trunk. The angels seem to sing from above as you feast your eyes upon the millions of big, wooly sweaters sitting before you. You see a nice brown one, something that will go perfectly with your blue jeans, and pull it on. You are instantly engulfed by the warmness and sigh with relief. You go and stand in front of the full length mirror against the wall. As you check your appearance and smooth out your hair, you see a flash of red out of the corner of your eye. The flash of red turns out to be none other than one of James Potter’s many quidditch jumpers. Slightly curious, you take the sweater off and put on the sweatshirt. You are pleasantly surprised to find that it is somehow even more comfortable than Moony’s sweater. Plus, it’s perfect to wear to the quidditch game. You go to stand in front of the mirror again and are taken aback slightly by how nicely the red pops against your skin. Satisfied with your appearance, and also feeling incredibly cozy, you rush down to the quidditch pitch, a few minutes before the game starts. You find Lily, Dorcas, Remus, and Peter in the crowd. 

“Hey,” you huff, as you sit down next to Remus.

“Hey, see you finally found something to wear,” he replies. 

“Only took her a million years,” Peter teases.

“Yeah, yeah. Fuck off,” you retort, swatting him on the back of the head.

“Hey, I thought you didn’t want to wear any of our stuff?” Lily asks.

“I’m not?” you answer, confused.

“But isn’t that Marlene’s sweatshirt?” 

“No, that’s what I’m wearing” Dorcas says, unzipping her black winter coat to reveal her girlfriend’s hoodie. 

“Then whose is that?” Lily questions. 

Before you can answer, the crowd starts cheering as both teams walk out onto the pitch. Madam Hooch’s voice bellows outward as she asks the captains to shake hands. From the Gryffindor team, James steps forward, and from Slytherin, Lucius Malfoy. The two shake hands then return to their respective teams. They kick off from the ground as the quaffle is thrown into the air and the game begins. Although you’ve seen plenty of quidditch games in your time at Hogwarts, you never cease to be amazed at the agility with which James and Marlene are able to move on their brooms and toss the quaffle between them. Likewise, you are always impressed by Sirius’ strength as a beater and his ability to aim the bludgers at other players perfectly. Within minutes, Gryffindor is winning thirty to ten. The lion’s side of the stadium is screaming as James speeds down the field, heading towards the goal posts yet again. With a quick throw, he tosses the ball through the far left hoop, scoring the team another ten points. We all cheer loudly. He looks to our section and winks, blowing a kiss to his fans. From behind you hear a few sighs and giggles. You turn to see three girls in your year, two from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff, swooning over James’ flirtations. You slightly roll your eyes and huff fondly at James’ fan club. 

Your staring must not have been too discreet because a few moments later, you hear loud whispers from behind.

“And why is she wearing his sweatshirt?”

“They’re not dating are they?”

“They better not, James is mine.”

“Anyways, he could do so much better than her.”

“Yeah, she’s so ugly.”

Confused as to how they know you’re wearing James’ hoodie, you pull on the sleeve, shifting it so you can look at the back. In big, gold letters you see the word “Potter” printed across. 

You simply sigh before getting up and moving down next to Lily on the other end. 

Just as soon as you get settled, Lily turns and says to me, “Wait, turn around. Why are you wearing Potter’s sweatshirt?”

“Merlin, does everyone have a problem with it?” you ask loudly.

Dorcas, Peter, and Remus all look your way in slight surprise. 

“No, sorry. I was just wondering.” Lily answers softly.

Dorcas grabs my hand, “hey, are you okay?”

“Yeah m’fine. It’s just that those three girls,” you point to them, “are bitching about the fact that I’m wearing James’ jersey. Apparently, he’s their man, so how dare I.”

“Just ignore them,” Peter tells me. “They’re just jealous that-”

He suddenly stops, a slightly horrified look on his face.

“Jealous about what?” you implore.

“That they’re not as cool as you!” Remus interjects. 

Curious as to what Peter was going to say, but too tired to bother to ask more you simply scoff, “Right, thanks guys.”

“You know what, the cold be damned, since they’re giving you shit for wearing Potter’s hoodie, I’m gonna show mine off too.” Dorcas announces. She unzips her black jacket and sets it beside her. The bright red hoodie she has on is identical to the one I’m wearing except it says “McKinnon” in big gold letters across the back.

“Me too” Remus proudly declares, pulling off his sweater to reveal another bright red hoodie, with the word “Black” on it. 

“But since you are both dating Sirius and Marlene, won’t it make it seem more likely that I’m dating James?” you ask.

“Is that so bad?” Lily says to me.

You’re about to declare that yes, that is in fact bad, when it dawns on you, “N-no…  I guess not.”

You turn back to the game, slightly in a daze, unaware of the pointed looks shared amongst your friends.

*****

About an hour later, the game is uncomfortably close with the score being Gryffindor: one hundred and Slytherin: ninety. As you watch Marlene dart towards the hoops you hear shouts that the seekers have caught sight of the snitch. It’s a close race as flashes of green and red blur by. We cheer loudly, urging on our team. Within a minute the snitch is caught by Gryffindor. We erupt loudly, celebrating our victory. You watch as the teams land on the ground. More specifically, you watch as James jumps off his broom and runs towards his teammates. You watch the way his black hair shines against the bright sun, how his cheeks are rosy from the cold but also from the rush of winning, how even through his sweater, you can see the definition of his muscles as he lifts the seeker into the air. You begin to realize that maybe the reason you didn’t find it so bad that people thought you were James’ girlfriend was because… 

Merlin. You have feelings for James.

The world seems to go quiet for a moment, and there’s a sort of ringing in your ears, at the realization. 

“Hey! Are you coming?” Lily asks. 

You look up from your spot to see that Remus, Dorcas and Peter have disappeared down into the crowd surrounding the team and that Lily is near the edge of the bleachers, waiting to go join them. 

You shake your head, “Yeah, sorry.”

You get up and follow behind her, feeling a little queasy at the thought of seeing James up close. 

The crowd is wild as people scream congratulations at the team and hug their friends. In the middle you see James, Sirius and Marlene beaming as they eat up the attention. Marlene has her arm around Dorcas’ waist, unafraid to show off the girl she loves. Though Sirius is a loud person, he is a quiet lover and merely grips Remus’ hand beneath his sweatshirt while he talks to others. 

Lily grabs your hand and drags you towards the rest of your friends, “come on, you really are slow today.”

“W-wait Lily, no I,” but before you can resist, you’ve approached the rest of the group. Too afraid to face James first you turn and engulf Sirius in a hug, “nice work today Black! I just love to see Slytherin eat shit.”

Sirius gives you a huge grin, “what can I say, it’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

You then turn to Marlene and squeal, “Marls! You killed it out there. You and James were just so fast, I don’t know how you do it!”

“Natural talent” she brags. 

You laugh and begin to turn away when you bump right into someone’s chest. They grab your shoulders, “woah there, careful.”

You look up to see James towering above you.

“Hey, Potter” you say, your voice softening. 

“Hey, darling. Enjoy the game?” He asks, a small smile on his face.

His smile, it makes your heart melt. And the term of endearment, one he has always used, suddenly makes you flustered. You can feel the heat rushing to your cheeks. You look down at the turf to avoid his noticing and dig your shoe into the ground, “yeah, it was great! You guys did great!”

To your relief, the crowd starts to disperse and the team starts to walk towards the locker rooms. 

“Well, uh, see you in a bit. At the party sometime I suppose.” You tell him, before walking off towards the castle. 

“Yeah, see ya.” He says quietly.

You only make it a few steps before you hear him call your name. Your heart beats a little faster as you turn back towards him, “Is that my sweatshirt?” 

You cringe inwardly as you walk back towards him, “Oh, yeah, sorry. I should’ve asked. I was just cold and nothing in my closet looked appealing. I’ll go put it right back when I get back to the tower.”

“No, don’t. It looks good on you.” He answers. 

You feel butterflies in your stomach, “oh, okay. Thanks. And really, nice job today.”

You turn back around and run to catch up to your friends.

*****

When we get back to the castle you immediately go up to your room and collapse onto your bed. All of these new emotions leave you feeling confused, nervous, and exhausted. You decide that maybe you shouldn’t go to the party and should instead just sleep away your racing thoughts…. Suddenly, you feel two plops down next to you onto your bed. 

“What are you guys doing?” You mumble. 

“We’ll explain when Marlene gets back.” Dorcas responds. 

Not even a few minutes later, the door opens and Marlene comes in, throwing herself on the bed.

“Right, I’m here,” she says, out of breath.

“Did you run here?” Lily asks.

“Of course! We have very important business to attend to.” 

“We told you to be discreet!” Dorcas scolds.

“I just told James it was a fashion emergency!” Marlene protests. 

You lift your head up to look at your three roommates, “what are you lot talking about?” 

They share a look amongst each other and suddenly sit up very seriously. 

Lily pulls you up into a sitting position as well. 

“Shall I start?” Marlene questions. 

The two nod their heads, “Right. Well, congratulations, you have feelings for James Potter!”

Your heart drops, “What? No I don’t. What are you talking about?”

“Ah yes, denial,” Dorcas says smartly.

“We were expecting this,” Lily adds.

“I’m sorry, you were expecting this?” 

“Yes. It’s been very clear to all of us that you have feelings for James. We just didn’t know how long it would take you to realize. It seems today is the day.”

“B-but, how? I’ve never once thought about James as anything besides my friend until now.”

“She admits it!” Marlene cheers.

Dorcas glares at her slightly, “It’s okay, love. Sometimes we can’t see what’s right in front of us. That’s what happened to me with Marlene, remember?”

You think back to how the two used to interact before they were dating. They were always close and very touchy. You often caught Marlene looking longingly after Dorcas and remember Dorcas always being jealous of Marlene’s other girlfriends. 

“But you two were so obvious!” You proclaim.

“So are you and James,” Lily tells me kindly.

“Does that mean he knows?” You nearly shriek. 

Marlene takes your hand lovingly, “No, of course not. James is a lot of things, but observant is not one of them.”

You let out a sigh of relief. But then a wave of panic brushes over you, “What am I supposed to do? I can’t even act normal around him now that I know. I just feel all sweaty and nervous!”

“Just be yourself. He already likes you for you.” Dorcas says warmly. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“Honey, when have you ever known James Potter to be subtle about anything? He’s always trying to do everything to get your attention. You just aren’t always paying attention.” 

You huff and fall back onto your bed, “Merlin, I hate feelings. I wish things could just go back to the way things were.”

Lily grabs your arm and pulls you back up, “well, seeing as things can’t, let’s make the most of it.”

You give her a questioning look.

“The reason Marlene rushed back up here so fast is because we knew you would need all three of us helping you once you realized your feelings.”

“Yeah, no offense, you’re a bit hopeless when it comes to dating.” Marlene says bluntly. 

You smack her arm, “that’s not helpful.”

“Everything will be fine” Dorcas tells you, “now let’s get you dressed for the party. You have a certain Mr. Potter to impress.”

*****

An hour later, the four of you are dressed and ready to go. Your friends have put quite the ensemble together, dressing you in a red, cropped sweater with a pair of dark blue mom jeans that supposedly “make your ass look amazing” (according to Marlene) and gold jewelry. After you told them that James said you looked good in his sweatshirt, they decided that your outfit needed to remind him of it (hence the gold and red). Lily is wearing an adorable green sweater dress with brown boots and her hair is pulled back with a clip. Marlene has on black leather pants and a long sleeve, pink, sheer shirt with only her nipples covered. Dorcas is wearing a blue crop top with an open back, black jeans, and combat boots. 

“Guys, we look hot.” Lily announces. 

“Hell yeah we do,” Marlene agrees.

“I’m sure Mary will love it,” Dorcas teases. 

Lily blushes a bright scarlett, “you really think?”

“Absolutely. You look killer, babe.” You tell her. 

“You too, Mrs. Potter,” she says, winking. 

You roll your eyes at her before taking a deep breath and staring in the mirror one last time, “right, let’s get this over with.”

“Oh yes, let’s get through this terrible party.” Marlene jokes. 

We walk down into the common room where music is blaring and people are spread about talking, laughing, and dancing. As we weave through the crowd of people, Dorcas and Marlene are pulled into a conversation with a Ravenclaw friend from potions class. Lily soon leaves you too, after checking that you are okay, to go and flirt with Mary. 

Trying to calm your nerves, you grab a bottle of firewhiskey and plop yourself down onto one of the red couches pushed out of the way. 

“Did your fashion emergency get solved?”

You jump a mile at the voice coming from behind. You turn to see James leaning over the couch, smirking.

“The what?” You stutter out.

“Marlene said there was a fashion emergency? Was it solved?”

“Oh! Right. Uh, yeah. Lily had simply no idea what to wear to the party. And that’s very important, you see, because she’s trying to impress Mary.”

He leans closer to me, “I think it's working.”

The smell of his cologne wafts to your nose. You can barely breathe as you turn to look to where he’s pointing. 

Despite your anxiousness, you can’t help but smile proudly as you see Lily kissing Mary.

You cough awkwardly, “clothes can be a game changer.” 

He looks at you intensely, “yeah they can.”

You think about his sweatshirt from earlier. How he liked it, how it made you feel all safe and cozy, how it made you realize your feelings for him. 

“You know, speaking of clothes. I need to give you your sweatshirt back, now that I’m done wearing it.”

“I told you you could hang on to it,” he insists. 

“But you’ll want to have it for your future partner.” You say quietly.

“What?” He asks you.

You clear your throat, “oh uh, earlier, when I was wearing your sweatshirt, some girls thought I was your girlfriend, because I guess that’s a thing a boyfriend would do- let them wear his clothes. So, of course, you need to have it so you can give it to your actual partner… when you get one. You know, they seemed pretty interested in you, I’m sure I can point them out if you’re interested. They’re pretty too, so…”

You look up at James to see a pained look on his face. 

“Hey, are you okay?”

His voice sounds strained as he says, “yeah. I’ll just go take that sweatshirt off your hands then.”

A lump forms in your throat as you nod. 

It seems pretty clear to you that James doesn’t like you.

We walk through the crowd and up to your doom. The door shuts behind us and James stays near the doorway as you go to grab his hoodie from the edge of your bed where you put it, neatly folded. You turn to give it to him but his hands remain at his sides. 

“James, your hoodie?”

“Was it really that unbearable for you, for people to think that you’re my girlfriend, that you refuse to hang onto it?”

“James, what?”

“Look, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be saying this, but I just can’t help it. I want people to think you’re my girlfriend. Because, I like you. I do. And I’m sorry, I know this ruins things, and I know you don’t feel the same, but I can’t keep hiding it any longer.”

You drop the sweatshirt and walk towards James quickly. 

“You mean it?”

He nods.

Slowly, you reach your hand out and cup his cheek. You stroke your thumb across his jawline, studying every feature of his face from his hazel eyes, to the slight smile lines around his mouth, and the soft pink of his lips. 

“James, I feel the exact same way about you. It took me a bit longer to realize than you, but I do. I really care about you.”

“You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that” he tells me.

Suddenly, he turns you around and pushes you up against the stone wall, “can I kiss you?”

You nod before he catches your lips between his. He tastes like chapstick and mint gum and it’s simply perfect. 

You tangle your hands in his already tangled black hair as he grips his hands on your waist. 

Eventually, we pull away. 

“Maybe we should go back down to the party. People might be wondering where their star player is.” You tease.  

“I’ll only agree if you put that hoodie back on. I want to show you off.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, “fine, but turn around.”

He turns around while you change out of your sweater back into his sweatshirt. 

“Okay, you’re good to look now.”

He turns around with a huge grin on his face, “my don’t you just look ravishing, darling. I declare you shall never wear anything but my clothes ever again.”

You walk forward and pull him into a hug, “fine by me. I’ve never been more comfortable in my entire life.”

He goes to pull you in for another kiss but you stop him, “later,” you whisper in his ear, winking. 

You giddily turn around and quickly escape the room. He chases after you.

Before we enter the common room, you grab his hand tightly. He squeezes it back. As we walk towards our friends, you feel some people staring at the two of you. When we approach Remus, Sirius, Peter, Lily, Dorcas, and Marlene they are beaming like idiots. 

“Soooooo…. You two, huh?” Sirius smirks suggestively. 

James shoves him slightly, yet still has a goofy grin on his face, “piss off.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to watch them pine over each other anymore” Peter says, relieved. 

“No, but now we have to watch them be all lovey dovey,” complains Lily. 

“As if we didn’t just see you getting it on with Mary,” you retort. 

“Touché.” 

“Wait, so are you two… official?” Dorcas enquires.

We look at each other. “I guess we didn’t officially establish that.” You answer. 

“Hold on,” James says to you, letting go of your hand. 

He jumps up onto the table, “excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention.”

The room quiets as they all turn to look at him. 

“Oh no,” you sigh. 

“I have a question to ask a very special someone and I want you all here to witness it!” He turns to you with a huge smile on his face, “darling, sweetheart, apple of my eye, will you go out with me?” 

You feel the eyes of dozens of people on you. You even feel the glare of many girls you know would kill to be you right now. Yet even then, nothing can bother you. Because when looking at James, you see nothing else. 

“Yes! I’ll go out with you James!” You respond, giggling. He jumps off the table and pulls you in for a kiss. The room cheers loudly. 

Safe to say we were the talk of the school for a week. 

[withwritersblock]

Happier Than Ever

~Happier Than Ever by Billi Eilish~

Author's Note: requested! toxic af. it's kinda paced a bit weird, I apologize Summary: Y/N breaks up with Jack after a toxic relationship Warnings: toxic relationship! "harsh" language Word Count: 2,492 Jack Hughes x fm!reader

Her head was in her hands as she let out another sob, her vision was starting to grow blurry from the amount of tears falling from her eyes. Jack was standing across the living room, his eyes dry. 

She lifted her gaze, looking towards him. He dropped his gaze towards the floor, as he crossed his arms over his chest. He didn’t know what to say. He had zero idea on how to make her feel better or make the situation better. He was the reason she was sobbing. He was the reason she felt so broken.

She wiped the tears on her eyes as she stood up and began to walk towards the front door of the apartment. “Y/N, come on-” he let out. She simply raised her hand up as she continued walking towards the door. “So this is it? You’re just going to leave, like that?” he spat. 

She spun around, her back leaning against the front door. “I’m so done, just leave me alone, Jack,” she let out, sobbing as she walked out of the apartment. Jack watched her leave as he clenched his jaw tightly. He rolled his eyes as he walked towards his bedroom. Luke peeked his head out of his bedroom, looking towards Jack. Jack simply flipped him off as he walked into his room.

~One Month Ago~

He reached out to her, slid into her DMs on Instagram begging for her to go out with him. She was an influencer with millions of followers on TikTok and Instagram. She lived in New Jersey despite probably having more success in LA. Jack swore he never saw anyone more beautiful than Y/N. She was gorgeous and funny and seemingly the perfect girl for him.

It only took one DM and several dates later, they were together. Social media found out quite fast as people saw them in public together. So, she decided to feed into it. Jack also agreed, it gave him more recognition and he was all for it. 

She was laying in her bed, his head was on her chest as he slowly ran his hands up and down her sides. She was editing a TikTok on her phone. It was an aesthetic looking video of her going to Jack’s game. He was featured in the video a few times, surely it would get the attention of his fans. 

He pressed his lips to her exposed collarbone for a few seconds before he hovered over her frame. She turned her phone off, dropping it beside her head as she met his gaze, a small grin began to form on his lips as he scanned her features. “Hi gorgeous,” he whispered before he leaned towards her, kissing her delicately. She reached her hands up and took a hold of his cheeks as he continued to kiss her softly.

“You’re coming with me to that dinner I have tonight, right?” she asked as she slowly pulled away from his lips. He simply hummed before he began to kiss down her jawline, down her neck. “I want to leave by five, it’s across town and I don’t want to be late,” he simply hummed again as he continued trailing his lips down her skin.

~~

It was ten minutes before five and Jack was nowhere to be found. He went back to his apartment to get nicer clothes for the dinner event. She called him and it went straight to voicemail. She was sitting on her couch, simply scrolling through TikTok as her heart rate continued to elevate as she was waiting. 

This was important, it was meetings with her managers about the next steps on her journey. She was meeting important people that could guide her career into a better space. She wanted to have Jack’s support, not because he was a famous hockey player, but as her boyfriend. 

She opened their messages, creating a short message asking if he was on his way yet. She hit send and waited to see any gray text message bubbles pop up, but there was nothing. She tilted her head back against the couch as she felt her eyes fill with tears. Her lips quivered as she watched each minute tick by. 

It was ten minutes after five and she couldn’t wait any longer. She ordered herself an Uber. She began walking out of her apartment as she called Jack again. It rang and rang, she felt her eyes continue to tear up as she was walking down the hall towards the elevator. 

The call went to voicemail again, “It’s Jack, sorry I couldn’t answer the phone, I’ll give you a call when I can!” his voicemail rang out. His voice was loud and excitable. She sighed as she heard the beep.

“H-hey, I couldn’t wait anymore. I’m heading to the restaurant. Please call me,” she let out sadly as she hung up the phone. She dropped her phone into her purse as she stepped into the elevator, pressing her lips together as she clenched and unclenched her fists. 

She thought about reaching out to Luke, but she knew Jack would get mad if she did. She stepped out of the elevator, feeling her feet feel a bit heavy as she walked into the lobby of her apartment, half expecting to see Jack waiting for her. He was nowhere in sight. Nodding slightly she pulled her phone out from her purse, seeing no message from Jack. 

It was 5:15 now and nothing. The Uber was waiting and she sat down inside the backseat and remained quiet. The driver was polite and remained quiet after he realized Y/N wasn’t entirely excited to engage in a conversation. 

It was 5:40 now and she was only ten minutes away from the restaurant when Jack began calling her. She answered on the fifth ring as she brought it to her ear, but didn’t say anything. 

“Hey! So I’ll be there in like ten minutes,” he explained, excitedly. 

“What are you talking about?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

“You said be at your place at six? I’m getting in my car now-”

“No, Jack, I said five. I called and texted and you-”

“No, honey, I remember you said six,” he said passive aggressively. She clenched her jaw as she tilted her head back.

“I said five, Jack. It’s too late, just stay home,” she countered. 

“Don’t get mad at me because you said the wrong time, how is that my fault?” His voice was harsh.

“I didn’t-”

“You said six, I got ready by six, how is that my fault? It’s not. So where is the restaurant? I'll try and meet you there as soon as I can,” he said while huffing. 

Her lips began to quiver as she shook her head, “Stay home, Jack. I don’t want you there anymore,” she said sadly as she hung up the phone. She met the gaze of the Uber driver through the rear view mirror for only a second before she shifted her gaze out of the window towards the busy streets. He called her back instantly but she didn’t answer. 

The driver pulled up towards the fancy restaurant and put the car in park. “Thank you,” she mumbled as she climbed out of the car adjusting the tight black dress on her frame. She walked into the restaurant to see her manager waiting for her. 

“Hey! Where’s Jack?” Jasper said instantly. She chuckled dryly. “Sorry, you look great. I was just hoping he would be here, they’re big Devils fans,”

“Of course they are, no he’s not coming,” she said simply as the pair began walking towards the other end of the restaurant towards the gentlemen she was supposed to be meeting. 

It was 6:32 and Jack walked through the door. She lifted her gaze, seeing him walk through the restaurant confidently. He had a cocky grin on his lips as he made his way towards their table. Jasper smiled widely as he saw Jack walking towards them. 

“Thought you said he couldn’t come,” Jasper said excitedly, standing up from the table. Y/N clenched her jaw, her eyes filling with tears as she saw him.  She blinked them away as she stood up from her chair to meet him. He happily planted a kiss on her cheek. “Fellas, this is Y/N’s boyfriend, Jack Hughes,” Jasper said.

“Oh wow, didn’t realize she was involved with the Devils superstar,” one of the older gentlemen said. Jack smiled widely as Jasper pulled a chair towards the table for him. Jack sat down beside Y/N. He rested his hand onto Y/N’s leg, rubbing his hand softly against her skin. 

She kept her gaze towards her half eaten salad as she continued to tense up with his hand touching her frame. “So you and your brother seem to be turning the team around. This is exciting,"another one of the gentlemen said. 

The rest of the two hour dinner was no longer about Y/N. It was about Jack. Every question and every topic was about Jack and how the Devils season was going to go. 

“It was great getting to know you, Jack, and um-sorry what was your name again, Doll?” one of the gentlemen said. Y/N’s eyes widened as she raised her eyebrows. She licked her lips nervously.

“Y/N,” she said through gritted teeth, “I’m going to go wait for the Uber,” she whispered towards Jack.

“I’ll just drive you home,” Jack said back. She shook her head as she walked towards the exit of the restaurant, ignoring the rest of the people at the dinner. She was texting Jasper to not take any offer they had towards her. 

It was clearly not about her, the whole dinner was not about her. Jasper specifically asked if Jack could come as Jack Hughes and not Jack, Y/N’s boyfriend.

She was angry. She waited outside of the restaurant, her arms crossed over her chest. She began crying, she didn’t know when but the tears were falling down her cheeks. He walked out, a cocky wide smile on his lips. His smile faltered slightly as he saw the tears on her cheeks.

“That went well, why are you crying?” he asked, trying to be supportive, it fell short. She rolled her eyes as she kept quiet. “What?” he asked harsher.

“I told you to stay home!” she let out.

“You wanted me there, I found a way to get here, why is that so awful?”

She huffed. “I wanted my boyfriend there! Not Jack Hughes, Devils superstar!” she let out. He laughed dryly.

“Well I’m sorry that they were bigger fans of me than you!” 

Her mouth fell open as she let out a forced out chuckle, “If you showed up with me then things would’ve gone different! You had to make an entrance! You had to make it about you! It’s never about me! It’s always about you!” she let out angrily. “I needed you to be just Jack! I don’t need you to be the NHL star you all of the time. I needed you to be there for me, for fucking once!” she shouted as she saw her Uber pull up beside them. 

She walked towards the back door, pulling it open. 

“She’s good, I’m taking her home,” Jack shouted into the car, trying to slam the door. She took a hold of it and climbed into the backseat, locking the door instantly. 

“Please just drive,” she mumbled towards the Uber driver. He nodded as they drove away, leaving Jack standing alone outside of the restaurant. 

~Present Day~

She sat in her car, in the parking garage staring towards her best friend Joey’s contact. She hasn’t spoken to him in a few weeks because Jack had convinced her that she didn’t need Joey. It wasn’t all at once but she slowly stopped talking with Joey, her childhood best friend. She hit the call button and it only took two rings before he answered.

“Hey sweetie,” he said, simply excited to see Y/N calling. 

“Can I come over?” she asked, a sob leaving her throat as she spoke. 

“Oh my god, of course, I’ll make you a coffee,” Joey expressed as he sounded like he practically jumped into the air. “Do I need to book a rage room?” he asked, half joking but half seriously.

“I’ll let you know when I get there,” she said, a sob and a chuckle leaving her throat.

The drive to Joey’s apartment only took five minutes as she pulled into the parking garage. She entered the lobby to see Joey and his boyfriend Derek waiting for her in the lobby. Her lips began to quiver as she walked towards the pair and hugged them instantly. They squeezed her tightly to them for as long as she needed. 

“I knew that pretty boy was too good to be true,” Joey mumbled as the three of them walked towards the elevator. The three of them waited inside, Joey was holding onto Y/N tightly as they reached the sixth floor. 

They entered the apartment and Derek quickly walked towards the kitchen to take a hold of the freshly brewed latte. He handed it to Y/N. She gladly took a sip, her entire frame relaxing at the taste and the feeling of her best friends beside her.

“I should’ve left him last month, that was my last fucking straw but I stayed,” she let out while shaking her head, she sat on the couch, pulling the mug towards her lips.

“The dinner thing? Oh yeah that was a rough one,” Joey mumbled as he sat down beside her, squeezing her to his side. “Why’d you break it off this time?” he asked softly. Derek sat on the coffee table in front of her. 

She took a deep breath, “He accused me of being with him to get more views and followers. It’s like my comment sections are entirely full of comments asking if I’m doing okay, or if I’m happy because he makes me so fucking sad that my followers are starting to ask. So if I really was with him for the views and money and followers would I seriously be that sad?” she explained.

She shook her head, “I loved him, I wanted to be happy with him but I couldn’t. I tried and stayed as long as I could,” she mumbled another sob leaving her throat. “It doesn’t make sense,” she said suddenly.

“Oh, Y/N, it makes so much sense. He was barely in your videos, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Let’s have a weekend of drinking and crying and smashing things, okay?” Derek offered. Y/N laughed, a real laugh. 

“It’s always the pretty ones that turn out to be assholes, huh?” Joey mumbled as he pulled Y/N tighter to his chest.

[azzibuckets]

For the Love of the Game [Pazzi | Part 9/10]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

summary: reconciliation isn’t as easy as it seems

word count: 1.9k

masterlist w/ all parts

1 WEEK LATER

When Paige woke up, her first thought was Azzi. Not about the fight, or the fact that they haven’t spoken to each other since.

Instead, the first image that popped into her mind was when they’d first touched intimately, when their dynamic had become for themselves instead of for the public. Paige had been complaining about something stupid, rambling on and on, missing how Azzi was fondly looking at her. She’d flopped down on the couch in exasperation, aiming for her head to hit the pillow next to Azzi’s leg, but had ended up falling on her lap. Paige had laughed and gotten up to move, but Azzi had stopped her, had gently held her chin in her hand. They’d looked at each other, and Azzi had gently, hesitantly, snaked her hand in Paige’s hair, lightly running her fingers through her soft strands. They stared wordlessly at each other, Azzi’s eyes holding a silent question of Is this okay? In response, Paige had nestled her chin into Azzi’s shirt and her eyes had fluttered close. And that was Paige and Azzi started to feel like Paige and Azzi.

Paige relived the memory in her head, and she swore that she could almost feel the sensation of Azzi’s soothing touch grazing her hair. But when she opened her eyes, Azzi wasn’t there, and her heart broke into a million pieces yet again.

Paige didn’t know why she’d let her hopes up. Despite having told Azzi herself not to bother coming to her surgery, some small part of her had hoped and prayed that Azzi had actually loved her, loved her enough to disregard her words and come running as soon as Paige woke up. That she’d be here, with a bouquet of silly little flowers with her silly little stuffed animals, begging for forgiveness and asking Paige to be her girlfriend, for real this time.

But she wasn’t, and Paige bitterly thought about how ironic it was that she’d just gotten surgery but still felt so broken.

“Oh good, you’re awake!” Seemingly out of nowhere, a very excited KK came sprinting in through the door.

Paige pressed her hand to her head. “What? What are you doing here?”

“To visit you, duh,” KK beamed.

“You do know I just woke up?”

“And we just got here! Perfect timing. The rest of the team is on their way, but I got way too excited so I ran up the stairs.” Paige took a hard look at KK, just now observing how hard the girl was panting and the light sheen of sweat gleaming on her skin. Despite the ache in her heart, she couldn’t help but laugh at how sweet KK was.

“You didn’t have to run all the way here,” Paige sat up, pulling the younger girl in for a hug. “I’m not going anywhere, if you couldn’t already tell.”

The rest of the girls came filing in, all holding get well cards and bright pink balloons. Paige looked among the faces, trying not to make it obvious that she was searching for a specific one, but the disappointment from not seeing the one person she wanted most must’ve shown clear on her face, because Nika nudged her and said, “Relax, lover girl. She said she’s running a bit late, but she’s coming.”

At that, Paige’s heart rate increased by ten fold. Her mind raced - what would Azzi say? What would she say? There was no way the other girls wouldn’t be able to pick up on the tension between them. But before she could figure something out, Azzi came walking in the door, chatting and laughing with Geno.

“Paige!” Geno walked over to her, thumping her on the shoulder. “How’s your leg feeling?”

“It’s alright. I just woke up, so I’m still feeling the painkillers,” Paige responded. She was looking at Geno, but every cell in her body buzzed as she felt Azzi’s eyes burning into the side of her face.

“Hey, P, we heard the hospital gowns are kinda uncomfy, so we brought you a change of clothes.” Aaliyah raised up a duffel bag.

Paige sent them an appreciative smile. Her gown had been getting kind of itchy. “You guys are two sweet. Can one of you come help me change?” She said without thinking, starting to get off the bed. When the room fell silent, her heart sunk when she looked up and saw everyone staring at Azzi. She kicked herself. Of course everyone would expect Azzi to help her; after all, they were technically still “dating.” She should’ve just waited to change until they’d all left.

Azzi, who’d been purposefully looking at everything and everyone except Paige, startled. “Oh yeah,” she muttered. She rushed over to Paige, grabbing her elbow.

Once inside the bathroom, the tension between them was palpable, pricking them like a knife. They stared at each other for a moment, before Paige gestured to the duffel bag. “I should probably…”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right,” Azzi stammered, turning around to give Paige some privacy. She heard shuffling as Paige changed, until there was a pause.

“I need help with my pants.”

Azzi exhaled shakily. During her past few weeks of visiting Paige almost every day they’d made out and cuddled, but they’d never gone further. She’d imagined seeing Paige naked before, and something in her throbbed at the idea, but this was not the way she wanted it to happen. Sitting in a stark hospital bathroom that smelled like bleach, with Paige staring daggers into her.

She turned around, and the blonde was sitting on the chair, in a sports bra and in her underwear. Seriously? She couldn’t have put on a shirt? Azzi thought. But when Paige leaned forward and her abs flexed, she realized she didn’t mind that much after all.

Azzi bent down, grabbing the sweatpants and slowly sliding them over Paige’s feet, up her calves. She tried to ignore how good Paige looked, sitting there, her legs all long and tan and slightly spread apart. Azzi made sure to be extra gentle around the bandaged part of Paige’s left knee. But when her hand brushed Paige’s thigh, momentarily feeling the smooth muscle, the blonde let out a little breath, and Azzi looked up. Paige’s eyes were hooded, and her tongue slowly ran over her bottom lip. Azzi flushed.

“Up.” Paige lifted herself at Azzi’s command, and the younger girl brought the sweatpants up over Paige’s hips. She immediately went to tie the drawstrings, despite knowing that Paige’s hands worked perfectly fine.

“Paige.” The blonde stiffened at hearing her name come out of Azzi’s mouth, but Azzi continued working on the drawstrings without looking up.

“Can we talk?”

“Our whole team is outside, waiting for us. I don’t think now’s a good time,” Paige replied bluntly, but her tone implied that there would never be a good time.

“Last week, you misunderstood me-”

“Azzi.” Paige’s voice was sharp, and she inwardly winced at how harsh she sounded. “I said I don’t wanna talk about it.” She pushed Azzi’s hands away from her pants and undid the knot the younger girl had just tied. “It’s too tight.”

Azzi’s hands retreated to her side. She bit her lip. “I know you’re hurting, but-,”

“I just got out of my ACL surgery and you won’t stop fucking nagging me,” Paige sniped. “Besides, you don’t have to come here and pretend like you care about me.” She looked away. “I know Geno made all of you come.”

“I’m not pretending.” Paige could almost cry at how soft Azzi’s voice came out. “I do care about you.”

Paige tried to move past Azzi to the door, but Azzi shifted. The blonde huffed, anger clawing at her throat. “Please just move, Fudd.”

“No.” Azzi crossed her arms. “You wanna hear the truth, Paige?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “You’re trapping me in here, so I don’t really have a choice.”

Ignoring her comment, Azzi forged on. “It’s so unfair for you to say that I don’t care about you. I took your stupid grocery lists and went to Target almost every goddamn day just so I could come by your apartment and see you again. I made you cookies and hot chocolate on days you were struggling especially hard. I took notes on my phone during practice so I could give you as detailed updates about the team as possible, because I knew you felt left out and that was the closest thing that you would get to feeling normal again. I did all of that for you, and you have the audacity to assume that this was all for show?” With every word she’d said, Azzi had stepped closer to Paige, until their chests touched and they’d stood, eye to eye, snarls on both of their faces.

“You said you were straight.” Paige jabbed a finger in her chest. “You. Said. You. Were. Straight.” Azzi finally took a hesitant step back, but Paige followed. “Do you know how confusing it is for me for you to say we’re fake dating, and for you to say you’re straight, but for you to come in my apartment every day and kiss me until my head spun?”

“You’re acting like you didn’t kiss me back. You’re acting like you didn’t kiss me first half the time!” Azzi accused.

“That doesn’t fucking matter!” Paige whisper yelled, hoping the team wouldn’t be able to hear their conversation from outside. The pain inside her head was piercing now, and she felt like her skull was splitting. “Are you straight or are you not? Because right now it feels like you’re leading me on, and you coming in here and telling me that you care about me isn’t helping me try and get my hopes down.”

Azzi’s arms fell to her side in defeat. “I don’t know, Paige. It’s as confusing for me as it is for you. I’ve been trying to figure myself out lately, but it’s not as easy as you’re making it sound like.”

Paige’s eyebrows shot up. “Okay, so you’re fighting with me to try and make me see that you care about me. But you don’t even know if you actually like me?”

“No!” Azzi stuttered, trying to find the right words to say. “I do like being around you, Paige. You’re funny and you’re sweet and even though I try not to, I think about you all the time. But you have to understand that my whole life I’ve thought I’ve been into men, and suddenly you come along. We weren��t even supposed to actually start liking each other, for god’s sake. We were supposed to stay enemies.”

But Paige was too hurt. All she could understand was that Azzi couldn’t say that she wanted her in the same way she wanted Azzi, and if her heart ached before, it was shattered now. “I’m not your play toy for figuring out your sexuality,” she said, her voice broken. “I don’t get it. It’s simple. You want to actually date me, or you don’t. Why can’t you just listen to what your feelings are telling you?”

“I’m not like you, Paige.” Azzi’s eyes flared, fire burning in her pupils. “I can’t just disregard everything else and focus on my emotions. I’m logical. I’m a thinker.”

“Okay, wow.” Paige’s eyes flashed with hurt. “So now I’m emotional and immature.”

Azzi closed her eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“You know what?” Paige quickly wiped her eyes, praying that they would stay dry. “I think we were better off before. When we never agreed to this stupid thing.”

“Paige, what are you saying?” Azzi’s bottom lip trembled, and it took everything in Paige not to take back everything she said and just reach over and hold her.

“Once Leo’s assignment is done, it’s over. And in the meantime, everything we do is only in public. So you won’t be needing my keys any more.” Every word Paige said hurtled through her mind, piercing her chest and violently digging into her heart, calling her a traitor, because god, she didn’t mean any of it. It felt like a hazy blur, Azzi reaching into her pocket and dropping a single key into Paige’s open palm. Paige wrapped her fingers around the cold metal, wishing things wouldn’t have to be so complicated. That Azzi could just see what they had and give all of herself to Paige like Paige was willing to do for Azzi.

Paige stuffed the key into her pocket and sidestepped Azzi. In her eagerness to leave the increasingly claustrophobic bathroom, she stumbled, forgetting that she couldn’t put weight on her left leg. Azzi reached for her but Paige recoiled. “I don’t need your help,” she snapped. “Not now, not ever.”

The injured look in Azzi’s eyes after would haunt her dreams for weeks.

[pillow-ghost-nan]

VERY LONG wolfstar fic rec list PART 2

PART 1

PART 3

Again, since I almost exclusively read smut, most of these are M or E lol

Please let me know if any link needs fixing or if there are any mistakes

Multi-chapter:

Carry Me Away by greyeyedmonster18

Rating: M, 105k words “You know I need you, and that's for sure, you’re just the kind of crazy I’ve been looking for.” Sirius had devised the perfect plan. Two weeks in London before he started University. Two weeks of bars and football games and time spent out from under his parents gaze. Two weeks without rules or expectations. He concocted the perfect ruse to fool everyone about his whereabouts. And then he met Remus. And suddenly two weeks couldn't have ever been enough time. (non-magic, AU; Sirius is a sheltered posh boy on his first rebellion, Remus is an attractive stranger who make's him re-think all his plans).

Sacrifice by abyss_valkyrie (Technomancer28), muse_in_absentia

Rating: E, 48k words In a world where Demons are the top of the food chain, the Shadow Demons are in charge of it all. Sirius, the heir apparent, would really like to shake that up, with a little help from his friends, of course.

For the Love of Ducks by viwrites

Rating: E, 74k words Remus Lupin is freshly twenty years old and sitting on a park bench in central London, he has a squashed pastry bag next to him and a cup of tea clutched between perpetually cold fingers. He moved to London eight months ago in search of a new doctor after having grown up on a little farm in Wales, and he hasn’t taken well to city life. He's taken to this park mostly because the trees are dense, the people are sparse, and there are birds. Nice ones that sing and hop from bench to bench scavenging for dropped bits of food or else pulling worms from the earth. Today he’s watching a pair of ducks glide easily across the pond. He thinks they must have a nest nearby, and in a few weeks there will be ducklings. Or... Remus Lupin has always been sick, and he'd just like to feel normal for once. Sirius Black seems like the perfect man with a perfect, exciting life.

'tis the damn season by moonymoment

Rating: T, 72k words “Where are you going?” Remus turns. Sirius looks delightful; wine-flush and December drizzle painting his pale, pretty face the deepest carmine red. His spindly hands are twiddling at his front, as if he doesn’t know quite what to do with them. He sniffs, and exhales corporeal ice that sends a shiver running down Remus’ spine. He’s not sure if it’s from the cold or the alcohol or… something else. and it always leads to you, and my hometown

ten reasons (to go to michigan) by greyeyedmonster18

Rating: M, 59k words Best-selling novelist Remus Lupin, distraught and torn after his relationship of 10 years ends in nothing but doubt and litigation leaves the bustle of New York City, and retreats to the Upper Peninsula of Michigan in hopes of reconnecting to his childhood and getting his writing spark back. Sirius Black is a local ceramicist and single parent with a backstory all his own, who happens to frequent the coffee shop Remus grew up studying in. Remus for the first time in his life didn't have a plan when he booked a one way plane ticket--except for maybe the plan to never fall in love again. Except... A story of simple pleasures, love, and home. (Modern, Adult Wolfstar AU; set in the states)

Notting Hill by WrappedUp

Rating: M, 23k words Of course, Remus has seen his films and has always thought he's... well, fabulous. But a million miles away from the world he lives in; here, in Notting Hill.

Enigma Variations by Coriaria

Rating: Not rated (officially but actually E), 68k words When Sirius Black is unmasked as a spy, it seems that nearly everyone in Bletchley Park knew all along that something wasn't right about him. But Lily Evans thinks otherwise. She knows that if Black really was a spy, he'd have done it properly, and would have never been caught. Remus Lupin doesn't believe Sirius is a spy either. According to the landlady, she found the stolen ciphers in his room between the pages of a magazine filled with photos of half-naked women. And Remus knows that such a magazine would hold no interest for Sirius. It's not much to go on, but both Remus and Lily are determined to get to the truth. A man's life depends upon it.

Blind and Deaf by Cocomouse

Rating: E, 18k words Remus doesn't do blind dates. They must be the worst possible social situation humankind has ever invented: two strangers some people have decided that maybe they should get in a committed relationship. You have two hours. So no, he wouldn't touch that with a ten yard stick, not if he can help it. But he knows better than to try and argue with Lily, so, here he is.

Text Talk by merlywhirls

Rating: T, 141k words Sirius is in boarding school, Remus is in hospital, and they don't know each other until Sirius texts the wrong number.

Seventeen Hours by eyra

Rating: E, 16k words They had a year in Berlin, and then Orion ordered Sirius back to England to help set up a new department under the firm's South American division. Sirius had been thrilled when Remus turned up in London three weeks later, shrugging and telling him that he'd tired of Berlin, and something in the grey capital had sparked back to life when Sirius returned from reunion drinks at the pub with James and Peter to find Remus - key acquired from Sirius's secretary, he later uncovered - naked on the bed in Sirius's room, head cushioned on folded arms on the silk sheets, knees tucked under and waiting. Sirius and Remus have an arrangement, of sorts. But they’re definitely not together.

Meet Me In The Exosphere by EuripidesTrousers

Rating: E, 108k words “Black, status”, the controller calmly requested. He gritted his teeth and panted as evenly as he could, sounding like he’d just run a marathon, “Maintaining descent… four three zero.” “Copy.” He levelled out just above the 10,000 foot deck and veered right, craning his neck over his shoulder to see Remus’ plane not far behind. Remus’ voice crackled through the comms, deep and smooth, and he had the audacity to sound amused. “Alright, Black? Sound a bit out of breath.” Sirius’ stomach somersaulted. “S’cakewalk, Lupin.” “Good”, Remus rumbled, dropping an octave, “Warm up’s over.” The year is 1996 and Sirius Black is adrift, bouncing numbly between deployments to aircraft carriers with his best friend James Potter, existing purely for the thrill of flying. The year is 1996 and Remus Lupin is desperately holding his aviator career together with all the determination and stubbornness of someone told "You don't belong", in a place that he carved out for himself with his own two hands. When they meet, it's dislike at first sight. Somehow, it ends up being a love story.

Practical Oddities by lurikko

Rating: M, 48k words Regulus needs a place to stay, Remus needs to get over Sirius. It’s August 1979 and things are getting out of hands.

Pas de Deux in the Upper West Side by wilteddaisy (taotu)

Rating: E, 31k words Remus Lupin is a principal dancer with the New York City Ballet. A lead role comes up for grabs in the company's newest ballet and Remus is determined to have it. But only when Sirius Black — oozing talent, charisma and all the elements of a world-class distraction — joins the company does it hang in the balance.

Disarm You With a Smile by five_ht

Rating: E, 45k words Me: hi mr lupin 😊 Mr. Lupin: Hello Mr. Lupin: Are you going to tell me who you are today? Me: i have another hint for you Me: i don't have a dad, but i could sure use a daddy ❤️ Mr. Lupin: And you figure I'm the man for that job? Me: 😜 Me: you tell me

Wilder than Mountain Thyme by TracingPatterns

Rating: E, 110k words Remus Lupin is a disillusioned werewolf who has mostly turned his back on the Wizarding society, content to work his mundane muggle job. That is until his best friend convinces him to join an exclusive study on the Wolfsbane potion at the well-renowned centre outside of Edinburgh. Sirius Black is wizarding royalty, or at least he was until he walked away from his pureblood family to follow his own path in life. After travelling the world and pursuing a career in Magizoology he now finds himself working at one of the highest-ranked centres for magical creatures in the Wizarding world. Their first meeting makes sparks of disdain crackle between them and it seems unlikely that anything, not even the old magic of Edinburgh, will be enough to bridge over the reality of who they are and where they come from.

Beneath a Big Blue Sky by eyra

Rating: E, 68k words The four-by-four heaves its way down long, twisting lanes, little more than dirt tracks scuffed into the surrounding fields and hemmed in by serpentine walls of flat, grey stone. They truly are in the middle of nowhere: the countryside rushes past, all rolling green hills and vast, endless skies, and it's odious. Sirius wants to murder James with his bare hands. Sirius and James accidentally find themselves on a Yorkshire farm during lambing season. The farmer’s son thinks that’s a bit annoying, actually.

To All a Good Night by MsAlexWP

Rating: E, 36k words Sirius Black was supposed to spend Christmas in a luxury Airbnb in Vermont with his best friends. Instead, there's a record-breaking snowstorm, a tiny cabin with no electricity, a viral video, a mysterious last-minute breakup, and sharing a bed with Remus Lupin.

Blends by rvltn909

Rating: M, 192k words Words got in the way sometimes, but Remus got the sense Sirius knew what he was trying to say. - Another coffee shop au.

Heatwave by Krethes

Rating: E, 9k words "Remus strips the soaked shirt from his back, shimmies out of the snitch-emblemed boxers, and pads out into the humid hallway. Despite the temperature outside, it still shouldn’t be so hot in here -- they were wizards, weren't they, and they’d only put about a thousand-and-one bloody cooling charms on this place when they moved in. He pauses at the top of the stairs and sighs -- that had been some thirty-five years ago now, he realizes with a pang of misery that comes when one remembers just how old they are. Grumbling to himself about aging people and aging spells and the absolute unfairness of it all, Remus fetches his wand from the dresser before walking through the entire house. He performs detecting charms in every corner of the house, each room revealing that yes, indeed, there were once cooling charms here, but that they are no longer active. Well, fuck." OR: Another installment of DILF/Mid-Fifties Wolfstar getting their happy ending! Broken cooling charms, a bit of roleplay, and shower sex keep a man young.

call it fate, call it karma by veridity

Rating: E, 103k words Remus wants to be a journalist and Sirius wants revenge. They absolutely hate each other, but they have something in common; an appetite for justice. Or; a University AU in which enemies join forces to take down a corrupt and influential empire through the power of journalistic integrity and unresolved sexual tension.

The Art of Falling in Love by MessusMinnow

Rating: M, 68k words Sirius is a loose cannon who can’t seem to tame himself or actually let people in. Moony is his texting pen pal who he’s never met and is slowly falling for. Remus is slow to trust and scared to be open with anyone except for his mystery pen pal Padfoot.

Forever Live and Die by wolfpants

Rating: E, 84k words It's 1990, and Petunia and Dudley Dursley have been killed in a car crash. Remus Lupin is now Harry's reluctant ward. Thrown back into a world he has long since abandoned, he's forced to confront some painful truths of his past. Or, "what if the Dursleys died and Remus and Sirius reunited earlier"?

My Moony by Whoops_e

Rating: E, 43k words For all that the teasing in the Great Hall hurt him, two words float back to Remus’ memory making him ache. ‘My Moony.’ Remus stares pointedly back into his book. He knows he won’t be able to look at Sirius and not cave. “Remus, darling,” Sirius starts with a teasing melodrama, effectively punching Remus in the stomach. “You have got to start talking to me again.” Don’t look at him. “Because someone used a sticking charm on the Potters and they physically cannot be parted. Peter is snogging now, and all the girls hate me.” ‘You’re better company than being completely alone, I guess,’ is what Remus hears. It’s better this way. “And I miss you,” Sirius adds quietly. - In which Remus loves Sirius so much it hurts, and Sirius can’t figure out why Remus doesn’t want to be his friend anymore.

wading in waist-high water by colgatebluemintygel

Rating: E, 82k words Remus is a PhD student and hobbyist baker who finds himself adrift following his father’s death. On a whim, he enters the Great British Bake Off and is swept up in a flurry of curdled custard, shrunken souffle, and under-proved dough. Remus expects to be challenged and to embarrass himself on public television. What he doesn’t account for are the friendships he develops with the other contestants and the deep connection he forms with his teenage crush, Sirius Black: charming ex-boy band member and Bake Off presenter. or, Sirius groans, dropping his head back into his hands. “It’s the dough,” he mumbles into the skin of his palms. “It’s the kneading. It’s his hands. They’re obscene.” Lily laughs. “They are a bit, aren’t they?”

Fuck It, It’s Fine by R33sesPieces

Rating: E, 25k words Sirius and Remus are madly in love, until they’re not. But even then, they can’t seem to stay away from each other. They’re perfect together, if only everything would stop falling apart. Something that feels so good can’t be a bad idea, right?

tearing air from air by Anonymous

Rating: M, 18k words “Stop,” he spits viciously at the empty room, “fucking haunting me!” or, Sirius is stuck in the Veil and Remus is stuck on the other side. An exploration of grief, family, and loving people even when they want to kill you.

All the Good Things by lurikko

Rating: E, 44k words The summer of 1999: Remus loses his flat and Sirius asks him to stay in Grimmauld Place.

Drifting by Eniaos

Rating: E, 44k words The marauders have been slowly falling apart as they start to build their adult lives. Remus doesn't know if he should fight for his old friends or let them go. A weekend stuck in Edinburgh alone with Sirius changes everything.

Of Bookshelves and Baby Carriers by poppunkpadfoot (StormVandal)

Rating: T, 12k words The customer standing in front of him is quite possibly the most beautiful man Remus has ever seen. Like, he looks like a model or something. He has long, black hair, flattened by water, and just the slightest amount of scruff on his face, and… And a baby strapped to his chest. Okay.

You Can Teach An Old Dog New Tricks by orphan_account

Rating: E, 21 k words This was written for the R/S Kink 2013 challenge. The prompt was: remus / sirius sexy skype call while one is on a mission for the order [this is obviously a modern au] i dont care who gets naked but it’s gotta happen

Just what the doctor ordered by WrappedUp

Rating: E, 97k words This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog. Except, it's not really that. This is the story of how Sirius Black finds a dog and meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks. Except, that's not really it either. This is the story of how Sirius black finds a dog, meets a skilled veterinary surgeon with crinkly eyes and dimples in his cheeks, and grows the fuck up (at least a little bit).

The Fragile House of Black Series by Fantismal, Jormandugr

Rating: from G to E, 557k words Following the lives of Sirius and (to a lesser extent) Regulus Black as they navigate their family, Hogwarts, and the first wizarding war. Everything follows the story as you know it... until Kreacher decides the young Master Regulus is not going to die tomorrow. This series will get dark. It was also have moments of light. There will be character death and character birth and Remus/Sirius. There will be trust and betrayal and curses and torture and smut and love. But first, you need the childhood. I recommend to start this series with Power the Dark Lord Knows Not

Oneshots:

The Incomplete Recounting of Four Nonconsecutive Tuesdays in the Spring of 2002 by BrujaBanter

Rating: M, 11k words A Few Reasons Remus Suggested They Pursue Couple's Counseling: 1. Sirius was DEAD (no matter how many times he says he wasn't, which is a lot), so that's bloody complicated. 2. They're a "blended family" now and, well, that's also bloody complicated. 3. Sirius Black is an utter fucking mess. 4. They can't just have sex all the time. They can't. Well, maybe they....no, no. They really can't.

Then I Would Come and Find You by RuinsPlume

Rating: M, 3k words This is what saves them every time.

Indiana Lupin and the Search for the Conqueror by nerakrose

Rating: E, 67k words Remus Lupin is an undercover archaeologist for the British Museum and is sent to Greenland to investigate a Roman shipwreck. In Greenland he meets Sirius Black, makes a real discovery and soon enough the two of them are racing through the world in search of the remains of the Library of Alexandria with Remus’ arch-enemy right at their heels.

Gold and Silver Days by busaikko

Rating: E, 2k words Prior to Christmas at Grimmauld Place: Watching the light from the fire play over Remus' hair and face had been what had started the memories. He didn't have many good ones left, and he liked to savour them.

Almost an Accident by lurikko

Rating: E, 5k words A shared bed, a full moon, and a declaration of love, not necessarily in that order.

Frog and Toad Aren't Friends Anymore by swordfishtrombones

Rating: M, 10k words “Is this really all because I wouldn’t live with you?” Remus is still feeling a little fuzzy, but he’s beginning to get chilly and fed up, and he wants to be on common ground. “Some people just aren’t good flatmates. I wasn’t trying to say I liked Adrian and Mary better than you, or whatever you’re thinking.” Sirius runs a hand through his hair and squints at the streetlight, twisting his mouth like Remus is truly hopeless. “It hurt,” says Sirius, “my feelings.”

Sex and Dying in High Society by fluorescentgrey

Rating: M, 12k words London, 1980. It's not yesterday anymore, or: a retrospective as told through '77 punk.

Enjoy Your Worries, You May Never Have Them Again by Anonymous

Rating: E, 6k words “I still don’t trust you to begin a brew after you singed off James’ eyebrows when you forgot to start with water.” “That was one time and I was sixteen.” “That was last spring and you were barred from volatile substances for a month.” Remus mimics the pitch of Sirius’ toshy scoff with such virulent accuracy that Sirius almost drops to one knee and proposes. — Potions: love it or love to hate it, Sirius Black is a sap with an entire Christmas break to brush up on skills he needs to sharpen. If, along the way, he sweeps his favorite prefect ever further off his feet, he won’t complain about it.

Ways to be Gentle by Quietlemonhush

Rating: E, 4k words It wasn’t usually like this. It was usually a little rougher than this. Usually Sirius didn’t really consider it fucking until Remus bit him, until his arm was pulled behind his back. They’re rough together, pushing and snarling even in jest. Even when it was simple, when it was just sex, Remus knew Sirius liked to be held down, to be grounded beneath him, and Sirius knew Remus liked to see a lovemark on the column of his neck. And when it wasn’t simple, when it was more play than sex, then Sirius expected to be thrown against walls, desks, couches, to bounce off the mattress, to shake apart under the force of Remus around him. This was nothing like that. — Sirius has a bad day. Remus reminds him what softness feels like.

Born Under Punches by orestesfasting

Rating: M, 13k words The truth is that he’s kept this love on the back burner of his heart for so many years that he’s grown accustomed to the smell and can sometimes almost ignore it completely. He likes to think he’s made peace with the fact that he’ll never know what it tastes like.

Harmonicas, Hinky-punks, and Heather by mblematic

Rating: M, 24k words Sirius and Remus get stranded in Scotland on Order business, and decide to walk to Hogwarts. Featuring the Brontës, a harmonica, a shrinking tent, and some self-discovery.

two imperfect souls might touch perfection by soloorganaas

Rating: E, 13k words The war is over and Remus is busy running a school for abandoned wizarding youth with his friends. Or rather - they're busy. Remus is trying to figure out who he is after years of his youth were stolen... and how to finally find the words for what he feels for Sirius

tip of my tongue by trustingno1

Rating: E, 3k words "I want to lick you," Sirius announces, and Remus glances up from his parchment. "You do," he says, briskly, "Frequently. In fact, it’s nothing short of miraculous that I don't have worms." "Padfoot does not have worms," Sirius replies. That is an outrageous attack upon his person - his Animagus? - but he won't let the blatant slander sidetrack him - "Not as Padfoot," he persists. "As a sex thing. Sexy licking." Sirius wants to rim Remus. He just wishes he had the words to explain that.

in lieu of beaujolais by aeridi0nis

Rating: M, 19k words Somewhere, there is a very long, meticulously catalogued list of things that Sirius Black does not know. It spans several volumes, actually, page after page bound up in pristine leather, scrawled, dog-eared entries, including (but by no means limited to): what they’re doing here, with all this. How long this could possibly last. What he’ll do when it ends. What he does know, however, is this: he knows that Remus keeps his toothbrush with Sirius’, in the cup by the sink, and his jacket next to Sirius’, on the stand by the front door. He knows he feels odd. If he were to be honest instead of eighteen, perhaps he knows why. or: In which flat-sharing after graduation entails green-tiled bathrooms, cheap red wine and indolence. In which such novelties might be enough to distract a luckier man from his flatmate in the bedroom over. And in which Sirius Black is not a luckier man.

The Great Gay Pornstar Twitter Feud of 2020 by Vixeree

Rating: E, 9k words “So what I’m hearing is that you’ve got a date with your hot, clever, fellow porn-star twitter nemesis, of whom you once said ‘I’d rather die than let that pretentious knobcloud touch my dick’... is that about right?” “... Yes.”  Or; Remus Lupin forgets to turn the fucking camera on.

We Build Our Own Unfolding by imochan

Rating: M, 18k words A welcome overstayed, a funeral at the farmhouse, a diary, a welcome overstayed (again), and a long walk over the hills.

The Rivers of Your Palms by estas_absentis

Rating: E, 5k words 1979: Remus has been away for the Order, Sirius welcomes him home.

[admirationandromantics]

A Sweet Surprise

So, the same idea as the Josh one, just with Chris, and the situation changed. Anyway, as I've said before, I've got a lot of requests, and they take time, so be patient. This was so fun to write, I've noticed that the beginning of writing these things are usually the hardest part, but after the start, things start to flow again. We love that! So, please enjoy some Chris <3

Word count: 2,3k (Unedited)

🍋‍🟩 lol same scenario as before with lingerie, Trenchcoat and heels but for Chris 💋 -@b3rryb3t

I browse online, trying to find a decent top to match my new jeans. They are comfy, but also a bit jazzy and I absolutely adore them. The only problem? They require a “specific” type of top, one which is really not my style. At the same, I don’t doubt that they’ll look good on me. Especially in collaboration with the jeans. 

“Still looking?” Chris asks, standing in the doorway, one hand on the frame, and the other holding it open. I look up, sighing dramatically loud, making him smile comfortingly. I don’t know how long I've been looking, but the lack of a perfect top was starting to get to me. 

“Mhm, nothing found yet” I complain, sliding to the side, making room for him on the bed. He walks over, arm going around me as he sits down. His lips find their way to my forehead, leaving a small kiss as he looks over on the laptop. I breathe out, leaning into him while he uses two fingers to browse the store. 

“You know, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in one of these” he says, turning the screen back to me. I look over, seeing a small, black, skimpy bralette with lace in a floral pattern. I laugh, giving him a weak nudge while he keeps on smiling like a lovesick puppy. 

“Not in a million years, do you think I’ll go outside in that” 

“Well, it doesn’t necessarily need to be worn outside” he teases, nose digging though my hair, lips finding and kissing my neck. 

“Don’t you like ripping my clothes off anyways? What’s the point if it’s just gonna go on the floor after ten seconds?” 

“Four seconds” he sucks my neck gently, leaving wet and red spots all over. 

“Proving my point” 

“Hmm, I guess you’re right” 

I turn my head, meeting his lips in a passionate manner. He groans into it, and I let him lean over me, caging my body with his hands. I push the laptop away, turning it off, and leaving it on the foot of the bed. 

“Those seconds you talked about are turning out to be longer than expected” I tease, hand going behind his neck, feeling the tense muscles. 

“Then I better hurry up” he smiles, grabbing the hem of my shirt. 

***

I put on the outfit. A set of black, skimpy lingerie, a three piece. One intricate bra, not leaving a lot to the imagination, paired with thin panties and high stockings. Everything held together with the help of sexy suspenders going in every single direction, highlighting my sexual features. 

Last birthday, he gifted me a pair of black heels with red bottoms, a perfect match for the outfit. Oh, was he getting a treat tonight. The red on the shoes bother me a bit, not being blended out with the rest of the outfit. I look in the mirror, deciding to put on red lipstick, pulling it all together. On top of it all, I put on a black trenchcoat, hiding the most obvious parts of the outfit. Luckily, it’s long, and my stockings don’t look out of the ordinary when just the lower part is showing. 

The bathroom is perfect for getting ready, not that I couldn’t have used the room. Chris is in the gaming room, occasionally yelling at Josh and Mike, and giving encouraging notes to Ash and Sam. So gentlemanly. My hair is puffy and sexy, not straying away from the theme. I close the coat, taking a last look in the mirror before going to the bedroom. I lay down on the bed, opening the coverage a little too much, making him see the beginning and end of the outfit. 

“Chris! I need some help” I yell out, waiting for him to reply. 

“Um, yeah hun, I’ll be there in a bit!” he shouts back, busy with his game. I sigh, wondering when the match will be over. I reach for my phone, taking a much-too-revealing photo and sending it to him. One of my breasts is out, teeth slightly biting my lower lip, and a hand making its way to my nether region. 

A loud crash is heard, sounding like his chair, footsteps coming quickly and Chris appearing in the doorway, shoulders going up and down with his breath, taking the sight in. His eyes wander over me, and I open the coat a little more to give him a better view. Eyes widen, and mouth opens agape, taking deep breaths as he takes off the gaming headset, clicking the button before leaving it outside. I sit up a bit, using my fingers to urge him closer. He obliges, taking a few steps, leaving his phone on the dresser before kneeling down in front of me. 

“Holy shit, I-I” 

“Use your words, Honey” I smile, slowly removing the cloak, leaving it on the floor. 

“Oh my god” 

“Mhm” I smirk, his reaction flattering. His cheeks are bright red, hand going over my body as he feels the fabric. Fingers tracing the sticking and lace. 

“Fucking hell” 

“You need to say more than that” I laugh, leaning down to give him a better view of my cleavage. He stares, completely mesmerized with them. 

“You’re gorgeous, and s-so incredibly hot” 

“Mhm, now you’re getting there” I whisper, leaving back and putting my heel on his shoulder, pushing him further down. 

“Now, you should probably take off your clothes” I smirk, tugging a little with my heel to wake him from the trance. 

“Of course” he whispers, eyes not breaking contact with my body while he slowly drags off his white shirt. I stand up, walking around him before pushing him down on the bed, almost naked. He’s still wearing his boxers, colour matching my outfit perfectly. The coincidence is quite funny. 

He looks up, eyes still wide. His muscles tense as he lifts his upper body up, legs spreading to let me walk between them. Hands make their way to my thighs, feeling the stockings and lace again. I sigh, crawling on top of his lap, straddling him on the bed. I haven’t lowered myself on him yet, but can already feel his rock hard boner, begging to be taken by me. His hands grope my ass roughly, and I struggle against the sounds about to come out of my throat. 

“Can I fuck you in this?” He asks weakly, head leaned back to meet my lips. I give him a small kiss, making sure the red colour gets on him. 

“No, I’m gonna fuck you in this” I whisper seductively, and his breathing quickens. Mouth opening and letting me ravish him. 

“Holy fuck, you’re so hot like this” 

My hands glaze over his body, touching and scraping every part of him I can reach until I come to his lower stomach. His hips twitch instinctively, and I grab his shoulder to make myself stay up. 

“Now, if we’re gonna do this, I need to not get too eager” I kiss his neck, hands wandering again, going down his torso. 

“M-mff, yes” 

“That’s good” 

My fingers arrive by the hem of his boxers, slowly making their way under and caressing his length. His breath hitches in response, chest heaving dramatically up and down, trying to steady his breathing as unnoticeable as possible. Of course I notice, I always do. I get off him, forcing him to stand up so I can do this my way. 

“Get up” 

He obliges beautifully, standing up as quickly as a soldier. I have to hold my laugh, his eagerness overcoming. I walk over to him, kissing his chest, leaving red lip-prints all over until I come down to the fabric again. He holds his breath, dick needily throbbing and waiting for me to do something about it. I drag the underwear down, revealing him, long, thick and uncomfortably hard. As I grab hold, his breath hitches, hands twitching while he stops himself from forcing my head down on him. 

“You’re being so patient” I tease, looking up and meeting his gaze. He hums, not being able to make any coherent words, afraid of losing control. I don’t want him to wait for too long, after all, I have needs as well. 

I start pumping, making his head fall back and a loud moan escapes his lips, pleasure roaming free through his body, just as he’s been waiting for. I take a small lick on his tip, making his hands twitch again, but he forces them to his side, holding tightly onto his thighs. The action makes a laugh come up, and I make sure to let it out on his tip, sending small vibrations all over. 

Leaning my head forward, I put my lips around him, slowly drawing him in while massaging his balls and stimulating his base. All while a number of melodies comes out of his mouth. He whimpers, small, light sounds making my core heat up, drenching the small panties. They’re basically made out of one string, which means that the more turned on and wet I get, the more will run down my thighs. As I get down as much of him I can, his tip almost hitting the back of my throat, I start moving my head, up and down, taking him in and out of me in a fastly rhythm. I feel him start to twitch in my mouth, almost reaching the finish line. I stop, earning a whine from him. 

I stand up, grabbing both his hands and leading him to the bed. He follows through, getting on top of me as I drag him down. He takes deep breaths, face coming up to mine, meeting my lips on his, biting down to make me moan. I can’t help it, his tender touches up and down my body, one hand settling on my dripping heat. He leans away for a bit, surprised by the sensation and the lack of fabric. 

“You really thought of everything” 

“Maybe I did” I smile, foot coming up, my heel on his shoulder again. I push him down, hinting at what I want him to do, but I don’t even need to ask. He moves quickly, fingers fiddling with the straps, feeling my soaked folds and pulling the string to the side, making room for himself. 

“I love you like this” he mutters, and before I can reply, his tongue takes a long lick over me, making me fill the room with moans and whimpers. He sucks my clit, fingers toying with my entrance before suddenly going knuckle deep. My hips jolt at the sensation, burying myself deeper into him, legs going around his back, thighs pressing on each side of his head. I feel my core building up, tension from all day, waiting and anticipating his reactions. Everything slowly coming together for me to feel him like this. He curls his fingers, making my back arch as I try to take him deeper. 

“N-now, I w-want you” I stutter out, body twitching as I’m nearing my edge. I’ll not come yet, I want to do it with him inside me. 

“Look who suddenly starts to lose her words” he teases, fingers still pumping, but face lifted, maintaining strong eye contact while dragging his body over me. 

“You’re one to talk, couldn’t even tell me what you wanted” I smile, hands feeling up his lipstick-covered chest and stomach. He takes out his fingers, smiling slyly before leaning even more over me, both his hands beside me, holding him up. I’m about to ask him to switch with me, letting me ride him while maintaining full control, just like I’ve done most of the night. But before I can, I feel the tip of him gracing my folds, coating itself in my juices, and roughly pressing himself all the way inside me. 

I let out a cry, his dick widening my walls, taking him fully too quick. My breathing quickens, trying to adjust as he remains in the same position. His eyes meet mine, and I try to scold him, but the words don’t come. My mouth is left open, almost shivering from the ghostly words I try to conjure. 

“Oh, look who suddenly lost their dominance. Feeling a bit… full, are we?” 

I try to muster a smart reply, but my brain gets foggy as he starts moving, each thrust deep and slow. He can’t even hide the pleasure this gives him, the room filling with sloppy smacking and both of our moans and whimpers. He leans down, making us swallow each other’s moans, his pelvis grinding on mine, giving me that extra bit of stimulation necessary for building up my tension-filled core again. 

I can’t help the rapid build-up, getting louder as I near my orgasm. He notices, not missing the opportunity to suck my neck and collar while he keeps up the pace. I can’t hold it in, and reach my high, coming over his cock, and the poor fabric strap. My walls tightens around him, making him do the same, burying himself in me and collapsing on my chest. 

“Shit, please don’t take it off yet” 

I muster out a laugh, body heavy as the high slowly wears down. His back moves up and down in tact with his breathing, and I tangle my fingers in his hair, combing through it. 

“What, the outfit?” 

“Give me ten minutes, and then we’ll do that again” 

“Ten minutes, you got it” I smile, my other hand caressing his back. He lifts his head, a dumb smile on his face as he moves further away from me, down between my legs again. 

“But do you know who can come two times in ten minutes?”

[actually-azi]

GOD'S INEFFABLE GAME

I've seen this headcanon/theory here and there and I love it, so I felt the need to lay it all out. Hold on tight, yall.

Everyone knows how perfect Aziraphale and Crowley are for each other. The Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden, the sword and the snake - they've been drawn together since before the beginning.

The way that these two compliment each other seems almost perfect. They each have what the other one lacks; they challenge and make each other better. It seems a bit... ineffable.

But then, it happens again? (if it happens again, it'll seem like an institutional problem!) Seemingly against all odds, the Grand Duke of Hell and the Supreme Archangel fall in love. Beelzebub and Gabriel, probably the most unlikely pair, end up fitting together so perfectly that they become each other's heaven and hell.

And here's the part where I'm reaching a bit more since I'm leaving what we know to be canon, so take it or leave it. But have you seen the way that Dagon, Lord of the Files, looks at the Archangel Michael? Could it be that they're also ineffably connected? Honestly, I dare you to tell me that they don't seem... smitten.

Next up, we have precious Muriel, 37th Order Scrivener, and "Disposable Demon" Eric. Equally low-ranking but lovable entities whose personalities match so well? Sure, sure, they never even speak or meet (yet!?) so maybe I'm delusional, but I have a strong feeling that these two will end up together. Personally I think they'll be something like a QPR, but who knows. They're just such perfect mirrors of each other, and as we all know, things are always on purpose when it comes to our lord and savior Neil Gaiman.

Even though angels and demons are supposed to be "hereditary enemies", it seems like they all end up liking each other just a little too much to be a matter of chance. We know that there are 10 million angels and 10 million demons... what are the chances that that was an accident? A perfectly even split, by coincidence? Nah. We know that God plays an ineffable game with the universe, and it seems like She might have been in the mood for a romantic comedy. Creating ten million sets of perfectly matched beings, and then putting them on opposite sides, seems like just a thing that God would do for Her own amusement. She's probably sitting back and laughing to Herself, seeing how long it takes Her creations to find their way back to each other.