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pboogerswbb · 1 day ago

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LET IT SNOW

Paige Bueckers x reader In which Paige and reader spend a snowy day babysitting reader's niece and nephew (loosely based on a request i got weeks ago) Warnings: fluff, suggestiveish? very very very sweet, will make you sick (fluff is very hard for me to write ok be nice) Wordcount: 2.9K A/C: happy christmas eve everyone <3 this is my christmas present to y'all so enjoy this while i take some time to rest and spend time with my family :) unfortunately that means you gotta wait for chapter 2 of so it goes for a little longer but i want to take a break for a few days from writing over christmas! i hope you understand. everyone who celebrates christmas pls spend it eating, drinking (if you're of age), and don't kill your family pls (i know that's much to ask over the holidays let's be real). i'll return to writing so it goes post christmas! MERRY CHRISTMAS GUYS <3

“There’s a list of allergies on the fridge, if Mia throws a fit just put her in the stroller and walk her around for a bit, if she won’t calm down call me. Whatever you see in the fridge you can eat, and call me whenever! I’ll have my ringer up and-”

“Chloe-”

“and really call me whenever you need to! And have your ringer up too!”

“Chloe!”

Your aunt’s husband is pulling on her arm, trying to get her further than the front door but 10 minutes have already been spent going through everything for the day.

“Auntie Chlo we’ve babysat before. They’re in good hands,” you reassure, smiling brightly at her. She inhales deeply and chuckles when she realises how long she’s been rambling for.

“You’re right, the kids love you. Especially you Paige, they’ve missed you. Been showing them clips of your games!” Your aunt says, head tilting upwards to look at the blonde girl standing behind you, hands wrapped around your waist.

You and Paige had been dating for over a year now, celebrating your first of what would be many anniversaries. In that short amount of time the blonde had made her way into the depths of your closest circle, becoming a part of your family. It happened effortlessly, the way she fit into your life, the way she clicked with your relatives. You swore they loved her more than you at this point. This was about to be the first Christmas she ever spent with your family, and just the idea of her with all your loved ones made your chest fill with warmth.

So when your aunt Chloe called you in a crisis on Christmas Eve, her babysitter getting sick at the last minute, you and Paige were quick to agree to look after your nearly 2-year-old niece Mia and 7-year-old nephew Leo.

“Go! We got this aight,” Paige reassures, resting her chin on the top of your head as she does.

Pulled away by her husband, your auntie waves goodbye and closes the door, leaving you and Paige alone with the kids standing behind you. Before you can even react, Mia’s lower lip begins to quiver, the sight of her mother gone upsetting the small child.

“Uh oh,” you mumble, Paige swiftly making her way to the little girl and picking her up, pouting her own lower lip to mirror the child.

“Are you sad because you miss mama? She’ll be back later, I promise,” Paige coos to Mia, rocking her in her arms. She’s wearing a white t-shirt despite the snow outside, for some reason she was always warm, and her biceps were growing more prominent as she held the child by her hip. The sight of Paige comforting your niece made your heart flutter, making it hard to tear your eyes away. watching Mia bury her face into the crook of Paige’s neck.

“We’ve got a really fun day planned for you!” You gleam at both of the children, ruffling Leo’s hair. He laughs but pushes your hand off, running to the kitchen.

“Can I have a cookie?” The boy asks, clearly taking advantage of the moment that his parents’ watchful eyes weren’t around.

“No-” you start but Paige is already following him to the kitchen. She was such a pushover, always had been with the kids. Just some pouting, eyes batting and she was ready to bend every which way for them.

“Paige!” You complain as the blonde easily reaches to the top shelf, grabbing a jar of chocolate chip cookies.

“What?” She asks unbothered by your scolding, handing a cookie to Leo, and taking a bite of one herself. “Wanted a cookie,” she mumbles, her mouth full.

“Cookie! Gimme!” Mia babbles, short hands reaching for the cookie your girlfriend is holding between her teeth.

“Oh good God…” you groan, rubbing your forehead, already knowing this was going to be a long day if the kids had the blonde wrapped around their finger this much already. But when Mia giggles as Paige feeds her a part of the cookie, you decide not to care. If there was a time to spoil the kids it was on Christmas Eve.

“C’mere,” Paige nods you over, grabbing another cookie. You scurry into the kitchen, grabbing Mia from her and kissing the little girl’s forehead. She giggles brightly, clearly in a much better mood. You nuzzle your nose into her soft cheek, eliciting more laughs from the baby. The whole time Paige can’t look away even for a second, her heart fluttering with affection. Paige was completely in love with you, and seeing you like this only made her feel it more.

“What are we gonna dooo all day?” Leo interrupts the moment, yanking on Paige’s shirt. She grins and ruffles his hair affectionately. Leo and Paige had bonded quickly the first time they met, and now they’re best friends. In fact Leo facetimes Paige weekly on your aunt’s phone.

“We’ve got some ideas.” The blonde says smirking.

The weather is perfect, the gentle winter sun not warming but making everything brighter as the rays reflect off the snow. Snowflakes fall softly from the sky, adding to the already covered ground as you walk behind Leo and Paige, holding Mia in your arms, trying to catch your breath as you climb on top of a hill.

“Isn’t this high enough?” You ask, glancing down, worrying that Leo would be too scared to get on the sled. Predictably so, the two in front of you look over their shoulders, immediately uttering the word “no” in unison

“Auntie Paigey and your big brother have gone cray cray,” you murmur to the babbling Mia, wrapped in her warmest winter gear.

“Okay, here’s good!” Paige says, finally putting the sled she was carrying down, looking around the group.

“You wanna go first Leo?”

Suddenly the boy looks down, hesitating. It’s pretty steep, especially at first. You could tell he felt unsure, but Paige noticed it too.

“I’m actually lowkey scared, can we ride down together?” She asks, covering for the boy. For a moment your eyes meet with hers, wanting nothing more but to kiss her right now. Paige always had you weak in the knees, but the way she skillfully handled kids only made you love her more.

“Okay we can go together I guess,” Leo complains, deep down relieved. They sit down on the sled, Paige behind the boy, ready to steer.

“Wait!” She yelps, turning to you, blinking fast. “Kiss for good luck.”

Apparently she’d been feeling the same about the kiss.

Humming, you place Mia down on the ground to play with the snow, leaning close to Paige. Her warm lips press into yours, in a loving, gentle peck that let you know she wanted to do so much more, if it wasn’t for the company.

“Yuck!” Leo whines, making both of you giggle.

“Hey, have some respect for your auntie,” Paige grins and pushes the sled forward. Suddenly they’re riding down at such speed you can barely watch. Someone was bound to get hurt.

Both of them scream as the speed accelerates, the sounds echoing in the air. To your surprise they both make it all the way down safe and sound, Paige stopping the sled and jumping off.

“That was so fast!” Leo chuckles hysterically, making your girlfriend laugh too. You could hear them laughing all the way up where you were standing.

“Ball,” Mia babbles, pointing at a pile of snow. Giggling, you sit down on the ground next to her, beginning to roll one snowball after the other and handing them to the girl.

“Look Mia!” You gasp to get her attention. Her wide eyes turn to you, long eyelashes fluttering as she watches. You throw a snowball into the air, Mia’s eyes following as it crashes to the ground. Immediately she claps, a wide smile on her face to reward your efforts.

“Babe it’s your turn,” Paige’s voice says as she’s climbing up, trying to catch her breath.

You scoff, continuing to play with the snow for Mia. “Not happening P,”

“Oh you’re scared huh?” The blonde teases, a smug smirk spreading across her face.

Leo gasps. “It’s not scary at all! I was scared at first too!”

You roll your eyes, not falling for their games.

“I’m playing with my girl here, you boys leave us alone,” you say, poking your tongue out at your girlfriend. She scoffs loud, walking over to you and wrapping her arms around your waist, lifting you up and throwing you over her shoulder with ease.

Leo laughs loud, pointing at the two of you. “Paige is not a boy!”

“Let me down!” You yelp, kicking your legs and arms but it’s no use. She’s much too strong, carrying you towards the sled. Your squeals make Mia laugh loudly, a wide smile spread on her face.

“Look after your sis for a bit, aight?” Paige tells Leo, placing you down on the sled. You’re still giggling, shaking your head.

“I’m not gonna! It’s scary!” You laugh, the blonde sitting snug behind you on the sled, wrapping her legs around you.

“Don’t be such a wuss,” she teases, her arms wrapping over your waist. Leaning in, you feel her hot air tickling against your ear as she whispers. “I gotchu ma, don’t worry.”

With that, Paige pushes off the snowy ground, holding onto you tight. Quickly the speed picks up, fluttering in the pit of your stomach. The freezing cold air tingles against your skin and your eyes water from the cold as you laugh.

“Ahhh P-“ you scream, turning your gaze backwards and finding that, to your shock, the blonde behind you is pushing on the ground to make you go even faster. “STOP!”

Paige giggles into your ear, her arms wrapping around you tight to hold you close. Soon it’s over as you reach the base of the hill, the speed finally slowing down and flutters in your abdomen disappearing.

“Told you it wasn’t so scary,” the blonde grins, helping you up.

“Uh yes it was,” you laugh, grabbing a handful of snow and throwing it at the girl in front of you. Some of it gets onto her face, making Paige pause.

Her mouth turns into a tight smile and her blue eyes widen. Immediately you know you’re in trouble.

“Oh it’s like that huh?” She says and you squeal, already beginning to run when she starts to throw the powdery snow all over you.

“No no no no please!” You can barely breathe, gasping for air and trying to run, the snowy ground making your steps heavy. Paige, being a D1 athlete, easily reaches you.

“Oh so now you regret it!” She laughs, snow falling into your coat, down your neck, making you scream louder as the girl chasing you wraps her arms around your waist, spinning you in the air.

“Stop! Paige!”

“Say please,” she orders, her tone lighthearted.

You roll your eyes, hating having to admit defeat, but knowing it must be done.

“Fine! Please, please stop Paige please,” you whine, batting your wide eyes at the girl. She looks at you, finally putting you down and kissing your forehead.

“Wanna hear you just like that later,” she whispers the dirty words into your ear, lips brushing against your skin, tingling. Before you can scoff or tell her off, Mia’s loud cry disrupts the moment.

Both you and Paige hurry up the hill, towards Leo who’s holding his sister, bouncing him gently to soothe the little girl.

“What happened?” You ask, swiftly scooping Mia from the boy and trying her cheeks to see if she was cold. Nope, perfectly toasty from all the layers.

“Nothing! She just started crying!”

But then, studying her face, you notice the redness of her eyes, her mittened hands trying to rub them desperately.

“Aw, she’s sleepy,” Paige says, like reading your mind, grabbing the sled.

“We should probably head back, she needs to take a nap,” you murmur, trying to soothe the girl in your arms, ear-piercing screams and cries spilling from her mouth.

All four of you hurry to the car, but no attempts to calm Mia down help. She’s exhausted, plump bottom lip quivering as she keeps crying the whole drive home. You could feel yourself getting exhausted, the loud noise becoming overwhelming and stressful. Paige could see it too, the way you were sighing and taking deep breaths. So when you return to the house, she grabs your hand and kisses it before getting up from the car.

“I’ll take her to bed okay? You rest ma,” she murmurs. Relief spreads all over your chest and you smile affectionately.

“How’d I get so lucky?” You ask.

“Nah, I’m lucky. Got the best girl in the entire world.

After an hour of the faint sounds of Paige’s lullabies (off-key but she would never admit that) and trying to reason with the 2-year-old like that might help, the cries eventually quiet down. Leo is resting too, playing in his room. You’ve been in the kitchen, making spaghetti for all of you. Checking the clock you realise it’s been about 30 minutes since you last heard any sound from Mia, yet Paige still hadn’t returned downstairs.

Quietly, you sneak your way up the stairs, ever so carefully opening the door into the bedroom to not wake up Mia. But what you find makes your heart flutter - in the dimmed out room, Paige and Mia are both asleep, your girlfriend holding the little girl close. The blonde’s mouth is slightly ajar, soft snores escaping through. For a moment you just watch, allowing the love you felt for them both to spread. You walk over, make sure they’re both covered up by the blanket before sneaking back out, leaving them in bed.

“Leo, come eat dinner soon, ok?” You whisper to him in the other room. His eyes lighting up, the little boy gets up holding a toy dinosaur and follows you downstairs.

“Can I watch The Grinch while I eat? Please please please!” He begs, giving you puppy eyes.

“Mmkay, just this once,” you bend to his will, setting it all up for him. You can’t help but watch Leo getting snuggled up on the couch, a blanket around him, eyes wide staring at the TV. Leaning against the arch into the living room, you feel your body tired from the day, muscles aching and mind exhausted. But your insides are fluttering with warmth, no other word for the specific feeling but pure joy. Walking back into the kitchen you begin to make your own plate of food.

You let your mind wonder, and maybe it’s risky. It’s much too soon to be thinking anything close to it. But since it’s Christmas, you let yourself. Your mind comes up with vivid images of you and Paige, in a house of your own, decorating the tree - Paige the only one tall enough to place the star on top. You can see you two baking cookies and watching Christmas movies, hot chocolate in bed.

And maybe, just maybe eventually, two children of your own. There are flutters in your heart thinking about building snowmen with your little family, roasting marshmallows in the fireplace, dressing them up in tiny costumes and sending family postcards to your relatives and friends. It felt so far away, yet you could see it so vividly.

As if she had heard your thoughts, suddenly warm hands land on your waist, Paige’s reflection appearing in the window in front of you. Humming, her front presses flush to your back, fitting against you just right.

“I fell asleep,” she murmurs, burying her nose into your hair and inhaling. It’s like heaven, after a long day, to feel her like this again.

“I noticed,” you reply, beginning to make a plate for the girl as well. She watches closely, following every movement from behind you until her lips find your neck, beginning to press soft, loving kisses along the nape of it.

Eyes fluttering shut, you hum, turning your head to face the blonde behind you. Hand reaching for your jaw, she pulls you into a gentle kiss, lips sliding against yours slowly. “Can’t wait to see you be a mom,” Paige whispers against your mouth, chest heaving.

A deep blush sets on your cheeks hearing the words, taking them in. The blonde watches your reaction, clearly trying to read you.

“I’m sorry if that’s too much to say this early but I-”

“No,” you shake your head with a smile. “I can’t wait for that either.”

Relief washes over your girlfriend, as she pecks your lips once more.

“We’re gonna be so good ma, best parents in the world.”

Beaming with joy, both you and Paige walk into the living room where Leo is sitting, eyes glued to the movie.

“Yo! Scooch!” Paige tells the boy, who shuffles to the corner of the couch. Both you and your girlfriend sit in the opposite corner, holding your bowls of spaghetti and getting settled. The blonde quickly wraps an arm around you, pulling you to lean against her side. You’re snuggled up, feeding bites of food to each other and stealing kisses whenever the boy isn't watching.

“I love you,” Paige whispers into your ear, blue eyes sparkling with adoration.

“I love you too Paige,” you whisper back, cheeks rosy and heart fluttering from the perfect snowy day.

taglist: @xxloveralways14 @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @thaatdigitaldiary @lovegalor333 @lupinqs @rosemariiaa @janaelalfysblunt @d3arapril @vamptizm

#paige bueckers #lilas writing #paige bueckers x reader #paige bueckers fluff #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #wnba x reader

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my-castles-crumbling · 2 days ago

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family gathering - jegumas - day 23 - @noblehouseofgay - word count: 357

The day had gone perfectly. Effie and Monty had loved him. Accepted him into the family. Joked with him and given him very generous gifts. And they'd love the gifts he'd given them. The Potter family gathering had been filled with singing and love and laughter and joy.

So why was Regulus feeling so...sad?

Sitting outside in the freezing garden, watching his visible breath dissipate into the air, he contemplated it. Maybe he wasn't cut out of family life? Maybe he wasn't meant to be loved? Why was he sad, when he had every reason to be happy?

A hand wrapped around his shoulder jolted him from his thoughts and caused him to look up. "Need a break, love? I know we can be a lot," James mumbled, pulling him close, protecting him from the December cold.

"No! No, you're all perfect," Regulus argued, not wanting to seem ungrateful, his mouth twisting with anger at himself. "I just..."

To his horror, he began to choke up, a tear dripping down his face.

"Fuck. Fuck, I'm sorry. I'm having a good time, really," he mumbled, turning away and scrubbing at his face.

But strong hands turned him, and he found himself pulled into a hug. "What is it, love?" James whispered in his ear.

All at once, the realization hit him, and he hated himself for being so...jealous. "You got this your whole life," he mumbled, looking away and biting his lip. "So many people did. And I got- I got-" How was he even supposed to describe the cold meal full of biting remarks he had received every Christmas. Heaving a sigh, he tried to change the subject. "Never mind. It's fine! I have this now, yes?" he asked brusquely, trying to smile.

James, however, pulled back, looking at him sincerely. "You're allowed to mourn the things you should have had your whole life, Regulus. It's okay to have a good time now, and also be sad that you should have been experiencing this the whole time."

And, overwhelmed by his boyfriends love and acceptance, Regulus just nodded, curling into his arms and allowing himself to cry.

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the-boy-meets-evil · 2 days ago

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where you belong | kmg

(where the holidays bring you back to the person and place you need to be.)

pairing: mingyu x fem!reader genre: exes to lovers (lite) | fluff & smut rating: explicit, minors DNI word count: ~1.2k warnings: kissing, smut, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do this, they're in love), that's really it

note: SURPRISE EM! 💕🫶🏻 this is for my baby @gyuswhore for the secret santa event hosted by @camandemstudios. i was so happy to get you and i hope you're surprised that it was me. this was a lot of fun!

tag list: @tinyelfperson, @dokyeomkyeom, @miriamxsworld, @hongrizon, @klecksstorys, @gyuminusone, @aaniag, @straykidswhoo789, @kimseokgen, @beomesbabe, @haolistic, @vanishingboots, @babybae-shisui, @harrythepottypus, @okiedokrie, @nuttywastelandmentality, @writingbarnes, @tomodachiii, @gyuhao365, @jjin-kun, @divinityyyy, @dibidibidismynameisleeknow, @tinkerbell460, @aidanjoon, @cookiearmy, @tusswrites, @kaepjjangiya

There’s something about the holidays that always has you reflecting on the last year. It’s kind of a way for you to figure out what works and what doesn’t before starting fresh in the new year. The past year has been a blur of keeping busy and projects for work. It feels incredibly fulfilling in so many ways. All things considered, it’s been a really good year for you.

Yet, you can’t keep your mind off the start of the year when you and your boyfriend broke things off. It isn’t some sad story of heartbreak or someone doing something horrible. You both just realized, as you spent New Year’s Eve apart because of work, that maybe it was a sign to give yourselves a chance at something different. Both of you agreed that it made the most sense. Life was pulling you in different directions and it felt like the time to really push forward in your separate work lives.

If it’s meant to be, it’ll always find a way. You genuinely believe that. So, when your ex walks into the tiny little coffee shop two days before Christmas, you take it as something of a sign. You shouldn’t even still be in the city and this isn’t a coffee shop you’ve ever been to before. But, your travel plans got delayed and you’ve been meaning to try this place for months. His eyes land on you from his position by the counter and he doesn’t seem surprised either. Your heart constricts a little at that shy smile and the way his shaggy hair bounces as he shakes his head.

“I can’t believe my luck,” Mingyu says when he approaches. “I figured you’d be gone.”

“I had something come up last minute. I was supposed to leave last night,” you say and he smiles.

“I’m not sure I want to leave at all now,” he admits. “I’ve been thinking a lot about you.”

“Yeah, same,” you admit.

“I just moved and I actually live around the corner. Do you want to catch up?” he asks.

“Let me just get my coat.”

Catching up goes from filling each other in on the last year to Mingyu cooking the best meal you’ve had in ages to lounging on the couch and laughing over silly shows. It’s easy to fall back into such a sense of comfort with him. Every part of you still seems to know every part of him. Some things you would have to explain to anyone else just instantly make sense to him. But, it feels different too. It feels like the last year has allowed you both to realize what’s actually important. Maybe it taught you how to better prioritize your time.

Something else is easy, too. You fall back into bed with him without a second thought. This is different now, too. Sex wasn’t ever an issue, but he wants you to show him exactly what you want now. Wants it to be perfect for you. The kind of thing that you can’t ever get over. You’re not really sure you ever got over him the first time and you want to tell him you don’t plan to let go of him this time.

“I’ll teach you whatever you want to know,” you tell him.

“Teach me how to be good for you,” he answers, breathless.

And you do. Mingyu is a giver, always has been. This is more than that, though. This Mingyu wants to map your reactions to every little thing he does. He wants to watch the way you squirm when his tongue flicks against your clit just right. Wants to memorize the way your thighs squeeze his head when he licks into you. Even if it’s always been good, it’s never been like this. It’s never felt like he’s worshipping your body in quite this way.

With a moan, your back arches against this bed and your hands scramble to find purchase on something. Anything. You try to keep up a stream of instructions like you said you would, but Mingyu’s also a very fast learner. It doesn’t take him long until his mouth is moving in the perfect way between your legs. Only take one comment for him to add a finger. Doesn’t need to be told how to hit you just right with those fingers. You’re a writhing mess and you’re not even sure that you can think straight anymore. He’s got you seeing stars as you come hard on his tongue and his fingers.

“I’m not sure you need me to teach you anything,” you say after catching your breath for a second.

Mingyu’s got a bit of a smirk on his mouth, still glistening a little. “Maybe I just like hearing you talk me through things when you’re coming undone.”

“Oh, it’s like that?” you joke back.

“We can see if you need to teach me anything else,” he says with that sparkle still in his eyes.

“You’re not done with me?” you ask and try not to sound too hopeful.

“No,” he says and kisses you before you can respond in any way.

It always seemed crazy to you to think that someone could kiss you stupid. Until Mingyu kisses you like that after nearly a year apart. Until you remember all the kisses for every different occasion. Now it just seems crazy to think there’s anyone out there for you other than him. He keeps kissing you as he settles his body between your legs, hovering his body just over yours so that he doesn’t put too much weight on you. Keeps kissing you as he uses a hand to line himself up at your entrance. Keeps kissing you as he slowly presses into you. The pace is slower than you want, filled with all the things you’re feeling. All the affection and reverence that he’s always shown you.

“Mingyu, please, I need more,” you finally moan out.

And it happens like that again. He lets you teach him just the pace that you want. He lets you set the rhythm alternating between slow, languid strokes and hard, fast snaps of his hips. Everything else around you disappears. All you see is the love in his eyes as he takes you in. Everything about this moment is perfect. The absolute best way that you can imagine to end the year. Almost as good as him pushing you to a second orgasm just before he follows right after you.

It seems too early to be awake if the light coming in through the cracks in Mingyu’s curtains is any indication, but the smell of coffee wafts tantalizingly into the bedroom. You’re incredibly thankful that you changed all of your holiday plans to stay with Mingyu. It clearly isn’t just the post-sex haze that has you wanting to stay. Your heart is full to bursting with warmth. He’s always been it for you and you’re thankful that you get to spend another holiday with him.

So, you pull on a baggy shirt Mingyu has lying by the side of the bed and slide out of bed. You walk over to the window to see what’s making it seem a little brighter outside. Amazingly, snow falls gently in beautiful, swirling patterns. The whole world is quiet and you know you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

I hope you enjoyed it ❤️

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sirxlla · 2 days ago

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The Batboys Get You An Animal / Asking Them for An Animal

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Dick: Haley (Bitewing) was extremely lonely with both you and Dick at work more recently. She just really needed another dog to play with, Dick had noticed it a lot more in the past month of so.

After Dick picked up you from work cause it was better for the environment to carpool, you found him driving in a different direction to your shared apartment building which caused you to furrow your brows.

"I think your turned around, Bubby." You said with a kind and paitent tone.

"No, this is the right direction. Don't you worry, My Love." He squeezed your hand with a kind smile as he kept his eyes watched the road. He drove you to the shelter and let you pick whichever dog you wanted which happened to be a cute little female grey/blue doberman. (Of course you held it all the way home.)

Haley was just happier than ever when you put the little puppy down and took her out of the crate she was in so you could get her upstairs. Haley was yipping and running around, this was such a good step forward in your relationship, growing together family as a family.

Dick was snapping as many pictures as he could of the dogs, then you playing with them. He's so happy with his girls being in one picture, so proud he made it his lockscreen.

Jason: "Babygirl, I don't know if its a good idea. I dont know if were ready for that. Hell, I dont know if I'm ready for that on my own." He had said a few months ago.

Of course that was until he came home with a kitten he found in an alley, the white little fur ball was the only other thing besides you that made his heart swell. He almost was gonna leave it where it was but he didnt have the heart to do such a thing.

He came in with it in his arms, the little kitten cuddled into his chest inside his motorcycle jacket. It was late so Jason didnt wake you as he took care of the little sweet guy, he gave him a bath and gave him the wet food he got on the way home. Jason swaddled that sweet little kitten in a hand towel before woke you up. You mumbled and groaned until you opened your eyes which immediately went wide.

"Oh, my god!" Tears filled your eyes as you reached for the kitten.

"I found him in an alley, he's a bit sick and he really needs a home, Babygirl. Can we keep him?" He asked with a pleading and somewhat worried tone.

"Can we keep him!? YES! OF COURSE!" You were crying as you cuddled the slightly damp kitten.

Jason and you took him the the vet the next morning to get taken care of. He named him Tokyo as a joke cause he was white which you didnt realize what it meant for several months.

Bruce: You knew the answer, a swift and adament no. So being the person you are, you bought a guinea pig cause its easy to take care of and Bruce would be less likely to complain about it.

You would carry it around in your pocket and let it sleep on a little blanket you put the desk that held the Batcomputer. He would act like he hated the entire idea of it but as soon as you would come down to the Batcave without it he would ask where it was with a bit of a sad tone.

He would never admit it but he enjoyed that tiny guy and how you doted it on the little thing. Bruce knew how lonely it was to actually be with him considering his 'playboy' persona he had to wear and being Gotham's savior. By the time your anniversary came he had gotten you another guinea pig so you had two little guys to hang out with and thats exactly what you did.

+ When you were away at work or asleep and he happened to pass the cage in his room the both of you shared, he would take them out and sit with them. Bruce secretly has a ton of pictures of the little guinea pigs in his camera roll.

Tim: You didnt even need to ask him, the answer would be yes with not even a little resistance. Little did Tim know this wasnt your average pet.

"Tim, I adopted a kid." You said casually when you came home.

"You did what?" He was nervous and he nearly choked on his own spit, that was until you came in the house holding a baby goat.

"Oh! A little kid!" He was so excited, Tim would run around with him and bring him inside all the time. He never complained out the little guy, he even got him clothes and little goat diapers so he could stay inside. You didnt think goats could be trained but alas, Tim did with little issue which is a bit unsuprising cause Tim can do anything he sets his mind to.

Damian: Damian has a fucking farm of animals so convincing him to get an animal was the easiest conversation ever.

It was 'Whatever animal you wanted as long as youd take care of it, Beloved.' He had said.

"A snake?" You asked him with a slightly excited tone as the two of you laid in bed, your face pressed to his warm bare chest.

"If that's what you want." He replied with his eyes closed as if getting another animal was nothing. (because to him it is.)

"A cow?" You asked cause you wanted to know how ridiculous you could get with it.

"We already have one of those, Beloved." He said with a smile again in that tone as if it was normal for someone to have a pet cow.

"Well, what if Titus wants a friend, Baby?" You asked as you heard the Great Dane huff at the end of the bed where his bed was.

"Another dog would be good, I'd feel a lot more secure knowing there were at least two dogs in the house when I'm away." Damian stated, plus he wanted to teach you more of the commands to control Titus and most of them were in German. You getting a dog would be a diagetic way for you to learn and teach your dog as well as understand how to control Titus.

You were stuck between a Chocolate Lab and a Dalmatian, in the end Damian got he got both of them. It took patience and time but Damian got them all to behave and listen to the pair of you.

Two dogs were good for security but three? Three made his worry about you while he was gone almost vanish entirely.

(Send me prompts if you want)

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greengoblinswifey · 1 day ago

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A Christmas Reconnection—Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

summary— After breaking up with Rafe due to his treatment of Sarah and her friends, you’ve tried to move on, spending the holiday season without him. But as Christmas approaches, Sarah encourages you to follow your heart, knowing you still love him. A surprise reconciliation reignites your love, and together, you celebrate a magical Christmas.

warnings— slight angst, exes to lovers, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, praise kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare, lots of fluff, L bombs.

Christmas was just a few days away, and the chill in the Kildare air matched the coldness that had settled between you and Rafe over the last few months. Ever since the breakup, you hadn’t had much contact with him. You couldn’t ignore how he’d treated Sarah, and it made being with him feel impossible.

Sitting on the couch in JJ’s living room, wrapped in blankets and sipping hot chocolate, you tried to enjoy the peaceful night, but your mind kept wandering back to him. Sarah sat next to you, watching you with a thoughtful gaze.

“I know you still love him,” she said quietly, breaking the silence.

“What?” you asked, looking over at her.

“I know you still have feelings for Rafe. You wouldn’t have been with him all that time if you didn’t care. But I also know you can’t stand what he’s done to me or John B.”

Your heart squeezed. “I do love him, Sarah,” you admitted softly, “But yeah, I don’t fuck with the way he’s treated you, and how he’s been with your friends, or John B. It’s just not the same.”

Sarah smiled softly, her eyes filled with affection. “I know, and I get it,” she said, her voice sincere. “But I love you both. And I love that you care about me, but I can't keep you away from someone you still love. I want you to be happy, and I know that could mean making up with Rafe.”

You felt a tightness in your chest as she spoke, torn between your loyalty to her and the love you still had for her brother, even after everything. “You want me to go back to him?” you asked.

“I want you to do what feels right for you,” Sarah said gently, “but if you love him, you should give him a chance. It’s gonna be Christmas, after all. A time for second chances, right?”

Her words lingered in the air. You hugged her tightly, feeling the warmth of her support and love, but still unsure of how to handle everything. “Okay,” you whispered, pulling back to look at her. “I’ll try.”

Later that night, you sat alone in your room, your phone buzzing with notifications. You glanced down at your screen to see multiple texts from Rafe as per usual.

Rafe: I’m sorry. I never should’ve treated you like that. Please talk to me. I miss you so much.

Rafe: I love you, and I’m sorry for everything. I’ve been a mess without you.

Each message made your heart ache, but you couldn’t ignore the pain of his past actions. You took a deep breath and typed a response.

We should talk.

Seconds later, his reply came.

Rafe: Yes, please, come over. I’ve missed you so much.

You hadn’t seen him in weeks, and you weren’t sure what to expect. But your heart still cared about him, despite the hurt. After a long moment of hesitation, you grabbed your keys, deciding to drive to his house.

When you arrived at Rafe’s house, you knocked on the door, and when he opened it, his face lit up, but there was a sadness in his eyes too.

“Hey,” he said softly. “I’m glad you came.”

You gave him a small, uncertain smile. “I’m not sure what to expect from this conversation, Rafe.”

“I know,” he said, stepping aside to let you in. “I just want to apologize, for everything. I was an idiot. I hurt you and Sarah and I’m so sorry. But I’ve been miserable without you.”

You looked at him, really looked at him for the first time in a while. He looked different, tired, like he hadn’t slept much. He was still the same Rafe, the one you loved in so many ways, but there was something in his eyes that told you he regretted his actions.

“Why’d you do it?”’you asked softly, feeling the weight of the words. “Why did you treat Sarah that way? Why did you hurt me?”

His gaze softened. “I was selfish. I didn’t think about anyone else. But I promise you, I never meant to hurt you. I’ve just been a mess, and I don’t want to lose you. I’ve been thinking about you every day since we broke up. I fucking love you.”

Your heart clenched in your chest, and despite everything, you wanted to believe him. You weren’t sure if you were ready to jump back into a relationship with him, but there was a part of you that missed him, that longed to hear him say these words.

“You still love me?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“More than anything,” Rafe replied, stepping closer to you. “I’m sorry for everything. And I know I don’t deserve a second chance, but if you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I’ll do anything to make things right.”

You paused, unsure of what to say. You’d been hurt, but maybe, just maybe, there was room for forgiveness. After a long moment of silence, you finally spoke.

“Maybe we can start over. Just—take it slow.”

Rafe’s face lit up with a relieved smile, and he pulled you into a hug, holding you tightly. “I’ll take it slow. Whatever it takes to show you I’m serious. I love you.”

You held him back, not fully certain what the future would bring, but for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of hope. And maybe, just maybe, this Christmas could be the start of something new.

Rafe led you upstairs to his room, where everything looked just as you remembered, his neatly made bed, the faint scent of his cologne in the air, and the soft glow of the lamp on his nightstand. He grabbed a blanket from the edge of the bed and draped it over your shoulders as you both sank into the mattress.

He pulled you closer, his arm wrapping around your waist as you leaned into his chest. “I missed this,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of longing.

“Me too,” you admitted, your fingers toying with the edge of the blanket.

He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering a little longer than necessary. “You don’t know how many nights I sat here, just wishing you were with me,” he said, his voice heavy.

You turned slightly, looking up at him. His blue eyes searched yours, a vulnerability there that made your chest tighten. “I didn’t know if we could get back to this.”

“Losing you made me realize how much I was screwing up—not just with you, but with everyone. I’ll prove it to you, every day if I have to,” he replied.

You sighed, leaning your head back against his shoulder. The warmth of his body against yours was a comfort you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. As you shifted slightly, you felt the hardness of his cock press against you.

He cleared his throat, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, “Sorry. Can you blame me? Having you this close again, it’s everything I’ve been dreaming about.”

Your cheeks warmed, and you glanced down, your voice barely above a whisper. “Let me help you.” You weren’t sure what came over you and you hoped that you wouldn’t regret it afterwards.

He tried to hide the excitement on his face but you could see it clearly. Slowly, you moved down onto the bed, pulling off his pajama pants to reveal his thick, hard cock. It had been months since you’d seen him like this, he almost looked bigger.

“Are you sure baby? You don’t have to do this if you truly don’t want to,” he said.

You shut him up by taking him into your mouth, stroking him as you did.

“Fuck baby, I missed that mouth,” he moaned.

You glided your tongue along his shaft, trailing it along the vein then licking the tip that oozed his salty pre cum. You took him back in again, this time allowing him to hit the back of your throat. Your hands went to massage his balls as you deep throated his cock and stared into his blue hues. He stared down at you with half lidded eyes and wrapped your braids in his hand, pressing you down gently onto his cock.

“Oh God, you’ve always been so good at this, shit,” he gasped.

You bobbed your head faster, each movement allowing his cock to brush against your tonsil. Rafe’s moans got louder as you spat on his cock before taking him back down your throat then sucking on his balls.

“Get it sloppy just like that baby, you’re sucking my cock so well,” he praised.

He used his hand to guide you down on him and before long, you felt him throb inside your mouth.

“Oh shit baby, I’m gonna cum, take my cum down your throat,” he gasped.

He came inside your mouth and you swallowed every drop, humming around his cock as you did. “That’s a good girl, you did so well for me,” he said.

Rafe began kissing you, trailing down your neck, his lips warm and deliberate, leaving a tingling path that made your breath hitch. He pulled back slightly, his blue eyes locking with yours, filled with a mixture of longing and devotion.

“Let me take care of you too,” he murmured, his voice low and tender, laced with a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen before.

You hesitated, your heart pounding, but the gentle way he cupped your cheek and brushed his thumb over your thighs reassured you. His gaze never left yours, waiting patiently for your response. When you gave a small, shy nod, his lips curved into a soft, relieved smile.

“Just relax,” he whispered, his hands slowly trailing down your sides as he gently took off your sweats. “You deserve to feel good. I want you to know how much you mean to me.”

Your breath quickened as his kisses moved to your thighs. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, the words sending a shiver through you. “Every inch of you drives me crazy.”

His hands rested firmly on your inner thighs, and he pressed a kiss there, his lips lingering as if worshiping the very idea of you. “Do you know how long I’ve dreamed of this?“

“Rafe,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

He paused, looking up at you with a look that stole the air from your lungs. “I mean it,” he said softly. “You’re perfect. I’ll never get tired of reminding you of that.”

When his lips continued their journey to your clit, your head fell back against the pillows, your body responding instinctively to the warmth of his touch. The soft, praising words he murmured between kisses sent your pulse racing.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, his voice husky but soothing. “Let me hear you. I want to know how good I’m making you feel.”

Your hands gripped the sheets, and a soft moan escaped your lips. His name tumbled from you in a whisper, almost like a prayer, and he answered with a quiet, “I’ve got you, baby. Always.”

His movements were deliberate yet unhurried, and the warmth building in you was overwhelming. Pleasure jolted through your entire body as his skilled tongue sucked and nipped on your clit then you felt his finger slip inside you. He curled his finger, meeting the sweet spot inside you as his tongue flicked your clit and made you squirm. You had forgotten how good he was at giving head.

“You’re so perfect,” he murmured. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

When your breath hitched and your body tensed, he slowed his movements, giving you time to let the sensations wash over you. “That’s my girl,” he whispered, his tone dripping with affection. “You’re amazing. Cum for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

He tongue sped up and his fingers thrusted into you faster and as the tension built and finally released, you gasped his name, your voice filled with raw emotion. Rafe’s lips pressed against your clit one last time, his hands holding you steady as he whispered, “I’ve got you, always.”

Rafe wasn’t finished with you. He pressed tender kisses all over your face as he lined the tip of his cock with your quivering entrance.

“Do you want this? We can stop if you want to,” he said but you just wrapped your legs around him in response.

His blue eyes were locked on yours, filled with love and lust as his cock slowly slipped inside you. The air from your lungs was taken away as you felt him start to slowly thrust into you.

“I know baby, it’s okay, just breathe, I’ve got you,” he whispered, pressing a loving kiss to your forehead.

You felt every inch, every vein, every throb of his cock as he moved inside you, stretching you out like he used to all those months ago. He reached between your bodies and rubbed your swollen clit, increasing the pleasure that took ahold of you.

“You’re so tight baby, I missed this pussy, missed you,” he said, voice strained.

“M-missed your cock so much daddy,” you gasped, feeling him brush against your cervix.

“There’s my girl, that’s it,” he cooed, increasing his pace.

He pounded into you harder, his cock reaching places only he could. You ground against him, meeting his harsh thrusts as the pleasure built and the coil in your abdomen threatened to snap.

“Clenching around me so tight baby, cum for daddy, cum on daddy’s cock,” Rafe murmured.

Moaning daddy like it was the only word you knew, you clamped down on his cock and allowed your orgasm to wash over you. It was powerful and intimate, making you see stars as he held you close and soon, his orgasm took ahold of him too. Rafe’s cum spurted inside your pussy, filling you up as he rutted into you slowly and whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

“You did so well for me baby. Thank you so much, you mean the fucking world to me.”

Rafe kissed your forehead gently, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as you lay against his chest. His breathing was calm, steady, and he held you like he never wanted to let go.

“You okay, baby?” he murmured, his voice low and tender.

You nodded, still catching your breath. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his. “You sure?” he asked softly. “I need to know you’re good, that you’re not regretting this.”

“I’m not,” you whispered, and to your surprise, you meant it.

He kissed you again, this time slower, as if savoring every second. “Good,” he said against your lips. “I’ve missed you so much. I don’t ever want to lose you again.”

He pulled you closer, wrapping you in the blanket as he held you. His hand brushed through your braids and his lips pressed against your temple. “You know, I didn’t think I’d ever get to have you in my arms like this again,” he admitted. “I’m never letting you go this time. You’re mine, okay?”

You nodded, burying your face in his chest. His scent, familiar and comforting, surrounded you, and you felt safe.

After a while, he murmured, “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He carried you to the bathroom, running a warm washcloth over your skin with the utmost care. His hands were gentle, his touch filled with unspoken affection. When he was done, he wrapped you in one of his hoodies and carried you back to bed, tucking you in beside him.

As you drifted off to sleep, his arms securely around you, he whispered, “I love you. Don’t forget that.”

The next morning, as you drove home, you couldn’t stop replaying the night in your mind. It was as if a wall between you and Rafe had crumbled, allowing you to see the vulnerable, loving side of him that you’d always known was there despite him acting like an asshole sometimes.

When you told Sarah what happened, her reaction was a mix of surprise and amusement.

“I knew it,” she said, crossing her arms with a knowing smile. “I mean, I didn’t think it would happen this fast, but I could tell you two weren’t over.”

You looked down, feeling a little embarrassed. “I didn’t plan for this, Sarah. But it felt right.”

She hugged you tightly. “Good. I just want you to be happy. And if that means being with Rafe, then so be it. Just make sure he treats you the way you deserve.”

On Christmas Eve, Rafe invited you over. When you arrived, he greeted you at the door with a warm smile and immediately pulled you into his arms. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he said softly.

Inside, the living room was cozy and festive, the glow of the Christmas tree lights reflecting off the ornaments. Rafe handed you a pair of red Christmas themed pajamas.

“Matching PJs?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a small laugh.

“Of course,” he said with a smirk. “You’re my girl, and I wanted this to be perfect.”

You changed into the pajamas, and the two of you spent the evening cuddled on the couch, watching Home Alone and sharing a bowl of popcorn. His arm stayed firmly around you, and he would occasionally press a kiss to your temple or forehead, murmuring how much he loved having you there.

Christmas morning was nothing short of magical. You woke up in Rafe’s arms, his face peaceful as he slept. When he stirred, his eyes opened, and he smiled at you, pulling you closer.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered, kissing you softly.

“Merry Christmas,” you replied, smiling against his lips.

The two of you went downstairs, still in your matching pajamas, and sat by the tree. Rafe handed you a beautifully wrapped box, his eyes full of anticipation.

“Open it,” he urged.

Inside was an elegant promise ring, the diamond sparkling in the morning light. Your breath caught as you looked at him.

“Rafe.”

“I know it’s soon,” he said, taking your hand. “But I want you to know I’m serious about us. This isn��t just some fling. I’m in this for the long haul. You mean everything to me.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

He grinned and handed you another gift, a scrapbook he’d made filled with photos of you two, and little notes he’d written about his favorite memories with you.

You felt a pang of guilt as you handed him the sweater you’d gotten him, you hadn’t planned to even get back together much less spend Christmas together and exchange gifts, but he just smiled. “I love it. And honestly, having you here is the best gift I could’ve asked for.”

The rest of the day was spent baking cookies, cooking Christmas dinner together, and cuddling on the couch. Rafe kept finding little excuses to pull you into his arms, kissing you softly and whispering “I love you” every chance he got.

As the evening wound down, you realized that this was exactly where you were meant to be. Wrapped in Rafe’s arms, the past forgotten, and the future full of possibilities.

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santaasi · 3 days ago

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santa doesn’t know you like i do

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: in the warmth of christmas, amidst love, healing, and a new beginning, jj and you find your imperfect paradise, where home is wherever you're together

warnings: fluff fluff fluff, establish relationship, talking about kids, no use of y/n, jj calls reader angel, english isn’t my first language

word count: 5.4k

a/n: it's kinda part two to die with the smile. but I think you can read it as a stand alone. requested by this ask. thank u for request, love <з.

ᯓ★ now playing…

sabrina carpenter – santa doesn't know you like I do

Santa Doesn't know you like I do I've been there through the good and bad Know how to make you laugh Kiss all your tears away, babe Ooh, only I can do that

JJ MAYBANK ALWAYS LOVED CHRISTMAS. It was, perhaps, the only holiday that truly felt magical to him. The colorful lights that danced against the dark winter nights, the shop windows adorned with glittering displays, the endless loop of silly Christmas songs filling the air — each element wove a comforting cocoon of warmth around him. Christmas had a way of making the world seem softer, more forgiving, and in those moments, JJ could almost believe in something like peace.

But it hadn’t always been this way.

In the broken Maybank household, Christmas was just another day — unmarked, unnoticed, and devoid of joy. The house sat like an unlit beacon in a sea of festivity, its cold walls and empty halls an unspoken testament to everything JJ lacked. There were no strings of lights, no wreaths on the door, not even the faintest scent of pine. It was an iceberg of indifference, floating through a season of cheer.

His father rarely even bothered to come home during Christmas. Sometimes he was locked away, serving another term; other times, he was lost in some forgotten corner of a bar, drowning his bitterness in cheap whiskey, unaware — or perhaps unconcerned — that his son was alone.

Yet, despite it all, every Christmas morning, there was always something waiting for JJ. Beneath the sad excuse for a tree — a cactus he’d once rescued from the roadside and jokingly dubbed "the Maybank pine" — he’d find a small gift and a postcard. The presents were modest: a toy car from a roadside stall or a bag of store-brand candy. The cards bore messages scribbled in rushed handwriting, sometimes just his name. But to JJ, they were everything. Those tiny, clumsy gestures felt like a fragile thread connecting him to something hopeful, something magical.

Even in the coldest, loneliest moments of his childhood, Christmas held onto him. It was his reminder that even in a life as messy and cruel as his, there could still be flickers of wonder.

But as the years passed, the childish magic of Christmas began to fade. JJ found himself watching from the sidelines as families like John B’s, Pope’s, and Kiara’s gathered around large tables, their homes alive with laughter, love, and the glow of holiday cheer. He watched them string lights and hang delicate ornaments on real Christmas trees — the kind that had once mesmerized him through storefront windows. And as much as he tried to bury it, a quiet ache settled deep in his chest.

It wasn’t just envy. It was the sharp sting of absence, a longing for something he’d never truly had. JJ had never known the comfort of a family coming together, the warmth of being part of something whole. He’d never sat at a big table on Christmas Eve, hands joined in prayer, giving thanks for love and blessings. He’d never felt the security of being surrounded by people who cared for him simply because he existed. And though he masked the pain behind his signature grin and easy bravado, it festered inside him — a quiet storm of hurt and resentment.

He wanted what they had. He wanted it desperately. But instead, his Christmases were spent alone. A pack of chips served as his feast, the flickering light of a static-filled TV his only companion. Lying on his bed, he would flip through the sparse free channels, hoping for some distraction, some escape. And always, in the back of his mind, he clung to the faintest hope that come morning, he’d find a small gift beneath the cactus — his father’s feeble, unspoken attempt at connection.

For years, this was his Christmas: quiet, lonely, and hollow.

But then, one year, everything changed.

JJ was fourteen when his father was imprisoned for the first time for an extended period, leaving him utterly alone. John B. and his father did what they could to help, but JJ bristled at the idea of being anyone’s charity case. The weight of feeling indebted was too much for him to bear. That summer, he decided to fend for himself, searching for his first job.

It wasn’t easy. JJ quickly discovered that no one wanted to hire a scrappy, imperfect Pogue with a tarnished family name. The shadow of his father’s reputation loomed large over the island, and people assumed that the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. He could still recall the sting of rejection, the way doors closed in his face, and the cold, judgmental eyes that dismissed him before he even had a chance to speak. With each failure, his hope dwindled, until desperation weighed heavy on his young shoulders.

And then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through storm clouds, your father entered his life.

JJ often saw him at the docks, heading out for early-morning fishing trips. A few times, when the catch was plentiful, your father had even handed JJ a couple of fish — no questions asked, no pity in his eyes. Your family wasn’t wealthy like the Camerons, but you weren’t struggling at the bottom of the Cut either. You lived modestly, running a small fishmonger’s shop that was well-loved by locals for its unmatched quality.

That day, as JJ sat dejectedly on the pier, contemplating yet another fruitless search, your father approached him. With a kind smile and no hesitation, he offered JJ a job. Weekend mornings spent fishing, helping with traps and unloading — the kind of honest work JJ had been searching for. It felt like a lifeline, a stroke of fortune for a fourteen-year-old boy who had nearly given up.

From that moment, your father became more than an employer. He became a steady presence in JJ’s life, someone who saw the good in him when others refused to look past the Maybank name. In time, he even became a friend — a surrogate father in ways JJ hadn’t realized he desperately needed.

Your family’s kindness extended beyond the job. Your father often invited JJ to join your family dinners, but JJ rarely accepted. The idea of intruding on something so warm and whole made him uncomfortable. He already felt like he owed your father too much, and the last thing he wanted was to overstep. Still, on the rare occasions when your mother’s insistence won out, JJ would find himself sitting at your table, silently marveling at the life you lived.

And then there was you.

At every dinner, JJ’s eyes inevitably found you. You were radiant, an unapproachable beauty that reminded him of the star atop a Christmas tree — brilliant and captivating, yet forever out of reach. The two of you didn’t talk much, just polite exchanges and fleeting smiles, but it was enough. For JJ, it was more than enough.

He fell for you quietly, deeply, and without reservation. To him, you were a dream — a glimpse of something he could never quite have but couldn’t help but long for.

But one day, everything changed — and with it, JJ’s love for Christmas was born.

It was the same year, during the heart of winter. JJ wandered aimlessly through the deserted streets of Kildare, his hands buried deep in his pockets as the howling sea wind tugged at his threadbare jacket. Shop windows, darkened in honor of the holiday, glimmered faintly with leftover lights, their cheerful displays feeling like a world apart from his reality. Everyone else was inside, basking in the warmth of family and celebration. His friends were home — John B. spending the day with his father, Pope and Kiara with their own families — while JJ walked the streets, searching for something he couldn’t name, a place where he belonged.

His own house was cold and hollow, a silent reminder of all he didn’t have. John B. had invited him over, but JJ declined, unwilling to intrude on his friend’s rare moments of peace with his dad. So, he drifted through the morning, each step pulling him deeper into an abyss of loneliness.

A sudden chime shattered his thoughts — the soft jingle of a shop bell as its door swung open. JJ looked up, his breath catching as the sound of laughter echoed down the street.

It was you.

You stepped out of the grocery store with your dad, your voice lilting with a joy that made the bleak morning feel brighter. A red knit hat perched on your head, mirroring the one your father wore, and you both sported matching festive pajama sets. The sight was almost absurdly charming, but to JJ, you looked radiant — more beautiful than ever. The soft sunlight seemed to halo around you, making you seem like an angel come to life.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned toward him and waved, your smile lighting up the frosty morning. JJ’s heart stuttered, and before he could fully process it, you were already standing in front of him, your breath visible in the chill air, your cheeks flushed pink.

“Merry Christmas, Jay,” you said warmly, tilting your head slightly. A strand of hair escaped from beneath your hat, brushing your face. JJ had to fight the overwhelming urge to reach out, to tuck it back behind your ear.

“Merry Christmas, angel,” he murmured, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was only when he saw the faint blush dust your cheeks, your gaze darting downward with a shy smile, that he realized what he’d called you.

“We... my dad and I were thinking,” you began hesitantly, your voice a little rushed, “do you want to spend Christmas with us?”

JJ blinked, caught off guard.

You bit your lip nervously, shifting your weight. “We haven’t opened presents yet, and Mom made that cherry pudding you love, and we always watch a movie after that and-”

You were rambling, your nose wrinkling slightly as you spoke, and JJ couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t want to impose, didn’t want to accept and risk feeling like a burden. But the nervous hope in your voice, the way you avoided his eyes as though bracing for rejection, made it impossible to refuse.

“Thank you. With pleasure,” he interrupted softly, his smile widening.

Your eyes snapped up to meet his, wide with surprise, and then they lit up with excitement. Before JJ could react, you grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the car with a burst of enthusiasm. “He said yes, Dad!” you called out, beaming.

That Christmas was the best of JJ’s life.

The warmth of the fireplace, the soft glow of the Christmas tree, the unexpected gifts waiting under its branches — all of it was magical. But none of it compared to the feeling of being part of something he’d always longed for. Sitting with your family, sharing laughter and stories, tasting your mom’s cherry pudding, JJ felt something he hadn’t dared to dream of: belonging.

And then there was you.

You, who had reached out when no one else had. You, who had brought him in from the cold, both outside and within. You, who had become his Christmas angel, saving him with your kindness and warmth. That day, you didn’t just give JJ a happy holiday — you gave him a family.

You became his home.

And now, JJ sat on the bed in the bedroom you shared, in the house you’d built together — not the grand mansion with big windows and a sprawling garden he had once promised you under a starlit sky, but a modest, white, slightly weathered two-story home. It had a cozy front yard with space for flowers yet to be planted and a back door that opened onto the soft sands of the beach. It wasn’t the picture-perfect dream you once painted together, but it was real. It was yours.

This house had become his sanctuary. Each day, he came home to your arms, finding solace in your laughter and warmth. Each morning, he woke beside you, basking in the light of a love that grounded him. And tonight, you would celebrate your first Christmas in the home you’d built — not just of wood and stone, but of trust and shared dreams. It wasn’t perfect. Neither were you. But it was home.

For JJ, it was more than he had ever thought he could have. The boy who once wandered lonely streets at Christmas, who stared longingly at shop windows and dreamed of belonging, had found it here — with you. The memory of those cold, empty nights and his childhood filled with longing still lingered at the edges of his mind, but they no longer haunted him. You had rewritten his story, replacing loneliness with joy and pain with purpose.

He glanced toward the living room and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he watched you bustle back and forth between the kitchen and dining room. You were radiant, your hair cascading down your back in soft waves as the skirt of your red dress shimmered with each step. A familiar Santa hat perched on your head, the same one you wore on the Christmas that changed everything—the one where you gave him the gift of belonging for the first time.

The air was filled with the mouthwatering aroma of the turkey roasting in the oven, mingling with the faint, sweet scent of pine from the decorated tree in the corner. Your favorite Christmas playlist hummed in the background, and you hummed along softly as you worked, pausing to adjust the napkins on the table with a perfectionist’s touch. JJ’s lips curled into a smile. You were always like this, always striving to make things special for everyone else, pouring your heart into the smallest details.

He could see the excitement in your every movement — the way your cheeks were flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, the way your eyes sparkled with anticipation. It reminded him of the first time he saw you that Christmas morning years ago, standing on the icy street in your matching pajamas with your dad. Back then, you had invited him into your family, into your world, without hesitation. Now, here you were, creating that same magic, not just for him but for the friends you both cherished.

JJ felt his chest tighten with gratitude. He didn’t need the mansion or the grand promises anymore. He didn’t need a perfectly landscaped garden or the white picket fence. He already had everything he’d ever dreamed of — and more. You were his dream, his home, his Christmas angel.

Pushing off the doorframe, he walked toward you, his steps soft against the wooden floor. You didn’t notice him at first, too focused on the final touches of the table. But when he slid his arms around your waist from behind, you let out a small gasp, laughing as you turned to look up at him.

“Jay,” you chided playfully, though your smile gave you away.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his lips lingering as he breathed you in — the scent of cinnamon, the faint traces of your perfume, the essence of you. “You know,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with affection, “you don’t have to do all this. It’s already perfect.”

You shook your head, a strand of hair falling into your face, which he gently tucked behind your ear. “I just want it to be special,” you said softly.

“It is,” he said firmly, his blue eyes locking onto yours. “Because of you. Everything you touch becomes special.”

Your cheeks flushed deeper, and you bit your lip, momentarily speechless. JJ smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a gentle kiss. The chaos of the kitchen faded, the playlist in the background becoming nothing more than a faint hum. In that moment, there was only the two of you, wrapped in the warmth of the home you’d built and the love that had carried you here.

As if jolted from a dream, you broke the kiss and stepped back slightly, your hands pressed firmly against JJ's chest. His heartbeat thrummed under your palms, steady and sure. You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, your brows furrowed in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“JJ,” you scolded softly, your voice tinged with urgency. “This isn’t the time. The Pogues are gonna be here soon, and we’re not even close to ready!”

JJ’s lips curved into that infuriatingly smug grin of his, the one that made your heart race despite yourself. He leaned back as if he hadn’t a care in the world, his eyes flicking upward with deliberate mischief.

“Relax, angel,” he drawled, his voice warm as honey, smooth as the waves lapping the Cut. “It’s tradition. Had to honor it.”

Your gaze followed his, and you gasped. A cluster of mistletoe hung innocently above you, tied with a red ribbon that swayed gently in the air. You turned back to him, jaw dropping, and gave his chest a light shove.

“When the hell did you do that, Maybank?” you asked, laughing despite yourself.

He shrugged, a picture of nonchalance. “Doesn’t matter. What matters is you’re under it, so-” He grinned wider, tugging you back a step. “Less talking, more kissing.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hold back your smile. “You’re impossible.”

Yet even as you said it, your lips met his again, soft and lingering. Kissing JJ was like freefalling into the ocean, exhilarating and all-consuming, like the scent of salt air in the morning or the taste of wild blackberries in summer. He was chaos wrapped in warmth, the kind of boy who made you believe in stars aligning and fates intertwining.

As his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the corner of your lips, you felt the world tilt for a moment. It was easy to forget the chaos of the house, the mess still to be cleaned, the impending arrival of your friends. But you forced yourself to pull away just as he began to deepen the kiss.

“Uh-uh,” you teased, breathless but resolute. “Get busy, Maybank. We’ve got work to do.”

JJ groaned dramatically, his pout almost childlike as he tightened his grip on your waist. “I am busy. Busy kissing the prettiest girl in the Outer Banks,” he purred, his lips brushing against your cheek, then trailing to your neck.

“JJ,” you protested weakly, though your hand found its way into his hair, tugging lightly at the golden strands.

Before he could retort, the sharp chime of the doorbell broke the spell.

You froze, your brows knitting together. “What the-” you murmured, glancing at the clock. It was still an hour before Sarah and John B. were supposed to show up. Kiara was stuck at the diner until late, and Pope and Cleo were busy helping out at the store.

Your eyes snapped to JJ, who was now grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary.

“What did you do?” you demanded, narrowing your eyes.

His smile only widened, his blue eyes sparkling with a secret he wasn’t ready to share. “Guess you’ll just have to find out, angel.”

It wasn’t good. Not one bit.

“Go on, angel. Open the door,” JJ said, his voice low and teasing as he let you slip from his arms, giving you a gentle nudge toward the entryway.

You turned back to him, eyebrows raised in suspicion. His smirk was maddening, and his ocean-blue eyes sparkled with mischief, like he knew something you didn’t. “JJ…” you warned, taking slow, hesitant steps.

“Trust me, angel,” he said, leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed. The way he looked at you — like you were the only thing that mattered in the world — made your heart skip. His eyes always held that same soft, unspoken promise, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through your chest.

Biting your lip, you reached for the doorknob, casting him one last skeptical glance before opening the door. The cool winter air rushed in, bringing with it the scent of pine and saltwater from the sea just down the road. At first, you saw nothing unusual — just the empty driveway, lined with snow that glimmered faintly in the moonlight, and the quiet stillness of the evening. But then, something shifted near your feet.

You froze. The soft sound of rustling paper followed by the creak of a box wobbled slightly on the porch. You jumped back with a startled squeal, your pulse racing. “JJ! JJ!” you called out, your voice a mix of fear and excitement. “There’s… something out here!”

Your eyes darted to the object on the porch — a large box tied with a perfect red bow. It didn’t move at first, but as you took a tentative step closer, the box wobbled again, and a muffled noise came from inside.

Behind you, JJ’s laugh rang out, low and warm, like he was thoroughly enjoying your reaction. “Relax, angel. It’s not gonna bite… much,” he teased, the grin on his face devilishly charming. You could almost hear the glint of mischief in his voice as it wrapped around you, tugging at your nerves.

You whipped around to glare at him, your arms crossing instinctively over your chest. “This is your doing, isn’t it? What is it, JJ?”

His grin widened. “Why don’t you open it and find out?” he said, shrugging like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Pretty sure Santa dropped off an early delivery for you.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, still skeptical, but the curiosity was too strong to resist. Slowly, you lowered yourself to your knees, inching closer to the box. Another sound came from inside — a soft, almost pleading whine that made your heart skip a beat. You shivered, but couldn't stop your hands from reaching for the bow. Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied it, the red ribbon falling away like the final barrier between you and whatever lay inside.

“JJ, if this thing jumps out and eats my face, I swear-”

“Just open it, angel,” he said, crouching beside you now, his voice soft and coaxing, like he was trying to keep you calm, though you knew he was just enjoying the show. You could feel his breath tickling the back of your neck, his presence so close that it made your skin heat up despite the cold night air.

With trembling fingers, you tugged the bow loose. The moment it fell away, the lid popped open with a gentle creak, and out came a tiny white muzzle, followed by two shiny black eyes that sparkled like polished onyx. You gasped, covering your mouth with your hand.

“No way…” you whispered, your heart racing as the fluffy creature let out a tiny bark, its tail wagging furiously, causing the box to shake slightly.

JJ chuckled beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder, his laughter warm and full of pride. “Told you Santa came through this year.” His voice was teasing, but there was something deeper there too — a tenderness that you didn’t always hear. It was the same tenderness that had drawn you to him all those years ago, when everything in his life had been so broken, but he had found a way to build something together with you. The soft thrum of your heart matched the beat of his, and it felt like time had stopped just for you two, here in this small moment of joy.

You turned to him, your eyes wide. “You said no dogs. You said the house wasn’t ready!”

JJ shrugged, completely unbothered, his grin stretching wider, a glint of mischievous pride dancing in his gaze. “Guess I lied. Couldn’t resist, angel. I mean, look at him.” He leaned forward, his finger brushing against the puppy’s tiny, soft ears. “He’s got ‘JJ Maybank’ written all over him.”

The puppy let out another excited yip, struggling to climb out of the box. Gently, you lifted him, his soft fur warm in your hands. His tiny paws pressed against your chest as he wiggled excitedly, licking your face with reckless abandon, causing you to giggle uncontrollably.

You laughed, the sound light and free, the way it hadn’t been in years, your heart so full it could’ve burst. “Oh my God, JJ. He’s perfect.”

JJ watched you with a lazy smile, leaning closer to press a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering there just a moment longer than usual. “I think he’s already got a favorite human,” he teased, brushing your hair behind your ear with a tenderness that made you feel as if the entire world had stopped just for you two.

You cradled the little ball of fluff in your arms, his tiny paws pressing against your chest as he snuggled closer, his warmth filling the empty spaces of your heart. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t care. For the first time in a long while, you felt whole — like all the pieces of your life had finally clicked into place. You looked back at JJ, your voice soft and filled with gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your heart swelling as his smile deepened.

“Anything for you, angel,” he murmured, his hand brushing over yours as he leaned in to kiss you again. It wasn’t a kiss full of urgency or passion this time, but one that was slower, deeper — full of a love that had built up over years of quiet moments, of shared dreams, of both the good and bad times that had shaped you. A kiss that spoke of promises made and promises kept.

His arms were wrapped around your waist, his fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns along the back of your neck as the soft, playful puppy nestled in your lap. The warm weight of the small creature was a perfect contrast to the warmth of JJ’s body pressed against yours. He kissed the delicate curve of your neck, his lips lingering as if he could never get enough of you. He moved to your cheek, then your cheekbone, leaving a trail of tenderness that sent shivers down your spine.

You turned in his arms, your lips finding his in a kiss that spoke volumes. It wasn’t hurried, it wasn’t filled with desperation — no, this kiss was full of everything you’d wanted, everything you had built, everything you had fought for. After everything that had happened in Morocco, the terror, the near loss of him, you never thought you'd find this peace, this quiet joy. But here you were, wrapped in his embrace, feeling more alive than ever.

After that incident, after the nightmare of nearly losing him, JJ had changed. He was different. More gentle, more mindful of your every need, and more focused on building a life with you. You had always known he loved you, always felt the weight of his affection even when he didn’t say it aloud, but now — now it was deeper, tenfold. His love was a constant, a steady presence that made you feel safe in a world that had once felt like it was falling apart. And it was enough. More than enough.

His lips met yours again, soft and slow, each kiss full of meaning, of promises he’d made to himself to make you the happiest woman in the world. And as he kissed you, he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with emotion.

“I love you,” he said, each word wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket.

You smiled, your chest swelling with love as you pulled him closer. The puppy, now content in its new home, wandered around the living room, sniffing at the new surroundings with an inquisitive gleam in his eyes. You didn’t care that the front door was wide open or that you were making out on the living room floor, in full view of anyone who might pass by. There was no one else in the world but JJ and the life you were building together. You just wanted to show him, to remind him, how much you loved him. How much you appreciated him.

“What's the next step?” you teased, pulling away just enough to look into his eyes. Your hands, without thinking, brushed a lock of blond hair away from his forehead, your heart fluttering as you took in the depth of his gaze. “A house, a dog... what's the next thing in our list?” You giggled, the sound light and free, like a melody you could listen to forever.

JJ’s smile deepened, and his voice softened, filled with a warmth that had once been so foreign to him. “Oh, that’s easy. A mini you or a mini me — or a mini us,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear before he kissed you again, this time with a little more passion. You shivered at the thought of what he wanted — a family. Your family.

The idea of children, of a future together, made your heart race. It wasn’t a dream you had ever imagined for yourself. But now, with JJ, it felt right. It felt like it was meant to be.

“But first,” he continued, his voice playful as he broke the kiss, “we deal with this dog, because it seems to me he’s already gnawing on our pillow.”

You laughed, shaking your head, your heart full as you watched the puppy eagerly attack the pink pillow you had bought from the flea market, its fluffy stuffing spilling out onto the floor. The mess didn’t bother you, not at all. You were too caught up in the joy of the moment, in the warmth of JJ’s arms around your waist, in the paradise you had built.

It wasn’t perfect. The house was small, a little worn around the edges, but it was yours. Your home. A place where laughter and love filled the air, where memories were made, and where the future you dreamed of was slowly taking shape. It was paradise. Small, imperfect, but paradise all the same. And you couldn’t have asked for anything more.

But then, something shifted. You smelled it before you saw it — the faint scent of something burning, sharp and sudden. Your heart skipped a beat, and your eyes snapped open as the realization hit you.

“Damn, Jay, the turkey!” you exclaimed, your eyes widening in panic as you bolted upright, the puppy’s ears perked up in alarm as you scrambled to your feet.

JJ laughed, deep and carefree, lying back on the floor as he watched you rush toward the kitchen. He felt like the happiest man on earth, like everything in the world had finally fallen into place. But as you disappeared into the kitchen, he let his mind wander for a moment, and he couldn’t help but think back to the time before all of this.

Back to the dark days when Morocco had nearly torn you apart, when you had held him in your arms, desperate, praying he would survive. You had nightmares for weeks after, haunted by the memory of him almost slipping away from you forever. The weight of that fear had lingered, thick and suffocating, even after you returned to Kildare, when everything should have felt safe again. But it hadn’t been easy. It had taken time. It had taken effort. It had taken healing.

You both had scars from that experience. You, from the sleepless nights and the anxiety that gripped your heart whenever you thought about the what-ifs. And JJ, from the deep, quiet trauma that you knew he didn’t always talk about. But despite all of that, you had found your way back to each other. You had found peace. Together.

Now, as he lay there on the floor, listening to the sound of your frantic steps in the kitchen, he smiled softly to himself. The memories of Morocco were still there, lingering in the background, but they no longer defined him. No longer defined you together. You had rebuilt your paradise, and no amount of darkness could take that away.

JJ Maybank had always been reckless, wild, untamed. But now, he was grounded. Not because the world had suddenly become perfect, but because you were his. Because he had found his anchor in you. You were his home. And no matter what happened, he knew you would always be there, side by side.

He closed his eyes for a moment, letting the peace of the present wash over him. There was no place he’d rather be. No place but here, with you. His family. His paradise.

And for Christmas, that was all he could ever ask for.

The smell of burning turkey wafted in from the kitchen, and he couldn’t help but laugh. Maybe paradise wasn’t perfect, but damn, it was perfect for him.

thankx for reading <3

it's beginning to look a lot like Christmas...

okay, this work my first kinda christmas special and I like it so much. also 'santa doesn't know you like I do' is such a beautiful song and maybe the meaning of the song is not connected to the whole vibe of this work but first lines is so jj and angel coded, idk.

but thank you again for reading my work and as usual you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

– your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x you #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x fem!reader #jj maybank fluff #obx x reader #obx fanfiction

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gotta-winwin · 13 hours ago

Text

(🎄) ... mirth and good cheer - xmas special

⭐ starring: vernon

🎄preview: vernon used to fly back to new york every christmas for one reason only: his childhood best friend. christmas used to be his and y/n’s thing, until he got seemingly too busy to ever return. now, as y/n departs to korea for the first time, she can’t help but wonder if her and vernon would ever cross paths again. vernon, unbeknownst to her, has been wondering the exact same thing. as the boys set up their christmas tree in their dorm, he does his best to ignore how hints of y/n still seemed to linger throughout the holiday air.

tw/cw: idol!vernon x nonidol!reader, childhood friends to lovers, estranged friends, slight miscommunication, fluff, slight angst, best christmas romcom vibes, features svt members, stubborn!reader, equallystubborn!vernon, use of y/n, flips between past and present day

☁️ masterlist & a/n: dropping a vernon x reader fic for our xmas special! doesn't vernon just scream childhood bestie to lover (੭˃ᴗ˂)੭ merry christmas my loves!

11 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

“That’s not how it’s supposed to work.” Mingyu slapped Vernon’s hand away from the tree they were decorating. “It’s supposed to be symmetrical, not whatever you’re doing.”

Vernon had to admit he wasn’t really paying attention. Their dorm auntie, the one who came around once a week to clean up the place, had baked them gingerbread men as a Christmas gift, and the smell felt like it had seeped into the walls of their dorm. It was a nostalgic smell, one that took him back to his childhood, new york and-

“Vernon?” Mingyu waved a hand in front of his face. “Are you even listening right now?”

He blinked, brought back from his thoughts. “Sorry, hyung. What?”

Mingyu could only let out a deep sigh, moving to place the bauble where he intended it to be. “You’re like this every Christmas. If you miss her so much, why don’t you just fly back?”

Vernon didn’t really know why he wasn’t flying back. He certainly could be, they were off work for the holidays and a plane ticket back wasn’t hard to find. He would be doing himself a favor, putting himself out of misery and finally seeing his childhood best friend. The thing was, he wasn’t really sure if Y/N wanted to see him. He shrugged. “I don’t miss her.” It was a lie and everyone in the room knew it.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2003:

Everyone who knew either of them would say they were smart kids for their age. Both only five, they whispered secrets to each other like little middle schoolers would on the playground.

“My parents say I’m going to Korea.” Vernon whispered to Y/N as they watched a christmas movie. “Forever.” Vernon always had a dramatic, theatrical side to him, even as a child.

Y/N could only frown. “Forever? Why?” She couldn’t imagine her best friend moving anywhere without her. “Am I going too?”

Vernon mirrored her frown on his own face. “I don’t know.” Sensing her sadness, he reached over and gave her a hug. “I’ll visit every year.” He promised.

“Every christmas.” Y/N insisted. She had always loved christmas above all else. “So we can watch movies again.”

Vernon agreed. “Okay. Every christmas. It’ll be like-” He paused, his young mind searching for the word. “Tradition.” He smiled at her, proud of the big word.

“Promise?” Y/N stared at him with wide eyes, reaching out with her pinky, extended. “Pinky promise me.”

Vernon grasped her pinky with his, shaking it firmly. He felt like a grown up, making one of those important business deals. “I promise.” Turning back to the screen, he let out a whine when he realized they had missed the best part. “We missed the part where the grinch screams down the mountain.” He complained. “I wanted to watch that part.”

Y/N got up, searching for the remote. “I’ll turn it back.”

Their dynamic never changed, even as they grew older. Vernon walked through life, Y/N following behind him with eyes filled with admiration, gently nudging the boy whenever he got distracted and began walking off-track. It stayed that way even with the distance, until one Christmas, Y/N woke up and Vernon had not returned.

CHRISTMAS DAY 2016:

“Mom?” Y/N called as she walked slowly down the stairs. She had returned home from university for the holidays and was confused when Vernon wasn’t at his usual spot to welcome her home. “Where’s Vernon?” He was usually back from Korea by now.

She didn’t like the look of pity her mother was giving her. “He didn’t tell you, honey? He’s been so busy with work, looks like he can’t fly back to join us for christmas this year.”

She felt her heart sink. She had been looking forward to spending time with him, even if it was just a couple of days out of the year. “Oh.” Of course, she understood. His work was important and she was sure the kpop industry couldn’t be easy. “That’s okay. I guess he must’ve been too busy to tell me.”

“What are you still doing here?” Joshua frowned at Vernon, who was lying down on his bed. “Shouldn’t you be in New York by now?” He was used to Vernon flying back to New York every christmas since they had met.

Vernon let out a huff. “Not going back this year, Josh.”

“Why not?” His friend pressed, confused. Vernon was usually so excited to go back. “Isn’t your friend going to be sad?”

“I can’t miss any more practice before our comeback. One Christmas should be fine.” Vernon explained, although his voice betrayed his disappointment. He had been looking forward to going back home, to be able to see Y/N again. He thought to himself that one christmas couldn’t hurt, right?

One Christmas missed turned into two. Then four. Then the timing felt too long and awkward and Vernon just never got the confidence to ever go back.

10 DAYS FROM CHRISTMAS 2024:

Korea was beautiful underneath a sheet of snow. Y/N had landed last night, having made up her mind to give living in Korea a try. Ever since graduating university and landing a job as a screenwriter, her friends and family had always urged her to try working for the Korean film scene.

She supposed she had always just avoided the country because of Vernon.

Her new job writing for some K-drama started after New Years. She thought maybe spending Christmas in a new place would bring back the mirth and good cheer the holiday used to give her, but she knew she was here for a different reason. A selfish and pathetic one. It burned her, that a part of her still wished to bump into Vernon after all these years. She knew he was doing well, SEVENTEEN was soaring through new heights and she had kept tabs on his ongoing success. It was the only way she kept going: his large internet presence sometimes made it feel like he never even left at all.

It hurt her the most that he could be doing so well without ever seeing her again.

Rounding the corner to the coffee shop, she rubbed her raw hands to regain heat. Ordering, she was relieved to find out she could still hold a conversation in Korean. It had gone rusty, the only people she ever used Korean with back home was Vernon’s dad and sister.

“Hello?” Someone from behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

She was greeted by a slightly taller, blond man, sporting black rimmed glasses and holding a cup of iced coffee. Her mind short circuiting a bit from the sudden Korean, she paused, trying to recollect her thoughts before replying. “I don’t think so?”

The man’s eyes widened in sudden recognition. “You’re the girl in the Christmas photos!” He exclaimed with wonder, pointing at her as if they were long lost friends.

She squinted, giving him another look over. “Um..” She frowned, quite sure she didn’t know this man.

“Sorry.” He smiled sheepishly at her, extending his hand for a handshake. “That probably came out wrong. You’re Vernon’s friend from New York, right? I’ve seen you in the pictures on his wall.”

She blanched, all of a sudden feeling very light and disoriented. “I’m sorry.” She smiled politely, still racking her brain furiously for the guy’s name. “How do you know Vernon?”

“I’m Seungkwan.” He explained, dropping her hand. “Vernon’s bandmate.”

She let out a sound of realization. “Ah~” She knew who he was. “Seungkwan. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to have blonde hair now.”

Chuckling at her shy admission, Seungkwan felt strangely sad to see the girl in Korea. “When did you come to Korea?” He asked, knowing Vernon would lose his shit if he found out they had been in the same location for a while.

“I arrived just last night.”

He left out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. Okay, at least it hadn’t been very long. “You should come to our Christmas party.” He suggested, knowing Vernon would be there. “It’s being hosted at Coups hyung’s house this year, and everyone will be there.”

Y/N shook her head. “I wouldn’t want to make things weird.” She already caught on to the fact that Seungkwan knew all about her and Vernon’s falling out, or lack of one.

“You wouldn’t.” He insisted. “You must come. I’d hate to see you spend Christmas by yourself.”

It didn’t take much for Y/N to relent. She supposed a part of her had been looking for a chance to see Vernon again. “Alright. I’ll stop by and say a quick hi to everyone.”

Seungkwan’s smile was contagious as he beamed, grabbing a napkin to scribble Scoups’ address onto it and handing it to her. “It’s at 7pm on the 24th. Bring a present- something small.” He hurriedly gave her all the details as he left, mumbling about being late for a company meeting and how lovely it was to finally meet Vernon’s mystery girl.

Holding the napkin in her still freezing hand, Y/N felt utterly shipwrecked as she watched Seungkwan leave. Nine days was enough to prepare her heart to see Vernon again, right?

12 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

The frost in the air bit at Y/N’s face and neck as she quickly rang the doorbell to Seungcheol’s home. It was smaller than she had expected it to be, homey and comfortably situated in between two other larger houses.

“Y/N!” Seungkwan greeted her as he opened the door, tugging her in. “Oh, look at you. You must be freezing. Come in, come in.” Taking her coat from her and hanging it up, he beamed down at her. “I’m so glad you actually came.”

She bit back a smile, taking off her shoes. “I couldn’t turn down an invitation from Vernon’s friends.”

“Vernon’s in the living room with the others.” Seungkwan pointed down the hall, directing her over.

Y/N paused, loitering in the hallway between the door to the living room and the door to the kitchen. She felt strangely pulled towards the kitchen, knowing it’d be safe without the chance of a potential run-in with Vernon. Turning decisively towards the kitchen, she pretended not to hear Seungkwan’s deep sigh as he followed her in, knowing the boy was disappointed she had run away.

“It’s the girl from Vernon’s photos!” Hoshi sprung off the kitchen island to greet her, handing her a cup of mystery liquid.

She sniffed it before cringing away at the strong liquor scent. “That’s me.” She mumbled, shoulders sagging a little. “Does he really still have photos of me up?

Everyone in the kitchen nodded simultaneously. “It’s been on his wall since we were trainees.” Joshua informed her, his eyes holding a teasing glint. “Every time we move places he just puts it back up.”

Y/N didn’t really know what to do with that information. “Oh.” She replied, looking down in her cup, thinking. “I didn’t know that.”

Seungkwan let out a loud sigh once again. “You should go talk to him.”

She looked up.

“Please.” He added, his tone bordering on begging. “He’s been so grumpy. Especially during the holiday season. I got a pillow to the face for asking him a simple question yesterday.” He grumbled out, complaining about his moody roommate.

“What did you ask him?” Joshua asked, mildly curious.

Seungkwan shrugged. “Just if he was going back to New York.”

“Of course he threw a pillow at you.” Joshua rolled his eyes. “I’m surprised he didn’t just deck you, with how you were antagonizing him. You know very well he hasn’t gone back in years.”

Y/N watched the conversation silently, gagging quietly as she sipped the concoction Hoshi had handed her. She absorbed the information diligently, her eyes widening the more information she got on Vernon. Distance had turned him into a stranger - and now, well, she couldn’t really say she knew him at all. It was strange, having to admit someone she used to read like the back of her own hand was someone she now didn’t know at all.

“I’m going to the living room.” She decided, having had enough of the topic. If she kept listening to them talk about Vernon’s struggles and heartache about leaving her in New York one more minute she might find herself leaving for the night. Being in the same room with Vernon was just going to be awkward silence anyways. She knew he wasn’t brave enough to approach her. At least not tonight.

“Y/N!”

It was Mingyu and Wonwoo who greeted her from the couch, the two of them in the middle of an intense round of what looked to be Mariokart. They waved at her from their place, inviting her over to sit next to them. She was painfully aware of Vernon’s eyes staring at her from his place on the rug, fingers busy with a random puzzle that was lying out.

“Hi guys.” She smiled, sitting down, laughing when Mingyu pushed Wonwoo in an attempt to disrupt his driving.

“We didn’t know you were in Korea for Christmas!” Mingyu exclaimed. “Good thing Seungkwan bumped into you when he did and invited you over.”

She glanced at Vernon, who was doing his best to pretend like he wasn’t interested in their conversation. “Yeah. I moved here recently actually. Got a job writing for a TV show.”

Vernon’s eyes widened as he fixed his stare against the white rug.

“That’s cool.” Wonwoo smiled at Y/N, happy for her. “It’s good that you’re in Korea now.” He side eyed Vernon, frowning when he realized the boy hadn’t even spoken to Y/N. Nudging him with his foot, he gestured with his gaze. “Did you hear Vernon? Y/N got a job here.”

Vernon nodded stiffly before standing up. “I think Cheol hyung’s calling me, I’ll- I’ll go see what he wants.” And just like that he was gone, rushing out of the living room.

Wonwoo looked apologetically at Y/N. “I’m sorry about that.”

She shrugged, although her heart had cracked at the movement. “It’s okay.”

“Maybe now that you’re in Korea you guys can be friends again?” Mingyu suggested quietly, although a part of him wasn’t really certain about it. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” She mumbled, taking another sip of her drink, feeling her face flush with heat. Anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t tell.

Maybe it was the alcohol speaking, but Y/N could feel her lips start to loosen the more she sat with Mingyu and Wonwoo, the party heading later into the night.

“You know I used to hate you guys.” She admitted all of a sudden, jolting both boys out of whatever conversation they were having.

“What?” Wonwoo frowned. “Why?”

“I hated Vernon for choosing you guys over me.” She lowered her eyes to the floor, feeling ashamed. “I know it’s childish of me, but hating you guys was how I dealt with it. I couldn’t bring myself to hate Vernon for his own actions.”

Mingyu looked at her with sad eyes as he patted her on the back gently. “I get that.” He reassured her, and she looked over at Wonwoo who was nodding as well.

“Do you still hate us?” Wonwoo asked, his voice calm.

She shook her head. “No. So I guess I’m just-” She paused. “Confused now.”

She hated how pitiful their looks made her feel as she sat there, nursing her half finished drink, mind spinning. Perhaps it was time to leave her silly childhood infatuation with Vernon in the past. It seemed like he had done so already anyways.

10 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS 2024:

Vernon felt like throwing up the moment he saw Y/N enter the party. It felt like a vision, something he had conjured up within his own mind, until the others had greeted her and shattered his vision into reality.

“Talk to her, you moron.” Seungkwan nudged him. He had retreated from the living room into the kitchen the moment Y/N had sat down with the others on the couch. It physically stung to be in the same room as her, with all the knowledge that he had failed her and their once cherished friendship.

He took another gulp of his drink instead of answering Seungkwan.

“She clearly still loves you, y’know.” The boy continued upon hearing Vernon’s silence. “Or else she wouldn’t be here. And didn’t you always tell us Y/N would follow you around like a puppy whenever you were back home as kids?”

Screw Seungkwan and his amazing, awfully selective memory.

“So?” Vernon mumbled, rolling his shoulders back and feeling himself tense. “Things change.”

“You’ve changed.”

Vernon stared at his friend, thrown off by the sudden harsh truths. “What?”

“I don’t think she’s changed at all, Vernon.” Seungkwan observed. “It’s you who’s changed and you who has to fix it.” He paused. “Or at least explain it to her. Why you don’t want to be friends anymore.”

“I do want to be friends.” He stated plainly.

Seungkwan cut his eyes at him, exasperated. “Then tell her that. Jeez, bro. You suck at this.”

“We’re swapping presents now!” Seungcheol poked his head out from behind the hallway door. “Everyone in the living room!”

Vernon grabbed his present from the counter and headed in behind Seungkwan and Joshua, turning the box in his hands as he examined the poor wrapping job he had done last night. He had bought the most generic gift he could find, knowing it was going to be a random swap with the boys. The thing he hadn’t accounted for was Y/N showing up - and now it had thrown both his present and him off the game.

“Grab a pair.” Seungcheol announced loudly to everyone in the room, as there was a mad scramble for partners.

Vernon found himself standing alone in the midst of his bandmates all already coupled up, limbs tangled together in an awkward mad dash for a partner. His eyes met the only other person with a partner and he stifled a pained cry.

“It looks like you and Y/N are exchanging gifts this year, Non.” Seungkwan shot him a large grin from his spot next to Mingyu.

He knew this had to be preplanned - fate couldn’t be this cruel, right?

“Go on.” Seungkwan poked him in the back, urging him to approach Y/N, who suddenly seemed to be very captivated by a nearby portrait of Seungcheol and Kkmua, placed on the shelf next to her. She stared at it intensely, although Vernon knew she was still hyper-aware of the fact that he was slowly walking towards her. She had that funny way of darting her eyes towards the person she was avoiding while not facing in their direction.

“Y/N.” Her name sounded so foreign yet so familiar across his tongue as he spoke.

“Vernon.”

Her voice felt like coming home.

“Here.” He placed his gift in her hands as he took hers, turning it awkwardly in his hands. “What is it?” He asked, shaking it gently.

The corners of her mouth lifted. “Telling you would defeat the purpose of it being a surprise.”

“You said that last time too.”

He watched her stiffen at his words and he immediately regretted bringing up the past. They both knew last time had been years ago.

“I guess I did.” She replied stiffly, turning his gift in her hands. “What’s yours?”

“Thought you liked your presents to be a surprise?” He recalled, remembering how she used to whine that he must wrap her presents, when the teenage him had insisted that just putting it in a bag would be fine.

“I do.” Her tone made it sound like she was just remembering that fact herself. She looked up and shot him an awkward smile. “I guess I don’t really know what to say.”

“Me either.”

He could’ve sworn he saw her face drop at his words.

They separated soon after, the uncomfortable silence taking over and suffocating them both out of the vicinity of each other. Vernon returned to his spot in the kitchen, picking at the pieces of takeout still leftover on the counter, listening to the others squabble over meaningless things.

He watched Y/N leave, feet rooted by the hallway door and mouth firmly shut closed - he didn’t trust himself to say goodbye to her - he knew that if he had, a million unsaid words would have spilled out and the night would have ended terribly for the both of them. But it was the fear that kept him still most of all, as he watched her exchange numbers with Seungkwan, hugging the others and promising to keep in touch. He stayed as still as a statue as the door shut behind her.

“You idiot.” Seungkwan turned to face him as soon as he locked the door.

“Seungkwan.” Seungcheol’s warning tone made Vernon look at him. He was sending a strong warning glance at the boy.

“What?” Seungkwan protested. “He is being stupid.”

“I think I’m going to head back.” Vernon mumbled, grabbing his coat and hurriedly throwing it on, Y/N’s gift clutched tightly under his arm as he headed for the door. “Thanks for the party, Coups hyung.” He called behind him, shutting the door behind him and welcoming in the cool, biting winter air.

He released the pent up breath that had been choking him all night and furiously wiped away the tears that had begun to form the moment he shut the door behind him.

“Idiot.” He quietly chided himself. “So stupid.”

CHRISTMAS 2018:

“Are you really never going back to New York?” Joshua prodded at his arm with an insistent jab of a finger.

Vernon hummed in response. “There’s no point. My family prefers coming to Korea for the holidays anyways. They get to visit family here and everything.”

“What about your girlfriend?”

Vernon turned his head to see Joshua sporting a shit eating grin. “You know she’s not my girlfriend.”

“Might as well be.” He shrugged, pointing at the various photos that featured her against his wall. “Look at your pathetic loving gaze at her in all of these photos. You’re not even looking at the camera in any of these.”

Vernon frowned at his comment, taking a good look at the photos and realizing Joshua was right. “Doesn’t matter what I feel, hyung. She’s not my girlfriend.”

“She’ll never be if you don’t go back.” Joshua suddenly got serious, as he shifted in his seat to look at Vernon better. “Is there an actual reason why you won’t go back? I know we were too busy the last two years but this year we’re free.”

Vernon stayed silent even though the answer was clear as day in his mind. He was scared, terrified even. Terrified he had hurt her by neglecting her due to his heavy schedules, that she would slam the door in his face if he tried to visit her. “I don’t want to see her hate me.” He finally spat out, cringing as he said it.

Joshua let out a tiny noise of understanding. “So you’re avoiding her. Pretending so you don’t have to deal with the consequences.”

“When you put it like that you make me sound like an asshole.”

Joshua gave him a look that bordered on pitiful. “I don’t know what to tell you, man.”

“I’d rather remember her like this, y’know?” He said, pointing at the way she smiled at him in the pictures on his wall. “Instead of-”

“She might not hate you.” Joshua reminded him quietly from next to him.

“I really, really doubt that, hyung.”

5 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

It wasn’t computing properly into Vernon’s head that you had just gotten him the one thing he’s been wanting all his life.

He had been ogling the Novation Launchpad Pro that was currently sitting on his work table for the last hour, not really believing what he was seeing with his own two eyes. Unwrapping it had been a heart attack in of itself, as he opened up Y/N’s present to reveal the one thing that had been sitting on the top of his childhood wish list since he could remember. Even now, as a famous artist who could afford the splurge, he had never gotten it for himself, knowing it was a luxury and a purchase he didn’t necessarily need.

“What the fuck, Y/N.” He muttered in disbelief, sliding his palm down his face as he continued to stare at the gift. It was fucking fantastic and exactly what he wanted, and it made him feel even worse about the whole situation.

She might not hate you. He recalled the words Joshua had told him one time, Christmases ago.

“Someone who hated me wouldn’t have gotten me this, right?” He said aloud to himself, reaching a timid hand out to fiddle with the launchpad controls. “How did she even know we’d be exchanging gifts anyways?” And how on earth does she know I never got myself one? In what felt like a split second decision, Vernon felt himself walking towards the door of his apartment, sliding his shoes on and grabbing his keys - only one destination in mind. He had to fix this, somehow. Because there was no fucking way she still hated him.

4 HOURS TILL CHRISTMAS:

She would’ve complained that the sudden doorbell at 3am woke her up but she hadn’t really been sleeping. Y/N had been lying in bed with her eyes wide open since the moment she’d gotten home, the bag of chocolates and various snacks from Vernon left on her kitchen counter. She had stifled a laugh when she opened it - even till this day, Vernon’s go to gift was still the same. Chocolate and snacks can never fail, he had told her, defending his choice of gift. Especially when you don’t know the person too well.

She supposed that line made sense for their situation too.

“Vernon?” She squinted at the figure standing on her porch in the dark. “What are you doing here?” She rubbed her eyes, mildly wondering if she was dreaming.

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he stared down at her. “You got me the launchpad.”

She blinked. “Yeah.”

“How’d you know?”

She stared back at him, stunned at his bluntness and the randomness of the current setting. “You never shut up about it.”

His mouth opened and closed again. She watched as he tried looking for words, his vocabulary ultimately failing him.

“Come inside.” She said quietly, noticing how the harsh winter wind blew at his thin coat. Dragging him gently inside, she shut the door behind them both, turning around awkwardly to face him. She never thought she’d ever see him in his apartment - yet he looked so perfect.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, eyes darting around her place, taking it all in. “I know it’s late.” Glancing down at her pajamas, his lips quivered in a small smile. “Cute.”

“What?” She stared at him indignantly, completely thrown off by his behaviour. “Are you drunk?” She reached out a hand to touch his face, trying to check his temperature, but he caught her hand in his before she could reach.

“I’m not drunk, Y/N.” He dropped her hand like it had burned him.

“Then what are you here for?”

She watched him moisten his lips as he stalled for time.

“I wanted to say sorry.” He finally said, his words tumbling out as if they had been held back for long enough. “I shouldn’t have cut you off like that.”

She thought she’d have a more visceral reaction to the apology she had been waiting for all this time, but she didn’t. “Why are you saying this now? It’s been nearly ten years, Vernon.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Her shoulders sagged at his words and the sight of his dejected, ashamed face. “Why didn’t you come back? Or text me?” She asked him, pleading for an answer.

He finally looked up and met her eyes. “I guess I was scared. I got busy one year and didn’t go back- and I neglected our friendship. And then-” He paused, his voice breaking. “I left, and time passed and staying away felt simpler than going back. No goodbye felt better than a bad one.”

“It wouldn’t have been a bad goodbye.”

He shook his head. “You hated me.”

She looked away, remembering all the times she had cursed him for leaving her behind when she was younger. “Maybe. But never for long.” She mustered all her courage to tell him her next words. “I loved you too much to hate you for very long.”

Vernon blinked at her. “You loved me?”

She hummed in response, still not quite looking at him. They stood there, by her door, in the dim lights of her apartment.

“How did you even get my address?” She suddenly asked, forgetting he shouldn’t have known where to find her.

Vernon stayed silent, his mind still reeling from the sudden love confession. She used to love me?

“Vernon.” Y/N nudged him.

“Oh.” He finally responded, although his own voice felt like light years away as his mind continued to reel. “I asked my sister. Didn’t know you guys still talked.”

“Oh.”

“You used to love me?” He asked, incredulous, not quite believing her words. “Why?”

She laughed, and the sound wrapped around Vernon like her hugs used to. “What do you mean, why? Of course I loved you. I followed you around like a lost kid our entire childhood.”

“I loved you too, y’know.”

Her smile dropped as she paused mid-laugh. “What?”

He took a step closer to her, unsure where the sudden confidence was coming from. Vernon searched her eyes for some figment of affection, for truth, for the way she used to look at him when they were younger. “I don’t think I ever stopped loving you.” He finally admitted. “I definitely tried to, but your hold on me lasted through distance and time.”

“Me too.”

“What?”

“I never stopped loving you too.”

#seventeen imagines #svt #svt imagines #seventeen #svt fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen fic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen christmas #svt fic #svt scenarios #svt vernon #vernon x you #vernon x reader #seventeen vernon #vernon

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hencheri · 2 days ago

Note

jungwoo non con drabble?? 😓😓

18+ mdni.

pairing: bf!jungwoo x fem!reader

warnings: noncon, toxic relationship, anal sex.

well, you already know how i imagine it. jungwoo doesn't listen, he never does. he doesn't care about any "no's", even less about a "i'm not in the mood" complaint, all that matters is what he wants. it's not like he has a desire to hurt you or go against your wishes, no, he's just really driven by his lust. and he doesn't hesitate to satisfy his needs, whether you want it or not.

he's spoiled, he's whiny and he really doesn't handle well rejection. he, in fact, hates it. it makes his poor little heart ache and his mouth form a sad pout. what do you mean you don't want to let him fuck you? why can't he have a taste of you? a taste of your sweet pussy, all that he needs right now. all that it takes to make him happy. so why are you telling him no?

it's not that he doesn't know what he's doing, he does, but he just can't help it. he would never apologize though, because jungwoo genuinely is mad when you refuse him. don't trust his pouty lips, he may be confused and sad, he's boiling inside. thoughts such as "she's the worst girlfriend", "doesn't she love me?" or "i can't believe she's telling me no" fill up his mind and then his hands move by themselves. nothing will stop him, not even you, not even your lovely, high-pitched voice repeating "stop it".

on a good day, jungwoo is fast and you could even say gentle. but on a bad day, like he's been waiting all day with a boner and blue balls, he's mean and blinded by his frustration.

he doesn't go for your pussy, he goes straight for your ass. what jungwoo wants, he will have. what's that? oh, you're not prepared? it'll hurt? jungwoo isn't a sadist, but hearing your cries does something to him. maybe it pleases his ego, or perhaps it satisfies his need of vengeance, but he doesn't really listen. he doesn't care.

in any case, he'll put his tongue on your rim, cover it all, drag it to your cunt. his fingers touch you, they tease your hole and don't wait to be pushed inside of you. you gasp, arch your back, pull on his hair like you actually want to hurt him, jungwoo still doesn't listen. your pussy is in his mouth, being slurped and licked from each side, leaving your lips all swollen and puffy. his tongue feels good, but not his fingers stretching your ass. and he knows that. it's his favourite thing to do though, he won't stop.

he actually fucks it with his cock later, having you crying and sniffling under him, now saying that you're sorry, thinking it'll make him second guess himself or whatever. he'll admit that he's partly doing this to punish you, a way to remind you to not tell him no ever again, even though you still dare do it after, making jungwoo think that you're enjoying this and that you have less of a right then to refuse him since you crave his cock so much you're letting him force himself on you.

#different type of storytelling ig #hope its fine!#tw noncon #tw toxic relationship #nct smut #nct x reader #nct hard hours #nct 127 smut #nct 127 x reader #jungwoo x reader #jungwoo smut

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notlongtolove · 2 days ago

Text

into the rose garden; for evermore

months of hope, weeks of ache. you’ve stayed. you’ve waited. you’ve stayed in the waiting. more pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. but now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple. this work is part of the burnt norton series

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst... with an ending

content: situationship core, fighting, tears, sad...

word count: 5.5k

note: thank you for all the love on the burnt norton series! i hope you enjoy this last and final part (make sure to read allll the way to the end for something special inspired by this!)

a line: You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later.

Footfalls echo in the memory Down the passage which we did not take Towards the door we never opened Into the rose-garden. My words echo Thus, in your mind. - t.s. eliot

It was quiet, but Spencer heard it all the same.

“I love you.”

The confession was as delicate as it was sacred. A soft, almost fragile, wisp of a sound that left your lips.

His breath stilled before coming out in a shaky exhale as your hand curled around his. He swallowed and wished he could unhear it. Unknow it. But Spencer Reid has always been cursed with knowing things he wished he didn’t.

He’d tried not to notice at first. The way your gaze still lingered on him, how your voice still softened with every call of his name.

Of course, he’d known. And then he’d tried to forget.

When you’d suggested being friends instead—your voice trembling but determined—Spencer had known then that he should’ve walked away. He’d read enough, lived enough, to know how this would end. They said if you could still be friends with someone after loving them, it meant only one of two things: either you had never truly loved them, or you still did.

Spencer knew it wasn’t the former. He was many things—awkward, fractured, clumsy with feelings—but he wasn’t a liar.

And he loved you like it hurt him.

He had tried to kick the habit of you. Tried to drag out the time between phone calls and texts, tried to wean himself off the need to see your smile, hear your laugh, feel your lips on his. He’d told himself that he was being kind, that this distance he built between you was mercy. He knew it was cruel to keep stringing you along, holding on to you even as he kept you at arm’s length—but he wasn’t selfish enough to pretend he deserved you.

And so, while you stayed, wanting, waiting, Spencer ran.

Not because he didn’t love you. But because he didn’t know how to stay without breaking you in the process.

Thursday had come and gone. No text, no call. You weren’t phased, not at first, telling yourself the case ran long. It was a willing suspension of disbelief—that he was buried in reports and unsteady sleep, lost in the same work that had stolen him all the times before.

But then Friday arrived. Time dragged, slow and heavy, as each second passed. The news alerts, spam calls, and junk messages that lit up your screen mocked you relentlessly. The silence of Saturday and Sunday wasn’t any better, each minute unbearably long. Before you knew it, it had been a week since you’d last heard from him, since you’d seen even the faintest ghost of Spencer Reid.

Your friends didn’t ask questions. They didn’t bother prying, all too happy to fill in the blanks themselves. “Good riddance,” one of them had said over drinks one night. You laughed with them, too loud, a sound that didn’t quite belong to you. “About time you let that one go.” And you let them believe that was the truth.

You didn’t fill them in on the part where you’d been the one left hanging, the one Spencer had walked away from without a word. You let them believe you were the strong one, the sensible one, that you’d cut the cord and been better for it. You swallowed that truth alone bitterly because you couldn’t bear their pity. If Spencer wanted to close the door on you, you weren’t about to break your nails bloody clawing it back open. You’d already stood there, holding it wide for him, time and time again.

But in the quiet of the night, your bed empty and cold, anger and sadness slipped in through the cracks. They sat at the edge of your bed like unwanted guests, familiar and persistent, whispering the same questions you had no answers to. “What had changed?” Sadness wept, her shoulders shaking between sobs. “What had you done wrong?” Anger screamed, louder, harsher, her tongue lashing.

Each thought was a page torn from you, words unsaid thrown into the fire. Vulnerable and wasted—they could only have ever been meant for him. You hated yourself for it. And, for a fleeting second, you hated him too. He was gone. You were still here—waiting, always waiting. But you’d known all along that the flash of his badge, the weight of the gun on his hip, could never have compared to the significance of you.

In a way, you would’ve been right. Spencer’s work—his pride, his passion, his relentless devotion—It was all-consuming, yes, and it could never compare to you.

Nothing could compare to you.

You were it for him.

He knew it from the way sleep came so easily in your presence, his body finally surrendering to the peace and security he felt only in your arms. You were a quiet reprieve he could find nowhere else. He knew it from the way his heart had splintered when he’d heard you crying, the sounds of your sniffles fracturing something inside him. He couldn’t even bring himself to turn on the light. It would’ve been too unbearable, too painful, to face the sight of tears on your face.

To Spencer, you were the light at the end of a tunnel he’d stopped trying to run through years ago. He loved you for it—God, did he love you for it. But it was a light he didn’t think he deserved to reach.

And that terrified him more than anything.

Spencer wasn’t made for softness. He knew that. Whatever pieces of him had once been smooth and whole were long gone. He wasn’t the kind of man who could give you love letters or lazy Sundays with whispered promises. He was sleepless nights and cold coffee reheated three times over. He was restless hands and a mind constantly bracing for the next worst thing to happen. His time at the BAU had turned him into something broken and jagged. The last thing he wanted was to ruin you, too.

Because you, his sweet girl—soft, bright, and unshakably steady—you were everything he wasn’t. You didn’t need that. You didn’t deserve that. You deserved someone better, someone less damaged, someone who didn’t need you just to keep from sinking.

Maybe you’d found that in him. He was a friend of a co-worker of a friend of a cousin of a—wherever he came from, you hadn’t bothered to remember. He wasn’t Spencer.

This is your third date. Date. The word itself felt like a foreign concept. It carried a weight of certainty you’d never had before. With Spencer, there were no real beginnings, no clear endings—just nights out cut short, nights in cloaked in secrecy. A thing you never dared—or perhaps in Spencer’s case, cared—to truly define.

“I’d love to see you again,” he’d said, his voice solidly steady. “How’s Friday?”

“Friday’s fine,” you replied.

And when Friday came, so did he. On time, standing at your door with a smile that was easy to read, so uncomplicated, so un-Spencerlike. You’d gotten dinner, had a walk in the park, stopped by the little ice cream parlour you’d always wanted to take Spencer to. It was all exactly what you’d said it would be. Perfectly and predictably fine.

He dropped a piece of his waffle cracker onto the table, then casually blew it off and popped it into his mouth.

“Five-second rule, right?” he grinned.

“You know, actually, germs can transfer in less than—”

You hated the fact that Spencer was still playing on your mind. You hated the fact that you knew you weren’t on his more. You caught yourself, then shrugged, laughing it off.

“Forget it, I do it too.”

You tried to forget it. To forget him. It’d been almost 3 weeks since you’d last seen Spencer at this point. Anger and sadness hadn’t left entirely. They lingered, silent but present. You could feel them, but they were easier to ignore now—especially with a new warmth beside you at night, an easy distraction from the quiet ache.

But then, nostalgia came. She didn’t cry. She didn’t scream. No, she was more insidious than that.

She sat, cool and poised, on your kitchen counter, watching you with a sickeningly gentle gaze. “Remember how he used to help with the dishes after dinner? He’d wash them twice-over just because he knew you liked them that way. This one doesn't do that, does he? Doesn’t even know.” Her words stung, and they didn’t stop there. "Why didn’t you tell him? Why haven’t you told him?"

You don’t know why.

Sometimes, nostalgia grew meaner. She waltzed through the house, taking root in all the places you thought you’d exorcised him from. She rested on your dresser, her voice soft but biting. “You’re really going to wear that out with him? He bought it for you, remember? It still smells like him." Her tone sharpened. "Don’t be cruel.”

You weren’t trying to be.

Still, as you turned to leave the room, you caught the faintest flicker of a thought—Nostalgia’s quiet, treacherous whisper as she lingered in the doorway. “He’s not him.”

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair.

It definitely wasn’t fair for Spencer either when he saw you that day, walking down your street with your hands tucked into your pockets and another’s arm casually draped around your waist. It felt cruel, really. He hadn’t meant to be there. He’d only come to drop off your key. But fate, it seemed, had other plans—a twist and shove of the knife already buried hilt-deep in his chest.

The guy next to you looked stupid, so fucking stupid. There was no other way to put it. Spencer hated everything about him—his stupid fucking face, his stupid fucking hair, and his stupid fucking suit that probably smelled like the overpriced cologne Morgan used to wear.

Spencer decided to call him Stupid Fucking Bob. It felt appropriate. Cathartic, even.

Stupid Fucking Bob was tall. Taller than most. Not taller than Spencer, though, which gave him the tiniest, pettiest flicker of satisfaction. But it didn’t last. Not when you threw your head back and laughed at something Stupid Fucking Bob had said, your eyes crinkling in that way Spencer knew all too well.

Stupid Fucking Bob had the audacity to be dressed like he had his life together. A crisp, ironed button-up shirt, perfectly tailored that was worlds away from Spencer’s own casual, comfortable style. His whole look screamed refined—the kind of guy who probably ironed his perfectly matching pair of socks and knew the difference between champagne and prosecco. He’s nothing like Spencer.

Maybe Stupid Fucking Bob, with his stupid suit and stupid gelled hair was exactly what you needed now. Maybe he was a lawyer. Or a doctor. Something respectable and put-together. Someone who wouldn’t cancel dinners at the last minute or drag you to niche bookstores for fun.

Your hair was braided. That hit him first. He’s never seen you wear it like that before, and it felt like a punch to the gut. And your makeup? You looked beautiful. Well, you were always beautiful, but today you looked different in a way that made his heart ache. The heels on your feet—When had you started wearing heels? Or maybe you always did. He wouldn’t know, he’d never been with you anywhere formal enough to warrant anything beyond casual slides or sneakers. It all hit him harder than he expected.

Spencer turned away, swallowing hard against the bile rising in his throat. He needed to leave. The ache burned, spreading through his chest like wildfire, scorching every inch of him. He couldn’t do this. Not here. Not now.

But fate seemed to smirk and snapped her fingers.

“Spencer?”

Fuck.

He took a deep breath, forcing it past the lump in his throat, and tried to steady his breathing. His hands carried a slight tremor, and he shoved them into his pockets, curling them into fists. He managed to muster a smile—strained, but passable.

“Hey!” he said, wincing as his voice came out a little too loud, a little too eager.

“Wow,” you replied, your tone warm but surprised, “I haven’t seen you in—”

“Yeah,” Spencer interrupted quickly, his words tumbling over yours. “We, um, we had a big case.” He let out a short laugh, the kind he’d learned to recognise when suspects were trying to fill the silence with empty words.

You shifted your weight, hesitating for just a second before gesturing to the man standing beside you. “Oh, um, sorry—this is my, uh, friend, he’s…” Stupid Fucking Bob leaned forward, offering a polite, firm handshake.

But before he could reach Spencer, you stepped in, leaning over to stop him. “Oh, Spencer doesn’t…” you said softly. The way your hand gently rested on his arm wasn’t lost on Spencer. Whatever stupid fucking name he gave, Spencer couldn’t hear it over the static in his head.

Spencer couldn’t decide which was worse—the way you stepped in so instinctively, a painful reminder of how well you still knew him, or the way you were touching Stupid Fucking Bob, like you were starting to know him too. You’d called him a friend. He can’t be anything more than that, right? But the hesitation before you said the word told Spencer otherwise.

“Nice to meet you,” Spencer muttered through gritted teeth, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. It was the polite thing to do, even though his palms were clammy, and Spencer couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes for more than a second.

You were looking at him, your expression unreadable. Spencer hated that. And Stupid Fucking Bob just stood there, calm and composed in a way that made Spencer want to throw something.

Spencer hated Bob. Fuck, he hated Bob. Spencer hated the way his hand rested casually on your lower back, a touch that was so possessive, like it belonged there. But more than Bob, Spencer hated the way you didn’t pull away.

“So, uh,” you said, clearing your throat, “just in the neighbourhood?”

Spencer nodded stiffly, his hands still buried in his pockets, fingers curling tight around nothing. “Yeah, I uh, had some errands to run,” he said, trying and failing to sound casual.

You nodded back, your smile polite but tight, “Yeah, same here—”

“We were just grabbing lunch,” Stupid Fucking Bob cut in, his voice too cheerful, too comfortable. Oh my god, shut the fuck up, Bob. Spencer's jaw tightened, his molars grinding together.

We.

The word reverberated through his skull. He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “Right, right,” he said, nodding a little too much, as if that would make the whole thing easier to digest. It didn’t.

“I um, don’t want to keep you from your lunch,” Spencer finally said, his voice tight, his words clipped. He glanced at you, but only for a moment. “I should... I should get going. Errands and… other things.” He motioned vaguely over his shoulder, like there was somewhere he desperately needed to be. There wasn’t.

You hesitated, and for a brief moment, it looked like you might say something. But then Stupid Fucking Bob shifted beside you, his hand brushing against your back once more, and the words died on your lips.

Watching Spencer walk away felt like betrayal at its sharpest, love at its most humiliating.

It wasn’t fair that you had put yourself through the quiet torment of watching, staying, hoping—only for it all to come to nothing. It wasn’t fair that you allowed yourself to feel, to be seen in all your vulnerability, just to have Spencer walk away as if none of it had ever mattered.

I’ll stay, if he stays. It was your unspoken promise to yourself and your silent plea to him.

But he hadn’t stayed.

So it wasn’t fair that you were still here, while he got to walk away. It wasn’t fair, but you let him go regardless.

Because Spencer’s absence had given your life a strange kind of regularity, one you tried to see the best in. You leaned into it, telling yourself it was what you needed. It was a new kind of normalcy. You should’ve liked it, and you did like it.

At least you told yourself you did.

Three days later, it was a work party that finally unravelled you. Maybe it was the way your coworkers shared plans for the holidays, futures they seemed so certain of, the kind of dreaming you’d stopped allowing to indulge in. Or maybe it was the wine—too much of it, too quickly. Probably the wine. Excusing yourself to the bathroom, you locked the door behind you and leaned against the sink, staring at the girl looking back at you in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair slightly tousled, her smile looked convincing enough. She looked alive, happy even—But you didn’t quite feel like her.

Your fingers found your phone, scrolling aimlessly until they stopped, hovering over a name. It was instinctive, thoughtless. Before you could talk yourself out of it, you pressed call. “Could you come get me?” A pause, then softer, almost pleading. “Please?”

The party had dwindled to a quiet murmur by the time you stood waiting by the street. You nudged your coworkers along, promising them you’d be alright.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay?” one of them asked, concern flashing across her face.

“I’m fine,” you assured her, waving her off. “I’m waiting for someone.”

You had someone now. Someone dependable. That felt good, right? It was what you deserved. Dependable was good. Dependable was safe. But when you glanced up, sobriety crashed through your buzzed haze in an instant. It wasn’t dependability that greeted you.

“Spencer?” His name escapes your lips in a whisper, disbelief catching in your throat. “What are you—”

“You called me.”

Your stomach twists. “I… I did?”

“You did,” he nodded, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. The screen lit up with your call log, stark and undeniable. Your eyes flicked back to him—his hair slightly dishevelled, his coat hanging open. He looked like he’d rushed out the door. Your chest tightens, the ache returning in full force.

All you can think is, Oh God. I called the wrong him.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt out. Your heart hammers away in your chest as your gaze darts toward the street, desperate for a cab. “I didn’t mean to call—You can go. You should go.”

Spencer’s brow furrows, something unreadable crossing his face. “I’m already here,” he says, “Let me walk you home.” “I—” Your voice is soft, tentative. You hesitate. The choice should be simple. He’s already here. He’s offering to walk you home. There’s nothing inherently wrong with it. And yet, this feels wrong. You despise the fact that it does. You shouldn’t say it. You know you shouldn’t. But the silence between you is unbearable, and his presence feels impossibly close. “Okay,” you murmur, the word slipping out before you can stop it. Suddenly it feels more than wrong. It feels like surrender.

The night feels colder than it should as the two of you start walking. The silence stretches, long and awkward, until finally, he speaks.

“I’m glad you called me.”

Your stomach twists. “I didn’t mean to.”

His footsteps falter for just a moment, and when you glance at him, his gaze is sharp, questioning. “Me?”

“What?” you stammer, the word barely forming on your lips.

“You didn’t mean to call me?” His eyes lock onto yours, searching for something. They demand an answer you’re not ready to give. The question hangs in the air between you but the weight of his gaze has you pinned in place.

“I—yes, I didn’t—” You stumble over your words, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

Spencer watches you carefully, his eyes never leaving you, “You didn’t mean to, but you called me.”

Your breath shakes as you let out a long exhale. Finally, you whisper, “Yes. I did.”

“That guy,” He leans in just a little, his expression hardening. “Was he who you meant to call?”

You swallow and nod slowly, the answer burning in your throat. The reluctant admission feels raw as something flashes across Spencer’s face��Annoyance? Jealousy? You can’t hold his gaze long enough to tell. “What is he? Your boyfriend?” he mutters when you come to stop at a traffic light. His words strike a match, igniting a quiet anger within you.

“That’s none of your business,” you shoot back, your voice more defensive than you intended. It wasn’t so much that you needed to defend him—it was more about defending this new part of your life, the one where Spencer wasn’t there, the one where his absence hadn’t completely consumed you. A shred of proof that shows you can stand without Spencer.

That you are whole without him.

The silence that continues to stretch between you is heavy and suffocating. You silently curse the city for its sudden and inconvenient lack of cabs. Typical. The universe has always had twisted sense of humour.

“You know you don’t actually like him.” Spencer says under his breath.

“Oh, what the hell do you know?” You burst out. Without thinking, you step forward into the street. The light hasn’t turned green, but the road is clear, and Spencer’s presence is clawing at your throat. You need to do something, anything to get away from it.

Spencer’s hand shoots out, his fingers curling firmly around your wrist. You whip around to face him, anger simmering beneath you. His expression is calm, infuriatingly so, though there’s a flicker of disapproval in his eyes. “I know you,” he says, like he’s daring you to deny it.

“No,” you snap, shrugging his hand off your arm with a sharp jerk. The movement feels more like self-defense than defiance. You press the traffic light button repeatedly, a little too hard each time, even though it’s already lit. It’s a pointless gesture, but it gives your restless hands something to focus on. “You don’t know anything.”

“I do.” His voice was maddeningly steady, calm in a way that made something inside you snap. “I know your hair was braided that day because you probably hadn’t washed it the day before. You hate washing your hair.”

“Just—” You shake your head, voice breaking. “Stop talking.”

“I know those heels definitely hurt your feet,” he continues, relentless, “but you wore them anyway. Probably because you think he likes them.”

“Spencer, stop.” You’re trying to hold it together, to keep the tears at bay, but they come anyway.

“I know—”

“God, Spencer, stop it!” The words explode out of you. “You don’t know shit,” you snap, wiping furiously at your cheeks, trying to regain some semblance of control. “Just—Just fuck off!”

Spencer visibly flinches, but only slightly. The traffic light changes to green, but neither of you move to cross. “You—” Your chest heaves as you pull in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. You close your eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly, “You should go.”

“Is that really what you want?”

His question feels like mockery. What does it matter what you want? It clearly never mattered before, and it certainly won’t matter now.

You’d always been a bit of a hopeless romantic. You liked to believe that love, no matter how complicated or painful, was worth it. Maybe that was the only way you could make sense of the pain no one asked you to endure, a way to quantify the heartbreak Spencer never asked you to feel. You told yourself it had to serve some greater purpose, even when that purpose had yet to reap any kind of reward.

You tried to convince yourself that staying was a decision made from a place of independence, that your willingness to endure was an admirable strength born from the innate human need to love, and of wanting to be loved in return. But you knew it ran deeper than just that. You knew that you didn’t deserve this pain, but you also knew you’d never be the one to let go first. Your mother used to tell you that relationships only work if one person loves harder, and you’d realised early on that that person would always be you.

You knew you were tied to a fate of loving hard first, crying harder later.

And in that, it would never be fair.

“Why are you doing this?” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding in your chest.

Spencer pauses. When he speaks again, his voice is softer—but no less cutting. “You’re lying to yourself,” he says quietly. “And to him.”

A bitter laugh escapes your lips, and you turn sharply, starting to walk. “Oh, I get it,” you said, a scoff lacing your tone. “You’re trying to play matchmaker now? Is that what this is about?” You fold your arms across your chest, tugging at your jacket, a feeble attempt to hide yourself from the hurt he so effortlessly unearthed.

“This isn’t about him.” he says firmly. “This is about you—about us.”

“There is no us,” you spit as you turn to face him momentarily. “Remember?”

“You’re acting out.”

“Wow, real mature Spence,” you snap, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “They teach you that in FBI school? You think just because I’m finally happy—finally not waiting around for you—that means I’m acting like a petty, jealous child?”

“No, I think you’re acting out because you’re hurt.”

“Oh, yeah? Gee, I wonder why.”

“Because I didn’t say it back.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The world stops. The air seems to freeze around you. For a moment, you can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t move. A car speeds by, its horn blaring. Spencer reacts immediately, stepping to position himself between you and the flow of any other oncoming traffic like a barrier.

“What are you—Don’t just stop—” His hand grips your arm firmly, tugging you toward the sidewalk. But your feet refuse to move, rooted in place, and you barely register his words. “Would you—would you get off the street?” he says urgently. You can’t do anything but stare at him.

“You heard me?”

His expression softens. “I did. That night.” Spencer’s voice is quieter now, almost a whisper. “I heard you.”

You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. The glow of the traffic light pulses in the corner of your vision, steadily blinking. Sadness swells in your chest, but it’s overtaken by something sharper, hotter, darker.

Rage. Inexplicable, undeniable rage.

“You heard me.” You whisper, more so to yourself than to him. “You heard me, and you still—” The tears choke out the rest of the sentence. “Don’t,” you snap, stepping back when he tugs at you again. “Don’t touch me. Don’t—Just go. Please just go.” You turn away from him, your legs carrying you as far as they can, as fast as they can. You don’t even know where you’re headed anymore, only that you need to keep moving. But you hear Spencer behind you, his steps matching your pace.

“I’m not leaving you here.” Another faint brush of his fingers grazes yours sends you spinning back around, wrenching your hand away as if his touch burns.

“But you did!” you scream, your voice raw. Your grief echoes in the stillness of the street. The two of you are locked in some heartbreaking tableau. It feels almost cinematic—the age-old story of a girl who loved and a boy who didn’t. “You already left, Spencer! You heard me, and you still left!”

Spencer’s face crumples, and for a moment, he looks as lost as you feel. “I didn’t know what to do,” his words tumble out, his voice breaking. “I—”

“You could’ve stayed! You could’ve said it back! You—” You shake your head, swallowing the grief that rises in your throat, the words too painful to say out loud.

“I do,” he says suddenly, stepping in front of you. “I love you. I do. I love you. So much.” he repeats, his hand twitches at his side like he wants to reach for you but knows better. “I love you too.”

That last word—too—cuts through you. It lands with a cruel finality. It should soothe the ache inside you, but it doesn’t. It’s not the solace it should be. It’s only a bitter reminder that he heard you that night. That he left anyway.

“Then why?” The question comes out in a broken whisper, and you hate yourself for how vulnerable it sounds. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t even try—” you whisper through your tears. “You just… left.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you—I was scared that I would,” he says, the words tumbling out in a rush as he reaches for your hands in an effort to ground himself. “I didn’t want to screw things up even more. I thought if I left—you’d be better off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Spencer. Look at us. Look at me. Is this what you call better off?” You stand there, unmoving, tears streaking down your face, each one a testament to your heartbreak. The sight of you, raw and broken, makes something deep inside him fracture.

“You hurt me anyway.” Your voice shakes with unspent grief and fury.

“I know, I know I did, baby—”

"Don’t call me that!" you snap, your heart clenching at the word. You try to pull your hands out of his grip, away from his touch, but he holds on.

“Baby—shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that,” Spencer says, his voice cracking. He shuts his eyes for a moment, furrowing his brows, as if trying to collect himself. “I know I fucked up. I know. I’m just—” He exhales shakily. “I’m trying to fix this. Look at me. Please. Just... please.”

You can’t look at him. You focus on the floor, on anything to avoid his eyes, because if you see that pleading expression, you just might break—You’ll shatter all over again.

“That guy?” Spencer’s voice pulls you back, quiet and desperate. “He doesn’t know anything about you. I knew it the minute I saw him. He said you were going to lunch? You hate everything on your street within a five-mile radius. That’s why we always ordered Chinese. Right?”

Every word he out of his mouth feels like a plea and what’s worse is that you know he’s right.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice breaking. “I was stupid. I didn’t think. I thought leaving was the right thing—that I was protecting you from me. But I see now—I know now. It wasn’t. It was the worst thing I could’ve done. To you. To us. I was wrong.” His voice drops, barely audible. “And I just want a chance to make it right. Please I—”

You hear the break in his voice, and before you can stop yourself, your gaze lifts to meet his, only to see tears pooling in his eyes. The ache in your chest deepens, and this time, you can’t look away.

“Look,” Spencer says, voice cracking, “he’s probably a great guy. Nice, smart—smarter than I ever was if he wants you too. But he doesn’t—” He pauses, swallowing hard, “He can’t love you the way I do. I know people always say I’m smart, that I know a lot. And it’s true—I do. But this? You? Loving you? It’s a fact, the clearest one I’ve ever had. And yeah, I know it took me too damn long to get here. But it’s true. It’s always been true.”

The chasm in your heart splits open, and you didn’t know you were still capable of breaking like this. Of course, Spencer Reid would be good at heartbreaking speeches too. You start to turn away, furiously blinking back the new wave of tears threatening to spill over.

“Look at me,” he pleads, his voice soft but laced with urgency. “Please. I hate that you won’t look at me, I just—”

You try—God knows you try—but the tears in your eyes blur everything. Still, the desperation in his tone is unmistakable.

You shake your head, your voice low, “Spence—”

“I want to do this right,” he continues, his words tumbling out with sincerity so raw it sends another wave of hurt right through you. “Just give me a chance to make it right. One chance. That’s all I’m asking for.”

“I don’t—”

“I mean it,” he says quickly. His voice is low, but there’s a desperate edge to it. “No more mistakes. No more labels—forget the friends thing. I’d rather die than just be friends with you. We’ll go out. We’ll take our time. I’ll show you. I’ll really show you. I’ll make it right this time.”

You feel like you’ve spent a lifetime waiting for this moment, for him to say the words you needed most. Months of hope, weeks of ache. You’ve stayed. You’ve waited. You’ve stayed in the waiting. More pathetic than poetic if you’re being honest. But now, with him standing here with his heart in his hands, it doesn’t feel simple.

Because for the first time, you have a choice. To go back or turn away.

To leave or to stay.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader angst

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rose-tinted-kalopsia · 2 days ago

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gen ; 871 words of pure complete caleb fluff for my personal comfort because i can't get this man out of my head (wow roxie posting fluff? girl what happened to you)

to be loved is to be seen.

a long day passed; he's there at the door. you can smell something simmering from the kitchen, the scent of comfort filling the room and maybe getting to your head a little... it's your favorite dish. you'd know that smell anywhere. and you've always liked it best when he cooks it...

he knows that.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he's pulling you in by the waist, not quite a hug, but rather a little bit of a once-over as he leans back to take a good look at you.

there's a pause.

the look in his eyes is gentle; fond. his head tilts, and there's something unsaid, unspoken, in the air between you...

you know the words on his lips before he says them.

"look at you, all pretty like that."

it's quiet, with a little bit of a chuckle.

"welcome back, pipsqueak."

typical caleb.

and this time there's a kiss on the tip of your nose, before he reaches a hand up to fix your hair— there's a piece of snow settled into it, and he knows that you don't like that. he'd brush it out for you, leave your hair neatly.

just the way you prefer it to be.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he knows more than you think.

you're an open book to him; maybe it's scary, and maybe it's a little unnerving, but—

maybe it's nice.

no words need to be shared.

he's happy to keep his arm around you, happy to wrap you up in blankets as you snuggle together on the couch and your favorite movie is playing softly on the screen in front of you. it's snowing outside, but you barely notice it; barely care. he keeps you warm from the cold. it's cozy. your head rests on his shoulder, and he hums quietly into your hair—and it's nice.

"it's been a long day," you murmur.

you blow your hair out from your face, and he fixes it right then for you. neat; the way you like it to be.

"oh, yeah? i could tell," he says. he chuckles—a little bit of a nudge in the form of a joke.

but he smiles.

"tell me about it, pipsqueak. i wanna listen."

to be loved is to be seen.

and maybe you scoff at him, but maybe you speak as he inclines. and maybe the movie's drowned out in the background, maybe all that you care about is the soft rumble of his chest when he laughs at the stupidest joke you've ever made in your life...

because deflect with humor, right? you've always done that. and he laughs, because you want him to laugh. and he reaches up to flick at your forehead. because he knows.

"you can be serious about it if you wanna, y'know," he shakes his head. "don't always gotta put on a strong front, 'specially not with me. so hit me. i'll take you seriously."

i'll take you seriously.

a safe space.

and they're simple words, because maybe you're not used to expressing yourself—

but he knows that.

he's used to it.

and he'll push you, a little, and you trust him to.

he knows that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and caleb knows a lot of things—what gets you angry, what gets you sad... the things you do to distract yourself, the things you like to eat. what makes you happy. when you're happy. your favorite show, your favorite song... that one article of clothing you'd always wear if you could, that book you keep on your shelf because the cover looks nice, but you haven't gotten around to reading it yet.

and he knows when you're tired.

he knows when all you need is for him to be there beside you, he knows when you've got something to say but you don't know how to say it.

he knows when you're pretending, too. when you want someone to breakthrough that little shell of yours, and say the words you want desperately to hear...

he knows.

because he sees you.

he sees you more than anyone else has, more than anyone else does. and not just with his eyes—with his heart. he knows you. he's engraved every little thing about you into the depths of his soul and he wouldn't have it any other way, not when he can hold you like this.

not when he knows how to.

not when he knows you want it to be this way.

and it's why he has his fingers running gently through your hair, peppering soft, tiny little kisses all over your face and relishing in the giggles that fall from your lips...

to be loved is to be seen.

"i love you, pipsqueak."

a soft murmur, a kiss into your hair.

"i love you a whole lot."

he knows you needed to hear that today, too.

and he means it.

because maybe there's no one else who could love you the way that he does; so whole, so loving, so pure, so... real.

you know that, too.

to be loved is to be seen.

and he sees you, and you see him.

to you, there's no greater love than that.

an : you know, real talk......... i really am truly sorry that the nuance of the caleb/mc relationship can't be translated into more western cultures that aren't used to this, i do believe it's kind of a shame 😭 because you have to understand that it's such a beautiful thing to be seen.... and i really feel that caleb encapsulates that especially given the nature of their relationship :( just. there's something so beautiful and comforting and warm about it and i had to get this out of my system before i go to bed 😭 MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE 😭

taglist : @darlingdummycassandra @milkandstarlight @thoupenguinman @valyvinny @rafayelsheart @jellyroom2 @chemiru @ywnzn @pepprrmint @angel-jupiter @cordidy @raiyuxa @xai-mery @radiantbrilliance @pikachuzhc @interstellar-inn @pixelcafe-network @hunters-association ++ also obligatorily tagging @unluckywisher (love u)

© rose-tinted-kalopsia. all rights reserved. do not: steal, copy, repost, reupload, modify, or claim any of my works as your own, regardless of credit given. absolutely do not use my works for AI training and other related purposes.

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pandapetals · 3 days ago

Text

Merry Christmas

It's Christmas Day! You and Logan exchange gifts.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, holiday vibes, logan being a softie

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

a/n: It’s the last one shot and i am sad. It’s been so much fun writing for christmas. I hope everyone gets logan under their tree this year.

divider credit: @saradika

The mansion was silent, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow from the night’s storm, the world outside hushed and peaceful. You woke to the sound of Logan’s soft snoring beside you, his hand resting protectively on your hip, even in sleep. Smiling to yourself, you carefully slipped out of bed, pulling on your robe as you padded downstairs to put the finishing touches on his gifts.

You’d thought long and hard about what to get him, wanting each gift to be something meaningful. A leather tool roll, perfectly sized for his motorbike tools, so he’d always have something useful on hand. A bottle of his favorite whiskey, because you knew he’d never buy the fancy stuff for himself. And your personal favorite—a beautifully framed vintage map of the Canadian wilderness, detailing the rugged terrain of the land he loved so much. But the most important gift, the one that had taken you months to finish, was a small wooden box filled with letters, each one tied neatly with twine.

Each letter was for a different moment, a different feeling. One for when he felt alone, one for when he felt angry, one for when he doubted himself. Every letter was written to remind him how deeply he was loved, how much he mattered. You’d poured your heart into every word, hoping that he’d feel the weight of your love whenever he needed it most.

By the time you’d finished arranging everything under the tree, you heard the soft creak of the stairs and turned to see Logan coming down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hair even more wild than usual. He was wearing his old flannel shirt over sweatpants, looking gruff but endearingly soft, as if he hadn’t quite woken up.

"Mornin', darlin’," he mumbled, his voice rough, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he saw you waiting by the tree.

"Merry Christmas, Logan," you whispered, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as snowflakes drifted softly outside the window.

Reluctantly, you pulled back and gestured to the pile of gifts. "C’mon, let’s open these."

Logan chuckled, eyeing the gifts with a raised brow. "You went all out, huh? I didn’t know we were doin’ this whole… gift thing."

You laughed, nudging him down onto the couch and settling beside him. "Just open yours. I think you’ll like them."

He started with the tool roll, his rough hands carefully unwrapping the leather. He ran his fingers over it, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This… this is real nice," he muttered, a little shy. "I’ll definitely use it."

Next, he picked up the whiskey, letting out a low whistle as he looked at the label. "You got me the good stuff, huh? You spoil me," he said with a smirk, though there was a flicker of genuine appreciation in his eyes. But when he unwrapped the framed vintage map, he went completely silent, his fingers brushing over the contours of the familiar landscape.

"I figured… you could hang it in your office, or keep it somewhere special," you murmured, watching his face closely.

Logan swallowed, his gaze lingering on the map as if he were lost in the memories of those wild places. "This is… perfect," he whispered, his voice rough. "Thank you."

There was one gift left, and you hesitated for a moment before handing him the small wooden box. His brows knit together as he looked down at it, curiosity and something else—a softer emotion—flickering across his face. He lifted the lid and saw the bundle of letters, each one tied with care, each one addressed to a moment he might need a reminder of your love.

"For when you’re feeling… well, you know," you said softly, your fingers nervously fidgeting as you watched his reaction. "Each one is for a different time. I just… wanted you to know that I’m always here, even if I’m not right next to you."

Logan took a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the box of letters. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his expression steady, but you saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He lifted one of the letters, his fingers trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over your handwriting, the careful loops and lines you’d written with so much love.

"No one’s… no one’s ever done somethin’ like this for me," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t… I don’t deserve this, or you." His voice was barely more than a whisper now, vulnerability laid bare in a way he rarely allowed.

You reached up, cradling his face with your hands, gently brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Logan… you’re wrong. You deserve so much more than you think." You smiled, the love in your eyes soft and steady. "You’re the best gift I could ever ask for. Just you… exactly as you are."

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself in the warmth of your hands. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace tight, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.

When he finally pulled back, his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t quite say. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "I love you, sweetheart."

You smiled against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his mouth. "I love you, more. Merry Christmas, Logan."

After a long moment, Logan reluctantly pulled back, his gaze soft but intent as he reached for a small, neatly wrapped package on the coffee table. He handed it to you, looking almost… shy.

“Go on,” he murmured, clearing his throat and looking away, trying to cover up the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… not much, but I thought you might like it.”

Curious, you tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a leather-bound book with intricate gold detailing on the cover. You sucked in a breath, your eyes widening as you ran your fingers over the title embossed in gold.

Pride and Prejudice. Not just any copy—this was a rare first edition.

“Logan…” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How… how did you even find this?”

He shrugged, trying to play it off, but you could see the glint of pride in his eyes. “Got my ways,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured it’d mean somethin’ to you.”

Carefully, almost reverently, you opened the book, feeling the delicate weight of the pages between your fingers. But as you turned to the first few pages, something fluttered out—a piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked between them.

You glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “I, uh… slipped a little somethin’ in there,” he admitted, his voice barely above a grumble. “Wrote it myself. Might be rough around the edges, but… well, it’s for you.”

With trembling hands, you unfolded the paper, your heart racing as you read the words written in his unmistakable handwriting. It was a short poem, raw and unpolished, each line laced with sincerity.

Didn’t think I’d find somethin' that felt like home,

in the rasp of your laughter, in all the things left unsaid,

in the quiet that ain’t lonely ‘cause you’re in it.

Darlin’—you’re the reason I keep holdin’ on,

the reason a scarred heart like me starts thinkin'

he might be worth somethin' after all.

The words weren’t flowery or grand, but they were him—every line filled with honesty, with a depth he rarely shared. Your vision blurred as you read it again, the weight of his words sinking in.

“Logan…” you whispered, looking up at him, eyes glistening with tears. “This is… it’s beautiful.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking both relieved and embarrassed. “Didn’t think I’d hear that word used on anythin’ I wrote,” he muttered, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Figured you’d laugh it off.”

“Are you kidding?” you said, reaching over to take his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’s perfect. It’s you, and that means more to me than anything else in the world.”

His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze holding yours. After a long, lingering silence, Logan reached behind the couch and pulled out one last gift, this one wrapped in old newspaper and tied with a bit of string. He handed it to you, his eyes a bit softer.

“This one’s… well, it’s somethin’ I worked on myself,” he said, almost bashful. “Thought it might help you with… y’know, all that writin’ you do.”

Intrigued, you carefully unwrapped it, and as soon as you saw the vintage typewriter nestled inside, your breath hitched. The old keys gleamed, meticulously polished, and there was a faint scent of oil and leather from where he’d restored it with his own hands. Every piece, every detail, looked lovingly cared for.

“Oh my god, Logan…” you whispered, running your fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the weight of each key under your touch. “You… you did this yourself?”

He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. It was in pretty rough shape when I found it, but I thought… well, I thought you might like workin’ on somethin’ like this. Somethin’ that’d make all those stories you’re dreamin’ up feel a little more real.”

You stared at him, overwhelmed. He wasn’t just giving you a typewriter—he was giving you the chance to chase your dreams, to bring your words to life in a way that was uniquely yours.

Without another word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. “You… you have no idea how much this means to me,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.

His arms tightened around you, and for a long, tender moment, he just held you, his cheek resting against your hair. When he finally pulled back, there was a glisten in his eyes he didn’t even try to hide.

“Guess I did somethin’ right, huh?” he murmured, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as his thumb brushed across your cheek.

“You did everything right,” you replied, your smile soft and unwavering. Leaning in, you kissed him—slow, deep, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you had into it.

When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Couldn’t ask for a better one.”

You smiled, your hands still laced with his. "Here’s to all the Christmases to come," you whispered back.

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pintrestgrl · 2 days ago

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I have so many thoughts about Barry, it's honestly sickening

Barry treating you like air the whole day in front of any customer just to come up to you at night wrapping his arm around you "is my baby sad, hmm?" only to then whisper in your ear as he grabs a fistful of hair "stop crying like a little bitch and get down on your knees with a smile"

I dont even know anymore barry has fried my brain

this is sooooo precious n barry coded.

anyways i love barry and his limp hairy dick that’s all

PRECIOUS ND’ BARRY.

you knew to be quiet. just like you were taught; how you were trained. quiet as a mouse, all the time. barry stayed home today, something ‘bout the law being on his ass. he told his customers to come to him, instead.

you sat in your room for a bit, painting your toes. but you got bored, wanted attention. so you quietly opened the door, seeing barry on the frayed couch. counting money.

you sat next to him, facing him. you sat on your legs, propping your hands on his thigh. looking at him. he didn’t even bother to look up at you, though. too busy ‘worried ‘bout more important shit.’ you frowned.

you attempted to nuzzle up into his neck, but he pushed you away by your throat. “hi.” you spoke, sheepishly. he looked up at your pupils, for the first time today.

he looked you up and down, almost judgmental. he scoffed. “what you need, kid. spit it out.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “nothin’— wanted to talk to you.” he laughed meanly, lowly. “go back in your room. you ain’t needa be out here.”

you stared down, disappointingly. but you would listen. you knew you would. he knew too. you did, always. wouldn’t dare utter a complaint to him. you got up, making your way back to your room. you cried for a little bit, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. almost begging for an ounce of remorse. attention.

however, you soon gave up and went to sleep. you had nothing better to do anyway. you slept for a bit, till it was at least dark. that was, till you felt a cold hand snake up to your tummy. you flinched, waking up.

he chuckled lowly, whispering in your ear. “you was cryin’ like a baby, huh? my precious was upset— like a little baby.” you frowned, embarrassingly nudging your head back into the pillows.

tears filled your eyes again at his mean words, before you almost shrieked at him pulling your head up by your hair. he harshly pulled your scalp to rest under his propped up arm.

he was leaning over you, almost like he was a predator. taking his prey. taking what he, thought he deserved. “stop fuckin’ cryin’ like you still a little girl— always fuckin’ cryin. sick of that shit, precious.”

you made eye contact with him, your chest rising and falling. “you gonna act like you fuckin’ want this— got it?” he said, not waiting for a reply before pulling your dead weight body to sit up. he pulled out his growing hard dick, before shoving it past your lips.

he threaded your hair into his hands, guiding your movements. “fuck— just take dad’s dick— okay? be grateful. be grateful for what i give you.” you whined around his length, feeling him hit the back of your throat.

he continued his movements, his dick soon twitching between your pink lips. “so fuckin’ dumb. seriously— don’t even know why i keep you here precious.” he spoke, with a groan. he soon came, promptly pulling out of your mouth.

he never did that.

he came on your face, almost to embarrass you. which worked. you had his sticky cum stuck in your lashes, a bit in your hair, and resting on your plump lips. he took a good look at your face; smiling. “lookin’ pretty, baby.” he spoke.

he grabbed your chubby cheeks, pulling them apart and forcing you into a toothy smile. “looks like you enjoyed that shit just fine— huh? knew you liked it.”

and maybe his words were right, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t avoid him for hours after it.

#precious 🦢#barry smut #barry obx #barry coded #barry outer banks #foryopage #pintrestgrl #foryou #obx au #obx #this felt longer in my head #is this cute

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episodes-ff · 2 days ago

Text

Righteous or Wrong?

Anaya

Waking up from the comfort of the guest bed, I rubbed my tired eyes with a long awaited yawn before stretching. Feeling over and coming up empty, I frowned and rolled my eyes at the realization of where I was and why. Shaking my head, I leaned up with irritation before going to see if my baby girl was awake. Being that Maya is a daddy's girl at heart, I agreed to let her stay in our bedroom while I took the guest bed for some peace of mind. Walking up to the door, I knocked quietly before looking inside in confusion as I saw the empty room. Hearing her cute murmurs, I slowly descended the stairs before peering around to see her smiling and clapping as he fed her.

Feeling the tug at my heart, I wiped the dreadful tears as I watched what was left of my now broken family. Shaking the memories off, I walked back up to the room to complete my morning routine. Putting on something simple but cute for the cold, I walked back down to the kitchen to grab a water and greet Maya. "Good morning, my pretty girl!" I cheesed kissing her cheeks as he stared me down while sipping his coffee. Taking in that she was already dressed, I slowly smiled before facing him. "Y-You did her hair?" "Ugh, yea um, I was gonna take her to the square for pictures with Santa today if that's ok with you?" He asked slowly sipping from his cup. Those beautiful fucking eyes of his! "U-Um yes it's fine. I'd better hurry then so I can make it to the courthouse. Have you seen car keys?" I snapped out of my thoughts looking around. Watching the sadness wash over his eyes as he clenched his jaw, he pulled them out of his pocket before placing them in my hand and walking out the kitchen. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I headed out the house.

Pulling up to the local courthouse, I retrieved my purse before walking in. "Hi, miss, how may I help you today?" "Yes, um, I'd like to file for an order of separation?" "I'm sorry to hear that sweetheart." "Thank you, ma'am." "And you're sure you want to go through with this?" "Positive, preferably now before I change my mind." "Um, no problem, do you have a copy of the marriage certificate? I'll also need your license and a piece of mail to verify your address. Do you also know your spouse's social?" "Yes, ma'am." "Okay. I'm going to have you fill out this paperwork and bring it back to me with those pieces of identification." "Thank you so much." "Any time." Taking a seat, I filled out the multiple sheets of paper before reaching in to retrieve my license. Looking at the wallet photo of our wedding day, I sighed remembering the day we walked into this exact courthouse to file our certificate. We were so in love, so happy, and so ready to explore our new lives, together. Terry had just finished his second tour, and he and I were stuck to each other like glue. Oh how the tables turned.

Rolling my eyes, I shook off my nerves getting up to return the paperwork. "Here you go." "Thank you so much. Let me just glance here to make sure nothing's missing." Watching her scan everything, her eyes shot wide as she looked at me. "Is there something wrong?" "I'm sorry, it says Richmond. Y-You're Terry's wife?" "Um, yes. Oh god, don't tell me he's slept with you too!" "No! N-Not at all. I'm Summer. I met Terry in Shelby Springs dealing with..." "Mike." I nodded understanding. "I moved out here after everything, but I didn't keep in touch. Has he been ok since the settlement?" "Oh he's doing just peachy, I'd say." I spat sarcastically. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't pry." "No, you're fine. I'm just going through a lot right now, hence why I'm here." "Well for what it's worth, I pray you both see happier days." "Thank you, Summer." "No problem, um?" "Anaya." "That's a pretty name." "Thank you." I nodded as she smiled sympathetically.

Placing my files back in my purse, I made my way out to the car. Taking a deep breath, the weight of the world melting off of my shoulders as I cried and cried and cried. You're doing the right thing here, Anaya... I think?

Terry

Placing Maya down for her nap, I closed the door to let her get her rest before stepping into Anaya's room to place her copy of baby girl's Christmas pictures on the side table. Stepping back into the hallway, I shuddered in shame as I made my way downstairs. My marriage is really over and I take all the blame for it. I have no excuses, no recourse, nothing left but my actions and consequences. I don't even fault Anaya in the way she's moving because I'm less than the man she deserves and I know it. I just want her to be happy. That's all I've ever fucking wanted. I owed it to her to do better and I failed miserably.

Hearing my ringing phone, I saw the familiar number calling as my heart rate quickened. "Hello? Summer, you good?" "Terry?" "Yea, it's me, are you in trouble?" "I'm fine. Forgive my language, but just what in the fuck do you have going on, Terry?!" "What do you mean?" "I just met your wife at the courthouse filing for separation? Say it's not true." She asked as my jaw clenched and my fist tightened at my side. "I'm not really up for talking about it, Summer." "Well, what are you gonna do to win her back?" "Nothing. I've hurt her too much with my choices, so I think the best thing for everybody would be for me to disappear." "Disappear? Disappear?! This isn't the Terry I know that came to Shelby and changed my life. What happened to him? Where's the fighter I know you are?!" "I'm done fighting, Summer. It's done, and I can't be selfish towards Anaya's feelings. I've done enough of that. I'll hit you up again." I conceded before ending the call.

Turning down the hall, I bumped into Anaya almost knocking her down before quickly catching her in my grasp. Dropping my hands from her side, I straightened up as we engaged in an intense stare down while she adjusted her clothes and I cleared my throat. Breaking the staring match, I moved out of her path and went into the kitchen grabbing the rental keys before leaving the house. Walking into the threshold of the bar, I scanned the room before finding Eric and smirking. "Ayeeeee, my man!" He boasted as I dapped him up. "Long time no see, E." "You as well! How's life been treating you, man?" He asked causing a deep sigh to leave my lips. "How much time you got?" I asked forcing a deep chuckle to leave his gut.

Finishing the recap of my current life's drama, he shook his head. "Mannnn, it should have been me she got with." He joked as I shook my head and downed the shot of whiskey. "Nah but seriously, how did you let this happen, man? You and Anaya were crazy about each other. Hell, you guys still are despite everything, I know it! How did you slip so low?" He asked as I rubbed my face in deep thought. "I don't know. Shit was going crazy at the time with Mike and the whole Shelby Springs situation. That's no excuse not even in the slightest." I defended holding my hand up. "I think I just- I held onto that shit. I put on a brave face for Anaya because that's what I felt was right. Her mom's cancer had come back and she was already going through so much. I didn't wanna overwhelm her with my shit, so I did what I do best; I ran away from it. I should have sought some professional help, but my pride wouldn't allow it. Not Terrence Richmond. I'm paying that price now and I gotta accept it, Eric." Nodding in understanding, he patted my shoulder as I blew a breath. "Hey, man, it's gonna be ok." "It won't but I'll live." I admitted as he sighed.

Diamonté

Waking up this morning, I stretched and rubbed my growing bump before smiling. My little boopie is growing so beautifully and I couldn't be any more happy. Making my way to the bathroom, I relieved my morning liquids before walking over to the sink. Washing my hands, I looked up and stared at my appearance in the mirror taking a glance at all my flaws. I was pretty of course, but something needed to change. I think I need a change. Figuring it's high time for a Mommy makeover, I got in touch with one of my girlfriends and had her spice up my look a little bit before I went to run some errands.

Coming home from a long day of pampering and spoiling myself, I waltzed in with my shopping bags and grabbed something quick to eat. Munching on my mangos and fruit, I savored the tastes as they danced on my tongue. "I'm home!" Armando announced as I heard his hard boots at the entrance of the house. "In the kitchen, babe!" "Ok, did you get the mail?" "No I forgot. Can you grab it?" "Of course, bebita." He conversed still in the front as he disarmed and put up his weapons. "Baby? What's this letter?" "What letter?" "You spent $450 dollars at the mall?" He said finally meeting me in the kitchen as he read through the bank statement. "Well, you see what had happened was I was getting some stuff for the baby and well you see, I-I."

Finally looking up to meet my gaze, his expression shifted. "What? What's wrong, baby?" I asked turning to glance around as he sat the letters down and stalked closer to me. "What's this?" "What's what? Oh, I got some stuff for the kitchen and the nursery. You wanna see?" "Nahhhh, not that. What's this?" He glinted putting to my hair as I fearfully backed into the counter. "I-I-I got a haircut. D-Do you like it?" "Ohhhh, I more than like it, baby." He grinned evilly as he pulled me closer. "Baby, wait!" I giggled as he cast his lips to my neck. "Nahhhh, bring that sexy ass here." He growled lifting me up and storming up to our bedroom.

"Daddy, oh shit!" I panted as he licked and sucked on my neck continuing to pound with my center. "You look so fucking good, mamita. So pretty with your hair like this. You like how I'm pleasing you, baby?" He husked grinding deeper into my wetness as he held me in place to stare at myself in the mirror. "Yesssss, bae!" "Mmmmm, that's my pretty fucking girl. Your pussy feels so good around my dick, exactly where it belongs. Biting my lip, I held onto him as I shook in his arms trying to fight the pressing feeling of relief. "Look at yourself, mami. Taking this dick like a fucking champion." "Daddyyyyyy!!! Fuck, I'm gonna cum!" "Not yet, baby, hold it!" "I can't, baby!" "Mmmm, fuck, just hold it for me, baby." He grunted slowing his pace as I tried holding on. "Baby, please! Please let me- I can't hold it!" "Yes you can." "No, I c- ohhhhh my god!" I cried out as my release squirted out over him and the floor. Feeling the hot and sticky mess running down my thighs, I gasped as he kissed and whispered soothing words down my body. "That felt good, baby?" "Yes!" "I'm glad it did... Cause now we gotta start over." "W-Wait!" I moaned tiredly as he carried me to the shower. All of this over a haircut?

Tags: @theereina @violetmuses @kumkaniudaku @kaylaahisthebestest- @kimuzostar @simpledopeme @mymindisneverhere @believeinthefireflies95 @tbmotw @brisunique @madxlov3 @playgurlxoxo @mauvecherie-writes @casualsludgeshoetoad @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @geneziesm @ghettogirly @goldenjasssy @megamindsecretlair @vivaalenaa @ranikyani @luuvprincess @perfectlyimperfectme @comfortzonequeen @melanin-honeyy @qdancer22 @strawberrymoon45 @luckygirlszn @kindofaintrovert @secretlifeoofmarpessa @cmbmjbfan @summwerella @ihateyallniggas @rebelrel0987 @cheracherachera @bhristpher @cocooned-butterfly @theblessedcap @deijalee @catha2003 @magik22 @pinkbuzzlightyrrr @sweettea-and-honeybutter @j0joworld @liv10002 @justicefordeanthomas @withoutmusiclifewouldbflat @brattyfics

#episodes-ff #fanfiction #anaya ivy #aaron pierre #terry richmond #saweetie #hasta el fuego #SoundCloud

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