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reidmarieprentiss · 3 months ago

Text

i love you

Summary: Spencer falls in love with a famous singer, Spencer also has a hard time controlling his jealousy.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x pop star! fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: insecurity, cheating accusations, arguing, lack of trust, regrets, being famous, paparazzi, bestie Billie Eilish

Word count: 13k

a/n: helloooo hehe sorry about the angst again butttt i have ideas for a happier story line if y'all want a part 2 !!!!

update! part two is here!!!

main masterlist

February, 2006

In the heart of New York City, where towering skyscrapers meet the pulse of creativity, you find yourself stepping into the sleek, modern office of a prestigious publishing house. Today’s interview isn’t just any ordinary sit-down; it’s being conducted by the chief editor themselves—a rare honor reserved for only the most influential figures. As one of the world’s most celebrated pop stars, the stakes are high, and they’ve rolled out the red carpet for you, eager to delve into the stories behind your meteoric rise and iconic career.

You had barely wrapped up your latest thought, answering a question about the creative process behind your new album, when a soft knock interrupted the flow of your interview. The chief editor, who had been so focused on your words, paused, a small frown creasing their brow as the door cracked open.

The person who had greeted you and your team at the front desk earlier poked their head into the room, eyes wide with apology and urgency. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but we have two agents here from the FBI. They say they are working on a case that could involve some of our publications. What should I tell them?”

The editor’s eyes flicked back to you, concern knitting their features together. “Y/N, I am so so sorry. Do you mind if I step out for one second?”

You offered them a reassuring smile, waving a hand dismissively. “No! Not at all! Take care of whatever you need.”

“Thank you, thank you,” the editor breathed, clearly relieved as they stood and followed the receptionist out of the room, leaving you alone for the moment.

After a few minutes, they returned, apologizing profusely for the interruption, but you could see the tension still etched on their face, the slight edge of distraction in their voice. The rest of the interview passed without incident, but once it wrapped up, you couldn’t shake the curiosity bubbling inside you.

As you gathered your things, you politely declined their offer to show you to the bathroom. "Thank you, but I think I can manage," you said with a smile, wanting to stretch your legs a bit and maybe take a peek at the source of the earlier interruption.

After wandering down the corridor for a minute or two, it became clear that you had no idea where you were going. The building was far larger than you anticipated, with identical doors lining each hallway. You turned a corner, hoping you were heading in the right direction when you noticed a room with an open door.

Inside, two men stood by a large table filled with neatly organized files and documents. Their presence was commanding, unmistakably official, and more than a little bit attractive. One was tall, with broad shoulders and dark hair, his expression serious as he sifted through a stack of papers. The other, slightly younger, had sharp, intelligent eyes behind a pair of glasses, his movements precise as he carefully handled what appeared to be an older document.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to intrude on whatever important work they were doing, but your need to find the bathroom was becoming more pressing by the second.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped into the doorway and cleared your throat softly. “Hi! I’m sorry to bother you, but do you happen to know where the bathroom is?”

Both men looked up, their attention snapping to you as if they had been pulled out of deep concentration. Aaron Hotchner blinked in surprise, his composed demeanor faltering just slightly before he offered a polite, practiced smile. “No bother at all. I don’t believe I know where the bathroom is. Reid?”

Spencer Reid barely looked up from his work, his attention already drifting back to the papers in front of him. “Out the door to the left, down the hall, last door on the right,” he mumbled, his voice soft and almost distracted.

You couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Oh, he was pretty—and not immediately bowled over by your presence? You liked a challenge. “Oh! Thank you!” you chirped, your tone a bit more enthusiastic than you intended, but it wasn’t every day you met someone who didn’t immediately fall into the rhythm of your world.

After finding the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the thought of that cute, nerdy man with the sharp intellect and distracted charm. You quickly texted your assistant, Dylan—who was also your brother—asking him to pick up two coffees and some pastries, and to meet you on the floor where you were currently stationed.

When the delivery arrived, you approached the room where the men were working once again. You knocked lightly on the doorframe to announce your presence. “Hi! Thanks again for helping me out earlier. I thought maybe you two could use a little pick-me-up,” you said, holding out the goods with a bright smile.

Aaron looked at the offering with a hint of suspicion, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed your motives. “Wow. That’s very kind of you, thank you,” he said, his voice polite but guarded.

You quickly picked up on the hesitation and offered an explanation. “Sorry, I know it’s a little odd to get gifts from strangers. I just like paying it forward. You helped me, so I do something kind for you, and maybe you’ll do something kind for someone else later.”

Aaron’s expression softened at your explanation, a hint of warmth creeping into his eyes. “I like that. Thank you again,” he said, this time with more sincerity.

Meanwhile, Spencer still hadn’t fully reacted, offering only a tight-lipped smile and a nod of acknowledgment. You handed the coffee and pastry to Aaron before turning your attention to Spencer, who was already drifting back into his work. “Here,” you said, holding out the coffee to him.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, glancing up briefly. “Any sugar?”

“Uh, no, just black. I’m sure there’s some in the break room…?” you offered, tilting your head slightly in question.

He nodded again, his attention already starting to slip back to the papers in front of him. “Alright… I’ll just put this here,” you said, placing his pastry on top of what appeared to be his satchel, casually slipping a note underneath the paper bag. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself—maybe he’d notice, or maybe he wouldn’t. Either way, you’d planted a seed of curiosity in that brilliant mind of his, and that was enough for now.

—

Spencer's eyes lingered on the note, the neat, playful handwriting contrasting sharply with the serious documents scattered across his desk. He blinked a few times, trying to piece together the brief interaction he had with you earlier, but the details were frustratingly fuzzy. He’d been so engrossed in his work that he barely registered your presence, let alone your face. The only thing he could recall was the faint scent of coffee and the sound of your cheerful voice, but nothing more.

Across the room, Hotch was watching the scene unfold with a faint smile, his amusement barely concealed. He hadn’t known who you were either, but he found the situation oddly endearing. Spencer, brilliant and socially awkward as he was, seemed utterly baffled by the note in his hand. Hotch couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking his head at his younger colleague’s bewilderment.

“Staring at it won’t help,” Hotch advised, his tone light. “Maybe you should call?”

“I don’t know her,” Spencer replied, his brow furrowing as he continued to scrutinize the note as if it held some hidden meaning he was missing.

Hotch leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing look. “You could get to know her,” he suggested, the amusement in his voice evident. “She obviously went out of her way to reach out to you. It’s not every day someone leaves their number like that.”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing through all the possible outcomes of making that call. On one hand, he was intensely curious about you—who you were, why you’d left the note, and what you’d seen in him that made you interested. On the other hand, the idea of reaching out to someone he didn’t know, especially in such a personal way, was daunting.

But Hotch had a point. He always did.

Spencer glanced down at the note again, reading the words over and over as if they would change with each pass.

Give me a call when you’re not so busy? Promise I’m more interesting than some old prints <3 Xxx xxx xxxx.

There was a lightness to your words, a promise of something different, something outside the usual routine that consumed him. Maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk to find out what that was. Taking a deep breath, Spencer carefully folded the note and slipped it into his pocket, the decision made, even if he didn’t fully understand it yet.

Hotch’s smile widened just a fraction as he watched Spencer’s resolve take shape. “Good choice,” he said simply, returning his attention to his own work, leaving Spencer to contemplate when—and how—he’d make that call.

—

March, 2006

Life as a pop star was nothing short of chaotic, especially when you were barely 24 and on the brink of releasing yet another album. Your days were a whirlwind of recording studios, press conferences, interviews, and the constant need to stay relevant on social media. It was a lot to handle, but having your brother, Dylan, by your side made it all feel a little more manageable. He was your rock, keeping things running smoothly even when the demands of fame threatened to overwhelm you.

Currently, you found yourself back in LA, swept up in a relentless schedule that Dylan had meticulously organized. The days blurred together—back-to-back interviews, recording sessions that stretched into the early hours of the morning, and brief moments snatched away for obligatory social media posts. In the midst of all this, the memory of the mystery man you’d given your number to in New York had faded into the background. It was easier not to dwell on it, to keep your expectations low. After all, not everyone was going to reciprocate your interest, and you’d learned early on in life not to take things personally.

Weeks passed, and your mind was consumed by the demands of your career. The mystery man became just that—a mystery you tucked away, almost forgotten amidst the chaos. That is, until one quiet evening in your LA apartment, when you were finally able to unwind, your phone buzzed with a call from an unknown number.

You stared at the screen, your instincts urging you not to answer. In your line of work, you never knew when or if your number might get leaked, and you weren’t about to take any chances. But as soon as the call ended, curiosity got the better of you. Who could it have been? You needed to know.

With a quick text, you reached out to your tech-savvy friend, Kade. Their enthusiasm for solving puzzles like this made them the perfect person to track down the owner of that mysterious number. Within minutes, Kade had the information—and a picture too. When the image popped up on your screen, your heart skipped a beat.

It was him. The mystery man from New York. The one you’d thought might never call.

Without a second thought, you hit the call button, your nerves tingling with anticipation as you listened to the line ring. Finally, after weeks of wondering, you were about to hear his voice again.

—

Spencer stared at his phone, the dial tone echoing in his ear before it abruptly ended, signaling that the call had gone unanswered. He felt a pang of disappointment, a weight settling in his chest that he couldn’t quite shake. He’d taken the leap, albeit a few weeks late, and now it seemed like it might have been for nothing. Maybe you’d forgotten him, moved on with your life.

He let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping as he placed the phone back on the table. It had taken him so long to muster the courage to call you, to push past his own reservations and insecurities. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, trying to convince himself that it was just a phone call, just a moment in time that didn’t have to mean anything.

But deep down, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of loss, like he’d let something slip through his fingers before it even had a chance to begin. Spencer was no stranger to disappointment, but this time, it felt different. It felt like an opportunity he might never get back.

Spencer sat there, lost in his thoughts, the weight of his insecurities pressing down on him. His mind wandered through all the reasons why you might not have answered—maybe you really had forgotten him, maybe you had better things to do, or maybe he was just one of a hundred people you’d encountered that day. The more he thought about it, the more his doubts began to take root, spreading through him like a slow, creeping fog.

Then, breaking through the haze of his thoughts, his phone began to ring on the table in front of him. The sudden sound jolted him from his reverie, and for a moment, he just stared at the screen, as if unsure whether it was real. The number flashing across the screen was the same unknown one he’d dialed just moments ago.

His heart raced, a mix of hope and disbelief surging through him. Could it be you? Had you actually called him back? He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the phone, almost afraid to answer. But the ringing continued, insistent and almost impatient, pulling him back into the present.

With a deep breath, he swiped to answer, bringing the phone to his ear. “Hello?” he said, his voice a little shaky, betraying the nervousness he felt.

“Hi! Is this Spencer?” Your voice came through the line, bright and unmistakably warm, instantly cutting through the tension that had been building within him.

For a moment, Spencer was too stunned to respond, his mind scrambling to catch up with the fact that you were actually on the other end of the line. “Yes, it’s Spencer,” he finally managed to say, his voice steadier now, though his heart was still pounding.

“I’m so sorry I missed your call earlier!” you continued, your tone light and genuine. “I didn’t recognize the number when I saw it. But I’m really glad you called. I’ve been hoping to hear from you!”

Spencer’s doubts began to melt away, replaced by a growing sense of relief and excitement. You hadn’t forgotten him, after all. You were as curious about him as he was about you. “No, no, it’s fine,” he replied, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I wasn’t sure if you’d remember me.”

“Of course I remember you! How could I forget the cute, smart guy who helped me find the bathroom?” you teased lightly, your laughter filling the space between you and putting Spencer at ease.

Spencer couldn’t help but laugh along with you, the tension in his chest finally easing. “Well, I’m glad I could help,” he said, the smile now fully blossoming on his face. “So… what’s up?”

“I was wondering if you’d be free sometime soon? I’d love to actually get to know you better, maybe over coffee or something? I should be back in New York in a few weeks!” Your invitation was casual, but the sincerity in your voice was something Spencer couldn’t ignore.

“I would like that,” Spencer began, hesitating slightly before continuing. “Um, I actually live in Virginia…”

“Oh! That’s no problem, I can come to Virginia,” you replied without missing a beat, your tone so effortlessly confident and reassuring that it caught Spencer off guard.

He blinked, momentarily confused. What kind of life did you lead that allowed you such flexibility, such willingness to drop everything for a spontaneous trip? “Are you sure? It’s a three-hour train ride,” he said, the logical part of his brain struggling to grasp the ease with which you offered.

“No problem! I’m in Los Angeles right now, but I should have a bit of freedom in, say, two weeks? Would that work for you?” Your words were filled with a casualness that suggested this kind of thing was just another day in your life.

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” Spencer responded, still wrapping his mind around the idea that you were so eager to see him, despite the distance and the logistics involved.

“Amazing! Are weekends better for you?” you asked, the excitement in your voice making it clear how much you were looking forward to this.

“Yes, weekends are good,” Spencer confirmed, feeling a mixture of excitement and nervousness bubbling up inside him.

“Okay, Spencer,” you said, and he could practically hear the smile in your voice. “How about you pick a time and a café in Virginia for Saturday two weeks from now, and I’ll meet you there?”

“Uh, sure, I can do that,” Spencer replied, a bit overwhelmed but in the best way possible. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening.

“Great! I can’t wait,” you said, your enthusiasm palpable even over the phone. “I’ll be looking forward to it.”

As you ended the call with a cheerful goodbye, Spencer found himself staring at his phone again, but this time, the feeling of defeat was replaced with something entirely different—a sense of anticipation, of possibility. He had two weeks to figure out the perfect place to meet, and the thought of seeing you again made his heart race in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time.

—

Two weeks flew by, and soon you were landing in New York, excitement and nerves swirling inside you. Instead of flying to Virginia, you chose the train, savoring the slower pace after the constant rush of airports in your career.

As the train glided smoothly along, a calm settled over you, the rhythmic sound of the tracks providing a rare moment of peace. You were anxious about meeting someone new, but also excited—Spencer seemed down-to-earth and refreshingly different from the usual whirlwind of fame. And he was undeniably attractive, with a quiet, intelligent charm that had caught your attention.

Though your security detail accompanied you, the ride was peaceful. Most passengers didn’t mind having a pop star in their car; a few asked for autographs and pictures, which you happily provided. For the most part, you were left alone to chat with your security and enjoy the journey.

—

Arriving at the café was agonizing for Spencer. His nerves had been on edge the entire day, and he’d debated countless times whether he should even show up. The closer he got, the more his anxiety spiked. What if you didn’t show up? What if you were a soon-to-be unsub? His mind raced through every worst-case scenario, each one more unsettling than the last.

As he approached the café, he felt a knot tighten in his stomach. What if you just wanted to hurt him? What if you had forgotten about him entirely? The uncertainty gnawed at him, making each step feel heavier than the last. It took every ounce of his willpower to push through the doubt and walk through the door, hoping—desperately—that this wasn’t all a mistake.

But to his surprise, when Spencer finally entered the café, he saw you already there, seated at a small table near the window. You were early, a black coffee in front of you, with a canister full of sugar beside it, waiting to be poured. The sight of you, so relaxed and genuinely present, eased some of his lingering fears.

You had arrived first, intentionally choosing a slightly hidden booth and quietly informing the staff of your presence to avoid any unnecessary attention. It wasn’t about having a big head, but rather wanting to keep the date as normal as possible, just in case someone recognized you and caused a scene.

“Spencer! Hi!” you greeted him warmly, your smile lighting up the room as you waved him over.

“Hello,” he responded, raising a hand in a shy wave as he walked toward you, feeling a mix of relief and nervousness.

“It’s so good to see you!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm evident. “Can I hug you?”

“Um,” Spencer hesitated for a split second, caught off guard by your openness. He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the nerves. “Yes, sure.”

You stood up and gently wrapped your arms around him, your embrace warm and welcoming. Spencer felt the tension in his shoulders start to melt away, the simple act reminding him that maybe, just maybe, this could turn out better than he’d feared as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“So, I hope you don’t mind, but I went ahead and got you a coffee,” you said, gesturing to the cup in front of him. “I wasn’t sure how sweet you like it, so I just asked for a whole thing of sugar.”

Spencer couldn’t believe how thoughtful you were, the small gesture meaning more to him than you might realize. “Oh, thank you so much,” he replied, his voice soft with gratitude. “That’s perfect.”

He felt a warmth in his chest, a sense of comfort in knowing that you had already taken the time to consider his preferences. It was a simple act, but to Spencer, it spoke volumes about the kind of person you were.

Spencer took a seat across from you, feeling the warmth from your earlier hug still lingering. You watched as he carefully added just the right amount of sugar to his coffee, stirring it with a quiet focus that made you smile.

"So," you began, breaking the silence with a gentle tone, "how have you been? I hope your day wasn't too stressful."

Spencer looked up, meeting your eyes with a small, appreciative smile. "It’s been… a bit nerve-wracking, to be honest. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I’m really glad I came."

You leaned in slightly, your expression softening. "I’m glad you did too. I’ve been looking forward to this."

He felt a flutter in his chest at your words, the sincerity in your voice easing some of the anxiety that had been gnawing at him. “I’ve been looking forward to it too, though I was worried I might say something awkward.”

You laughed softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Don’t worry about that. I like awkward—it’s honest. Besides, I’m probably just as nervous as you are.”

Spencer looked at you with surprise. “Really? You seem so confident.”

You shrugged, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I guess I’ve had a lot of practice pretending to be. But trust me, I get nervous too, especially when I’m meeting someone new.”

There was a pause as your words sank in, making Spencer feel a bit more at ease. “Well, if it helps, you’re doing a great job of making me feel comfortable.”

Your smile widened, your eyes sparkling with warmth. “Good, that’s exactly what I was hoping for. I just want us to enjoy this, no pressure, just two people getting to know each other.”

Spencer nodded, feeling the last of his nerves start to fade away. “That sounds nice. I think we’re off to a pretty good start.”

You raised your coffee cup in a mock toast, your grin contagious. “Here’s to a good start, then.”

Spencer clinked his cup against yours, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “To a good start.”

After you both took a sip of your coffee, the conversation started to flow more naturally. Eventually, Spencer asked, “What do you do for work?”

It was at that moment you realized that Spencer genuinely didn’t know who you were—he wasn’t just pretending for your sake. “Oh! Um, I sing,” you replied, trying to keep your tone casual.

“You sing? That’s so great! What kind of music?” Spencer’s enthusiasm was genuine, and it warmed your heart.

“Mostly pop, but I’ve been called indie pop before too,” you explained, trying not to let your nerves show.

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I don’t listen to much pop, but I would love to come to one of your shows sometime. Where do you perform?”

You laughed nervously, not sure how to break it to him. “Ha ha, well, a little bit of everywhere? I could invite you next time I perform close by!”

“That would be great,” Spencer said with a dopey smile, clearly pleased with the idea.

“So, what do you do, Spencer?” you asked, eager to shift the focus.

“I work for the FBI,” he replied, almost bashfully.

Your eyes widened in surprise. “That is so much cooler!”

“Oh, well, thank you,” Spencer said, blushing slightly at the compliment.

“Do you take down bad guys?” you asked, leaning in with genuine curiosity.

Spencer chuckled softly. “Yeah, something like that. I’m a profiler, so I help catch criminals by understanding how they think.”

You couldn’t help but be impressed. “Wow, that’s amazing! You’re like a real-life Sherlock Holmes.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at your words, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I think that’s the best compliment I have ever gotten,” he said, clearly touched by the comparison.

You smiled back, pleased to see how much the compliment meant to him. “Well, it’s true. It sounds like you have a pretty incredible job.”

Spencer’s smile softened, a hint of shyness returning. “Thank you. It’s not always easy, but it’s rewarding.”

You could see the passion he had for his work, and it only made you more curious to learn about the man behind the profiler. “I have a feeling you’re really good at what you do,” you added, feeling more drawn to him with each passing moment.

As the conversation continued, you felt a growing connection with Spencer, charmed by his sincerity and humility. It was refreshing to talk to someone who saw you as just a person, rather than the pop star you usually were.

—

The date was, in a word, phenomenal. You and Spencer clicked in a way that felt effortless, the conversation flowing naturally, and the time slipping by unnoticed. By the end of it, you both agreed to meet again the next time you were close by. Spencer left the café feeling lighter, with a genuine smile on his face. From what he gathered, you traveled often for work but mostly lived in New York, which suited him just fine. The idea of seeing you again was something he looked forward to.

Monday morning came around, and as Spencer walked into the office, he barely had time to settle in before Derek Morgan sauntered over, a teasing grin on his face. “So, pretty boy,” Derek started, leaning against Spencer’s desk, “heard from Hotch you had a hot date this weekend.”

Spencer felt a blush creep up his neck, trying to play it cool as he adjusted his tie. “It wasn’t… I mean, yeah, I had a date,” he admitted, though he couldn’t suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Derek raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this. “And? How’d it go? Are we gonna see wedding bells soon, or what?”

Spencer chuckled, shaking his head. “It went well, really well. We’re planning to meet again soon.”

Derek gave him a playful nudge. “Look at you, Pretty Boy, out here dating like a pro. So, what’s she like?”

Spencer hesitated, his mind racing back to the date. “She’s… incredible. Smart, funny, down-to-earth. I really enjoyed spending time with her.”

Derek nodded approvingly. “Sounds like a keeper. Just make sure you bring her around sometime so the rest of us can vet her properly.”

Spencer laughed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As Derek walked away, Spencer found himself thinking back to the date, the smile still lingering on his face. He had no idea what the future held, but for now, he was more than happy with the way things were unfolding.

—

May, 2006

Even though your schedule was packed, you managed to carve out moments in your day to text Spencer. It became a little ritual—finding those brief pauses between studio sessions, interviews, or flights to send him a quick message. Sometimes it was a simple Good morning! or Hope your day’s going well! Other times, you’d share something funny or interesting that happened, enjoying the way his replies always seemed to brighten your day.

Spencer, in turn, did his best to keep up with the texts, even when his work took him deep into intense cases. He found himself looking forward to your messages, the small glimpses into your life offering a welcome distraction from the often grim realities of his job.

A month after your first date, the stars finally aligned again, and you both found yourselves free at the same time. Spencer had been looking forward to seeing you, but as luck would have it, the BAU team had already planned a bar night for that weekend. There was no way he could bow out without raising suspicions, so instead, he decided to invite you along.

He texted you with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Hey, I know we’ve been planning to meet up again, and I was wondering if you’d like to come out with me and my team this weekend? We’re having a bar night, and I’d really like for you to meet everyone.

That sounds like so much fun! I’d love to meet your team. Just tell me when and where, and I’ll be there.

Spencer smiled as he read your reply, feeling a sense of relief and excitement all at once. It wasn’t what he’d originally planned, but he realized that introducing you to his team felt like a natural next step. Plus, he was curious to see how you’d fit in with the people who had become like family to him.

As the weekend approached, Spencer found himself growing more and more eager to see you again. This time, he wasn’t just looking forward to spending time with you—he was excited to see how you’d interact with the people who meant so much to him.

—

You decided to meet Spencer at his apartment before heading to the bar, a decision that filled you with both excitement and nerves. The idea of seeing him again, of spending time with him in a more casual, intimate setting, was thrilling, but it also made your heart race with anticipation. You stood outside his door, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before finally mustering the courage to knock.

Meanwhile, your security team was stationed discreetly at the base of the building, sitting in their cars to avoid drawing attention. You didn’t want to alarm Spencer with an obvious security presence, especially since he didn’t know the full extent of your fame. They had already done a thorough sweep of the bar, learning all the exits and identifying the best spots to keep watch over you without intruding on your evening.

As you waited for Spencer to answer the door, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of nerves in your stomach. This was a big step—meeting his team, blending your two worlds, and trying to keep the balance between your public life and the private connection you were building with him. But as the door opened and you saw Spencer’s familiar, warm smile, those nerves began to ease.

“Hey,” he greeted you, his voice soft and welcoming.

“Hey,” you replied, returning his smile, feeling a wave of relief wash over you. Being here with him, seeing that look in his eyes, reminded you why you were doing this. The rest of the world could wait; tonight was about the two of you.

Spencer stepped aside to let you in, his apartment cozy and inviting. “You look great,” he said, his tone slightly shy as he took in your appearance.

“Thanks,” you replied, feeling your cheeks warm. “You do too.”

There was a brief pause, the two of you just standing there, enjoying the moment. Then, Spencer gestured towards the door. “Ready to go? The team’s probably already at the bar.”

“Yeah, let’s do this,” you said, feeling a surge of confidence as you linked your arm with his.

—

As you and Spencer arrived at the bar, your nerves returned with full force. You had been feeling confident earlier, but now, faced with meeting his entire team, the reality of blending your world with his hit you hard. Spencer seemed to sense your hesitation, offering you a reassuring smile as he led you inside.

“Hey, guys, this is Y/N,” Spencer said, introducing you to his team with a hint of pride in his voice. “Y/N, this is my team.”

Before anyone else could say a word, Penelope Garcia practically barreled through the group, her eyes wide with excitement. “Oh. My. God. Y/N Y/L? I love your music! How did you two meet?”

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm, though it made you a little self-conscious. “Um, we met at a publishing house in New York,” you said, trying to keep things casual.

Spencer looked adorably confused as he turned to Penelope. “How do you know Y/N’s music?”

Penelope’s face lit up even more. “I’ve been a fan for years!”

You felt a warm blush creeping up your neck. “Thank you so much,” you said kindly, appreciating her support. But you were also eager to shift the focus away from your celebrity status. “But, uh, let’s not focus on me. I want to get to know all of you.”

The team exchanged glances, a mixture of curiosity and amusement playing on their faces. It was clear that they were intrigued by the dynamic between you and Spencer, but they respected your wish to keep the conversation light and inclusive.

“Fair enough,” Derek said with a grin, extending his hand to you. “I’m Derek. It’s nice to meet you.”

You shook his hand, relieved that the introductions were moving forward. “Nice to meet you too, Derek.”

As each member of the team introduced themselves, you felt the initial wave of nerves begin to subside. They were a friendly, welcoming group, and their easy going nature made it easier for you to relax. Spencer stayed close by your side, his presence comforting as you navigated this new and somewhat intimidating social landscape.

Unfortunately, as pleasant as the evening had been, things took a sharp turn when it was time for you and Spencer to leave the bar. The moment you stepped outside, you were met with the overwhelming sight of a large crowd waiting by the entrance, their faces eager, some shouting your name. The flashes of cameras lit up the night as paparazzi swarmed, snapping photos in a chaotic frenzy.

“Y/N, come with us,” your head security guard, Emerson, called out firmly, their voice carrying over the noise. They were already moving to shield you from the crowd, their team efficiently surrounding both you and Spencer.

Spencer was beyond confused, his eyes wide as he took in the scene. The crowd, the screaming, the relentless camera flashes—it was all a world he had never experienced before. One moment, the two of you were having a quiet night out with his team, and the next, you were being hustled into a black SUV by your security detail.

As the vehicle sped away, leaving the chaos behind, Spencer finally found his voice. “Y/N, what the hell was that?” he asked, his tone filled with concern and bewilderment.

You let out a sigh, knowing this was something you’d have to explain sooner or later. “I’m so sorry, Spencer,” you began, turning to him with an apologetic look. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. Someone must have recognized me and tipped off the paparazzi.”

Spencer frowned, still trying to piece everything together. “Recognized you? But why would…?” He trailed off, the reality slowly dawning on him. “Wait… Are you famous?”

You nodded, feeling a mix of guilt and apprehension. “Yeah, I guess you could say that. That’s why there was a crowd outside—they wanted pictures and autographs, that sort of thing.”

Spencer sat back in his seat, processing what you had just told him. “I had no idea,” he said softly, a hint of shock still in his voice.

“I know,” you admitted, your voice tinged with regret. “I didn’t want it to be a big deal between us. I just wanted you to get to know me for who I am, not because of my career.”

He looked at you, his expression a mix of understanding and concern. “Y/N, I don’t care about any of that. I just… I wasn’t prepared for this.”

“I understand,” you said, reaching out to gently take his hand. “I should have been more upfront with you. I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his gaze softening. “It’s okay. I just need a little time to process everything.”

You nodded, grateful for his understanding. “Of course. We can talk more about it when you’re ready. I don’t want this to change anything between us.”

Spencer gave you a small smile, the initial shock beginning to fade. “It won’t,” he assured you. “I still want to get to know you, the real you. We’ll figure this out together.”

His words brought you a sense of relief, and as the car continued to drive away from the chaotic scene, you felt a renewed sense of hope for what lay ahead.

—

The security team swiftly brought you and Spencer to a hotel with a private parking garage, ensuring that you wouldn’t be followed or harassed any further. It was a relief to be away from the chaos, but you couldn’t help feeling bad for dragging Spencer into your world so abruptly.

“I’m sorry, Spencer,” you said softly as you both exited the car. “Do you mind hanging out here for a bit until everything dies down? Or I can have Emerson take you home.”

“No, no, I want to stay with you,” he quickly replied, his sincerity evident.

You smiled, grateful for his support. “Okay.”

The two of you were guided up to the room where you’d be staying for the weekend. Your security team stood guard outside, some doing security sweeps to ensure the area was safe. Inside the room, the atmosphere was much calmer, but you could sense Spencer’s curiosity lingering.

“Alright, so tell me about it. How famous are you?” Spencer asked, his tone light but clearly curious.

You hesitated, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because you hated that question. Measuring your fame felt strange and impersonal. You valued your fans and appreciated the love they showed you, but fame was such a nebulous concept. “Uhhh…”

Spencer quickly backtracked, noticing your discomfort. “Sorry, that was a weird question.”

“No, it’s okay,” you reassured him. “I, uh, guess I have quite the fan base.”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully, sensing there was more to your reluctance. “Would it bother you if I looked you up when I get home?”

You couldn’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness. “That’s fine, Spencer. Just… don’t judge me too harshly.”

He looked at you with that soft, earnest expression that always seemed to put you at ease. “I would never.”

“I know, I know,” you said, letting out a small sigh. “It’s just—there’s a lot of nasty rumors, and bad things people say about me. Just, keep an open mind?”

Spencer’s gaze was steady as he reached out to take your hand. “Y/N, I like you. I don’t care what some idiot says about you on the internet, okay?”

His words were like a balm to your nerves, and you felt a warmth spread through you. “Okay. I like you too,” you admitted, feeling a surge of affection for the man sitting beside you.

Spencer’s eyes softened even further, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. “Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low and full of hope.

“Please,” you whispered, your heart racing.

Spencer leaned in, his hand gently cradling your cheek as he pressed his lips to yours in a tender, heartfelt kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you in that quiet, perfect moment. It was a kiss that spoke of understanding, of acceptance, and of something that had the potential to grow into something truly special.

And so began the beautiful relationship between you and Spencer. Every chance you got was spent together, each moment building the foundation for something truly special.

—

June, 2006

As you and Spencer strolled hand in hand through the grand halls of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the world around you seemed to blur into the background. The marble floors echoed softly with your footsteps, and the air was filled with the quiet hum of visitors lost in their own reverence for the art surrounding them. But for you, the real masterpiece was right beside you, his voice animated as he guided you through the exhibits.

“And here,” Spencer said, his eyes lighting up as he gestured toward a stunning Greek statue, “we have a marble sculpture of Aphrodite, the goddess of love and beauty. What’s fascinating is that this particular piece is from the Hellenistic period, where artists began to explore more dynamic poses and emotions in their work.”

You looked up at the statue, trying to see it through Spencer’s eyes. “It’s incredible,” you murmured, squeezing his hand lightly. “You make it all sound so alive, like we’re stepping back in time.”

Spencer smiled, a soft blush coloring his cheeks. “I’ve always loved how art can connect us to the past. It’s like a conversation across centuries, where every brushstroke or chisel mark tells a story.”

You could hear the passion in his voice, and it made your heart swell with affection. “You know, I’ve been here before, but it’s never felt this… magical,” you admitted, looking up at him.

Spencer’s eyes softened as he gazed back at you. “It’s not just the art,” he said quietly. “It’s who you’re experiencing it with.”

You felt a warm blush rise to your cheeks, his words sending a flutter through your heart. “You’re amazing, you know that?” you said with a smile.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly. “I’m just a guy who likes art history,” he replied modestly.

“And I’m just a girl who’s falling for that guy who likes art history,” you teased, leaning in to rest your head on his shoulder as you continued your walk.

Spencer’s smile grew as he squeezed your hand a little tighter. “Then I’d say we’re both pretty lucky.”

—

August, 2006

The weekend in Los Angeles felt like a breath of fresh air, a pause from the relentless pace of your lives. The sun was warm against your skin as you and Spencer strolled along the beach, the Pacific Ocean stretching out endlessly before you. The sound of the waves crashing against the shore provided a soothing backdrop to the easy conversation that flowed between you.

“I never imagined LA would be so…relaxed,” Spencer remarked, his gaze drifting out over the water. “I always thought of it as this fast-paced, high-energy place.”

You smiled, nudging him playfully with your shoulder. “It can be, but there’s a whole other side to it too. It’s not all about Hollywood and traffic. Sometimes, it’s just about finding those quiet corners where you can breathe.”

Spencer nodded, looking thoughtful. “I can see why you like it here. It’s like the city has this dual nature—busy and vibrant, but also peaceful when you know where to look.”

“Exactly,” you agreed, your hand slipping into his. “I wanted to show you that part of my life, the part that isn’t all about work and appearances. Just… the real me.”

He turned to you, his expression softening. “I like the real you. I mean, I liked you before, but getting to see this side of you…it makes me feel closer to you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I feel the same way. It’s nice to just…be with you, without any distractions.”

The two of you continued walking, the sand shifting beneath your feet as the conversation turned to lighter topics. You talked about everything from your favorite movies to childhood memories, finding joy in the simplicity of sharing these little pieces of your lives.

Later, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, you found a cozy spot at one of your favorite hidden restaurants, tucked away from the bustling streets. The atmosphere was intimate, the kind of place where you could lose yourself in conversation without worrying about being recognized. The soft candlelight flickered between you, casting a warm glow over the table.

“This place is amazing,” Spencer said as he looked around, taking in the rustic charm of the restaurant. “It’s like a little secret.”

You grinned, pleased that he liked it. “It’s one of my favorites. The food is great, but it’s the atmosphere that keeps me coming back. It’s like a little escape from everything.”

As the evening wore on, you both savored the delicious food and each other’s company, the rest of the world fading into the background. The conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself laughing more than you had in a long time, Spencer’s wit and intelligence making every moment more enjoyable.

By the time you made your way back to the beach for a final stroll under the stars, you felt a deep sense of contentment. The city’s vibrant energy had melted into the tranquility of the night, and it was just the two of you, walking hand in hand along the shore.

“I could get used to this,” Spencer said softly, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand.

“Me too,” you replied, leaning into him as you walked. “I wish we could stay here forever.”

Spencer smiled, a serene look on his face as he glanced down at you. “We can always come back. Maybe this could be our little escape.”

You looked up at him, your heart fluttering at the thought. “I’d like that.”

—

September, 2006

Spencer stood in the audience, his heart swelling with pride as he watched you perform, captivated by the way you commanded the stage. The lights bathed you in a warm glow, and your powerful, confident presence mesmerized the entire crowd. To Spencer, it was like seeing a new side of you, one that was awe-inspiring yet deeply connected to the person he knew so well—the one who shared quiet moments and deep conversations with him.

As the final notes rang out and the audience erupted in applause, Spencer clapped with fervor, pride evident in his eyes. After the show, you headed backstage, your adrenaline still high, but the moment you saw Spencer waiting for you, all the excitement of the stage melted away. His eyes shone with admiration, and in that instant, nothing else mattered but you.

Without a word, he pulled you into a tight hug, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. “You were incredible,” he whispered in your ear, his voice full of emotion.

You smiled against his shoulder, the warmth of his embrace grounding you after the high of the performance. “Thank you,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. “I’m so glad you were here.”

Spencer’s gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of awe and love. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Seeing you up there, it was… it was something else. I’m so proud of you.”

Your heart swelled at his words, the sincerity in his voice making you feel even closer to him. “It means everything to me that you’re proud,” you replied, your hand resting against his chest.

He leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I am. More than you know.”

—

November, 2006

Visiting Diana Reid in Las Vegas was a deeply personal step for both you and Spencer, a gesture that spoke volumes about how much you meant to him. The significance of the visit wasn't lost on you, and as you arrived at the care facility where Diana lived, you could feel the weight of the moment settling in.

Spencer’s hand held yours tightly as he led you inside, nervousness and pride evident in his eyes. You knew how important his mother was to him, and the fact that he was introducing you to her was a clear sign of the depth of his feelings. As you walked through the halls, you felt the butterflies in your stomach, but the steady pressure of Spencer’s hand in yours reassured you.

When you finally reached Diana’s room, Spencer paused, taking a deep breath before gently knocking on the door. “Mom, it’s Spencer,” he called softly, his voice filled with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

The door opened, and there she was—Diana Reid, with a warm smile that instantly made you feel at ease. “Spencer, my sweet boy,” she greeted, her eyes lighting up as she saw him. Then her gaze shifted to you, curiosity and kindness mingling in her expression. “And you must be Y/N. I’ve heard so much about you.”

Spencer squeezed your hand, his nerves clearly still present, but his voice was steady as he spoke. “Mom, this is Y/N. I wanted you to meet her.”

You stepped forward, offering a genuine smile. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Diana.”

Diana’s smile widened as she reached out to take your hand in hers. “The pleasure is mine, dear. Spencer speaks so highly of you.”

Diana welcomed you with warmth, her kindness evident in every word. It was clear how much Spencer loved her, reflected in the way he cared for her.

As the three of you chatted, you found it easy to connect with Diana—her sharp wit and stories filled the room with laughter. Spencer listened intently, his eyes often on his mother, revealing the deep bond they shared.

At one point, as Diana shared a funny childhood story about Spencer, you glanced at him and saw the soft, affectionate smile on his face. It made your heart swell with love for both him and the woman who raised him.

Throughout the visit, Spencer's hand never left yours, a silent sign of pride in introducing you to his mother. The connection you built with Diana added another layer to the bond you and Spencer were creating, one that grew stronger with each moment.

As the visit came to an end, Diana hugged you warmly, whispering in your ear, “Take care of him, won’t you?”

You hugged her back, your voice soft but sincere. “I will, Diana. I promise.”

When you and Spencer left the care facility, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of gratitude. Meeting Diana had been a significant step, one that solidified the love and trust you and Spencer shared. And as you walked together under the bright Las Vegas sky, you knew that your relationship had grown even stronger, rooted in the love and connections you were building together.

—

December, 2006

The final piece fell into place when Spencer met your family in New York. Both of you had been a little nervous, knowing how important this moment was, but those nerves quickly dissolved as your family welcomed him with open arms. They were eager to meet the man who had captured your heart, and Spencer, with his quiet charm and genuine kindness, fit in seamlessly.

You watched with a smile as he effortlessly engaged in conversation with your parents, his gentle demeanor putting them at ease. He listened intently to your father’s stories and shared thoughtful insights that sparked lively discussions. Your mother was instantly taken with his manners and the way he looked at you with such clear affection.

It was your brother, though, who really put Spencer to the test, teasing him playfully and cracking jokes that had the room roaring with laughter. Spencer, to your delight, not only kept up but even managed to throw in a few quips of his own, earning him a slap on the back and a hearty laugh from your brother.

As you observed them all interacting, a warm feeling settled over you. Seeing Spencer so naturally integrated into your family, like he had always been a part of it, made your heart swell with happiness. You knew then, without a doubt, that he had become an irreplaceable part of your life.

Later that evening, as you walked hand in hand through the quiet streets of your old neighborhood, you turned to him with a smile. “I think they love you,” you said softly, leaning into his side.

Spencer glanced down at you, his eyes full of warmth. “I was more nervous about meeting them than I was about joining the FBI,” he admitted with a small chuckle. “But your family is wonderful. I feel really lucky.”

You stopped walking, turning to face him fully. “I’m the lucky one,” you said, your voice filled with emotion. “You mean so much to me, Spencer, and seeing you get along with my family… it just makes everything feel even more right.”

He pulled you into a gentle hug, his arms wrapping around you protectively. “I feel the same way,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. “This—us—feels right.”

—

June, 2007

It wasn’t until you and Spencer had been together for a year that the first crack in the armor began to form. A year ago, Spencer had kept his promise and looked you up online. But what he didn’t tell you was how much he hated what he found. The dating rumors, the fan crushes, the obsession from your fans—he saw it all, and it gnawed at him. The jealousy simmered beneath the surface, his insecurities festering as he watched the world fawn over you.

At first, Spencer’s comments seemed harmless enough—slight jabs and subtle jokes about the rumors and fan pages. You thought he was just teasing, playing along with the absurdity of it all. But over time, the tone changed. The jokes became sharper, more pointed, until you couldn’t ignore the underlying resentment.

The breaking point came when you and Billie Eilish, a close friend since the beginning of your career, collaborated on a song for her new album. The promo involved interviews, social media posts, and what Spencer hated the most—a chicken shop date. The chemistry between you and Billie was undeniable, something that couldn’t be faked. Watching the video, Spencer felt his stomach churn with jealousy, convinced there was something more between you two.

Unable to keep his feelings in check, Spencer picked a fight over it. The tension that had been building for months finally erupted, his words laced with bitterness. “You and Billie looked like more than just friends in that video,” he snapped, unable to hide the hurt in his voice.

You stared at him, stunned. “Spencer, we’re just friends. You know that.”

He shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes. “It didn’t look like that to me. Everyone sees the way you two are together, and I can’t stand it.”

The pain in his voice cut deep, and you realized how much he had been holding back. “Spencer, there’s nothing between us but friendship. You have to believe me.”

But the damage was done. The fight opened up the insecurities Spencer had tried so hard to suppress, and the trust that had always been the foundation of your relationship began to waver. As the argument continued, it became clear that this wasn’t just about Billie—it was about everything Spencer had been silently battling for months. The dating rumors, the fans, the world’s obsession with you—it had all taken its toll, and now it was threatening to tear you apart.

—

August, 2007

You and Spencer were lost in a heated makeout session, the tension that had been building between you two finally dissolving as you straddled his lap on your couch in New York. It had been too long since you’d had a moment like this—no schedules, no distractions, just the two of you reconnecting in the way that always felt the most natural. Spencer’s hands roamed over your body, and you could feel the urgency in his touch, the desire to be close to you after so much time apart.

Just as things were beginning to escalate, your phone started ringing. You ignored it, too wrapped up in the moment to care who might be calling. After all, the most important person in your life was right here with you. But the ringing didn’t stop. It kept going, over and over, cutting through the haze of your desire and pulling you back to reality.

Spencer pulled back, clearly annoyed by the persistent interruption. His breath was ragged, his frustration evident as he grabbed your phone from the coffee table. He glanced at the screen, and his expression quickly shifted from irritation to something darker—anger mixed with jealousy.

“Seriously?” he said, his voice dripping with venom as he flipped the phone to show you the screen.

You looked at the image and felt your stomach drop. It was a picture of you and Billie, taken during a trip when the two of you had gone swimming under a waterfall, wearing little more than bathing suits. Spencer had once liked looking at that picture, a reminder of the carefree times you’d shared. But now, that same image seemed to fuel his insecurities, the sight of you and Billie together igniting a seething jealousy within him.

“Spencer…” you began, but he cut you off, his eyes blazing with anger.

“Why is she calling you? Now, of all times?” he demanded, the hurt in his voice unmistakable.

“She’s just a friend, Spencer,” you said softly, reaching out to touch his arm, but he pulled away slightly, the distance between you suddenly feeling like a chasm.

“Is she, though?” he shot back, his tone laced with bitterness. “Because it sure doesn’t feel that way. Not when she’s always there, in your life, interrupting us even now.”

You could see the pain behind his words, the way his jealousy had been festering for far too long. “Spencer, you’re the one I’m here with. You’re the one I love,” you tried to reassure him, but it was clear that the tension between you two wasn’t going to dissolve as easily as it had built up.

The moment that had been so full of passion just minutes ago now felt heavy with unresolved emotions. The weight of Spencer’s jealousy and your own guilt for not addressing it sooner pressed down on you both, leaving you to wonder how you could mend the growing rift between you.

—

October, 2007

The article was nothing more than a piece of sensationalized gossip, a tabloid’s attempt to stir the pot with baseless claims. It wasn’t even on your radar as you prepared for your upcoming tour of the Americas, your mind focused on rehearsals, logistics, and the excitement of performing for your fans. But Spencer had seen it. And instead of brushing it off as the ridiculous fabrication it was, he believed it.

His rational mind—the one you had always admired—had been overwhelmed by months of festering insecurities and jealousy. The TMZ article, with its blurry, barely discernible photo of two women who vaguely resembled you and Billie, was the final straw. In his mind, it was proof that his worst fears were true.

Spencer’s heart raced as he stared at the article, his eyes blurring with tears. The image, though unclear, fed into his paranoia. He could barely think straight, his emotions a chaotic storm of anger, hurt, and betrayal. He grabbed his phone, his hands trembling as he dialed your number. You were in Brazil, preparing for the first leg of your tour, oblivious to the storm brewing back home.

When you answered, you were met with a voice you hardly recognized—sharp, cold, and filled with rage. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Spencer had never sworn at you before. In fact, you weren’t even sure you’d ever heard him use the word “fuck” at all. The venom in his tone made your stomach drop, a cold dread seeping into your veins.

“What happened, baby?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady, but the unease was already gnawing at you.

“Don’t ‘baby’ me!” he snapped, his voice breaking with emotion. “You made out with Billie in public, and you got caught. I have photo evidence that you’re cheating on me now. I’ve known for months! Months! How could you lie to my face?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. You could hear the pain and betrayal in his voice, but all you felt was a profound sense of disbelief and heartache. “Spencer, what are you talking about? That’s not true. I would never—”

“Stop lying!” he interrupted, his voice thick with tears. “I saw the picture! How could you do this to me? To us?”

Your heart broke at the sound of his despair, but the accusation, the deep mistrust, cut even deeper. “Spencer, I didn’t do anything. There isn’t a picture because I’m not cheating on you,” you pleaded, your voice cracking under the weight of your own emotions.

But Spencer was too far gone, his mind too clouded by jealousy and doubt. “I can’t believe anything you say anymore,” he whispered, his voice filled with resignation. “I thought we had something real, but now… I don’t even know who you are.”

The fight that followed was explosive, both of you hurling words that only deepened the wounds already festering between you. Every attempt you made to explain, to reassure him, was met with anger and disbelief. Spencer’s trust in you had been shattered, and no amount of reasoning could bring him back from the edge.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore. The constant jealousy, the mistrust, the way he had let a baseless article destroy the bond you had worked so hard to build—it was too much. “I can’t do this, Spencer,” you said, your voice trembling with emotion. “I love you, but I can’t live like this. I can’t be in a relationship where I’m constantly accused and doubted. It’s tearing me apart.”

There was a long, painful silence on the other end of the line, and then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, Spencer said, “Maybe we both deserve better than this.”

Tears streamed down your face as you realized what had just happened. “Goodbye, Spencer,” you choked out, hanging up before he could say anything else.

As you stood there, staring at the phone in your hand, the enormity of what you had just done hit you like a tidal wave. You had ended things with the man you still loved deeply, because the relationship had become a minefield of jealousy and mistrust. It was the hardest decision you’d ever made, and the pain of it felt unbearable.

You were heartbroken, knowing that despite everything, your feelings for Spencer hadn’t changed. But the relationship had become toxic, and you couldn’t continue down that path. As you tried to pull yourself together, preparing to go on stage and perform as if your world hadn’t just crumbled, you couldn’t help but wonder if either of you would ever truly heal from this.

—

Spencer sat in the silence of his apartment, feeling like a shell of the person he once was. The shock of what had just happened left him numb, his mind struggling to grasp the reality of it all. You were gone, and it was his fault.

—

In the months that followed, Spencer couldn’t escape the crushing weight of what he had done. He replayed every argument, every moment of doubt, and came to a painful realization: he was the bad guy in this story.

He watched as your tour progressed, each new headline a reminder of what he had lost. The press coverage was relentless, but what struck him most was how your relationship with Billie remained the same—close, supportive, but nothing more. There was no secret romance, no hidden agenda. Just the friendship that had always been there, and that he had been too blinded by jealousy to see for what it was.

Then, the truth about the photo came out. It wasn’t you. It wasn’t even Billie. It was a completely different couple—Phoebe Bridgers and her girlfriend. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. He had destroyed everything over a lie, over a distorted perception fueled by his own insecurities.

Spencer spiraled into self-loathing, he knew he had been an asshole—an irrational, emotional, accusatory, jealous, ignorant asshole. And now, he had to live with the consequences of his actions, knowing that he had let the best thing in his life slip through his fingers.

—

June, 2008

“So, Y/N… you just finished the first leg of your tour, how does it feel?” the interviewer asked, leaning forward with genuine curiosity.

You couldn’t help but smile, the emotions from the tour still fresh in your mind. “Oh, it feels amazing! The energy from the crowds, the love and support—it was incredible. I miss them all so much already. Honestly, I wish I could go back and say thank you again to every single person who showed up for me and made this possible. They’re the reason I get to do what I love, and I’m so grateful for that.”

“Isn’t she great?” the interviewer exclaimed, prompting cheers from the live audience. After the applause died down, the interviewer leaned in with a mischievous grin. “I have to know, if you’re comfortable, what happened to that sexy string bean you used to have on your arm?”

Spencer, who had been half-listening to your interview as usual, suddenly found himself on high alert. His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for your response.

You shifted slightly in your seat, a small, wistful smile on your face. “Oh… um, we separated. But I still care for him deeply and hope he’s doing well.”

The interviewer nodded sympathetically before pressing on, “Are you seeing anyone new?”

Spencer held his breath, not sure if he wanted to hear your answer.

You shook your head, your smile more focused now. “No, I’m not. Just focusing on the tour right now! It’s hard work!”

The interviewer grinned. “I bet it is! Keeping busy with something you love is the best way to go.”

Spencer released a breath he’d been holding, a mixture of relief and lingering regret washing over him. He hadn’t moved on either.

—

July, 2008

(we pretend this is our song for the sake of the plot <3)

You released a few new songs before the second leg of your tour started, wanting to keep things fresh and exciting for your fans. Among the tracks was a deep cut, a raw and emotional song about your love for Spencer. It was a piece of your heart, a reflection of the pain, regret, and lingering love that still existed despite everything that had happened.

Spencer, however, had stopped listening to your music after the breakup. Every song felt like a reminder of what he had lost, especially the love songs that once brought him joy. The melodies that used to connect you two now only deepened his regret, making him avoid your music altogether.

But when Garcia heard your new song, she knew immediately that Spencer needed to hear it. Without hesitation, she sent it directly to him, attaching a message that read: You need to listen to this. Trust me.

Spencer hesitated when he saw the message. He knew it would hurt, but something made him press play. As the song played, the lyrics washed over him, each word piercing through the wall he had tried to build around his emotions. It was as if you were speaking directly to him, baring your soul in a way that was both beautiful and heartbreaking.

As the song ended, Spencer sat in silence, the weight of your words pressing down on him. He realized that despite everything, the love you had shared was still there, buried beneath the pain and mistakes. The song was a painful reminder of the depth of your connection, and it left him wondering if there was any way to mend what had been broken.

But as much as he wanted to reach out, he knew that no apology or explanation could undo the hurt he had caused. Spencer felt lost, grappling with the knowledge that he had loved you—and still did—yet had let his own insecurities destroy the best thing in his life.

—

Spencer had endured just about everything in his time at the FBI—being hit, kicked, shot, drugged, kidnapped—but never, in all those years, had anyone flicked him on the forehead. Until now. Derek Morgan’s fingers connected with a sharp flick, jolting Spencer out of his thoughts.

“We all know, Reid. Garcia sent the song to all of us,” Derek said, his voice laced with both sympathy and frustration. “I don’t know what you did, but I’m sure a flick doesn’t cover it.”

Spencer shook his head, the weight of guilt heavy on his shoulders. “It doesn’t,” he admitted, the truth settling like a stone in his stomach.

That night, Spencer decided he couldn’t ignore it any longer. Swallowing the last remnants of his pride, he picked up his phone and dialed your number. But when the automated message informed him that the line was no longer in service, his heart sank. You had changed your number. Still, the adrenaline coursing through his veins wouldn’t let him stop. He dialed the next number he knew by heart.

“Hello?” came the familiar voice on the other end.

“Dylan?” Spencer’s voice trembled slightly, betraying his nerves.

“Who is this?” Dylan’s tone was cold, guarded.

“Spencer Reid. Please, don’t hang up.”

“What do you want, asshole?”

Spencer flinched at the anger in Dylan’s voice, but he knew he deserved it. “I deserve that.”

“Damn right, you piece of shit. I watched my sister cry for months over you. And she didn’t do anything wrong—it was all you.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“So let me repeat myself, what do you want?”

“I want to talk to her,” Spencer said, desperation creeping into his tone.

“No fucking way.”

“Please, I need to apologize.”

“She’s moved on, she doesn’t want to hear from you,” Dylan shot back, his words cutting through Spencer like a knife.

“She moved on?” Spencer’s voice wavered, the reality of those words hitting him hard.

“Yeah, most people would by now.”

Spencer felt a painful twist in his chest, but he pressed on. “I still… I still want to apologize.”

Dylan’s voice was ice-cold. “If you actually cared about her, you’d let her go.”

“Dylan—” Spencer tried to plead, but the line went dead, the dial tone echoing in his ear.

Spencer stared at the phone in his hand, the finality of it all crashing down on him. He had lost you, not just because of his mistakes but because he hadn’t been able to see what was in front of him until it was too late.

—

“He called today.”

“What?” you asked, looking up in surprise.

“He called me.”

“Who?” But even as you asked, you felt a knot forming in your stomach, dreading the answer.

“Spencer.”

You froze. That name hadn’t been spoken around you in what felt like forever. Hearing it now sent a wave of emotions crashing over you, emotions you’d worked so hard to bury.

“Why?” you managed to ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Jackass said he wanted to apologize to you,” Dylan replied, his tone laced with disdain.

“After all this time?” The disbelief in your voice was evident, and you could hardly process what you were hearing.

“Mhm,” Dylan confirmed, watching your reaction carefully.

“What did you tell him?” you asked, already fearing the answer.

“That you’d moved on, that he should too,” Dylan said, his voice firm and protective.

“Oh.” The single word hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken thoughts and lingering feelings.

Dylan’s voice softened, sensing your turmoil. “Y/N… he’s not worth it. He doesn’t deserve you.”

“I know,” you replied, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Thanks, Dylan. I’m going to bed. Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too,” Dylan said, his concern palpable even through the phone.

That night, as you lay in bed, you couldn’t help but wish your number hadn’t been leaked. You knew Spencer would have called you directly if he could have. And if you had answered? You might have at least heard him out, given him the chance to say the things he had left unsaid for so long.

But now, as you stared up at the ceiling, the what-ifs swirled in your mind, keeping you awake long into the night. You had moved on, or at least you told yourself you had. But the unresolved feelings, the remnants of a love that once meant everything, were still there, lurking just beneath the surface. And as much as you wanted to push them away, tonight they were impossible to ignore.

—

Hey Kade – think you can find a number for me? And not tell Dylan…

For sure, just give me a name and a city

God bless Kade. They didn't ask any questions, just worked their magic. Within minutes, Kade had sent you Spencer's number. You stared at it for a long moment, the screen glowing in the dim light of your room. Your thumb hovered over the call button, knowing that if you didn’t do it now, you’d lose your nerve.

With a deep breath, you tapped the number and pressed the phone to your ear. The ringing felt endless, each second adding to your nerves. But then, the line clicked, and his familiar voice came through.

“Spencer Reid.”

“Spencer Reid’s ex-girlfriend,” you said, your tone shy yet teasing, trying to mask the anxiety bubbling inside you.

There was a brief pause, then his voice, softer now, almost incredulous. “Y/N?”

“The one and only,” you replied, your heart racing as you tried to steady your voice.

There was another pause, this one filled with emotions that neither of you knew how to express just yet.

“You called Dylan,” you said, your voice a mix of curiosity and caution.

“I know, your old number didn’t work,” Spencer replied, his tone tinged with regret.

“Someone leaked it…” you explained softly, the memory of that chaotic time flashing through your mind. But you quickly refocused, your heart pounding as you asked the question that had been weighing on you since you heard he’d tried to reach out. “Why were you calling, Spencer?”

“I love you,” he blurted out, the words raw and desperate.

“What?” The sudden confession caught you off guard, your heart skipping a beat as you tried to process what he had just said.

“Your song, i love you. Did you mean it? Do you still love me?” His voice cracked with vulnerability, and you could hear the pleading in his words, the desperation of a man who had realized too late what he had lost.

“Spencer…” You hesitated, the pain and love intertwined so tightly within you that it was hard to speak.

“I’m begging you, Y/N. Do you love me?” The vulnerability in his voice was palpable, and you could almost see him, his heart in his hands, waiting for your response.

“Of course I do,” you finally admitted, the truth spilling out before you could stop it.

“Are you in New York?” Spencer asked, his voice filled with hope.

“Yes,” you replied, your heart racing as the conversation took a turn you hadn’t expected.

“Can I come see you?” His question hung in the air, the possibility of seeing him again making your pulse quicken.

“Right now?” you asked, still trying to catch up with the sudden shift in your emotions.

“Right now, I can be there by 4 pm,” he responded, the determination in his voice unmistakable.

“Okay,” you said, the word slipping out before you could second-guess yourself.

“Okay? Really?” Spencer’s voice was filled with a mix of surprise and relief.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, a small smile forming on your lips. “You remember where I live?”

“By heart,” he replied, and you could hear the warmth in his voice.

“See you soon, Spence,” you said softly, the familiar nickname bringing a wave of nostalgia and comfort.

“See you soon,” he echoed, and with that, the call ended, leaving you with a whirlwind of emotions and the realization that in just a few hours, Spencer would be standing at your door.

—

Spencer spent the entire train ride to New York mentally rehearsing what he would say to you. He went over every possible scenario, trying to find the right words to express everything he felt—the regret, the love, the longing. But as the train pulled into the station and he made his way to your apartment, his mind went blank. By the time he was standing at your door, all his carefully planned words had vanished.

His hand, seemingly moving on its own, raised to knock. The sound echoed in the quiet hallway, and within moments, the door swung open.

When you appeared in the doorway, his breath caught in his throat. You looked even more beautiful than he remembered, if that was even possible.

“Hey,” you said softly, your eyes searching his, filled with emotions.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

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

tag list <333 @spencerreidsreads @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @reggieswriter @loumouse @mentallyunwellsposts @time-himself @chaneladdicted @kathrynlakestone @furrybouquettrash @hearts4spensco @gilwm @khxna @charismatic-writer @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @noelliece

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minnieminshi · 9 months ago

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Sporteen Masterlist

Welcome to what I call my chronic brainrot and where I start to accept the fact that I might actually like watching sports even tho I spent most of my childhood saying I hate sports lol

This is the first series I’ve done and I’m also a first year uni student so I make no promises on how frequent I can update this but I do wanna try to get them done at least by when my semester ends in like April

Also some of the stories are linked as since some of the guys are on the same team/sport

Choi Seungcheol: Pucking Chemistry

Summary: You never should’ve agreed to tutor the captain of the hockey team. Who shows up a full hour after the agreed meeting time? Choi Seungcheol, apparently as you’ve come to learn. And now you’re stuck tutoring him because for some reason, you're his last hope to pass chemistry so he’s eligible to play in an upcoming tournament.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, mentions of your father abandoning the family

Extra info: high school setting, Cheol uses the term "princess" a lot and I'm a sucker for calling people by their last name, mentions of Monsta X’s I.M (aka Changkyun) and Kard’s Somin (but she gets mentioned like once lol), your little brother’s name never gets mentioned but you do call him Frosty lol, and my knowledge of hockey is limited to watching Dr. Mike on yt talk about hockey injuries so there’s not a whole lot of hockey action in this fic lmao. On a personal note, this fic made my realize my little brother is turning 13 this year and I can’t handle that because what do you mean he’s a teen now he literally turned one the other day and I think that shows in this fic lol

Release: 2/24 Read Here

Word count: 9.9K

Yoon Jeonghan: Maybe Romeo and Juliet Were Onto Something

Summary: When you agreed to help your dad with coaching his soccer team, you expected to help with writing down prs and handing out water bottles in return for free tickets and an excuse to be out of your dorm. What you didn’t expect to happen was falling for the charming co-captain of his soccer team. So do you take your shot with co-captain or do you heed your dad’s one and only rule of absolutely no dating his players?

Warnings: cursing since that’s gonna be pretty much a staple in my writing lol, arguments with a parent

Extra info: uni setting, so originally Jeonghan was gonna be a basketball player but then I remembered I hate basketball due to getting hit in the face and breaking my glasses on my birthday during practice… Plus I saw a tiktok of svt playing sports and Jeonghan was playing soccer and the gears started turning in my head lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Hong (Jisoo) Joshua: It’s a Win-Win! Right?

Summary: Agreeing to fake date your best friend definitely wasn’t on your schedule when you dropped by after Joshua’s swim practice after your student council meeting had ended. But with his oddly passionate fangirls, you suppose this was more for his comfort than anything else. And hey, you could also use this to get your vice president to stop hitting on you as well, so it's a win-win for everyone. Plus it’s not like you’d be met with the realization that you might be in love with your best friend, that’s crazy…

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol, and crazy fangirls

Extra info: high school setting, I got a confession… I don’t actually know how to swim lmaoo I just never learned so I apologize for the lack of actual swimming lol and Joshua is definitely inspired by Oikawa from Haikyuu in the sense of his fangirls lol and I guarantee there’s at least 50 fake dating Oikawa fics so here’s my spin on that with Joshua lol. I was also half tempted to make Joshua like one of my friends, who, for some reason decided our senior year to join our school’s swim team that I didn’t even know we had lol while he was on the varsity soccer team but I decided against it for simplicity lmao

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Wen Junhui: Racing Hearts and Skating to Love

Summary: Getting the chance to perform at an end of year celebration? Amazing! Having to perform a paired performance with Wen Junhui? Not amazing! Don’t get it twisted! You don’t hate Junhui, in fact it’s the opposite. You’ve been silently crushing on your fellow skater for months, and now you’re going to have to create and perform a paired program with him. Which of course meant having to spend weeks with him, and getting close to him to actually practice. But you can do this, it’s only for a few weeks, your heart can handle it. Hopefully it can, at least.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself lol

Extra info: it’s never mentioned but it’s a uni au lol, reader wears contacts and glasses because I do too and I love Wen Junhui so next question lol and literally all my knowledge of ice skating comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kwon Soonyoung: Goal- Wait Watch Out!

Summary: Meet cute except it’s not cute and you probably have a concussion from the rogue soccer ball to the head. All you were trying to do was drop off your roommate's lunch since she forgot in the morning and now you’re being carried by a concerned goalie and your roommate treating you like one of her athletes. At least the goalie carrying you is cute?

Warnings: cursing since I can’t help myself, and of course injuries (a concussion) since that’s the plot lol

Extra info: uni setting, my knowledge is very limited on soccer and all that I do know comes from when my librarian would let me stay in the library while the cup was going on last year instead of making me go do errands for the teachers during my student aide period lol and putting Hoshi as goalie is most definitely brought on by Jeonghan’s monthly meeting pics of him as the goalie lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Jeon Wonwoo: Scheming Love

Summary: When your coach told your team that you guys would play a skirmish against the boys volleyball team for fun, you felt your heart freeze. Now you weren’t scared of the boys team, you believe your team is fully capable of beating them in a game. No, what scares you is the fact that it means you have to play against Jeon Wonwoo, one of the middle blockers on the team. And your longtime crush. Normally you’re confident as a libero, doing your best to make sure your team’s defense’s on top and making sure the ball doesn’t touch the ground, but with Wonwoo on the court at the same time? Maybe you should start apologizing to your team now. Wait, why did they have a team huddle while you were helping the manager bring the water bottles? And why are they smiling at you like they’ve just made the greatest plan in the history of the world?

Warnings: cursing as usual, and threatening to strangle someone (as a joke lol)

Extra info: high school setting, reader wears glasses because I do too and I love Wonwoo lol. One of two fics that are fueled by my Haikyuu brainrot that’s coming back thanks to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. Wonwoo as a middle blocker is brought on by this twitter artist that’s drawn Tsukishima in some Wonwoo stage outfits and that has caused me great pain I eat it up every time and reader being a libero is because that’s my favorite position lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Jihoon: Wait Where Are You Going? Come Back!

Summary: You really didn’t plan to watch your university’s baseball team play today, especially since it was so hot out and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky to provide some shade to hide under. But alas, your best friend insisted on dragging you along, wanting to watch her boyfriend play. Sure that’s fine and dandy, but why drag you along? At least the catcher’s cute, or what you can see of him on account of his mask. Wow, he's really muscular and is he giving Seokmin signs on how to pitch- wait why is your best friend and her boyfriend pushing the two of you after the game is over? And why are they running away? Oh, she’s gonna pay for this once you get through his conversation with the cute catcher.

Warnings: cursing as usual, and betrayal from your best friend and Seokmin lol

Extra info: uni setting, I’m like 85% sure Woozi said he used to play as catcher when he played baseball so that’s why he has this position. I don’t know anything about baseball besides one man named Shohei Ohtani and that getting hit with the ball hurts like hell (and all the injuries Dr. Mike on yt covered lol)

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Seokmin: Breaking News! Falling in Love is Scary!

Summary: Being part of your university’s blog and radio show is great, until you’re being forced out of the studio/office and out in the open to go interview the baseball team after a recent winning streak. Normally this job would get assigned to another team member, but after a recent bout of frat flu ravaging your crew, the interview is left up to you. Whatever, just get the answers to the prewritten questions you have and the sooner you can go back to the studio/office to work on other things. Or that was the plan before the pitcher, Lee Seokmin, took an interest in you and suddenly seemed to pop up everywhere around campus. Or aka, grumpy reporter x sunshine baseball player.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, and you being a hater for no reason lol

Extra info: uni setting, I don’t know much about baseball other than the fact that I would kill to see DK in a baseball uniform

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Kim Mingyu: Red Bandage of Fate

Summary: When you joined the athletic team as a student trainer and got assigned to the university’s soccer team, you wondered if the team’s number 06, Kim Mingyu, the ace of the team and top scorer, was the same Kim Mingyu who basically lived in the training center, constantly in need of treatment for his never ending list of injuries. And please, slow down with the injuries, the center’s almost out of athletic tape and bandages, you’re begging him to please be more careful out on the field.

Warnings: cursing because I can’t help myself, and very obviously injuries (I’ll come back to be more specific with the injuries lol)

Extra info: uni setting, I’m taking an intro to athletic training class this sem so I know some stuff about treating athletes but again it’s intro class so beware if some things aren’t super accurate lol

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Xu Minghao: Filmed Lovestory

Summary: When you agreed to help film your friend’s practice for an upcoming competition, you didn’t think much of it. You’ve done it thousands of times. Put on your skates, a couple of extra layers so you won’t freeze, use her phone to record her, and follow her out on the ice. It’s simple, really, and a great way to spend Saturdays while also getting some exercise in between your tiring uni life. What you didn’t expect is somehow to agree to film the practices of one of her skating friends. Her very handsome skating friend, you might add. So now your weekends are fully booked for the ice, but watching Minghao skate on the ice, it’s not so bad.

Warnings: cursing as per usual

Extra info: uni setting, as I mentioned with my Jun fic, all of my figure skating knowledge comes from the time I was obsessed with Yuzuru Hanyu like a year or two ago so again I apologize for the inaccuracies of the sport

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Boo Seungkwan: Tangerines, Confessions and a Supply Closet

Summary: When you agreed to be the boys volleyball team’s manager, you didn’t think you’d spend your high school career taking care of the team. Yet, here you are, in your senior year and the only reason some of your players are even here (and why some of them are passing their classes, seriously signing up as a manager became a lot more than just handing out water bottles!). The only reason you’ve been able to stick around as long as you have is because of the team’s setter, Boo Seungkwan, who makes your job of wrangling the team a little easier. Now if only you could get the team off your back about confessing to him before the two of you graduate, that really would be great.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, threats to kill an entire volleyball team (all jokes), and getting locked in a supply closet

Extra info: high school setting, this is the second fic that is 100% fueled by my Haikyuu phase that is slowly coming back due to the movies and the new content that’s been coming out recently. And out of all the sports, this is the one I’m most knowledgeable in since I actually watch matches (shout out to Lim Sungjin and Heo Subong). Also I had such a hard time giving Seungkwan a sport since he does so much I decided on volleyball because the thought of him playing makes me want to bark so there’s that

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Chwe (Vernon) Hansol: Quick, He’s Not Watching!

Summary: When your older brother told you to wait for him in the bleachers, promising to give you a ride after your night class, you didn’t think much of it. If you’re lucky, you’d be able to take a nap in the bleachers waiting for him. What you didn’t expect was to somehow catch the attention of one of the midfielders, Vernon. As you come around more and more often, you find the midfielder always making an effort to say hey to you, and even stealing some of the team’s snacks for you. Now you just wonder if he’ll make a move before your brother notices the two of you getting closer with each other.

Warnings: uni setting, cursing as per usual, and older protective brother that means well but doesn’t go about it the right way

Extra info: I deadass looked up what the positions in soccer are because I have no idea what goes on in the sport even though one of my friend’s played our entire high school career

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

Lee Chan: You’re Not Too Bad

Summary: You didn’t think that showing up to your best friend’s, Seokmin’s, baseball practices would make one of the players hate you, but here you are and apparently Lee Chan hates you. Or so you think at least. The rest of the team loves you, especially since you always bring them plenty of food to feed them throughout practice (it pays to be a nutrition major) and always try to help out even though you’re not an official manager. But it’s no biggie, it’s not like Chan hating you bothers you, nope, not at all. But maybe you’d skip out on stopping by Seokmin’s practice for the week… Yeah that sounds like a good idea.

Warnings: cursing as per usual, Chan being a bit of an asshole but it gets resolved don’t worry

Extra info: uni setting, Dino being assigned baseball is all because of the 231105 fansign where he was given a baseball jersey and glove, and I still don’t know how baseball works

Release: TBA

Word count: TBA

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usedpidemo · 7 months ago

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Update - 3rd year anniversary! (and some future plans, a reflection, etc.)

Hi everyone! π here.

By the time this post is up, it'll be the 13th of May. Three years since I began my writing journey and this Tumblr blog. Three years. Time flies by so fast. I was close to graduating senior high after it was delayed because pandemic, had my graduation in an empty room basically, now I'm hitting my third year of college. Crazy stuff.

With that said, here are the stats + timetable of the blog so far:

First work: Sandwich (Wendy) (published 05/13/21, 4:03 a.m)

Highest note count: Tell your friends (Yujin x Wonyoung) (published 01/14/23, 1274 notes)

Number of works published: 91 fics (1 fic every 12.03 days)

500 followers: June 18, 2021 (36 days)

1000 followers: October 12, 2021 (152 days)

2000 followers: June 18, 2022 (401 days)

3000 followers: November 12, 2022 (548 days)

4000 followers: May 22, 2023 (740 days)

5000 followers: December 18, 2023 (950 days)

Current follower count: 5615 (1 new follower every 5.12 days)

It's been a hectic final month of college, so I apologize for the lack of activity in recent times :< But summer is coming up very soon, so hopefully I'll have all the time in the world to write more till then! I will say, a new fic is on the near horizon, so please be on the lookout!

I would like to take the opportunity to thank every single of you, whether reader, lurker, or a fellow writer for your support! Especially during these lull times, your unwavering support has kept me afloat and has been a motivation in continuing to write. Love you guys as always. Here's to another fruitful year <3

From this point, this part will be an overall reflection and life summary of the previous year, my thoughts on some personal matters, and some ideas I've been contemplating. If you don't wanna read this, you can stop here.

I miss 2023 quite a bit, not gonna lie. I know nostalgia can quickly grow warm and fuzzy, seeing the past through rose tinted lens, but I'll admit that 2024 hasn't been off to the start I envisioned it to be. That year was mostly peak for me, and I could even argue it's my favorite year to live out based on all my experiences. Traveling to new places, finally attending live events, interacting with my K-pop biases, and so on—it really felt like the best was yet to come with how 2023 flowed and transitioned into the new year.

Five months in, and I am struggling. Horribly. Most plans, dreams, and ideas have gone up in smoke, and it's just one devastating gut punch after another. I have a shitty professor in one major that basically made me check out of that class, and I don't know my family will react when I tell them I have to repeat said class because that professor was a dick. My family's been infighting on a daily basis, and I'm mostly collateral damage to them. Not one week can go by without some serious confrontation between them. There was a brief health scare with my mother, but that seems to be a nothing matter; thank God she'll be okay.

All this just makes life so deflating, in all honesty. I get that no life is without struggle, but I genuinely don't know when we'll be in the clear. Not anytime soon, I reckon. In these tough times, there's very little comfort except the past, when everything was pretty all right for the most part. It's been demotivating to write when mom comes forward with another grievance with my sister. It's hard to write when you have a professor who likes to power trip their students into submission. It's hard when you don't know how to admit to your mother that he failed his one class because of said power tripping professor.

But that doesn't mean I will let it eat me alive. I know we've been through some utter lows in the past. And we always get back up. If no one has us, then God does.

Summer break is fast approaching and I want to fix things. Even in my own little way. I know none of what I'm saying has anything to do with writing degenerate stories about hot K-pop idols, but real life circumstances have definitely affected me more than I can brush off. I should be calm, unfazed, undeterred.

After all, some stories are meant to be finished. They just take a more unconventional route. Ask Cody.

With all that being said, I will finish these commissions over the next two months. I'm really sorry to everyone who requested and paid for their stories months and months ago; I genuinely feel bad for not getting these out on time, but I am very mindful of quality control, and I have no one to blame but myself for being a slacker and lazy worker. Despite my feelings, I should remain professional—that's what being a worker means.

A lifestyle overhaul is definitely in my list of things to improve over the summer too. Figuring out how to get writing done, finding ways to alleviate my PokeRogue addiction (GOTY), whilst having a healthy work/life balance and not losing my sanity over it. Or worse, burning out.

And I want to take this opportunity to thank all my friends—peach, caps, majorblinks, chunk, frisky, raf, c.o, levi, sins, iz, ken, v1n, ddeun, notions, kevin, eros, brandon, kaede, svn, frisky, cray, rpg, prael—for putting up with my shit for another year. This life is tough, but you guys make it tolerable. Thank you for letting me air out my grievances even when it wasn't the best time to. I pray that when everything passes, I'm able to repay you all in some shape or form generously.

And to you, dear reader, for making it this far, thank you. Whether you've been with me since day one, or day 1094, as a commenter, reposter, liking, or just passing by/lurking, thank you for giving me a chance. Without you, all of this would have been for nothing. I don't know where I would be now if I didn't take that chance, that leap of faith back in 2021, and it's because of you I am able to keep doing this for the love of the game.

With grace,

Peter / π

#update #anniversary

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lonelierthanu · 2 months ago

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Penmanship

Satoru Gojo x Gender-neutral Reader

series: incomplete

words: 2.4k

warnings: none apply; funny; meet-ugly; no mentioned female or male anatomy; no spoilers; no curses; slow build; slow to update; college au

summary: A band of barbie’s are after you because you somehow acquired a new boyfriend.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 …+

You’re not sure when the whispers started, but you knew when it started bothering you.

After the unfortunate escapade you had in Sherlock-Houdini’s house, you had left with his “ offer “ completely shut down. You decided to just bite the bullet and apologize to your niece and brother-in-law. It pains you to think about going home for winter break and having to tell them of your mistake, but nothing can be done if you’re being blackmailed for it. Due to lack of funds you’re set to head home next Friday even though the break starts this Friday, and honestly, you’re glad for the excuse to prolong the inevitable.

You’re also hoping that in these last few days before break, the weird atmosphere that seems to be following you will dissipate.

You started noticing it this morning, whenever you looked at someone it seemed they were already looking your way. Quick looks and rushed whispering gave you the impression that the topic of discussion was you. At first, you believed you might be crazy. Why in the world would anyone be talking about you. You were a random nobody that carefully skirted through university unnoticed and that’s how you’ve been living the past three years here.Why suddenly would people start noticing you, if you had done nothing differently?

But then a group of girls, whom you had vaguely remembered from somewhere but couldn’t place where, had come up and asked for your name. Once you confirmed that the name they were referring to was yours they laughed conivingly and walked away. As they walked away you heard one of them say, “She has nothing to worry about,” which only furthered your confusion.

A quick search into Rikki’s instagram story, confirmed your suspicions. Those girls ran in a pretty popular circle on the campus. All those fraternity boys and sorority girls seem to clique to each other, you made sure you stayed very far away from that scene. But Rikki, your roommate and beautiful social butterfly that she is, seemed to turn up in that scene quite a lot.

Regardless of the weird atmosphere persisting around you, you refused to let the whispers get to you.

Which is why you’re at your roommate's door as she packs to go home for the break, asking her why a group of her friends are cackling at you.

She sighs tiredly. Probably because she has a flight at four in the morning and only two hours to pack. Which you did try to tell her not to procrastinate it for this very reason. Rikki takes your phone to look at the picture of the girls who laughed at you that day.

“These are Kaiya’s friends,” she hands you back your phone and continues her task.

“Mm.” You hum in mock understanding; you pause for a moment,“...who’s Kaiya?” she sighs again.

“Vice President of her sorority,” she replies without looking up.

“Oh ok,” you nod, “but why are they laughing at me?” a third, exhausted sigh.

“Please,” she pleads, plopping flat on her bed, “I’m too tired for this,”

“Oh no no no,” You grab her wrist and hoist her back onto her feet. This girl can fall asleep standing up if she tried and you know that once she gets comfy she’s out like a light. You can’t have her fall asleep before you figure out what beef you’ve somehow cooked up with sorority girls you’ve never even met.

“I don’t know!” she whines. The lack of sleep is starting to get to her.

“C’mon Rikki, please. Just think, why would Kaiya and her band of misfit barbies be after me?”

She sits back on the bed and rests her head on her fist propped by her leg. She looks at you with a sleepy expression, the shadow under her eyes heavy. You can tell she’s thinking, but you’re not sure how hard considering she’s about ready to fall over as it is. She rubs her eyes aggressively and puts a finger to her temple to massage it. She groans, the gears presumably turning.

“Did anyone say anything to you?” you ask, in hopes of speeding up the thinking process. Then she looks at you, brows slightly furrowed. You begin to grow concerned. “What?” Rikki sighs and places her head back into her hands.

“I remember Masai talking about Mori getting back together with an ex that used to be involved with Suguru. It was rumored that she tried to take a pass at Satoru but he rejected her because he’s dating someone. News spread to Kaiya, who’s been trying to get in Satoru’s pants for months even when she was dating Mori, and she’s been trying to find out who it is,” Now you sigh, exhausted just from hearing about all of this drama. You don’t even know who any of these people are. “I don’t know if it correlates to you but that’s just what’s been going on lately,”

“I don’t know anybody you just named,” you deadpan. She dramatically flops backwards onto her bed, landing on a pile of clothes she has yet to fold, and groans loudly. She holds up her hand and begins counting off fingers.

“Well Kaiya is the one who’s after you,” one finger, “Mori is her most recent ex-boyfriend,” two fingers, “Masai is my friend and also questionably Kaiya’s friend,” three, “Satoru is the white haired dude that’s literally your project partner — I find it crazy that you still don’t know his name — “ you grimace, “and Suguru is his best friend,” She finishes, five fingers.

After the painful realization that you never once knew Herc-Sherlock-Houdini-Creepster’s name, you remember that the two of you have been spending more time together lately for the project, albeit at his request, but time together nonetheless. And now it makes you wonder if those girls think the two of you might actually be…together.

“I know the two of you have been talking more as of late so i’m thinking she assumes you’re the one Satoru is dating,” Rikki voices your worries out loud, you nod in response, not that she can see considering her eyes are closed.

You’re at a stand still. And a little confused. You’re not sure how you would go about fixing this issue, it seems that many bits of information come from the rumor mill and the little tidbit of you and satoru’s relationship might have been going around for a while. If you were to try to deny it now it might make it worse.

But if Satoru were to deny it then maybe the rumors would die off.

You get up to leave Rikki’s room, noticing she’s asleep and you decide to give her fifteen minutes to rest. You’ll wake her and help her pack. Since becoming project partners (and after the embarrassing fiasco at his house) you’ve exchanged phone numbers for convenience, so in the meantime, you’re gonna text Satoru about this little rumor.

Satoru, unsurprisingly, is awake at twelve in the morning. Anyone who knows him knows that he’s a night owl and an early bird. He doesn’t sleep much but he usually isn’t tired anyway. So, when his phone alerts him of a message, he reads it immediately unbeknownst to him that the person sending it thought he’d read it in the morning.

rumors going around that we’re dating?

Oh, Satoru’s eyebrows rise. You found out.

When Satoru first met you in the beginning of the school year he didn’t think much of you, he found your facial expressions funny, and he definitely noticed that you only scooted one chair over on purpose when he asked (demanded) for your seat. After that encounter though, you became just like every other blurry face in the crowd. And that day when he asked you for a pen, he really needed it. But when you handed him that extremely gaudy pen, he truly looked at you for the first time.

You looked exhausted beyond belief, and he realized that throughout the time that you’ve been desk mates he’s barely seen you wear color, and the few times that you did he’s never seen you wear bright pink or anything Hello Kitty related. It intrigued him to say the least and he felt that he absolutely needed to know why you had this pen. When you explained, a part of him believed you, but the part that always had his guard up (from the absolute onslaught of advances from mostly Kaiya) was still on edge.

At the end of class he put your pen in his bag, like he usually would with his own, and left to meet Suguru for lunch somewhere off campus. He genuinely forgot. So, when he was finally pressured, by Suguru, to go to class that Friday he was surprised that you still cared about the pen. It clicked in his mind that this might be an advance. Your overall demeanor and vibe didn’t tell him that it was you that was trying to get at him. But he figured since each of Kaiya’s friends have tried to get at him for her sake, he wouldn’t be surprised if she paid someone to try since he now knows all of her friends and their friends' faces. That had given him the idea to see if you could be persuaded to leave him alone.

So, he bit the bullet. And invited you to his fraternity. He didn’t plan to actually sleep with you, he just wanted to know where you stood in Kayia’s ridiculous plan. Then when you blew up at him. He was embarrassed, at first, for his assumption when he realized you were completely serious about needing that pen back, but then quickly regained his resolve. He felt that he had missed any chances to speak to you again after that and decided to keep his distance, but he did plan to give you the pen back. He began to mourn the small banter-full interactions the two of you’d have.

He showed up late the following Monday and was told of the project and when he was told his partnering, he felt like a dream opportunity had fallen right into his lap. It excited him. He jumped at the opportunity to turn the tides. So, he asked you out. He didn’t care if you thought he was serious or not. If you did, then he’d have a genuine partner to keep people off his back and if you didn’t, then he could propose it as a fake dating situation and he wouldn’t have to pretend to like you romantically. But your general disdain for him ran deeper than he thought, and you rejected him outright.

It was fine though, that didn’t deter him from his plan. He started telling people that he was dating someone. The project was the perfect excuse to spend more time with you and make it look like you two were actually together. He never told anyone that the two of you were dating, but he knew the implications were there and that was the idea.

And now it seems you’ve somehow gotten looped in on the rumors.

call me

The two of you had never called before. Your conversations stayed through text, but to be perfectly honest he preferred phone calls. He texted you first to see if you’d be comfortable and maybe 5 minutes passed before he just assumed you weren’t gonna call him. He was drafting a text to you when his phone began ringing and your contact was showing on his screen. He smirked and clicked the green button.

“Hi~” Satoru drawls almost seductively into the phone speaker but keeping his tone light so you can tell he’s not serious.

“Do you know if it’s true?” you say back, straight to the point, and Satoru wishes he could see your face. Since the moment he met you he’s learned that he loves seeing what kind of reaction he can get out of you. Any reaction pleases him really. Irritation is usually the emotion he’s met with but it’s hilarious every time.

“If what’s true?” He finds it hard to hold back the smile spreading on his face. Teasing you comes so easily. He hears you sigh on the other end.

“That there’s a rumor,”

“Hmm, I haven’t heard of any rumors,” he lies.

“There’s a rumor that you’re dating someone and today someone, Kaiya?” The name irks him beyond belief, “I don’t know if you know her but today her posse like, sized me up and I'm on her radar now. I talked to my roommate about it, and she thinks that maybe people are assuming we’re together? I want to know if you know anything about it,” Satoru didn’t anticipate that Kaiya would go out of her way to find you, but in hindsight that was a little naive of him.

“I have been telling people I’m with someone, I’m not,” he doesn’t know why he felt the need to clarify that, “because Kaiya has been trying to jump my bones for as long as I’ve known her. I’ve rejected her so many times but she’s relentless. I hoped that pretending to be in a relationship would get her off my back,” you sigh, you seem tired.

“That’s fine I guess but if someone asks could you please deny it?”

“Ouch baby, you don’t even want to pretend to date me?” he feigns hurt.

“No.” He just laughs.

“We’re still on for tomorrow right?”

“Yes, goodnight Satoru,” And Satoru finds himself still. He’s never heard you say his name before. The late hour forces your tone to be hushed, and deeper than usual, so hearing his name spoken in that tone does something to him. He’s not sure what but it’s solidified in his mind that he needs to hear it again.

“Goodnight baby~” he teases in hopes that he can elicit his name from your mouth one more time before this call ends.

“Don’t call me that.” you say, followed by the triple beeps indicating the call has been ended. He sighs and settles further into his sheets. Up until now he was beginning to think you either didn’t know his name or you hated him so much that the thought of tasting his name on your tongue made you want to throw up. He was glad neither possibility was true. A sliver of hope that you might be warming up to him was beginning to bloom.

(･ω<)☆

*pulls out popcorn* can’t wait to see what happens next guys! 😄🫳🍿

★prev next☆

#jjk x reader #jjk x male reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo saturo x female reader #gojo saturo x gender neutral reader #jjk x black reader #jjk x female reader #jjk x gender neutral reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk gojo #jjk #jjk x poc!reader

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mirandasidefics · 5 months ago

Text

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 10

Pairing(s): Lucien x Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan x Plus Size Reader

Chapter 10 Summary: Helion sets a condition for Reader's use of the libraries, so Rhysand sets his own in response. Ruhn takes over as Reader's "supervisor". She and the two shadow wielders grow closer, each in their own ways. All leading up to Reader attending her first Starfall celebration.

Word Count: 12.5K (I'm not even sorry)

Warning(s): Very mild self-deprecation, talk of contraceptives, lack of body autonomy, use of drug/illicit substances, a morally gray Rhysand, and an Azriel that still hasn't learned the art of true apologies.

A/N: This part has more Azriel! Finally! This part may be a bit confusing in regard to the passage of time. It starts with Reader and Ruhn after her return from the Day Court. The Starfall celebrations occur 1.5 years later. A couple of flashbacks are used to go over key events between Reader and Azriel. Text in italics indicate flashbacks. The scene with Az helping Reader bake is based off this request! The song Reader sings is The Gartan Mother’s Lullaby.

Again, a HUGE thank you to @hardcoremarvelfan for the numerous hours of brainstorming, reviewing, and editing. And thank you to @loving-and-dreaming and @thesunloveschips for being extra eyes that provide additional insight to making this story flow.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 9 Pt2 Divider by @/tsunami-of-tears

As soon as Lucien and you returned, the High Lord called for you. You had little choice in being able to stall until the morning, hoping for at least one more night of peace. Especially since Rhysand came to learn of the requirement for your future trips through a letter Helion sent prior to your return. Not surprisingly the High Lord of Night was less than thrilled about being told what to do with his emissary.

In wanting to keep peaceful relations he agreed to Helion’s terms; however, Rhysand had his own requirement that your trips not interfere with your or Lucien’s respective duties. Lucien would accompany you, but only after being called to the Night Court on official business. Meaning he would be returning to his home with Vassa and Jurian and only come to the Night Court to provide updates on his dealings with Autumn, Spring, and the Mortal Lands.

You recognized you had no choice but to agree to the terms. You did your best to suppress the breaking of your heart. While you felt sadness, you could tell that Lucien was pissed by the feathering muscles in his jaw. That walk back to the townhouse had been uncomfortably quiet. Your agreement for no physical contact made it feel all the more strained. Understandably so, given that Rhysand’s order essentially meant that the only way for you to see and spend any time with Lucien for the foreseeable future would be your trips to the Day Court. You wondered if this was your punishment for Helion sending Mor back early. Needless to say, you were glad that the two of you spent your last hours in the day court soaking up physical contact preparing for your return.

The trip to the Day Court had been just the thing you needed to revitalize your spirit. Or at least it would have been if your dynamic with Lucien didn’t have to change. So, when you and Lucien arrived back at the townhouse that night, he had immediately asked to speak to Ruhn, alone, and the two excused themselves to talk in the back garden.

You went upstairs and opened your window in the hopes of eavesdropping, but all you could hear was the chirping of crickets. You assumed Lucien was asking Ruhn to keep an eye on you as he had suggested before you left Day. What you really wanted to know was the explanation he was providing to the dark-haired male. Would he tell him about how you both decided you needed space after waking up naked together? Would he say that it was a mutual decision he would no longer share your bed? Or was he going to tell him about Rhysand’s new declaration in response to Helion allowing you to come and go from the Day Court?

What would Ruhn’s response be? You had a feeling deep in your gut that he would help in whatever manner was needed. But what would that mean for your friendship? You felt like all you did was take, dependent upon the generosity of others just to function daily. You weren’t used to it; you were used to being the one that others depended on. If Ruhn agreed to stay, you would have to be better about reciprocating his kindness.

You held your breath and leaned forward on the window ledge. You could see the two males at the far end of the garden, swathed in the moon’s soft glow. And while it looked like they were speaking, you didn’t hear either of their voices. Giving up on being able to hear the discussion, you decided to take a bath and prepare for bed.

Soaking in the warmth of the scalding water you let your mind wander. You tried not to think about the stress that surrounded your sleeping patterns. But gods, were you tired. Tired of nightmares and vivid dreams. Tired of the pity on the faces of others when they saw the bags under your eyes. You were just plain tired. Which led to you feeling guilty, yet also relieved, that Helion had agreed to help.

“Of course, I will speak to Thesan,” the High Lord smiled. “Anything for my new friend; and since we are friends, I do hope that you come and visit me often. I don’t want that room going to waste. It belongs to the two of you now.” You felt Lucien tense at the words.

“I’m afraid that won’t-” Sadness flashed in his eyes, but Helion held up a hand, interrupting him before he could continue.

“If a second bed is required, then it will be added to the room before your next visit.” He recognized whatever emotions skittered across your faces. Seeing the look on your best friend’s face made you want to take back everything the two of you agreed upon earlier that morning. The cracking in your chest and desire to comfort your friend was almost too much.

“As I mentioned before, you have unlimited access to the libraries in my court. My only requirement when you come to visit, whether my palace or any of the libraries,” Helion continued. “Is Lucien, as one of the Night Court emissaries, must accompany you. I don’t want to offend Rhys or cause him any undue concern about me trying to steal his precious human relative away.” The gleam in his amber eyes told you that he would certainly try if given the opportunity.

The smile that graced your features was melancholic from the memory. You hadn’t found much information in regard to other worlds during the short time you and Lucien spent in the main library with Helion. Though you were finding some interesting materials on Prythian’s early history. You even started making a list of the titles for materials that were housed in other cities within the court. There were a few select libraries that, per one of the catalogs you flipped through, housed various artifacts used to document the histories before information was compiled into book format. Helion called them libraries, but they were really museums. Based on your current list you estimated it would take you years to get through all the materials. However, it would likely take much longer than that if your feelings about the brief discussion with Rhysand were anything to go by.

“(Y/N)?” Ruhn’s gentle low tenor pulled you from your thoughts. The bath water had long since cooled, becoming tepid to the touch.

“I’m in here,” You called out through the closed door of your bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.” You stood from the bath, water dripping down your body. Carefully climbing out, you wrapped a towel around your body and searched for where you had set down your night shirt. Only, the night shirt wasn’t in the bathroom with you.

You peeked your head out from behind the door, peering around the wood to see Ruhn sitting on the armchair next to your bed. His onyx hair gleamed in the light of the moon that streamed through your open window. His head was tilted back, and his eyes appeared closed. It was late and he had likely spent most of the day training with Cassian or running around the shops with Bryce and Hunt. The hinges on the door squeaked and Ruhn’s head snapped in your direction.

“Um…” You swallowed, mimicking the movement of his own throat as he took in your appearance. “Can you hand me my pajamas?” You pointed to the six-drawer walnut dresser that stood opposite the large bed. The item you believed was in the bathroom still within the top left drawer.

“Sure,” He agreed. You watched as the muscles in his forearms flex as he pushed against the armrests. You direct him to the correct drawer, and he starts to rummage through its contents looking for the black fabric as you instructed. You glance down pulling the towel tighter around you even though the door is blocking most of the view of your body.

“What is this?” Ruhn’s voice hummed with amusement. You leaned forward to get a better look at the garment he held up with his fingers. The sheer black negligée with floral lace appliques shifted with the light breeze that passed through the room. Ruhn’s smile was wide, his eyes bright. You felt your face burn from the heat of embarrassment.

“You should wear this instead,” He teased. You had yet to even try it on. You never even had the opportunity with Lucien having stayed with you most nights. It didn’t matter though; you wouldn’t be caught dead in the outfit anyway. It left extraordinarily little to the imagination. There was no way that you could wear that around anyone.

“Put that back,” You scolded him, motioning towards the open drawer.

“Aw, come on sweetheart,” He started to look through one of the other drawers for a pair of panties that would complement the ensemble. “Model it for me?”

“Are you out of your mind?” You asked, eyes going wide. He couldn’t be serious. “I wouldn’t wear that in a million years.”

“Please?”

“No! Just,” You laughed at the ridiculous pout he made, “Put it back and give me the one I asked for, damn it!” The male reluctantly complied, making a playful show of setting the garment back in the drawer and pulling out the more sensible, and definitely less sexy article of clothing that you originally requested. He handed what was the equivalent of an oversized t-shirt to you and went back to sit in the armchair.

“You’re such an ass. That thing is not even my style,” You explained despite the lie that it was very much your style. “Bryce picked it out.” On one of your rarer outings around Velaris, she and Nesta pulled you into the Boutique. They picked out a few items for themselves, Bryce using who knows what money, before the pair made it their own personal mission to find you something as well. Just in case the redhead had winked.

“My sister gave that to you?” He cocked an eyebrow, that devilish smirk still plastered on his face. “Who are you supposed to wear it for?” You didn’t think it was possible to blush this much, certain that your face was as red as a tomato. You could only guess that Bryce and Nesta picked it out with the intended viewer being Lucien, since it seemed everyone assumed you were together in that fashion. Personally, you speculated the male would prefer a color other than black…You shook the thought from your head. No one would want to see you in anything that was so revealing. Even if Lucien had responded in a favorable way to seeing you naked earlier that morning. Your cheeks continued to burn at the memory.

“None of your damn business,” You clutched the oversized shirt he gave you and retreated into the bathroom. You set the shirt to the side before patting the rest of your skin dry. You were grateful that the bathroom was stocked with your lotions as you began to rub them into your skin. As you readied for bed, you could hear Ruhn do the same on the other side of the door.

“So uh,” He paused, the clinking of his belt clued you into his nervousness. “Lucien filled me in on what happened in that other court you went to. Rhys sure is a dick when it comes to you.” He again chuckled, trying to ease any tension at the High Lord’s name.

“It’s not fair that everyone is getting into your business like that,” He continued, his voice muffled as you pulled the black shirt over your head. The hem rested against your mid-thighs, covering your ass, but leaving your legs on display. You briefly wondered if you should ask him for a pair of shorts, but then remembered that Ruhn has also seen you in this type of attire while having slept in your armchair the week prior. So, it didn’t really matter if you wore anything else or not. Having hung up your towel to dry, you came back into the room. You quickly walked over to the bed, pulling back the covers and climbing underneath them.

“Anyway, we’re both worried about you,” He sat at the edge of the seat of the armchair, elbows resting on his now bare knees having stripped down to his boxer briefs. You kept your eyes trained on his vivid blue orbs as he spoke. “He wants me to stay with you until we can all figure out a better solution. I’m willing to do that, but only if you want me to.” Your fingers curled around the sheet, fisting the cotton fabric in your lap. You were torn. You didn’t want to be a burden, but you also were frightened of what could happen if you were left alone. As of right now the available options to keep you safe while you rested were extremely limited. Your gut twisted as you contemplated a response.

“I don’t…I,” You sighed and looked at the ceiling. “This is my burden, my responsibility to fix. I can’t ask you-”

“I’m offering,” Ruhn cut you off. “You are my friend. You are understandably struggling with the trauma you experienced. And no, that stubbornness of yours won’t make it all just magically go away simply because you want it to.” You sighed at his words and opened your mouth to speak, just to have him raise his hand and continue his speech.

“Allowing others to help you is acceptable, and I want to help. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if I didn’t offer my help freely,” He sat next to you on your bed before taking hold of your hand, “But I will not do anything that makes you uncomfortable. So, how can I best help you?” Well, if you didn’t want to cry before you certainly did now. Your heart ached at his sincerity.

“I want you to stay,” You squeezed his hand in return, “But don’t you dare stop your life for me.” He laughed.

“I’m certain that my sister will agree with you on that,” He kissed the top of your head. “Which is why I wanted to ask if you’d want to come with us to Midgard?” You blinked at him in surprise.

“Ruhn, I don’t know…”

“Personally, I don’t think you should have to ask permission,” His jaw set with tension. “Why Rhysand insists on dictating your life, I can’t figure out… but we’ll ask him in the morning. A friend of mine can create a false identity for you. The Asteri aren’t paying much attention to humans right now, so it wouldn’t raise any alarm bells. We have a safe house near Ember’s new home. You could even…” His voice trailed off at seeing your expression.

“Let me think about it,” You placated, squeezing his hand.

The next morning Ruhn spoke to Rhysand. Unsurprisingly, the High Lord denied your ability to leave the Night Court, regardless of how well thought out Ruhn’s proposal was. It didn’t make a difference that your traveling to Midgard would have logically been the safer and more beneficial option for you, given the circumstances. You would have been amongst humans in a technologically advanced environment more closely related to the world you left, providing you with a sense of normalcy. You would also have access to mental health services that you were more familiar with, such as talk therapy and medications, and access to information regarding Midgard’s northern and southern rifts. If there was still a goal of getting you home, then letting you do whatever was needed to figure out how to do just that should have been Rhysand’s number one priority. However, that didn’t seem to be the case, and for a moment you wondered if he had ulterior motives.

Instead, the High Lord wanted to keep you here and didn’t bother to explain his reasoning when challenged by the Prince. As compensation, he offered you more time away from your duties with Nyx and to arrange for you to speak with the priestesses in the library. He explained that many of them had undergone their own traumas and may be able to help you on your healing journey. You didn’t have the energy to argue with the male or point out his ongoing hypocrisy. Instead, you chose to focus on keeping Ruhn calm.

“I’m staying here,” His tone was harsh as you walked him to the gate at the River House. “Bryce will just have to deal with it.”

“Ruhn, I told you-” You tried to convince him that he didn’t need to drop everything for you.

“You are what matters to me most right now,” He interrupted, his tone holding no room for negotiation. “There is a reason that you were brought here. And if that fucking prick can’t see how important you are…”

“He does,” You reminded him. “And he’s afraid. It’s not fair, I know. His treatment of me is not fair at all, but I’m trying…honestly, I would do the EXACT same if I were in his position.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” His jaw was tight.

“I’m not saying it does,” You acknowledged. “But things could be so much worse for me. I could still be locked in darkness. And eventually something’s gotta give. We will figure out why I’m here and all this bullshit can be put behind us.”

“But-”

“I need to focus on surviving right now, Ruhn.” He looked at you then, eyes wide, as if the reality of your situation finally set in. You suppose it was for you as well. The truth of the matter was that you were just surviving. Your daily routine of training and caring for Nyx was just enough to keep you from spiraling down further into your darkness. The darkness that threatened to swallow you whole whenever you sat still too long. And despite the comfort that Lucien, and now Ruhn provided, you weren’t really healing.

“If you want to stay,” You began, “I will not argue, and would be forever grateful.”

“Then I will be here for as long as you need me.” He brushed a few strands of your hair out of your face. “I’m gonna need to switch out that armchair for a couch though.” You laughed, the tension in the air dissipating, and pushed him out of the gate. He needed to return to the townhouse and speak with his sister before she and Hunt returned to Midgard. While you wanted to join him, you had to stay and care for Nyx.

“I’ll see you at home.”

“See ya at home (Y/N).”

Starfall. One of the Night Court's two main holidays was an experience like none other. At least that is what Azriel had told you. All you knew was that Feyre and her sisters had spent the better part of the past week speaking with various vendors regarding food, decorations, and music. The River House had been bustling with activity, so you were surprised when you found it silent on the day of the celebrations.

Upon seeing you, Feyre informed that she had everything set up for you to get ready at the House of Wind, with Azriel waiting in the garden to fly you there. You were utterly confused as you initially believed you would be watching Nyx while everyone else celebrated as you had the previous two years before. Apparently, that would not be the case this year and Feyre fully intended to have the entire “family” present for the event.

You found yourself to be nervous about attending. You didn’t want to believe that you were considered as part of that group. Azriel must have sensed your trepidation, his grip on your thighs was tighter than usual as he carried you. But you couldn’t think on that too long for as soon as you landed on the rooftop Mor and Bryce whisked you away.

For the past two hours both Morrigan and Bryce had taken it upon themselves to dress you up for your first Starfall. Bryce said that any special occasion deserved special attire. Honestly, they probably just enjoyed having a living doll to dress up. You couldn’t complain though. You enjoyed the feeling of Mor’s gentle fingers running through your hair and Bryce’s chattering away reminded you of your own sister. It helped that the hair and makeup styles they chose for you were within your own personal aesthetic. However, your ass was going numb from how long you sat in what was surely the most uncomfortable chair throughout the entire House of Wind. Despite the conversation around you, you pushed your mind to not dwell on the sense of nostalgia that washed over you.

So much occurred over the past year and a half. True to his word, Rhysand allowed you and Lucien to travel to the Day Court where you continued your efforts to find information on your world. However, that has only been four times since you returned from that initial trip. A part of you hoped that Lucien would be present at tonight’s celebrations. With the exception of his surprise arrival at the townhouse last week, you hadn’t seen him in months. You really missed your best friend.

You supposed there was a bit of a silver lining in that with Lucien gone most of the time, your other relationships had room to grow. It was weird not seeing the redhead whenever you liked, but you were ultimately grateful for the opportunity to get to know others a bit more. Especially Ruhn. The male stuck by your side just as he promised, and he quickly became just as important to you as Lucien was. You didn’t want to imagine what your life would be like if he wasn’t there every night. It took a while for you to become comfortable with allowing someone else to share your bed after Lucien, but after a few months on a couch that was clearly causing Ruhn physical pain you invited him to join you.

At first you weren’t sure why you hesitated. It wasn’t as if there was anything more than friendship between you and Lucien. Yet somehow it felt almost wrong to have someone else sleeping there on his side of the bed. An argument could be made that he had provided a blessing of sorts for you to be able to seek comfort from Ruhn. Afterall, with his inherent knowledge of what you needed, Lucien had asked that Ruhn be there to support you. You supposed that part of your hesitation also stemmed from just not wanting additional drama. The Inner Circle had made it well known that they weren’t afraid to meddle in your life. It wouldn’t be fair to bring that same scrutiny upon Ruhn. Yet, Ruhn was still there. Without complaint or any expectations. The nights with Ruhn certainly provided much needed comfort and mutual companionship.

Rhysand also arranged for you to meet with a few of the priestesses once a week. While some of your discussions provided useful information, there was still a bit of hesitation when it came time for you to share your experiences. Many of the females knew a softer side to Azriel and you didn’t want to ruin their perceptions. Perhaps you couldn’t discount your progress too much though, the friendship you were developing with Azriel was slowly growing.

In addition to your ongoing daily training, he had taken to randomly showing up during your time with Nyx. At first you found it highly annoying, his “casual” run-ins during park outings or helping you prepare food at the River House. The annoyance slowly disappeared, giving way to friendly banter. The Shadowsinger had successfully worked himself into your life, slowly getting you used to his presence. It helped that he would always leave when your nerves had as much as they could take, garnering a certain level of trust that your boundaries were being respected. This proved to be beneficial as you no longer shook when he was in the same room as you.

It didn’t cure everything though. There were still times when the conversations between you were less than friendly. Especially regarding your more personal struggles. Every few weeks he would check in on your sleep and your meetings with the priestesses. You didn’t know if or why he cared, but he always seemed to notice the next day after you had a rough night. The issue finally came to a head when Ruhn had spent a week in Midgard six months after Lucien stopped staying with you overnight.

“When was the last time you slept?” He asked. His sudden speech jolted you back awake. He must have caught you dozing off while reading a book on the couch in the townhouse parlor.

“What?” You rubbed your face and lifted your head to look at him. “I don’t know. A couple of days maybe?” He loomed over you, his expression darkening at your answer. You shrank back at the sight. He instantly softened his features and sat down beside you.

“Would it…” He hesitated, “Would it help if I stayed here tonight?” His question surprised you. You held his gaze, his hazel orbs felt like they bored into yours. Instead of the cold detached emptiness that you were used to, his eyes appeared gentle, sincere even.

“No.” The male sighed at your answer, one of his fists closing at his side.

“You allow Lucien and Ruhn to help you. I thought things between us were getting better. Why do you continue to refuse my assistance?” There was a small hit of annoyance in his voice.

“The difference is that I trust Ruhn and Lucien,” You explained. “That is why I allow them to sleep in the same room with me, the same bed as me.” It took 3 months of Ruhn sleeping on that too small couch he pulled into your room, only to end up next to you after spending 30 minutes calming you down every night, before you invited him to sleep in the bed. “I do not yet trust you Azriel.”

“I’m not trying to sleep with you.” His tone was sharp. “Not that I’d want to when you’re like this.” The comment sliced at your self-esteem, much in the way that Truth Teller had sliced at your skin over 2 years ago. You didn’t know why his comment struck you as hard as it did. He must have seen the hurt in your eyes as he immediately backtracked.

“I’m sorry, that came out wrong and sounded worse than I intended.” He raised his hands up defensively. “I know that I would be of no help in that manner, not after… I just want to help. So how can I help?” You paused and held his gaze.

“I need a new sleep tonic,” For a split second you debated on how much to tell him, settling on everything. “The one from the Night Court healers doesn’t work, even though they told me to take it daily for the full benefits.” You twisted your fingers in your lap.

“Helion is trying to find something that could replace it, but the last one he gave me only worked for a single night. Ruhn doesn’t know that it didn’t work. He would not have left otherwise. He hadn’t seen his family in 6 months. I can’t, I-I need something that works, and soon. It is not fair to Ruhn, even though he hasn’t complained, but…but the tonic doesn’t work a-and I-” Your throat constricted, exhaustion and frustration blocking the remaining words. You were so tired.

“I thought your nightmares had stopped 3 months ago?” He asked, concern laced over his features as your eyes began to sting. That was what you told Azriel, and it was mostly true. Over the past few months, you had a grand total of three nightmares. Those three nights were the only ones where Ruhn wasn’t by your side, as you were assessing the samples of new tonics that Helion sent you. Unfortunately, none of them worked. And you felt so guilty that Ruhn kept putting off going back home.

“Only because Ruhn is there,” You tossed your hands in the air, hoping the movement was enough to dispel the growing frustration and keep the tears at bay. “That’s why he has stayed here as long as he has. My stupid, stupid…” You trailed off. That line of thinking wouldn’t do you any good. For the last several months Ruhn and the priestesses all reminded you that trauma heals at different rates for everyone. You had to make yourself remember that. There was no pressure, no need to punish yourself for what your mind did to process what happened to you.

“I hate that…that his worry for me has kept him from his friends, his family,” You took a breath. “Sadly, the only thing that seems to truly help me is having a body next to mine. Even then there are a few nights…”

“What if I could find a solution? One that allows you to sleep without needing a male beside you?” His eyes held a gentle sincerity you never expected to see from him. The hazel and green speckled hues calmed you. You must have been exhausted for his eyes to have that effect on you.

“One good deed doesn’t guarantee trust,” You quickly turned away from him, damning your stubborn pride. “Trust takes time. And why does everyone care so much about who sleeps next to me?” Of course, the male had no answer for that.

A few days later he arrived at the River House unexpectedly. You and Elain were enjoying a small picnic near the water’s edge with Nyx. Ruhn was at the House of Wind, working with Cassian on learning the Illyrian fighting techniques. You had assumed Azriel was with them as well. The two males had similar powers and so they had been sharing tips and tricks.

You believed all was well. At least that was the case until he rapidly approached, asking to speak with you alone. His face held lines with which you were unfamiliar. As soon as you were out of Elain’s hearing range, he spoke. His voice was soft and rushed. Anxiety spiked inside you.

“This brew is one that my Mother created and uses for herself.” He pulled an old wine bottle from the shadows at his side.

“Wait, what?” Confusion spread alongside the anxiety. Azriel pushed the bottle into your hands.

“It is extraordinarily strong. About a quarter of an ounce should do the trick for a dreamless sleep.” He glanced around. Even his shadows seemed nervous as they held close to his body.

“Azriel, wait, what’s wrong?” You reached your hand out but stopped when a shadow darted towards you. “I-I don’t understand.”

“Don’t drink the tonic that you get from the healers,” His voice lowered with anger. “I know it doesn’t help, and it won’t help because it’s a fucking contraceptive.” You were stunned.

“Rhys didn’t want Lucien getting you pregnant. But the two of you were never intimate, were you?” It wasn’t panic that kept his muscles taut, it was rage. You shook your head, confirming that things had only ever been platonic with the Autumn Fae.

“I’m sorry for what I said before. When I found out about your tonic this morning, I-I raced to my Mother’s and back.” He practically vibrated with fury. You wondered if it was from the same source as your own. Rhysand made a decision, which directly affected your body and your choices surrounding it, without even consulting you. This time you didn’t flinch back when you set your hand on Azriel’s bicep. You could immediately tell that he was barely containing the wrathful energy permeating off him.

“Rhys cannot find out that I gave this to you though. One of the ingredients can become addictive, so use this tonic sparingly. I recommend using it only for the nights when Ruhn is gone.” You could tell that he tried to reign in the anger that filled his voice. “If he plans to be gone for more than a week. Let me know. Please.” You saw the effort he was making to ensure that his behavior didn’t trigger you. And you recognized that his actions were also in defiance of his High Lord. All because he really did care that you got better and had what you needed to stay safe. Even with the risk of addiction that accompanied this proverbial olive branch.

“Okay.” After nodding your agreement, he quickly turned on his heel.

“Az?” You called him again when he was a few feet away. He stopped but didn’t turn to face you. “Thank you.”

That was the biggest turning point in your relationship with him. The tonic worked. Worked almost too well if you had to be honest. Ruhn was in a panic when he returned from Midgard and found you practically non-responsive. Once you had explained everything to him, Azriel had to physically restrain Ruhn from leaving the townhouse in his desire to rip off the High Lord’s testicles. It took an hour to talk him down. He only finally calmed down after he pulled you into his lap, nose pressed against the side of your neck taking deep steadying breaths. You were at least grateful he waited for Azriel to leave before doing that. You didn’t know why the thought of him seeing you physically close with Ruhn nagged at you.

Needless to say, Ruhn refused to leave you alone after that. He had only returned to Midgard once more, and it was only because you would be in the Day Court with Lucien. Lucien had expressed his own displeasure at the situation, and you had to beg him to not make an issue out of it. The conversation between the two of you went on into the early morning hours, but he finally relented.

Since then, you opted to store the contraceptive tonic given to you by the healers, in order to not tip off Rhysand that you had stopped taking it. You weren’t having sex, so a daily contraceptive wasn’t necessary in your mind. Given that you were from a different world and not knowing all the ingredients, you couldn’t speak as to what kind of long-term effects the concoction would have on your body. While both Lucien, and even Helion, explained that there shouldn’t be any issue as the contraceptive tonics in Prythian were perfectly safe. Of course, your counter argument was that they were safe for Fae, but you were human.

“Hello?” Bryce’s hand waved in front of your eyes. “Earth to the dreamer.” You blinked and refocused on the two females in the room. Bryce leaned back in the chair across from you, eyeshadow brush in hand as she examined the symmetry of nude colors she applied to your lids. While Morrigan stood behind your chair, her fingers deftly pinning the final strands in place. You had been most surprised by her offer to help with styling the half up half down style. The chatter between them flowed freely.

You couldn’t remember the last time you had a moment like this. Getting made up for a night of dancing and general revelry. It almost made you forget that you were in a land filled with creatures and beings straight out of fantasy and folklore. Bryce was exceedingly eager to assist you in getting ready and attend the celebrations herself this year. She insisted on applying your makeup, which given your past discussions with her wasn’t all that surprising. The two of you had certainly spent a few ‘girls nights’ lounging in one of your bedrooms in the townhouse recounting trashy reality TV from your respective worlds.

With your hair and makeup complete it was time for you to change into the dress that Mor had picked out just for this occasion. The long deep wine-red dress was tailored from bust to waist, yet flowy and breathable as it flared out at your hips. Made of a soft satin with sheer gossamer overlay, the fabric draped over your form in the most flattering way. The ruffled neckline was one that allowed you the choice of it being off your shoulders or on, and as with so many of the dresses you’d been gifted a slit traveled up your left leg. It was a beautiful dress overall.

“Before you change,” Bryce cooed, her mischievous smile caused you to groan, “You need to put this on.” A small pink shopping bag, clearly from a Midgard lingerie store, dangled from her index finger. The style of the bag was eerily similar to that of a very specific and well-known lingerie store in your own world.

“A) That better not be what I think it is, and B) what for?” You crossed your arms, the silk robe you wore bunched up around the bust. Your glare did nothing to deter the half fae woman.

“A) It’s exactly what you think it is,” She encouraged, pulling out the lacy bra and panties, “and B) Tonight's a special night.” You scoffed, rolling your eyes before they landed on the opening door to the bedroom, the three Acheron sisters joining your little group.

“I’m certain that someone, perhaps one that you’ve spent an awful lot of time with this past year, would be thrilled to see you in this little number when you return home at the end of the evening.” Bryce couldn’t have been more obvious in her attempts to play matchmaker between you and her brother. You refrained from the urge to pinch the bridge of your nose. That was the last time you would ever mention finding the male attractive to her.

“Besides,” Mor added, her conspiratorial smile making you even more nervous, “The House already took your clothes. It's this or you wear nothing under the dress.”

“Nothing under your dress? (Y/N) I’m shocked,” Nesta smiled. You snatched the flimsy undergarments, which you didn’t miss were the same shade as Ruhn’s eyes, from Bryce’s open hands. You noted that Feyre also suppressed a smile as your cheeks burned. The only one that appeared to not join in on the joke was Elain. At least one of them didn’t find teasing you to be endlessly entertaining.

“I will put this on, but not because anyone will be getting to enjoy the sight,” You growled, wagging your finger at the redhead. “I’m just not walking out there without a bra.”

“Come on (Y/N),” Bryce whined. “He adores you!” The redhead followed you to the far side of the room where a wooden partition rested along the wall.

“Who?” Elain asked, hanging her own outfit that Feyre had no doubt arranged for her to wear, on a hook of the large wardrobe.

All four remaining females answered at the same time, “Ruhn.” The partition wobbled as you and Bryce stretched the panels out to create a separated changing area.

“Oh,” the middle sister mused. “I will admit, the two of you look quite cute together.”

“Et tu, Elain?” Your jaw fell slack. The brown eyed female just smiled. Your eyes went to each of the females in the room, each of their grins fanning the flames of embarrassment. It wasn’t exactly a lie to say that there had not been a particular “itch” building in you. One that you had no chance to really scratch while having a platonic bed partner next to you. But your sex life, or even the lack thereof, was none of their business. And you certainly weren’t about to ask for help in that department.

“You are all horrible meddlers,” You tried to make your voice sound harsh, but the playful atmosphere tugged at the corners of your lips. “Ruhn and I are friends.”

“And sometimes friends have unexpected benefits,” Bryce called out as you strode behind the dark cherry partition to get dressed. The group descended into a small fit of giggles before readying themselves. As you listened to their chatter you had to bite the inside of your cheek to curtail the wave of longing for your old life that threatened to wash over you.

After changing and being given the final touch of your outfit by Feyre, in the form of a delicate golden necklace, you plopped onto the bed to wait for the others to finish getting ready. However, your comfort was short lived as a soft knock sounded at the door. Seeing as you were the only one decently dressed you made your way over to answer. Slowly you opened the door and peeked your head out to see whoever was on the other side. To your surprise Azriel stood, poised with his fist to knock a second time.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in his appearance, actively stopping yourself from doing a double take. Gone were the Illyrian leathers that you had grown accustomed to see him wear. The traditional garb was replaced by a deep navy-blue button-down shirt and black slacks. You could only speculate as to how he got the breezy fabric over his wings. Your eyes roamed over his muscled forearms that were laid bare from the rolled-up sleeves. The casual attire allowed you to finally see that classic beauty that everyone seemed to gush about.

“Hi,” His voice was almost breathless. You felt your cheeks warm as his hazel eyes flitted over you.

“Hi,” You struggled to find your own voice. What the hell…

“Um,” He blinked rapidly. “Feyre said that you were ready for someone to walk you to the terrace.”

“Oh, um, yeah,” You stepped through the crack of the door, careful not to reveal those still changing inside. You and Azriel walked in silence along the red stone corridors of the House of Wind. While you didn’t feel any tension at being alone with him, your fingers still wound themselves together with nervous energy.

“So, is Starfall some type of meteor shower?” You asked, breaking the silence between you. The Shadowsinger chuckled to himself. This was the third Starfall celebration since your arrival and you had yet to ask anyone what it was about.

“Starfall isn’t a meteor shower,” He gently explained. “It is the annual crossing of the spirits. Where souls of the departed, both recent passings and ones from long ago, journey across the sky. While it is unknown where they come from or where they go, every year we gather to watch as they make their journey.” You hummed and nodded along to his explanation. The two of you turned a corner and the entrance of the terrace came into view.

“It is a time when we remember our departed loved ones,” He continued, his honeyed eyes glazed over, almost seeming far away before returning to focus on your face. “Over the centuries Starfall has evolved into a celebration of life. Life that is honored with good food and drink, music, and dancing. Some even exchange gifts.” He nodded to the golden necklace that rested against your clavicle. Your hand reached up and gently traced along the delicate chain. You got the sneaking suspicion that the necklace wasn’t a gift from the High Lady, despite her claim.

Your eyes never left the male as you made your way onto the terrace. You were entranced, but by what you couldn’t quite place. The explanation of the holiday resonated deep within you, and you wondered if your own ancestors would be passing by overhead within just a few hours' time. You had opened your mouth to ask Azriel another question, but it never made it out. Azriel dipped his head in parting as Ruhn’s deep tenor broke the spell that had surrounded you.

“Hello Beautiful!” The male picked you up by the waist and spun you around. You squealed in surprise.

“Put me down weirdo,” You laughed.

“Only if you dance with me,” He smiled, holding you close. You rolled your eyes at his playful antics yet continued to laugh.

“Yes, just put me down.” You conceded. Ruhn set you back on your feet, however, his hands never left your waist. His blue-violet eyes wandered down and back up along your figure.

“I mean it,” He lowered his face towards your own, “You are absolutely breathtaking.” The conversation from a few moments ago sprang to the forefront of your mind. Your cheeks flushed red again.

“Thank you,” You grasped the male’s hands, pulling them off your waist and interlacing your fingers with his. “That’s very sweet of you.” You had slowly become more comfortable in accepting the compliments he so often made. Though the compliments didn’t really change the perspective you had of yourself; you started to think that maybe, just maybe, they could be true in his eyes.

An hour later and Azriel was still on the fringes of the dance space, a glass of wine in hand. He had been watching (Y/N) for most of the night out of the corner of his eye. He only ever caught himself staring when her laugh echoed across the terrace. He felt an odd longing to be the source of such an easy and carefree laugh. However, it seemed that Ruhn was the only one privy to eliciting that sound from her lips. Though there had been instances where you started to show your smile in Azriel’s presence.

Azriel didn’t really know what to expect when he walked into the River House, but it certainly wasn’t the frazzled woman covered in flour. He stopped short at seeing Nyx strapped down by his shoulders in a highchair. The child flapped his wings and when he couldn’t move upon seeing his uncle, his famous pout appeared. He was clearly displeased that he was not getting his way to fly about the room. Azriel knew it was only a matter of time before an all-out meltdown occurred as the child’s lower lip began to wobble at seeing his uncle.

The adult male made his way around the large kitchen island counter, which was covered in various baking items, and tapped the child playfully on his nose. His eyes then fell to the sack of flour that was tipped over, its contents over every visible surface like freshly fallen snow. His gaze then traveled along the countertop. Broken eggshells and stripped vanilla bean pods lay haphazardly in a corner. A large wooden cutting board had a pile of chopped walnuts. Smaller bags of sugar, salt, poppy seeds, and other powdered baking ingredients were lined up along the edge. Finally, his gaze landed on the small pot simmering on the stove top. He instantly knew what she was making and had to restrain the grimace that threatened to spread across his features.

(Y/N) had taken to providing everyone with various baked goods and desserts for Winter Solstice. During one of their many outings, she had spoken to Azriel about some of her own family traditions, including the wide variety of sweets her Grandmother and Father would make. Most of the items she made were good, but a few…well it appeared that only he and Lucien were brave enough to put themselves through the torture of eating the nut and poppy seed rolls. Whatever they didn’t eat they had discreetly discarded without her knowledge. Unfortunately for them, Ruhn had been honest with her about the absolutely horrendous flavor. While she had been upset at the time, it appeared that didn’t deter her from making them again this year.

Currently she was rolling out the dough, pressing down hard on the rolling pin. Her movements were anything but composed. Azriel stood behind her, and placed his chin on her shoulder to peer over it. Her resulting scream caused a slight ringing in his ear. But that pain was nothing in comparison to the smack of the wooden rolling pin against his forehead.

“What the fuck Azriel!” She turned, pushing hard at his chest. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” He took a half step back, chuckling to himself and rubbing at the sore spot on his forehead. Nyx giggled like a madman from his perch across the room.

“I’m sorry,” He laughed. “But how did you not see me walk right in front of you?” He took up a position next to her.

“Bull-fucking-shit you’re sorry.” He watched her lips twitch up in amusement. Their dynamic had certainly changed for the better over the past year. She had opened up to him in a way. Telling him stories of her nephew and her siblings. Conversations between them were definitely easier now, but he wasn’t brave enough to yet call it a friendship.

There were memories that hadn’t completely healed. These were seen in the instances when she recoiled from his touch, or startled easily at his sudden appearances, such as she did now. But those instances were becoming fewer. However, he could not say the same thing for his shadows. He could tell that she was still terrified of them, no matter how much she tried to hide that fact. It didn’t help matters either when his shadows almost always gravitated towards her when she was in the room with him.

“I see you’re making your desserts again,” He mused, changing the subject. “But the rolls…”

“I know!” She slammed the rolling pin against the already thin layer of dough. “I can’t get the recipe right. They were the only things I had never made myself before, so I didn’t have it memorized. But…” Her voice trailed off, eyes shining like glass from the water that started to line her lower lids. She took a few more angry passes of pressing the pastry dough against the splotched granite of the kitchen counter.

“Why are the rolls so important to you?” He tilted his head to better see her expression, quirking up a brow in the process.

“It’s -it’s just not the same without them! It's not Solstice-” She cut herself off and took a deep breath. “The late fall and early parts of winter is a time of celebration in my world for many cultures and religions. It’s a time dedicated to families-humanity at large even-coming together to celebrate…life and light returning to the world. Though I do recognize that not everyone has positive relationships with their blood relatives, so found families are just as valid. And technically speaking each of the different holidays celebrate different things, the fact remains that it is a special time of year filled with traditions. This recipe was my great-great grandmother’s recipe and I am going on another year without…” Azriel’s lips twitched as she rambled, his eyes snagging on her bottom lip that she bit to stop herself from speaking her pain out loud. His shadows danced around her in a quick flurry. Spinning around her waist and winding their way up and into her hair. For the briefest of moments her body froze, only relaxing when the shadows returned to his side. Though he didn’t need them to tell him the feelings that she held back.

“You want to feel close to your family even while you are stuck here,” He supplied. “I personally…enjoy you sharing this part of yourself with us. But these rolls…” His smile turned to a grimace.

“I KNOW!” She took the rolling pin in one hand and began to pound it against the crumbling pastry. As if the literal beating of the dough would improve upon its bland taste. Nyx laughed gleefully at the sight. Azriel gingerly grasped her forearm, stopping her movement before she either broke the tool or the countertop.

“I see that this is frustrating you, because it is important to you,” He released her arm and pried the pin from her hand. “But the rolling pin is innocent, and not at fault for the taste.” She growled, leveling the Illyrian with a challenging glare. Azriel could only assume it was supposed to be a menacing sound, but instead it came out as comical, causing him to bark out a laugh. He set the rolling pin to the side of the stove top, taking a quick peek at the simmering goo of poppy seeds in the pot.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.” She sighed, leaning on her elbows on the island counter and carding her fingers through her hair.

“For starters you may want to keep this from burning,” He picked up the wooden spoon and gave the mixture a stir. Steam rose as he scraped the sticky substance from the bottom of the pot. She groaned, swearing under her breath. Scooting him to the side she hastily took the spoon from his hand and swore again.

In the blink of an eye, she picked up the burning metal and threw it and its contents into the sink. The sharp resounding tone of metal clanking against stone rang through the room. Both Nyx and Azriel covered their ears at the sudden sound. The force of her throw caused the granite to crack along the edge. To say Azriel was surprised by her strength was an understatement. Perhaps there was some merit to the belief that she had distant Fae heritage.

“Fuck it! I give up!” The frustration in her voice was palatable. She turned the tap allowing the mixture to cool and soak. As the pot filled with water she turned back around and began to roughly grab the dough that was sticking to the countertop. Azriel watched the muscles in her jaw tense as she tossed the crumbling pieces into a large sack. His shadows skittered around the baking debris, though he couldn’t tell if they were trying to help her or stop her as they intertwined with her fingers on the countertop. Regardless of their intent, they were successful in distracting her as she attempted to swat them away like annoying flies instead.

“Why don’t I help you,” He offered, his lips finally pulling up into a soft smile. She sighed but moved aside allowing him the space to reach the various ingredients and begin mixing a new batch of dough.

Azriel smiled at the memory. The ease of which they fell into a rhythm in the kitchen. One would measure while the other mixed. Taking turns with quick tastes for each of the fillings, adding extra sugar or vanilla as necessary. It took a few more hours and at least three trial runs before they were successful in recreating the flavor of her childhood memory. He remembered how the flakey and buttery dough melted in his mouth, giving way to the sweetness of the poppy seed spread. With the way she had opened up to him and her expression of absolute happiness at their success, he could see why she had been so keen on keeping this tradition alive.

He supposed that to anyone watching the perfectly domestic scene they would have assumed the pair had never been at odds. She had readily accepted the perfectly sliced piece of the poppy seed roll he offered to her, crumbs sticking to the corners of her lips. The joyous smile she wore after taking that final bite made his chest swell with pride. There had been no hesitation whatsoever on her part, but when she offered a piece back, Azriel found himself pausing. In her good mood she was insisting that she feed it to him, the intimacy of the action completely lost to her. He debated upon correcting her actions, but refrained given that he selfishly didn’t want to disturb the progress in her comfortability towards him. Besides, it wasn’t as if he could have a human for his mate.

Azriel watched as Ruhn spun (Y/N) around, the music of their most recent dance coming to an end. The way in which her hair and skin glowed under the soft silvery faelights that lined the terrace made her appear ethereal. He caught her eye, and her smile towards him practically lit up the space around her. Azriel didn’t even feel his feet begin to move. He didn’t even notice that he had made it halfway over to her before another body slotted itself in his path. Nor did he hear the soft feminine voice that called his name until a hand was placed upon his cheek.

“Are you okay?” Elain asked, her brown eyes filled with worry. Azriel blinked, his eyes finally focusing on the female before him. As soon as reality caught up with him, he had the good sense to take a step back. Elain slowly lowered her hand, a small nervous laugh escaping her lips. “I called your name a few times, but I take it you were lost in thought.”

“Oh, um,” He looked back towards the woman, who was already being swept back up into another dance, this time with Cassian. “Yes, sorry. I’m okay.” He forced a smile as his gaze settled on Elain. She flashed him a shy smile of her own.

“Then, would you care to dance?” She offered her hand to him. He paused, tilting his head to the side as he struggled to read her expression. The two hadn’t really spoken in the past several months. Elain made it clear that she didn’t want to be involved in the drama surrounding her mate and (Y/N). More specifically, she expressed not needing people defending her “claim” to Lucien. So naturally, he assumed that Elain was still mad at him. Though he later realized both females may have felt cornered with how he approached each of them in the kitchen, He was therefore surprised to see that Elain’s irritation had subsided.

But was a dance with her safe? He had spent the better part of the past couple years trying to distance himself after she had returned the necklace he gave her for the Winter Solstice before Nyx was born. Neither of them had ever discussed their almost kiss, not that he didn’t still think about her from time to time. Surely one dance wouldn’t hurt. His shadows had already informed him that Lucien arrived a few moments ago and had yet to greet her. They also informed him that the female standing before him had no intention of seeking her mate out for a dance. Settling on the idea that a single dance wouldn’t hurt, Azriel allowed the female to grasp his hand and lead him onto the floor.

“Lucien!” His best friend’s excited call filled his ears as (Y/N) and Ruhn made their way over, interrupting his conversation with Feyre. Though he couldn’t really speak as to what their conversation had been about. His eyes, and therefore his attention, had been too focused on the dancing pair to process anything that Feyre may have said. Or more specifically, his attention had been on the large hands that never seemed to leave the woman’s body. Even now as she came to greet him, Ruhn’s hands remained plastered to her hips. Lucien felt his golden eye narrow as he met the other male’s stare. He almost hated the genuine, friendly smile Ruhn gave him.

“I was beginning to worry that you weren’t going to be here,” She admitted, not bothering to mask her relief. However, he did note that she withheld embracing him as she nervously played with Ruhn’s hands that had made their way to her belly. For a split second her attention deviated from Lucien as she told the dark haired male to stop. Ruhn acquiesced, but only with the directive that he was going to get something for them to drink. Once the male left, the High Lady bumped her own hip against (Y/N)’s, the former’s lips lifted in a smile while the latter rolled her eyes. Clearly set on ignoring whatever silent conversation Feyre was attempting to spark, the woman instead asked him about his most recent trip to Spring.

The simple exchange of pleasantries felt forced but was necessary in keeping up their agreement. Although, in seeing just how diligently Ruhn was taking his responsibilities Lucien was starting to convince himself that he’d need to find more ways to visit the Night Court without the High Lord’s knowledge.

“It looks like my mate is struggling with managing his own son,” Feyre chuckled as she watched the pair from across the terrace. Lucien’s gaze followed hers and sure enough, the nearly four-year-old was exploring every potential escape route out of his Father’s grasp, including trying to climb over his face. (Y/N) also laughed at the sight and shook her head. Her gentle and melodic laugh sent an imperceptible shiver through Lucien every time he heard it. Her considerably longer (h/c) curls, which he learned Mor and Bryce had helped her style, gently swayed with the movement.

“I should go help him,” Feyre began, but (Y/N) placed her hand on the High Lady’s shoulder before she could take a step.

“Let me,” She offered. “It’s been way too long since you two have actually had the chance to talk apart from discussions of courtly duties. Stay and catch up. This is my job anyway.” She turned to Lucien and squeezed his bicep before making her way over to the struggling Father and son duo. Lucien blinked in surprise at the woman’s comment and smiled.

The week before Starfall he had sneaked over to the townhouse to surprise her, only to find that she had a mild cold. She allowed him to vent about so many things, including missing his friendship with Feyre. He had been mid-sentence when he caught her dozing off in the comfortable armchair near the hearth in the front parlor. At least he had thought she had been asleep. When he called out her name, she had only grunted a response. A few seconds passed by before Ruhn returned from the kitchen with hot tea for her sore throat. Ruhn had gently woken her, making her drink what he had prepared.

Lucien could still recall the strong scent of lemon and ginger a week later. She had a sour look on her face the entire time she forced herself to drink the tea before the two eventually retreated to bed. He remembered watching Ruhn fuss over her. He couldn’t help but take note of how the male was able to show just how much he loved her. However, she rebuffed Ruhn’s efforts and refused to be carried up the stairs.

While any of the Fae were able to carry her with minimal effort, Lucien had come to realize that she only allowed Azriel to do so. And even then, it was only for the purpose of going to and from the House of Wind. He recognized that she was self-conscious of her body. But…he still didn’t fully understand why.

She looked beautiful in her dress tonight. The way the sheer fabric hugged her frame before flaring out at her hips had his eyes returning to her periodically throughout the night. Staying away from her had been torturous, even more so than having to stay away from Elain. Lucien tried not to focus on the guilt that stirred in his chest at that fact. He could feel the strained pulling of the thread leading to his mate with each passing day. Within the last 2 years there were even some days that the unrequited bond caused physical discomfort.

“She’s so good with him.” Feyre interrupted his thoughts, “I swear sometimes I think she was sent here by the Mother for that very purpose.” Lucien followed the High Lady’s gaze. Nyx’s arms were outstretched towards his human nanny as she approached. From this distance he could make out her voice telling Nyx they would find a quiet space to calm down. Nyx verbally protested while at the same time making himself comfortable in her arms by resting his head on her shoulder and his small arms reaching around her in a hug.

Her smile was warm as she walked away from the High Lord, who let his son go freely. The sight of the scene before him pulled at a deep sense of longing. The feeling was so strong that it caused Lucien to rub at his sternum. Slowly his attention returned to Feyre and their conversation resumed.

Azriel had been listening to Elain recount an amusing exchange she had at one of the local bakeries when he heard a soft melody on the wind. At first he was confused, the voice seemingly from nowhere. He glanced around, looking for the source, even sending out a shadow. Elain’s voice trailed off as well, likely noticing that he had stopped paying attention.

“Do you hear that?” He asked her. He watched as she tilted her head, listening carefully as another spring breeze ruffled her own golden hair.

“I think that’s (Y/N),” She replied. “She’s likely singing to Nyx. She does it quite often. She has such a lovely voice, don’t you think?” Elain was right, the voice was beautiful. Her warm timbre settled something in him, lulling a sense of calm over the terrace. Before he knew it his feet were transporting him towards her rich vocals.

By the time he arrived at the small, enclosed patio on the far side of the House of Wind her song had changed. He also wasn’t the only person in the small audience that congregated a short distance away from where she gently swayed with Nyx asleep in her arms.

Sleep, oh babe, for the red bee hums

The silent twilight's fall

The melody was simple, gentle and lilting. (Y/N)’s warm dulcet timbre reminded him of a comforting blanket.

Aoibheall from the gray rock comes

To wrap the world in thrall

Out of the corner of his eye, Azriel noticed that both Bryce and Ruhn had what he assumed were their phones in their hands.

A leanbhín ó, my child, my joy

My love and heart's desire

Azriel watched as her hand lazily rubbed the small child’s back, ever careful of his wings. Though, it was obvious to any of the three Illyrian males present that Nyx was perfectly at ease if she did accidentally brush along the spots where the wings protruded from his back.

The crickets sing you lullaby

Beside the dying fire

Just as her voice trailed off, the sky lit up. While everyone’s attention switched to the spirits above, Azriel’s remained fixed on (Y/N). He watched from a safe distance as Ruhn quietly approached. (Y/N) placed a finger over her lips, silently instructing the male to remain silent lest he wake Nyx. Azriel felt his stomach flip when the male placed a kiss on her temple and her resulting bashful smile. Ruhn held his phone up again and Azriel saw her lips move, but couldn’t hear the words. Finally her attention drifted towards the sky, eyes reflecting the falling stars.

Ruhn hovered just behind her, his hands on her hips as she swayed with the heir of the Night Court sleeping soundly in her embrace. To all who were present he was certain that many would assume the pair were lovers. And had Nyx not been born with wings, absolute strangers would have even assumed they were their own little family. That had certainly been the misunderstanding he experienced once or twice while out with her during some of the outings with Nyx. But why did the scene before him nag at something in the back of his mind?

Before the phenomena that is Starfall came to an end, Elain approached the little trio, offering to take Nyx home with Rhysand’s help. Elain slowly wrapped her hands underneath Nyx’s torso, gently pulling him away from (Y/N). His head drooped down as soon as it was off her shoulder. Everyone in the immediate area held their breaths waiting to see if the movement would wake him. When it didn’t, Elain settled him in her arms. Rhysand came up to her side, his arms around both Elain and Nyx before launching them into the sky and winnowing back to the River House.

Azriel took that as his cue to return to the main terrace as well, wanting to give the couple some space. However, it seemed that the woman had other plans for the next thing that he knew, there was a light tapping on his shoulder. When he turned, (Y/N) was standing there holding out her hand to him. She giggled at his confused expression.

“Care to dance with me?” She asked. At first he didn’t know what to do. A wave of nostalgia washed over him, the expression she held reminding him of those first days after meeting Mor. But the woman in front of him now was so much different. He recognized that there truly had been great strides made in their dynamic for her to feel comfortable enough to approach him first. Something about that made him feel lighter.

Azriel realized that he had not done nor said anything as she slowly started to retract her hand. Quicker than he intended, he reached for her before the hand returned to her side. But she didn’t flinch, and didn’t back away. Once her hand was gently placed in his, he walked her over to the small area reserved for dancing. The music was languid and soft. A smooth legato that allowed them to gently sway. One hand was clasped with hers, the other tentatively resting on her waist.

“I never properly thanked you for helping me,” She said after a time, her fingers twitched along his shoulder. “The sleep tonic really did work. But I can’t argue that it was scary how out of it I was after just using it for a few days.”

“In all fairness I did warn you,” He chuckled, bringing his hand further around her waist. “And I overestimated the dose, given that it’s what my Mother uses for herself. Since you are human you require less. Cutting it should-” She laughed.

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one that rambles?” She inquired, allowing her body to be pulled in closer to his own.

“You do ramble quite often,” He acknowledged, feeling the corners of his mouth twitch up. “But I enjoy listening when you talk freely.” The melody swelled, and he pulled her along in time with the rising vibrancy of the strings.

“You sure that’s not a secret tactic?” She playful squinted her eyes at him, as if studying his reaction. “Lull me into a sense of security so that I can tell you everything.” While her words could be interpreted as accusatory, her tone held only mirth. He opted to take her ability to jest about their past as a sign that things were healing. While Azriel found himself chuckling along, he wanted to reassure her that he didn’t fear what her presence in the Night Court meant for his family.

“I don’t need to learn any more information about you,” He explained. “I seek out your company and listen because…because I genuinely enjoy getting to know you.” The fluttering dance within his chest surprised him. He felt overly conscious of his efforts to make his voice and smile as disarming as possible. “I am truly sorry for everything that my job required me to do then. I hope that you believe me when I say-” But she again cut him off, this time by placing her hand directly over his mouth.

“I don’t,” She paused. “I know. I understand what your role was, and since that time you have taken steps to show that you are not proud of what you had to do. So let’s leave it at that. I’d much rather talk about other things.” She lowered her hand back down to his shoulder.

“Like what?” Azriel took the opportunity to spin her in time with the flourishing melisma. She giggled as spun back towards his chest, nearly losing her balance in the heels that she wore.

“For instance, is Starfall your favorite holiday?” She clutched his bicep to ensure that she remained steady. “The way you spoke about it makes it seem pretty important to you.” Azriel paused at her preceptive statement.

“I don’t know if I would call it my favorite,” He mused. He hoped that she couldn’t feel the racing of his heart as he interlaced his fingers with hers. “But it is unique to the Night Court. Most of the other courts celebrate Nynsar, a spring holiday held between the Winter Solstice and Calanmai.”

“The Spring Equinox?” She asked. He could feel the muscles at the small of her back tighten ever so slightly.

“Yes, that’s what it is referred to in the mortal lands.” Azriel’s brow furrowed as he watched as her head dipped to his collar and her eyes lost focus. She nodded a few times before biting the lower corner of her lip. The mention of the mortal holiday triggered a memory that he could see was threatening to take over. Finally, she looked up towards the stars that continued their ascent across the vast blackness of the night court sky.

“Today is my brother’s birthday,” Her whisper nearly slipped past his ears. “Gods, he would love this.” Her lower lip trembled as she continued to search the sky. A desire to disperse her worries rose up inside him like the striking winds of Illyria.

“I miss them so much,” Her eyes met his own golden hues for a fleeting moment before fluttering shut. The movement drove the silver lining her (e/c) hues to slip past her defenses. Salty streaks disrupting the otherwise flawless skin. For the third time that night, Azriel found his body moving without instruction. The hand supporting her back, now gently cupped the side of her face. His thumb gently brushed away the evidence of her sorrow. He had to keep his features neutral as surprise caused his lungs to tighten. She leaned into the caress, even sighing at the gentle comfort it brought. There was no trace of the fear she once held at the sight of his hands.

The two had already ceased their movements when the final cadence rang through the air. The minor chord echoed off the stone, highlighting and perfectly matching the melancholy that always signaled the last of the spirits descending past the horizon. As soon as the tones faded the bubble that surrounded their dance burst.

“I’m sorry.” She stepped back, immediately bringing her hands towards her own body and fidgeting with her own fingers. “I’d like to go to the townhouse now, but I need to find Ruhn.” She couldn’t even look him in the eyes. All of that vulnerability retreated back into herself. Reserved only for the ones she truly trusted. The realization hit him harder than he ever wanted to admit.

“Sure, wait here.” He kept his tone gentle, his own hands dropping to his sides. “I’ll tell him and Cassian to meet us there.” She nodded her thanks and stepped to the railing that overlooked Velaris. As Azriel made his way to the opposite end of the terrace, he wondered if he would ever see that vulnerable side of her again.

General tag list: @loving-and-dreaming

Next- Chapter 11

Series tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitch0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is @thehighlordishere @rachelnicolee @hardcoremarvelfan @awkardnerd @sundayysunshine @jpgtae @cheneyq @morganwdarius

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imsparklingunicorn · 3 months ago

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More Treasure Headcanons

I have to apologize for the lack of updating. For those who requested short stories and smuts, it's not that I haven't done it, I'm still working on the writing because I don't feel like they are good enough. I'm still learning to write a really good smut, so I hope you can give me more time. In the meantime, here's something to help you #Teume busy...I guess.

Theme : Treasure members' and what turns them on (Part 1 - HYung Line

Pairing : Treasure members x Female readers

NSFW content below.

Hyunsuk

This is a complex man and it takes something as complex as your perfume to turn him on. You walked into his studio while he is busy and one whiff of your scent, this man can forget his work and just turn beast mode on his s/o. Be prepared because his hand will cupped your head only so he could start smearing kisses all over your neck and the small area under your ear because that's where the scent are the strongest. And if you spritz some of your perfume on your chest, well, his lips will be there too and they will travel to your pert nipples and the next thing you know is the both of you going to town in his studio, on his table, your legs wrapped around his waist and his hands holding your back to steady you and the other holding your leg as you make love.

Jihoon

Wear your most fitted workout outfit and Jihoon will lose it especially if you planned to work out with him at the gym. Well, let's just say your plan was never to workout at the gym but 'work' with Jihoon whether it be at the gym or anywhere, as long as you both are 'working out' together. He watches you from behind stretching and warming up and somehow Jihoon just can't hold himself back. Once you're done warming up, he turns you around and pick you up to carry you back to the backroom where there is more privacy. Since you both are already in your workout outfits, it's not that hard to peel off the clothes off of both your backs.

Yoshi

Yoshi is a simple man. After a dinner date at his home, where he attempts to cook for you, let's say he fairs well at cooking, for desserts he could only whipped up strawberries with whipped cream. Because you are so turned on by your man's effort, you take a piece of strawberry and eat deliciously in front of him and just that action alone, looking at your lips and your reaction to the fruit, his eyes turned dark. With his thumb, Yoshi reaches out to your face to wipe a small stain of the cream at the corner of your lips and you cease the opportunity to turn your face and kiss his thumb and Yoshi lost it. He picked you up swift and carry you to your room where he made you scream his name all night long.

Junkyu

Junkyu is a homebody - if it's not at home, he will be at the office. If he is not making music, he is playing video games. Tonight, he was playing a video game in the living room. It was after dinner and you are getting ready for bed. You walked out of your room in your most comfy pajamas to grabbed some water and you pj shorts and tank top caught Junkyu's attention. To you, you pjs maybe something simple and comfortable but to Junkyu's eyes, he see something more and his brain went into overdrive that drove all his blood down to his pelvis. He threw his game console to the sofa and followed you back to the bedroom and grabbed you from behind only to lead you to the bed and start kissing your lips, your face and all over your body, getting you work up for a night of love making and back breaking.

#treasure headcanon #treasure smut #treasure x female reader #treasure hyunsuk #treasure jihoon #treasure yoshi #treasure junkyu

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blucifer08 · 7 days ago

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long vent post under the readmore, i'm stressed and i need to get my feelings somewhere and i do have a priv twitter for that but i need something longer

if you are one of the few who also follow my priv twitter a lot of this is repeated from what i've been saying but i just want to put it all together to make me feel better<3

I hate my job. And I've spent ridiculous amounts of time the past several months while working it hating myself because of it. I'm a perfectionist people pleaser and I'm neurodivergent. Which somehow has cooked into the perfect storm for me to be--aboslutely AMAZING at customer service.

Which like, sounds like a good thing, but here's the problem. I cannot break a rule, because every time I break a rule it feels like it's breaking me. I've got that insane sense of 'justice', you know? When I was a kid my mother literally could not punish me when I did wind up doing something against the rules because I would sob and cry and berate myself for it, and not as a way to get out of the punishment, but because I couldn't believe that I would do something my mother told me not to, and that I felt it made me a horrible person for doing so.

And this mindset stems from a few issues but it feels as ingrained in me as my bone marrow does. It makes navigating social situations really hard, because I've got the 'rules' for social situations and speaking to people written in my brain. the rules can change slightly but not much.

And this is what makes me good at customer service. I must be polite, I must say these things this way, if the customer needs me to do this, I do this. If X happens, contact Y department. I deliver very quick and helpful responses to customers and I've grown adept at figuring out who to go to for quickest resolution on an issue. I always call my customers back to give them the necessary updates, I apologize as though it's my fault when someone else has fucked up, I let the customer get angry and take out their frustrations on me, I de-escalate when the situation is fiery.

This is, however, incredibly, horribly, depressingly taxing.

I'm not a talkative person in the first place. any who have tried to dm me learn this quick. Even among people I hold in the highest regards I can be quite tight lipped. In my experience, i'm a bit more talkative around people I /don't/ know, as a measure to fit in, and when I'm around people I trust I get more quiet because I trust them to accept my silence as a part of me.

And so this job has wittled me down. I work from home, i take phone calls all day and do the equivalent of paperwork. It's all in all not that difficult, really. Thanks to my shift I receive the least amount of inbound calls, close to 300 a month which really isn't bad at alL. The last company I worked for I would have surpassed 300 within like, 4-5 days. (Though in high-pressure times at this company i have taken 90+ calls in one day. luckily things have changed since then.)

And yet, even with this I feel wittled down with every word. I work on a team and I don't feel like my teammates work even an ounce as hard as I do, which the statistics we receive per month back this up in my eyes as I outpace everyone on my team in everything but received calls, which I cannot control. And the lack of teamwork, the feeling that everyone expects me to do everything, it's dragging me down. I found out recently that the other teammates misunderstood the protocol for a specific type of inquiry we receive, and long story short the reason i was getting so many angry customers claiming they were transferred back and forth before getting to me (and me proceeding to help their issues) is because my coworkers had an incredibly stupid misunderstanding of how things worked.

I feel like I always just get the upset customers when we're busy. It drains me so much. I have it so much easier than other people, i work from home, this job is calmer than other phone jobs, but I feel like i'm breaking apart. I'm very good at retaining information, I know so much about everything. I can do our work so much faster than anyone else here because I have such a good memory for it. I don't want to go too much into detail about it but just. my coworkers forget every direction given to them and i remember every single one and so I do everything according to those 'rules' and I have to do it exactly by the book or else I feel like i'm dying and it's just too much.

My boyfriend, and basically everyone else I know, wants me to quit. And specifically, my boyfriend wants me to quit and attempt to live off of art. When I moved in with him, we luckily created a very nice living situation with a very low cost of living. He really thinks I could start selling charms and prints and the like and focusing on c/ommissions and make enough to survive. He's a very realistic and down-to-earth kind of guy and I really wasn't expecting that from him. He sat down with me and broke down how much I'd have to make and how much I've made in the past while doing art at work and really made it seem viable.

But I'm just so, so scared.

I grew up incredibly poor and getting this job was the highest I've ever been paid. Coming from a southern state with 7.25 as the minimum wage, getting paid 16/hr felt like magic. But now, honestly, it feels like so little for what I do. But I'm so scared. I grew up with fucking nothing and I'm so scared of the possiblity of ending up like that again. It wouldn't happen. I am in such a safe and stable situation now. I understand realistically he's right. If the art stuff doesn't work out, I can just get a part time job. But I also really don't want that.

I really just want a job where I don't have to talk to people. But I made less-than-good decisions in college and got a degree in something that is essentially useless to me now, partly because I didn't understand myself then. I've come to know myself a lot better this year through living happily with him and I wish I'd had the clarity back then to know that:

I hate talking to customers.

I hate customer service.

I hate working on a team.

I am good at tedious work I can do by myself and do at my own pace.

He really really thinks I could do well focusing on art. And my best friend from college heard about this and said "I wanted to tell you to do this months ago. I can't believe you're stuck in that shitty, underpaying job when you have a skill like this." And my best friend has been cheering me on about it but I'm ridiculously scared.

My loved ones keep saying 'art is what you always come back to. You have never stopped drawing and creating. You have to give it a shot.'

I don't know where all of this confidence in my art suddenly came from, no one has ever shown this much confidence in my ability to create, never in my life, ever. I feel like I'm living in an alternate reality. I grew up with a sibling who was and is way better than me at art, and everyone accepted that they would grow up to be an amazing and successful artist and that I should go into something else. This was told to my face directly.

I'm a complete mix and mess of emotions because of it. I had planned to put in my notice at work the other day during a meeting I had scheduled with my boss but I completely chickened, I felt sick to my stomach. As much as I can't stand him and the way he's made my work life so difficult this year (that is its' own post istelf but TLDR i was the only person on shift taking calls from march 8th to july 8th because he took forever to replace my coworker, and replaced her with an off-shore employee they can under pay and he frankly, sucks at the job [and it's wrong of them to do that to him, too] also it's not directly my manager's fault and more like... HIS manager's fault..)

no matter all that I still really /like/ my manager and I feel like his management is crushing HIM too. They give him insane amounts of work and he has been demanding a raise for himself AND for my team and hasn't been able to get it. I like talking to him. He has upset me a lot in the past, not taken me seriously, gotten frustrated with me when I was right, driven me fucking crazy but I do like him as a person and I felt crushed to be about to tell him that I was leaving because it would fuck him over real bad lol.

They will probably replace me with another offshore person they can pay like shit who can't do the job as well. Which is no disrespect to the people hired from that country but english is not their first language and the job I do is complex. They're getting put into a shitty situation for less money.

whatever though. all of this is to say i'm scared. this job is stable at the very least, for now. They most certainly cannot fire me at the moment. but this job drives me insane. it wittles me down. it makes me feel like shit. It makes me cry and sob and beg that i could be 'normal' and that phone calls didn't make me feel like i was dying sometimes. this job is easy. i think i'm insane to leave it. I only got it off of reccomendation from a friend, it was such a blessing. It has benefits, too. i'd be fucking insane. but 40 hours a week of this is killing me. i work from 2:30pm to 11pm which is so much of the day i'm tucked away in my little office which unfortunately doesn't have a window (and there's no other room for me to work out of in here).

i want to believe in myself and strike it out as a freelance artist but I don't think I really /do/ believe in myself. But what a dream it would be, to wake up and get to go outside for some fresh air without stressing because i Have to be At My Desk at This Time and talk to people on the phone. To sit back down and get started on work. I love working with clients art wise. The last round of c/omms I did made me so happy as it was centered around delivering the client's vision for a piece and so I got to work creatively with my buyers.

I really, really don't believe in myself to succeed. Maybe for a month or two I could scrape by. but then I think I'd need to look to a part time job. and anything around me that I could do would involve talking to people. I feel incompatible for this world. I feel like a disaster. I feel like I was made wrong. And it makes me hate myself so much. I wish I could just be normal enough to do this full time customer service job. It's not hard. I know it's not. It's easy. It's complex. but it's not hard. It just takes knowing a lot of information. I don't want to feel like this anymore. but I think quitting would be a mistake. I know so many who are struggling to find work.

but is this really worth 16/hr? I don't just take phone calls. I don't want to explain the specifics but i have to multitask handling emails, handling cases that come in from our system, and taking phone calls/solving callers problems. Not tech support but a lot of the emails/cases are kind of like filling out paperwork but you Have to do it very correctly.

I don't know. I'm backpedaling so hard. Last week I was full of ideas on ways that I could work on my presence online and what kind of items I could work on selling and different c/omms i could offer, while also coming up with ways I could get involved with the local art scene in my town.

but i feel so scared now. I don't understand why my boyfriend and other loved ones are so confident in me. I should appreciate that confidence but it just confuses me. My boyfriend especially. It makes me want to cry with happiness but I just. I'm so terrified and anxious and I'm literally at work right now typing this and i just. i dont know. if you read all of this i'm sorry it was long and oh my god why didn't you quit halfway /j but there's no conclusion. I'm terrified.

#vent #longpost #long post

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filmtv2022 · 1 year ago

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In the Bleak Midwinter: Chapter 2

(18+ MDNI)

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All Series Masterlist

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Reader

Chapter Summary: Tommy visits Y/N after reading the letter, and what he finds is another broken soul crying out for someone to ease the pain. In the wake of his own loss, he promises not only to keep Y/N safe but to ensure that she will never have to walk through this nightmare alone again.

Warnings: Allusions to self-harm/suicide + description of death + death of young children mentioned + harsh language + alcohol and drug use + so much grief and loss

A/N: Please be careful and read the warning before consuming this chapter. A lot of really difficult things are mentioned in this chapter. All of it is setting up the backstory for the reader and gives her and Tommy's eventual relationship more weight. But your own mental health and well-being are more important than any story. So please keep your own best interest in mind. As always, I apologize for any mistakes.

** If you would like to be tagged in future updates, please comment and let me know.

Steady knocking on the door roused you from your stupor, the laudanum slowed your movements as you fought against the pull of gravity to stand. Your weight fell onto the wall beside the doorframe as you shakily pulled the gun from your pocket.

“Who…” your voice gave out momentarily, your throat dry from lack of use, “who’s there? And what the fuck do you want?”

“Mrs. Butler, I-I’m Curly. Sorry to bother you, but Tommy sent me to fetch you. He wants to-”

“Tell him…” sucking in a heavy breath, you fought the edges of black crowding your vision to speak again, ”Tell him that if he wants to fuckin’ talk he’ll have to come to see me himself.”

“He said you’d say that, but he told me not to leave until you agreed to come with.”

Pushing away from the wall, you kept most of your body hidden behind the door as you opened it up a crack. You were met with the sight of a gentle-looking man holding his hat in his hands and staring at the floor. The sweetness in his face tempered the hostility that had taken over moments before.

“Listen, Curly, I know you’re just doin’ your job, but if Mr. Shelby wants to see me he needs to do it in person, okay?”

“But Tommy said-”

“I don’t give a damn what he said. I’m saying that if wants to talk he knows where to find me.”

Shutting the door, a little harder than you intended, you slid the lock into place before stumbling over to the bed. Perched on the mattress, you searched blindly in the suitcase for the larger bottle you had hidden away. The smooth glass fell under your fingertips as you lifted it from the scarf you’d wrapped it in for safekeeping. Using the pillows and headboard to support your body, you unstoppered the bottle and brought it to your lips. A few long swallows and things were beginning to go fuzzy, easing you away once more. As the strength in your limbs waned, you set the laudanum down on the nightstand making sure it was safe before closing your eyes.

…

Night had fallen upon Small Heath by the time you returned to reality, the aftermath of your consumption left a hazy fog over your memories. Gingerly, you removed yourself from the bed and changed back into the pajamas from the night before. Mercifully, across the room were all the essentials to make a pot of tea. Putting on the kettle and fixing it with leaves, you grabbed your bottle and flask before moving to wait at the small table by the window. Below, the street was bustling with men. Some flocked in the direction of the Garrison, while others stumbled into the dark corners with a woman firmly attached to their side.

The whistle of steam leaving the kettle tore you away from your people-watching. Slowly the tea leaves unfurled as you poured the hot water over them. A few minutes passed before a firm knock at the door forced you away from the task. Not opening it up, you called through to the person on the other side.

“Who’s there?”

“Thomas Shelby.”

Opening up, you looked at the man standing before you, and only let him pass after giving him a once over, “Seems you got my message.”

“I did.”

“So, have you come to clear your conscience, or is there something else you’d like to talk about Mr. Shelby?”

Nodding, he grabbed himself a smoke, running the cigarette over his lower lip before lighting it. His eyes roamed around the room pausing for just a moment as they fell upon the bottle and flask sitting on the table, and the lack of luggage. A nearly imperceptible look of understanding flashed in his eyes.

“Would you like some Tea?”

“Please”

You handed over a cup to Tommy and then poured your own. Sitting down, he waited for you to join him before speaking.

“So,” he began before clearing his throat, “William… when did he pass?”

“I guess we aren't exchanging pleasantries. But to answer your question, six months ago.”

“He spoke of children in the letter, but they’re not with you?”

“No, they’re not.” a prickle of emotion burned through your nose as you struggled to keep down your emotions.

“And where are they?”

“Buried… next to their father.” letting go of a shaky breath, you looked away, unable to stand the discerning stare of his bright blue eyes.

“How old were they?”

“Elizabeth was two and George was… George was ten months.” Tears screamed to let loose at the memory of your children.

“What took them?”

“Spanish flu. Georgie got sick first and then Liz.”

“And when did they-”

“Four weeks ago.” grief boiled hot in your chest. Talking about them, being forced to remember their tiny faces, it was all too much.

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Me too.”

At some point during his questioning, Tommy had turned his focus back to you. His fist clenched under the table as he steadied himself after each blow. So much death, so many tragedies for one person to handle all alone. Breathing hard you pressed the back of your hand to your lips.

“You said you’re here until the end of the week. Where will you go after?”

“Only God himself knows that Mr. Shelby.”

Silence fell over the room at your thinly veiled confession. Thomas continued to smoke as he sipped his tea, seemingly unfazed at the direction the conversation had taken.

“Is this really why you came here? To rehash the hell that has become my life? Or do you just generally enjoy inflicting pain on others?”

“Despite what yourself and others might think, the answer to all of your questions is no. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Then please, enlighten me.”

“Mrs. Butler, I-”

“For pity’s sake, call me Y/N.”

“Y/N, I’m here because in his letter William asked me to come.”

“And why would he do that?”

“He loved you, deeply.”

“Right, well, it certainly didn’t seem like it in the end.”

“You have to understand, the war it-”

Standing up, the force of your movement knocked over the chair, “The war what, Thomas? Changed people? Rattled their brains and left them incapable of living? Of loving? Don’t lecture me about what it did. I watched it happen, day after day. Night after night. I watched the man I loved turn into a shell of the person he was before. I watched as every bit of good left in him disappeared. I’m the one who found his broken body, covered in his own blood. Don’t you dare talk to me about that godforsaken war.”

Holding your ground, you forced yourself to maintain eye contact with Thomas. His piercing blue eyes cut deep as they waited to see what you’d hurl at him next. Finding that you’d gone quiet, he decided it was safe to speak.

“He wanted me to make sure you were safe, cared for.”

“And why would he come to you for that?”

“Because my family has a great many resources at our disposal to keep the people around us safe.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means from this point forward you are hereby under the care and protection of the Peaky Blinders.”

Standing, he snuffed out his cigarette and started toward the door. No time was wasted with unwelcome farewells. Outside on the street, Tommy pressed his palms against the top of his car, the metal was warm under his touch. His head hung between his shoulders as focused on slowing his breathing and steadying his hands. The look in your eyes, he knew it well. He’d seen it staring back at him in the mirror more times than he could count. You were fighting a losing battle against yourself, and he’d be damned if you had to go it alone.

#thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby fic #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader #cillian murphy

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neobubz · 1 year ago

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Tension Release (M) Chapter 4 - New Friendship

i am so sorry for the lack of updates. i was sick on two separate occasions. also, this section gave me such a headache to write because i could lead it toward many different directions. so, please forgive me. i hope you enjoy this chapter. oh, and chapters may not come out regularly as i’m in the process of cleaning and packing in order to move in the fall. so please follow and set up notifications so you know when the story is updated. thank you for your patience

Prologue || Chapter 1 || Chapter 2 || Chapter 3

Word Count: approx. 9.2k Pairing(s): fem reader jeno || fem reader x husband Warning(s): mature audiences only, 18+, explicit language, slow-paced, storytelling, cheating, infidelity, smut, oral (female receiving) Preview: Sighing and shaking his head Jeno takes one look up at your bedroom before sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “As much as it was nice talking to you Matthew,” he whispers to himself. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to walk away after today…” With a roll of his eyes Jeno disappears into the night.

✞ＴＥＮＳＩＯＮＲＥＬＥＡＳＥ✞

Your eyes pop open as a sharp lightning bolt of pain shoots up your spine. Curling into a ball to find solace you’re stopped midway when a warm arm wraps around you tightly. Pulling you towards the person behind you.

“Good morning babe,” Matthew snuggles up to you after placing a kiss on your cheek.

“G-Good morning,” you manage to squeak out. Though the pain was strangely subsiding due to his body heat acting as a heating pad, there were still small sparks pulsating along the length of your back that has you wincing.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore. My back is killing me right now. I think I overdid it yesterday.”

And then some…

Sitting up abruptly Matthew leans over to see the speckles of sweat decorating your forehead and the small grimace on your face. “Baby!” He rushes off the bed and over to your side bending down on his haunches to reach your eye level. “Baby are you okay? Do you want me to get you some Tylenol? Do you need some ice? Tell me how I can help you…”

Chuckling through the discomfort you reach out to which he instantly grabs hold of your hand kissing your knuckles. “Some Tylenol would be amazing right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Leaving your side Matthew sprints downstairs to get you some pain killers.

Yesterday absolutely showed you that you should have said no three times. One for Jeno, one for Matthew, and one for your own stupidity. Barely able to sit up on your own, you whimper propping yourself up to greet the new day.

Grabbing your phone you find its 8:40AM. After all of the physical activity you passed out in Matthew’s arms at around 10PM. Your eyes scan your bedroom a soft smile coming to your face. After your rounds with Matthew you both apologized for your behaviors, promising the other to do better in the future. Then he proceeded to ask you to come back to your bedroom which didn’t take much convincing on Matthew’s part considering the quilt and sheets of the spare room need to be washed and dried.

Both of you ending up shocked by how much of your squirt poured out of you. Honestly, you’d forgotten that was even possible. You had only squirted twice in your life. Once with some moron from the neighboring school who fingered your pussy so hard you squirted like a geyser but were sore for days, the other, with Matthew.

Giggling, your face starts to warm. Yesterday was amazing! Your husband finally taking a leap of faith and entering a world of lust, on a Sunday, of all days — even the thought has your spent cunt clenching. Hopefully with a little time and patience on your part you’ll be able to have more days like yesterday. Of course, your back needs to hurry up and get better for the real fun to begin!

“Here we go,” Matthew comes in with not only a glass of water and your Tylenol but also a bowl that smells like apple cinnamon oatmeal. “Thought you might be hungry as well.”

“I’m famished! Thank you babe!”

Placing the tray on your lap, Matthew crawls back into bed next to you. Popping the pills quickly into your mouth, you down them with some lukewarm water. Smiling you glance at your wonderful husband.

“You sure know how to treat a woman,” you place the tips of your fingers under his chin pulling him close to you. “Thanks for making me breakfast.” You kiss him gently.

“It’s the least I can do for being a jerk. I still can’t believe I acted like a child yesterday. Here you were upstairs, in pain, stuck in the bathroom, without breakfast, and I left you. What kind of man does that?” He pouts.

“A man who has been dealing with a lot. Truly Matthew, I’m sorry for that remark about getting a toy. I really didn’t mean it.”

“My love, we both know Roz would have gotten you something if she doesn’t have one for you on standby.”

“Matthew!!” You playfully slap his chest. “She’s not that much of a deviant!”

“Look me in the eyes and tell me she doesn’t already have a stock of her own!” He leans down his face inches from yours.

Avoiding his eyes you erupt in giggles. “Okay, so she has a few BUT!!! It’s not a stock. Just about six? I believe.”

“SIX?! Wow…I suddenly feel bad for Bill.”

“Oh stop,” you pat his cheek. “Bill is the one who suggested four of them. He likes how Roz reacts, plus, he’s the one controlling them.” Lifting up your spoon you blow gently on the steaming hot oatmeal.

“And they both like them?” Matthew whispers beside you.

“Sure do! I mean she doesn’t talk about all that stuff but whenever he surprised her with a new toy she would tell me what it was like. Personally, if I had to choose a toy that we should try it would be the wand. After last night,” your face starts to warm. “I want to experience that again. Plus, I could always tease you with the wand too!” You smirk.

Matthew looks at you confused. “How can you tease someone with a stick?”

Pausing midair you turn to your sweet naïve husband. “Baby a wand is a vibrator.”

Nodding he settles down next to you. “A vibrator…I see…” suddenly his body becomes stiff as a board next to you. “Wait!!! Why do you want to use something like that on me?!” Shaking his head he moves away from you. “No, no, no…I can’t…that’s…that’s —”

Reaching out you grab hold of his wrist before he gets off the bed completely. “Baby, it was just a thought. I would never do anything to you that you weren’t comfortable with. Plus, this is something very far down the road. What we did last night tells me we don’t need to add any gadgets to the bedroom just yet.”

“Is…Is there anything else you would like to try?”

“Ummm maybe these vibrators that would go inside me and you can control the speed and power of the vibrations. That would be a lot of fun! Especially,” you pull him to you. “If it’s in public.” You kiss his nose.

“IN PUBLIC?!!!”

“Yes! Picture it! We’re sitting across from each other at let’s say the dinner. Having a nice meal together when you pull out your phone, casually having it under the table and away from prying eyes. You turn on the vibrator when I least expect it,” your eyes become hazy just thinking about Matthew toying with you. “And all throughout the rest of the meal with people around me and knowing our town, plenty of people coming up to talk — I have to keep my reactions undetectable. No moaning, screaming, begging for more. Just a neutral expression for as long as I can handle it.”

Gulping Matthew wets his dry lips. “How long have you been thinking about this exactly?”

“We’d have to have a safe word or something that would let you know when to turn it up or down. Or when I can’t handle it anymore and I need to come. Yeah…”

Arching a brow Matthew watches you play out the entire scene in your head. Seeing your eyes fixated on something he can’t see. The cogs in your brain turning rapidly. The way your tongue slowly skates across yours lips as your mind slips further into your fantasy. To him, right here and now you’re the most beautiful person to ever grace this earth. Even if your mind is full of impure thoughts at the moment.

Leaning over he breaks you out of your daydream with a gentle kiss on the lips.

“Wh-What was that for?” You giggle.

“No reason. You just looked really beautiful while thinking is all.”

“Oh, so me thinking about the naughty things I want my husband to do to me somehow makes me beautiful.”

“Stunning!” Matthew leans into you again, but this time placing his forehead against yours. “I still can’t believe what happened last night.”

“Neither can I,” she nuzzle your nose with his. “Whatever happened let’s pray that it happens again.”

Smiling softly, Matthew starts to leave gentle kisses on your nose, cheeks, jaw, and heads for your neck. “Did it feel good?” He asks while his lips gingerly move across your neck.

Closing your eyes you succumb to him. It felt better than good, sweetie.”

“Maybe when you’re feeling better we can try again.”

Getting lost in his kisses, your arms fall from the tray of food on your lap. “S-So, it felt good for you too?”

Smiling against your neck, Matthew kisses and sucks hard on your skin near your collarbone. “I wish we had thought about doing that before. Actually,” he pulls away. “I wish I did a lot of things for you and to you before yesterday. I know I’m not perfect and I have a lot to work on but I hope I made up for some of it yesterday.”

“What made you want to eat me out yesterday?”

Startled by your question, the warm and fuzzy mood dissipating quickly, Matthew stills beside you. His complexion growing darker the longer he waits to answer you. “I…well…I mean…”

“Don’t get me wrong,” you quickly add thinking he’s questioning whether you wanted to have him taste you or not. “It was amazing! I want to feel your lips on me again as soon as possible because for someone who skipped the foreplay department of our marriage you sure knew your way around down there.”

His face now a bright red, Matthew turns away from you, fingers fumbling against each other. “I mean, well you see, I’ve always wanted too…but I couldn’t. How could I? It seemed so…so…”

Reaching out to him you turn his face to you with nothing but love in your eyes. “You always wanted to taste me?”

Lowering his head Matthew nods. “Yes. From the first time we were intimate I’ve wanted to know how you tasted. I just didn’t…no that’s not it…I couldn’t bring it up.”

“Why not?”

“How could I?” He looks at you with innocent eyes. “You’re so beautiful and amazing and strong and confident. To this day I still can’t help but stare at you wondering how I ended up being blessed to have you as my wife. I want to cherish you, respect you, hold you close. Not defile you or treat you like some…”

“Whore?” You giggle.

Scoffing Matthew nods. “Jeno said the same thing.”

“Jeno?”

Freezing, his mouth popping open in an ‘oh shit’ manner he turns his gaze from you. “Yes, yesterday, before he left.”

“You talked to Jeno?”

“Well, I mean we didn’t talk talk but we talked.”

“About our sex life?”

“Not in so many words,” Matthew gulps.

“I see…”

Sighing you pick up your spoon and begin eating again. It’s strange. When you talked to Jeno it was more ranting about your life and just wanting someone who doesn’t have a biased opinion give you some advice. Where things ended up should not have happened but it did. There’s no going back or taking back the fact you cheated on Matthew, but hearing Matthew say he talked to Jeno about you…it feels…odd…

As if the one person who you saw as your confidant has now been compromised — not having anyone else to talk to about things that really piss you off.

Granted you did ask Jeno to get the details about Matthew’s problem but that was a completely different situation than what is going on now. Matthew spoke to Jeno about your intimate life and Jeno somehow convinced Matthew to devour your pussy? After the two of you fucked? That doesn’t make any sense at all…

“You’re mad aren’t you?” Matthew’s worried tone pulls you out of your thoughts. “I didn’t intend on talking to him. He just…he has this soothing nature about him. Sort of like you can talk to him about anything that’s on your mind and he won’t beat around the bush. He’ll tell you exactly what you need to hear. Baby, please!” Matthew holds your hands in his. “Please don’t be mad. I promise I won’t talk to him about us again.”

“I’m not mad,” you laugh trying to play things off as if you don’t mind. ��In fact, I suppose I should thank him.”

“Thank…him…?”

Nodding you go back to eating. It’s the sad but honest truth. What happened last night might be because of whatever Matthew and Jeno talked about. The primal feeling that was coursing through your body chasing not only your high but your husband’s high could in fact be thanks to Jeno.

“Do you like talking to Jeno?” You ask. Shrugging he stares at you like a child terrified that at any second he’s going to get yelled at. “Do you want to continue to talk to him?”

“We didn’t really get to finish our conversation.”

“Jeno is very easy to talk to. I understand why you felt so at ease around him. I’m thankful that you finally feel comfortable talking to someone. If you want to continue talking to him go ahead. Plus, having a guy friend to talk about guy things might be just what you need.”

“R-Really?” Matthew’s face brightens.

“Of course, there is just one thing we should keep in mind…” glancing down you take the final bite of your oatmeal. “Let’s just be careful not to talk about things we don’t want anyone else to know about. Okay?”

“Of course!”

Smirking you move the tray off your lap before wiggling your brows at Matthew. “So, was it your idea or Jeno’s to eat me out yesterday?”

“BABE!!!!”

Sighing in both pain and relief you slide further into the nice warm water. Your muscles beginning to loosen up. Sitting on a chair next to you, Matthew watches over you carefully.

“What are the plans for today?”

“I called Mr. Smith and told him I’d be running late and to have everyone start without me. “We’re hoping to get the basement filled in today and work more on the outer foundations.”

“I was thinking of asking Mrs. Smith and maybe a few other girls to join me and pick out some furnishings. Though I’d love to get straight back to work I think I should take it easy for a while.”

“You shouldn’t have been hauling around bags of cement in the first place.”

“It helped clear my mind. I liked doing it. Plus,” you lean into him. “I was getting sick and tired of hearing half the towns wives lustful thoughts about men other than their husbands. Then again…I don’t want to hear their lustful comments about their husbands.”

Laughing Matthew shakes his head in disbelief. “Perhaps we should talk more about this town.”

“Why?”

“At the picnic yesterday,” he sighs heavily. “I felt your absence. Though I was born and raised here it took you not being by my side to show me that I truly don’t know anyone here. Yes, our congregation is a mixture of parents, grandparents, and families of people we went to school with who moved away — of course the people whom we did go to school with are still here as well, but I just know who they are and what they ask to be forgiven for. That’s it. I don’t know anything that goes on in their personal lives. I didn’t know how to talk to anyone excluding our parents.”

Staring up at Matthew both a feeling of pity and happiness fills your soul. Pity because he must have truly suffered a lot yesterday. Talking to everyone, making small talk, and just ensuring that everyone was happy and being taken care of — non-spiritually, was your job. Having to take on your roll yesterday must have been a lot for him. At the same time, seeing his sullen face shows just how much he needs you and that you are valued. Perhaps more so now than before.

“You’ve never liked hearing about what’s going around.”

“I can’t help but wonder how much is gossip and how much is fact. Judging people is not up to me or to anyone else, it’s up to God.”

“Yet you judge Roz,” you quickly point out.

Lips curving into a deep frown, Matthew turns from you. “That’s because she’s trying to take you away and corrupt you,” he mumbles.

Giggling you reach out and touch his knee gaining his attention. “I’m not going anywhere. Plus we’d both miss our men far too much. But, as for this town I can assure you 90% is fact! Only 10% is gossip. The people here are crazy! Small towns bring out the true freaks if you know what I mean.”

“90% fact you say?” He moves from the chair down to you, his lips meeting yours in a light kiss. “Give me a little taste.”

“For starters, Bethany my hair dresser,” you begin.

“Is she the one who’s dating Tom down at the bakery?”

“Yep! She apparently slept around A LOT when we were in high school. Like a lot a lot! With people from our school’s rival! I mean yeah some of the guys we went to school with were total dogs and I’m not talking about their attitudes but to sleep with the guys from our rival school Ewwwww! They are complete assholes who have no respect for women at all! Like some of the stuff I heard would make you want to call the cops asap and have them investigated from some of the shit they pulled! Plus they were worse than the guys here in terms of looks! No offense to anyone but it’s true.”

Gaping at you bewildered Matthew tilts his head. “I heard about that. It surprised me. She only transferred to our district about a year and a half before you came. There were rumors about her being…easy, back in middle school. Very promiscuous,” he wiggles his brows.

“No!!!” You lean over the edge of the tub.

“Yeah. I didn’t believe them she looked super innocent to me. She was also kind of sweet so I just figured the other girls were jealous.”

Waving him off you grab your washcloth and some soap. “Oh she told me she thought you were super cute. She even admitted to wanting to date you but you were far too innocent for her. So, she dated half the guys at our school,” you crack up.

“Bethany wanted to date me?!” Matthew gasps.

“Ah huh, she said you were her type. Naïve, inexperienced, and ripe for the picking!”

“She told you this?!”

“Of course! We’re friends,” you laugh. “She has been my stylist for two years now. We became close after she did our hair for Roz’s wedding. Plus, she’s the true eyes and ears of this town. She knows everyone’s dirty little secrets!”

“My wife thriving on the towns’ gossip,” he sighs shaking his head amused.

“Hey! It’s only gossip if there are no facts to back it up. Bethany and the others always come with receipts.”

“What about the men?”

“Pfft,” you roll your eyes. “Don’t even get me started. First, let me ask you this, George who works alongside…Anna,” you roll your eyes again. “How long has he been married to Kim?”

“My dad married them when I was in middle school so maybe thirteen years? Give or take.”

“He’s cheated on Kim for half their marriage then.”

“What?!”

“Yep. Jun, at the salon, well he saw George and some blonde woman making out one night at a bar and since has seen him and that woman sneaking around late at night. So, he’s done a little digging and found out that George and this woman have been in contact with each other for years.

“Pictures of them on ‘company retreats’ passing it off as just a friendly co-worker moment and blah blah blah, but he said the lip lock and their tongues down each other's throats clearly states that they are much much more.”

“Kim is a wonderful woman! How could he? They have children!!”

Shrugging you start washing your body. “They were young when they married, right? Fresh out of high school?”

“Yes…”

“I think they didn’t have time to explore and find out who they truly were and what they actually want. It happens. My uncle the one back where I lived before,” Matthew nods. “He cheated as well. Actually, his wife cheated too.” You chuckle. “At our rehearsal dinner we had a long conversation about the sanctity of marriage. He told me that for him and his wife they were just too young. He said if they had waited until after college and truly got to know each other without the pressures of marriage they may have been able to make it last.”

“What about us,” Matthew whispers.

“What do you mean?” You rid your arms of soap.

“We got married young as well. What if…I don’t…promise me that it won’t happen with us.”

Stilling, your heart starts racing. Knowing full well Matthew isn’t talking about cheating but about the love disappearing you close your eyes, dip your washcloth into the water and pour some water on your chest.

“Matthew, just because something happened to someone else doesn’t mean it will happen to us.”

“I just…with the way I’ve been acting…” he mumbles. “I promise I’ll get some help for whatever is going on. I won’t let this marriage end because of me!”

Sighing you finish up and go to stand. Quickly Matthew helps you up but what he doesn’t expect is you wrapping your arms around him, your body soaking his night shirt and shorts.

“This marriage will not end no matter what, do you hear me?” You state firmly. “I love you, Matthew. I’m in love with you. That will never change.”

Squeezing you tightly in his arms, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you too. Without you…I’d be lost.”

“Now, enough gossip talk for today. I need to get dried and dressed before Jeno comes over.”

“Or you could stay like this and scare him off.”

“MATTHEW!!”

Lips move across yours lazily. Giggling your hand rests on Matthew’s cheek as he attempts to say goodbye to you for a few hours. It’s strange how all it took was a little release to get the two of you back to snuggling, kissing, and loving each other properly. Still, there is the fact that Matthew needs to get through whatever is holding him back from being inside of you for longer periods of time and from coming inside of you — deciding it wasn’t the time yesterday to talk to him about why he pulled out you opt to save it for another day. Preferably a time when you’re not in pain and can leave if the conversation becomes heated.

Then, there is the issue of whatever is going on between Jeno and yourself. Talking to Matthew about what your uncle told you brought on a wave of guilt you didn’t expect to feel. Yes, you cheated. But Matthew begging, pleading for you not to leave him and pleading for nothing to go wrong between the two of you is what’s killing you.

When Jeno was inside you, when he kissed you, touched you, tasted you, and came inside you, a huge part of you wanted to be with him. To know what it would be like to be desired the way he desired you. The thrill of not being able to keep your hands off of the other in public, even the thought of it has your heart racing.

With Matthew…everything is hopefully, someday, and perhaps. It’s always dangingling in front of you but strangely out of reach. Its not a guarantee and that’s what you want. A guarantee that you’ll be loved. A guarantee that when you look into his eyes the most salacious sinful thoughts of what he wants to do to you will bring out the animal in him. But with Matthew, that’s unlikely.

Yesterday, though amazing, feels like a fevered dream. A manic moment where he acted on impulse instead of rationality. If you were guaranteed a husband that would thrill you more you would have never sought solace in another man’s arms. If you could only have lived in that moment with Matthew for the rest of your life…if only…

“I don’t want to leave you,” Matthew mumbles against your lips.

“Mr. Smith needs you,” you whisper.

“He’s the one leading the construction. I’m just there as support. People respect him. I’m not needed.” His lips trail down to your neck.

Giggling, you arch your head back giving him more access. “I love feeling your lips on me.”

“Hurry up and get better,” Matthew peeks up at you. “Yesterday was amazing but you’re now very sore and it’s killing me to know I pushed you to this point.”

“I pushed myself, Matthew. Please don’t blame yourself.”

“Still I shouldn’t have —”

“Hello? Matthew?” Jeno’s voice echoes from downstairs.

Exhaling deeply Matthew sits up. “I guess that’s my cue to leave.”

“Have fun today and don’t overwork yourself,” you give him one final peck on the lips before he pulls away.

“I promise. Just get some rest. I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” he strokes your cheek.

Rushing down the stairs Matthew smiles happily seeing Jeno waiting patiently at the front door. “Sorry for keeping you. She’s having a rough morning.”

Worried Jeno’s eyes widen darting to the staircase. “Is she okay?”

“She’s a little sore from yesterday. She took a bath and some pills so that should help ease some of the discomfort but I think she’ll need a good massage when the painkillers wear off.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I blame myself…”

“Why? You didn’t do anything to her…” Jeno mumbles as guilt washes over him.

“Well that’s not entirely true…you know how yesterday we were talking? And you mentioned that I should be a little less restrictive in my interactions with her?”

Tilting his head Jeno nods slowly. “Less restrictive?” He chuckles. “You mean when I told you to stop treating her like a porcelain doll?”

“Precisely!” Matthew claps his hands shouting joyfully. “Well… last evening…what I mean to say is…” he pulls at the collar of his t-shirt. “We’re friends, right? I can confide in you…?” He gulps loudly.

Friends? Jeno scoffs internally. “I would say we’re on friendly terms so yes you can confide in me.” Slowly at the sides of his arms Jeno’s hands ever so slowly ball up into fists.

“Well…we might have fooled around a little and things got out of hand and that’s why her back is killing her. It’s all my fault!” Matthew lowers his head in shame. “I shouldn’t have initiated anything. I shouldn’t have acted like I did…I don’t know what came over me… so any pain that she feels today is all because of me…I just hope she won’t be in bed any longer than necessary…”

Matthew goes on and on about how guilty he feels asking question after question and rationalizing what happened last night, letting a few things slip past his lips. The words, eating, pleasure, and you on top are the only things his brain picks up from Matthew’s babbling.

“You don’t think she’ll be in bed longer do you?”

Shaking his head Jeno runs a stressed hand through his hair. “Well, any physical activity might have caused more harm than good, or it might have helped. She needed to get some kind of activity going on so her muscles can loosen up but maybe that went a little too far,” he tries his best to chuckle. “I’ll be sure to work out any kinks she might have. I know staying in bed isn’t her favorite thing in the world.”

“Tell me about it. She’s already talking about what she can do with the project once she’s better. I would actually prefer it if she stayed far away from this project. I don’t want her to get ahead of herself and get hurt again.”

“She knows her limits so I wouldn’t worry too much about that. Plus, what is she supposed to do when you leave for hours to work on the house? Sit at home and knit?” Jeno chuckles. “She’ll be fine,” he claps a hand on Matthew’s shoulder. “She’ll have the women to keep her company and if need be I’ll help keep an eye on her.”

“Really?!” Matthew perks up. “You’d really help me watch out for her?”

“Of course.”

“You have no idea how much that means to me. Well, I better get going before Mr. Smith throws a fit. She’s upstairs in our room. She’s eaten some breakfast so you won’t have to worry about that. I’ll be back around 5 this evening. If you don’t have any plans I’d love to continue our conversation from yesterday over dinner.”

“Our conversation?” Jeno tilts his head. “About your bedroom situation?”

Rubbing the back of his neck Matthew chuckles. “You REALLY helped us.”

“Well, if it really helped, sure we can talk. Try not to tire yourself out today.”

“Will do! And thanks, Jeno.”

“Mmm…”

✞ＴＥＮＳＩＯＮＲＥＬＥＡＳＥ✞

Sighing against the fluffy pillow on your bed you hear muffled voices downstairs. Your brain running over every scenario that could be discussed between Matthew and Jeno, but your mind keeps drifting back to Matthew’s confession of talking to Jeno about your love life. Yes, you talked to Jeno about it, but that’s different. Right…?

Suddenly footsteps start to ascend the stairs and for some strange reason you’re terrified to see Jeno. Yesterday, you were awkward, nervous, but excited. Today, after what happened between the two of you and then your husband…how can you dare look him in the eyes?

His footsteps draw closer. A shadow creeps into view on the floor outside the master bedroom. Your heart beats like a drum in your ears. Your mind grows foggy.

This is ridiculous! You scream internally.

This is just Jeno! Your friend! Your best friend’s cousin! He’s practically family! There’s no need to be scared of him.

Jeno comes into view. Hair slicked back slightly. Eyes staring you down as he leans against the door frame. His arms and legs crossing with the most accusatory smirk on his face.

Shit…

“For someone who got their rocks off twice yesterday you’re looking quite well.” He snickers.

“Fuck you, Jeno!” You grumble.

“You will once you’re better.”

Cheeks blazing with heat your head rises slowly. Eyes glistening with a million and one different emotions. “Wh-What?!”

Pushing off the wall, Jeno saunters ever so slowly towards you. His eyes staring you down as if he were the predator and you his prey. “A little birdie told me that you had some fun last night but now you’re sore.” Shaking his head he sighs. “I do blame myself for some of the soreness, but you,” he chuckles sitting down next to you. “You went overboard.”

“What all do you know?”

Shrugging, Jeno peers down at you. “Not a lot actually. Care to explain why your husband is worried sick about you?”

Turning from him you slide down into bed, your arms crossing over you as if to protect you from his judging gaze. “We just fooled around is all.”

“Fooled around, oh yes, that makes sense.”

“What do you want a play by play?” You snap.

“No, but a little indication of how much pressure I’m going to need to use to help work out the kinks in your back would help.” Getting up he goes down to the foot of the bed. “Brace yourself.” He winks.

“Wh-Wha…AHHHHHH!!!” You scream when he grabs your ankles and yanks you down till your flat on your back. “Shit!!! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” You groan.

“That is for fooling around twice yesterday. I admit I shouldn’t have fucked you until your back was better, but you missy, what the hell were you thinking?! A second round when your back is so fucked up you can barely move on your own…are you crazy?!”

Not saying a word you do the only thing your body will allow you to do, flip him the bird.

“That’s mature of you.”

“And yanking me down like that is mature?!”

Now next to you, Jeno motions with his finger for you to turn onto your stomach.

“I can’t,” you whimper.

“Don’t make me flip you over. I won’t be gentle.” Groaning you flip yourself over in one breath. “See you could do it,” he gives your ass a light slap.

“Remind me to kick your ass when I’m feeling better.”

“I’ll be counting the days until you’re better.”

Crawling onto the bed and on top of you, Jeno straddles your hip. Sitting just below your bottom he pushes your loose fitted shirt up to your shoulders. Blowing on his fingers so that they’re not icy he starts to rub over your aching muscles.

A long moan moves past your lips as Jeno works his magic. “Fuck why do you have to be so god at this?”

Chuckling Jeno rubs over your lower back where most of the pain lies. “This is part of my job, you know. I should be good at it.”

“If you keep this up players may get hurt on purpose.”

Sliding his hands up your spine you melt into his touch. His hands curve around your shoulders giving them a little massage before slowly moving his way back down to right above your tailbone.

“Matthew invited me to stay for dinner tonight.”

“Oh?” You peek back to see a strange look on his face. “Matthew’s a wonderful cook. I don’t know what he’s planning on making but I’m sure you’ll love it.”

“He wants to talk to me about you and him.”

“I see…” Jeno’s hands still which causes you to look back again to see him looking down a darkness shrouding his face. “Jeno…” you whisper.

“What happened last night after I left?”

“What?”

“Why does your husband want to talk to me about his problems fucking his wife?”

“Wait…what?!”

“You said that the two of you fooled around, right?”

“Yeah…but I don’t understand how that has anything to do with what you just said.”

“What did he do to you? Why are you in your bedroom and not the guest room?”

“Jeno…please…”

“Tell me!” He shouts. “I need to know why I’m going to have to give your husband advice about how to fuck the person I’m trying so hard not to fuck right now! Why does he want to talk to me? I know I agreed to this arrangement but that’s because it was just for you, because I —” sighing he slides off of you. “Did he fuck you last night?”

Struggling to get to your knees you manage to sit up enough to crawl back to your pillows to rest your back. “If you’re asking me if his penis went inside of me, yes. If you’re asking me if he fucked me like you did, the answer is no.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Matthew…” you sigh. “He’s going through something, like I said. Last night, hell, I should thank you for last night.”

“Please don’t.”

“Come here,” you tap his shoulder with your foot. Glancing up and back he sees your arms opened wide for him. “Come here, Jeno.”

Rolling his eyes he scoffs. “I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need to be coddled like a child.”

“A woman has her arms open for you and you deny laying against her. Wow…”

“If it’s for pity then hell yeah I won’t go into your arms!”

“It’s not for pity. It’s for comfort. Something is bothering you. Jeno, as much as you helped me and were there for me, I want to be there for you.”

“I gave you a nice fuck that was it. I hardly think that constitutes as helping you and being there for you.”

“JENO!” You shout startling him. “Either get your pouting behind up here or leave now!”

Shocked his eyes dart across your face. Defeated he plops down on top of you. His arms encircling your waist while his head rests on your chest.

“I do need to thank you. Yesterday,” you giggle. “Yesterday you made me feel like I was someone to be desired. That I wasn’t made of glass. Matthew treats me with kid gloves but you,” your hand runs through his hair. “You treated me how I’ve always dreamed Matthew would treat me. To just fuck the shit out of me!”

“Damn you have issues don’t you?” Jeno chuckles, glancing up at you.

“Yes, I do.” You say bluntly.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“I do have issues. What I want and desire go against what my husband finds suitable. However, last night after you left, something changed in Matthew’s demeanor. He looked at me like a husband who wanted to dive into the depths of lust and desire. For once in our whole marriage I thought this is it! This is what I’ve been waiting for.”

“So he did fuck you…”

“Yes, and no. It was only when he was going to come did he enter me. And even then,” you groan. “He didn’t finish inside of me. He never does.”

“And that’s a problem?”

“Yes and no. When you came inside of me,” you start to feel your face getting warm. “I don’t know there was something very intimate about the act that I loved. I just wish Matthew understood how I feel about it.”

“Are you not going to tell me what happened? I mean who knows,” Jeno kisses your neck tenderly. “Maybe we can give it a shot too.”

“I was on top of him grinding against him. That’s it.”

Pulling away from you Jeno’s gaze goes from shocked to furious. “Well no shit your back is killing you! Are you crazy?! I tried my damndest to make sure your back wasn’t going to strain too much and here you are sputtering on top of your husband like a crazy person!”

“It was in the heat of the moment!”

“Heat of the moment my ass! That’s it, on your stomach! Now I’ve got to try to work out all of your stupid mistakes and then some!”

“Come on we were having a nice moment…”

“On your stomach now!!!”

“WHY?!!!!!!”

“Je-Jeno…” your breath hitches as his fingers ghost over your inner thighs.

“Hush, I’m working.”

“Are you?” You hold back a moan.

“This is a full body massage. You acted stupid and reckless so now we’re going through preventative measures.”

“And your hands between my thighs are for what reason?”

“Did I not speak clearly when I said full body massage?”

Squeezing tightly at your quadriceps, Jeno moves his hands up over your pelvic bones and back down to your thighs. Now laying in your back after an eon of Jeno tortuously working out the severe kinks in your back he decided to give you a full body massage. Sort of a sorry for breaking you even more than you were already broken. However, every time he slides his hands up and down your thighs, his ring and pinky fingers ghost between your legs — ever so close to your core.

“You know you really didn’t need to give me a full body massage. I was fine after the back massage. This is a little much…” you squeak feeling his pinky finger graze your outer folds. “JENO!”

Licking his lips Jeno looks down at you innocently. “What is it?”

“You know exactly what! You’re trying to touch me!”

“Sweetheart if I was going to touch you I would have already. Like I said this is a full body massage and I want to be as thorough as possible.”

“Thorough my ass…”

With one quick glance to see your gaze is off to the side Jeno slips his hands between your legs gripping your inner thighs.

“Jeno!!!!”

“I need to massage your inner thighs too. Geez you’re jumpy.” He tsks.

“I’m not…you’re doing this on purpose!” You gulp feeling your body become warmer the longer this massage progresses.

“Doing what on purpose?”

“Damn it, Jeno!”

Sliding his hands out from between your legs, he looms over you, his arms holding his body up. Lowering himself to where his breath cascades over your face he chuckles. “I promise nothing is going to happen unless you want it to happen. Yesterday,” he lowers himself more, the heat from his body mixing with yours. “Yesterday we were caught up in our emotions. Today, well, I don’t want to break you.”

“Break me? How in the hell do you think you’ll break me?”

“Yesterday was a taste of what’s to come in the future,” leaning on one arm, Jeno’s other hand travels down your body gently until he cups your core. Your breath hitches as his eyes darken. “So do both me and your husband a favor and get better soon. Mostly for me though,” bending down he snags your lower lip between his teeth.

“Ahhhh!!!! Jeno!!”

“What?” He pulls back smiling sweetly.

Your pelvis raises to meet his hand. Adding some pressure that you desperately needed to feel. “Help me…”

“Which way do you prefer?” He places a kiss on your lips. “Mouth,” he licks your lips. “Or fingers?”

“Mouth!!” You gasp when he rubs over your pulsing nub over top your pajama shorts.

“Excellent choice,” he growls before pulling away from you.

“J-Just this…o-okay? Nothing more!” You try to lay some ground rules.

Settling between your legs, Jeno makes himself comfortable. “Of course. I wouldn’t think of doing more.”

“Jeno…” you whisper.

“Yes?”

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

The room becomes quiet as the two of you stare into each other's eyes. Reaching up, Jeno grabs the waistband of your shorts as well as your underwear and yanks them down your legs until you can pull one leg out. Leaving the other leg entangled with your clothing, he pushes your right leg open to give him access to your soaking cunt.

“Enough with those questions. If and when I have a problem with things you’ll be the first to know.”

Gripping onto the bed sheets for what’s about to come you brace yourself. But what happens next shocks you…

Leaning in, Jeno kisses over your mound gently. His lips barely touching you. Feeling as if a feather was lightly brushing against your skin. Taking his time to leave no area untouched you find this soft and sweet side very arousing and shocking.

Not that you’re complaining but Jeno has an air about him that when he looks at you all you want to do is spread your legs and have him fuck the daylights out of you. To have him kissing your soaking outer folds with such tenderness is unexpected, but extremely enjoyable!

Looking up with a look in his eyes you haven’t seen yet, he spreads open your folds giving your clit a little smooch as well. Jerking slightly he continues his sweet actions until every part of your pussy has been shown some form of affection.

“Jeno~~~” you moan gently.

Smiling lightly at the sound of you saying his name, he sticks out his tongue and licks a stripe from your entrance to your clit.

“Ahhh~~~ yes!!!”

Wrapping his lips around your overly sensitive bundle of nerves he suckles on your clit like a newborn babe — giving himself a break to breathe every now and then he doesn’t stop pleasuring you. He sucks, licks, and lapse all of your juices that seep from you.

Your body coming alive as a particular swipe of his tongue at your entrance has your slick pouring out of you, Jeno does a good job of cleaning you up.

“You taste amazing,” he compliments with a loud slurp of your juices. “I should have done this yesterday!”

“My pussy is yours anytime you want it,” you say deliriously.

Peering up and seeing the rise and fall of your chest and your already fucked out expressions, Jeno lowers himself back to your pussy. “I wouldn’t say that if I were you…” He warns.

Wrapping his arms around your thighs, he pulls you down closer to his mouth. Diving into your pussy with more vigor, he has your back arching in mere seconds. Gripping onto his hair you keep him right where you want him. His lips smooching your clit, his tongue flicking quickly over your bud driving you closer to the edge.

Hips starting to grind against his face, he swiftly pushes down on your pelvic bones. “Don’t strain your back,” he pops up between your legs — face flustered pink, lips swollen, with your slick all over his lips and chin.

“Your mouth feels too good. I can’t help it.” You whimper.

“When you’re better you can ride my face, okay? But for now,” he dives back down giving your pussy — entrance to clit, a long hard lick, “keep your back flat and your hips down,” he kisses your inner thigh.

“Fine…” you grumble.

“Good girl,” he whispers.

The moment Jeno whispers ‘good girl’ your body engulfs in flames. From your toes to the top of your head your body tingles with something you’ve never felt before. How could two simple words cause you to react in such a way.

Now, the slightest touch from him has you moaning loudly. A mere flick of his tongue has your body sliding down closer to his mouth. Your breath choppy as you try to breathe. The air not making it quite to your lungs before another moan escapes you. Heart pounding in your chest and ears your stomach starts to churn. Heat pooling to your core, your hand flails to Jeno’s hair gripping on it tightly.

“Don’t you fucking stop, Jeno.” You groan.

Sucking on your clit harder, groan after groan comes from you. Wanting to twist and turn, to grind against his lips, to do something to quicken things to reach your climax you do the only thing you can do — fist the bed sheets until you can’t feel your fingers.

“Fuck! Yes! Yes!!!” You thrash your arms down onto the bed. “Faster!!! Please!!! Faster!!!”

Keeping his tongue out, Jeno bobs his head up and down while his tongue skates over your clit and entrance. Holding your folds wide open he slurps and soaks every inch of your pussy. Your body starts to tremble as the swiftness of his tongue starts to send you over.

Legs starting to enclose around him your eyes roll to the back of your head.

“Sh-Sh-Shit!!!!” You screech. “Ahhh fuck!!!!”

Pulling back from you, Jeno hastily rubs his fingers over your clit.

“Fuck!!! Yes!!! Yes!!!”

A burst of liquid comes from you in a stream. Doing his best, Jeno bends down taking your squirt into his mouth. Clamping his mouth over your pussy, your juices have no other place to go but down his throat. Drinking you up, he takes every last bit of your essence.

Body twitching and sensitive, Jeno lapse up some of your squirt that dropped from the corners of his mouth. Using his tongue he makes sure that you’re as clean as can be before coming up to you for a kiss.

“Thanks for that,” he smirks against your lips. “Was a little thirsty there.”

“Tha-That was…amazing!!!” You wrap your legs around his waist. “Fuck, Jeno!”

Crashing his lips onto yours, you clean up the mess you made. Relishing in the taste of your essence, your eyes for a second time roll back into your head. But not before you lick over his neck to get the remnants of your slick.

“Now I can’t wait till I’m better!” You sigh. Your head falling back against the bed.

Laying his body on top of yours, you wrap your arms around Jeno securely. “Why?”

“If you made me come that much when I wasn’t able to do anything, imagine when I’m better and can ride your face!” You squeal.

Busting out in laughter Jeno buries his face in the crook of your neck. “You want to drown me don’t you?”

“Never!!! But I am certified in CPR if anything happens.” You giggle hugging him tightly.

✞ＴＥＮＳＩＯＮＲＥＬＥＡＳＥ✞

“Sweetheart! Jeno!!!” Matthew shouts as he walks through the door. Body drenched in sweat with a pizza and a small bag in hand.

“She’s upstairs taking a nap,” Jeno raises a finger to his lips coming down the stairs as quietly as possible. “She passed out after the massage.”

“Well, we’ll have to save some pizza for her then.” He holds up the box. “I also picked up some soda on the way home.”

“Oh wow a pizza!!!”

“Didn’t know what you liked so I just got pepperoni and some Cola.”

“Perfect, let’s eat!”

Heading to the kitchen, Jeno offers to carry the pizza and the sodas. Setting them down at the table he glances over at Matthew who cools himself off with some cold water from the sink. The atmosphere light and less awkward then this morning.

“Was she really tight today?” Matthew asks taking a seat at the table.

“Yeah, her lower back had a lot of tough knots but I think the pain meds and the massage will take away any discomfort.”

“It was my fault. After our conversation I got ahead of myself when I should have just let her rest.” Matthew states popping open a can of cola and sliding it to Jeno.

“Thanks,” Jeno takes a sip. “Exactly what was it about our conversation that led you to do whatever it was.” Curiosity getting the best of him, Jeno leans forward. “What exactly happened, if you don’t mind me asking.”

His face turning a bright pink, Matthew pops open his can of soda chugging a good amount down. “Uhhh, well, we kind of…we-we didn’t do it do it, but we did other things.” He fidgets in his seat.

“Wait, you guys didn’t fuck? Why not?” Jeno chuckles trying to keep the mood light, however inside his stomach churns in an uncomfortable manner.

“You can’t expect me to fu…I mean have intercourse with my wife when she’s in pain!!!”

“I mean missionary’s always an option. It’s okay but not my favorite. Why not go with that?”

“Missionary?” Matthew peeks up from looking at his soda.

“You know when the girls on her back and the guys in between her legs. The typical position. Now me,” he leans in smirking. “While missionary is great, there’s something about the woman on top, or taking her from behind.” Jeno wiggles his brows.

Opening up the box of pizza Matthew takes out a slice and urges Jeno to start eating as well. “From behind…” he whispers. “An-And women like this?”

Munching on the slice of pizza Jeno shrugs. “Depends,” he takes a swig of soda. “Every woman is different. What does…oh shit…maybe I shouldn’t ask…” he laughs.

“Ask what?”

“I was just about to ask what your wife likes in bed.”

“I…I ummm…I know she likes oral,” his face brightens more. “Sort of found that out last night.” Realizing what he just said Matthew sits up straight. “DON’T TELL HER I TOLD YOU!”

“Anything we talk about is safe between us. I won’t say anything. I swear.” Seeing Matthew settle back down Jeno asks in a whisper, “so, she liked you eating her out?”

“A LOT!! I always wanted to try it but…it just felt…dirty, you know?”

“Nope.” Jeno chuckles. “Sex is a part of life. There are moments where it’s sweet and loving or passionate and aggressive and other times where it’s just downright nasty, but even in those moments it’s about the connection. Whether it’s with a lifelong partner or a one night stand. Two souls, two bodies connected for a brief time…That’s what I love about it.”

“How many people have you been with?”

“Three,” Jeno sighs. “Kind of lame when you think about it. My first time was when I was fourteen. She was a year older and I wanted to seem mature and it lasted all of thirty seconds I think. It was fucking embarrassing! So, when I did it for the second time, a different girl, I basically trained like I was aiming for the Olympics.

“Figured out how to last longer and just realized that even if I came that doesn’t mean it was over. I always make sure that my ladies are thoroughly satisfied. If it takes multiple rounds, so be it. I just want both of us to feel fulfilled by the end of it.”

“And the third person?” Matthew asks. “I’m sure you’ve learned to master things by then.”

Clearing his throat, Jeno averts his gaze. “The third woman,” he says softly. “She was someone I didn’t really know. Someone I had heard about through an acquaintance. But the stories they told and how well a picture they painted of her, man…when I finally met her I couldn’t believe my eyes.

“An absolute beauty. I fucked up in the beginning — said something I shouldn’t, but she was very kind and understanding. She made me feel…seen…you know?” Shaking his head Jeno exhales deeply pushing his can of soda away from him. “Well, anyway, I wish things turned out different but when we did have sex,” he snickers. “It was fucking amazing! The best I ever had. Of course it was…Her heart wasn’t available…”

“You guys broke up?”

“We were never together. She was…is…in love with someone else.”

“I’m sorry Jeno…I know there is someone out there for you. I mean look at me. I never would have thought I’d have such a beautiful wife but here I am!” Reaching over the table Matthew touches Jeno’s hand giving him a reassuring smile. “Just have faith and hang in there.”

Pretending to be embarrassed Jeno looks down and away. “Thanks…anyway…back to the subject at hand. So it seems like you took some of my advice about letting loose. Think you’ll do it again?”

“ABSOLUTELY!” Matthew beams. “Maybe not now though. I don’t want her to get hurt.”

“Yes, please try to keep the fooling around to a minimum.” Jeno laughs holding up his hands. “I think I might get carpal tunnel if the two of you do anything else.”

For the rest of the evening Jeno stayed and talked to Matthew. Strangely having quite a nice time. Matthew, despite being a man of God, was a pretty down to earth person. And yet, as he walks away from your home a darkness seems to surround him. Did he fuck things up for himself and you before the two of you truly experienced each other? Or is Matthew all bark and no bite?

Sighing and shaking his head Jeno takes one look up at your bedroom before sliding his hands into his pants pockets. “As much as it was nice talking to you Matthew,” he whispers to himself. “There’s no way in hell I’m going to walk away after today…”

With a roll of his eyes Jeno disappears into the night.

TO BE CONTINUED…

✞ tag list ✞ if i forgot you or if you want to be added just let me know right here and i’ll add you. thanks and see you in the next part! @raquelvsblog @sfsrm-blog @matchahyuck @kikiisda1 @cheyehc

#jeno lee #lee jeno #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #jeno lee smut #nct smut #nct fanific #nct dream smut #nct dream fanfic #jeno fanfic #jeno smut fanfic #kpop fanfic #kpop smut

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deepspacedukat · 9 months ago

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The Only One - Part 7: Immoral Comfort

Welp...Part 7, here we are. This is the part I started way before I even wrote Part 1, because I was in a Mood™. I originally thought this was going to be a 3 part story, but it looks like it's gonna be something closer to 12. Tbh, I didn't expect anyone to be interested in this fic because it was such a niche, back-of-the-brain thought. So, thank you to everyone who's made it this far with me and taken the time to leave comments!

I know it's been forever since I updated this, but I hope there are at least a few people who are still interested. I had a very specific way that I wanted things to happen in this chapter and I was being a little too picky about the details, so my apologies for the delay! If you want to be added to or removed from my taglist, please let me know!

*Dominionese language pulled from @dominionese-resource and their Dominionese dictionary. If you want me to clarify where I got certain words or phrases, or how I tried (clumsily) to piece them together myself, please feel free to ask. I probably conjugated a few verbs incorrectly or structured things wrong in places, but I tried. Also, the signature mentioned was based off this post on their blog.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Weyoun (ST:DS9) x Reader

[A/N: This has smut, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Interspecies sex, Vorta/Human sex, fingering, jealous Dukat, drunkenness, romantic Weyoun, telepathic/empathic connection, mild existential crisis, crying, sorta hurt/comfort? but mostly just stress/comfort, spoilers for S6E4 "Behind the Lines."

~*~

Nearly a month passed from that long, odd day when I met Keevan and his men. I hated having to conceal part of my motives from Weyoun, but I didn’t have much of a choice. There was no way in hell I’d sit idly by while the Changelings took over my home. Major Kira, Odo, and a few others had begun a small resistance cell aboard the station, and so that they wouldn’t jeopardize my mission or I theirs, Kira had ordered me not to attend meetings. I was to keep my ears open and report to her as usual. She was allowing me to help but only in minor ways. Yes, it was important to cause chaos for the Dominion while they were occupying the station, but a position of influence and confidence like I currently held was insanely important for the intelligence gathering task that Starfleet had given me. Hell, I didn’t even know who all the members were.

That was definitely for the best. With the intimacy of the connection that Weyoun and I shared, my lack of knowledge kept myself and the rest of the resistance members safe. I’d have to be content helping in my own little way. Thus far, Dukat trusted me almost as much as Weyoun did, and Damar was slowly coming around to the belief that I wasn’t his enemy. All I had to do now was keep it up and find a way to contact Starfleet Command. Discreetly.

Seated beside each other one evening, Weyoun and I worked on our respective reports. I wasn’t particularly curious about the file he was reading until he picked up a stylus and wrote something. It was an odd group of symbols and marks that I’d never seen before. Without much thought about how rude it probably was, I tilted my head and watched how fluidly his fingers drew the stylus across the data PADD.

“What is that?” I asked quietly, and Weyoun gave me a perplexed look.

“A report about troop movements...?”

“Oh, not the report, I mean this,” I said pointing to the symbols he’d drawn out beneath the final paragraph. A look of understanding washed over him, and he gave me a small smile.

“That is my signature,” he answered simply, and I felt my eyes widen. “Have you not seen Dominionese written out before?”

“I’ve barely heard Dominionese, much less seen it. Is that really your name?” I asked unable to keep the wonder from my voice. I examined the markings a bit more carefully, wondering what each meant in order to form a name as precious as his.

Weyoun set the data PADD aside, picked up an empty one, and wrote the symbols a little neater this time. I watched the way his stylus glided over the PADD’s surface in practiced, fluid movements. When he was finished, he tilted the screen toward me to show me his handiwork, and I couldn’t stop a smile from splitting my lips. The more I looked at the symbols, the harder it became to shake the feeling that I’d seen something like them before.

The pendant! I pulled it out from beneath the collar of my uniform and sure enough, the symbols were similar. The engravings were in Dominionese.

“Weyoun, the pendant you gave me...what does it say?”

“Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to teach you to read it yourself?” He asked with a twinkle in his eyes, and I felt myself perk up at the implication.

“Would you? I-I mean, are you willing to teach me? I know you’re busy with the station and the war, so I understand if you don’t have the time–” He cut me off with a quick kiss and set the PADD aside as he took my hands in his.

“My dear, I would be honored to teach you the language of your people,” Weyoun murmured. “I’m sure you’ll take to it quite easily. You’ve always been a fast learner, at least from what I’ve seen.”

‘My people.’ Both of us knew they weren’t anything of the sort after what they’d done, but I still appreciated his sentiment. Besides, the hope that he held about a potential reconciliation between myself and the Changelings, while utterly futile, was also incredibly sweet. After all that he'd been through, the fact that he still had hope was just a testament to the strength that the Founders chose not to see in their Vorta followers.

Giving his hands a gentle squeeze, I looked up at the gorgeous purple-eyed being on my sofa. How in the stars did I get so lucky?

Purple blush spread quickly across his cheeks, and Weyoun let out a shy little laugh. Right, the feelings. It had become more natural over the duration of our relationship for us to share our emotions through the strange telepathic connection we'd been granted, but there were still moments where it caught one or both of us off guard.

"As much as I wish I could keep you all to myself tonight and demonstrate exactly how much I adore you, didn't you say you were meeting a friend tonight?" His question pulled me from my reverie, and I blinked in comprehension.

“Computer, what time is it?”

“The time is eighteen-thirty hours,” it responded, and I got to my feet. Shit, he was right, and I was going to be late at this rate.

“Meeting Damar again?” Weyoun asked as he stood, too, and grasped my waist lightly. When I nodded my head, he gave me a gentle smile. “I’m so glad you’re making more friends. I know you were already acquainted with some of the Bajoran officers, but knowing that Keevan and Damar along with some of their officers have become close to you...I’m overjoyed! To tell you the truth, I thought you might feel isolated here given the personnel changes. I-I thought...you might regret staying.”

Shrugging my shoulders, I wrapped my arms around the Vorta’s neck.

“Well, I still feel a little out of place at times, but there are a few people here who’ve been kind to me," I murmured placing a gentle kiss on the tip of his nose. "For the record, you make staying here worth it. As long as I have you, I won't regret leaving Starfleet."

I knew this was only temporary - that as soon as the Federation regained control of the station I'd be back to being a Starfleet officer - but I was going to make the most of this while I could. Sure, I still had my mission and a very important job to do, but I wasn't about to waste my opportunity to soak in Weyoun's presence while I could.

A beautiful, joyful smile stretched his lips, and he pressed his forehead lightly against mine.

"Good, because running this station and protecting Bajor for the Dominion...it would be mind-numbingly dull without you, my dear." That brought a smile to my own lips, but probably for different reasons than he would've anticipated. The Founders would likely have blown a gasket hearing that one of their Vorta toys was bored with the job they'd been created to perform. If that wasn't proof that the Vorta were capable of being so much more than the Changelings thought, I didn't know what was. "Don't be late, now. I'll be here when you get back."

I nodded my head quietly and gave him a tender, parting kiss before making my way toward Quark's.

The Bajoran station was humming with the partially-exhausted crowds that naturally accompanied the end of a shift. Used to the tired throng of people either going for a meal or heading back to their quarters, I used a few of the back corridors - less-traveled areas, of course - to make up some time.

Rather quickly, I found myself slipping into the doorway to the Ferengi's bar and zeroing in on the seat that was held for me out of habit by Dukat's right hand man. Without preamble, I plopped myself on the padded stool and gave a polite nod to the Cardassian in question.

"I was wondering when you'd get here. Usually you're early," Damar said as he brought his glass of kanar to his lips. He seemed in unusually high spirits tonight. Either something minor and gossip-worthy had happened, or I should be very concerned about the state of the war.

"There was a lot of foot traffic tonight. Apparently everyone decided this was the night to be in my way," I said with a dismissive giggle. Quark caught my eye and nodded in acknowledgement. "You look like the cat that got the cream, Glinn. What's got you in such a good mood?"

The Ferengi bartender set my drink in front of me with a wink - I knew for a fact that he flirted with all the patrons who wouldn't kill him in the hopes that he'd get a bigger tip - but before he could leave, Damar's hand landed on his forearm.

"Anything the Lieutenant drinks tonight is on me. This is a celebration," the Glinn said with a smug smirk. Looking at him in surprise, I lifted my glass of kanar in salute.

"Why, thank you, Glinn. If I may ask, what's the occasion?" He tapped his glass against mine, and after we both took a generous swallow - clearly not his first of such this evening - he turned to face me on his stool.

"My impending promotion!" He said puffing up his armor-covered chest.

Uh oh.

"Wait a minute," Quark cut in as he polished a glass, "you started a fight in my bar and they're making you a Gul? What kind of way is that to run an army?"

Weyoun had mentioned the fight only a couple of days before. Apparently, it had been between Cardassian officers and Jem'Hadar soldiers. Quark's concern was completely valid. How the hell did that track?

"Dukat wasn't happy about what happened," Damar started refilling his glass and topping mine off, even though I'd only taken a single sip. "I had to find a way to make it up to him."

"I hope it was something big," Quark chimed in.

"Must've been a hell of a blowjob," I teased, and the tipsy Cardassian let out a raucous laugh.

"Nothing so personal. Let's just say it will change the course of history," he said before draining his glass once more. Quark's eyes met mine. This reeked of trouble.

"As a businessman," the Ferengi started, refilling the Glinn's glass himself, "I'm very interested in the course of history. This one's on me."

Damar accepted the drink with a nod and a raised glass.

"That's very kind of you, Quark, but I can't talk about it." Down the hatch went that drink, and I sipped slowly at mine as I formed a plan. Quark looked over at me, and sighed as he grabbed a third glass.

"Of course, I understand. Have another," he offered, refilling Damar's drink, topping up mine, and pouring one for himself. I'd never imbibed heavily before, but there was a first time for everything.

Making our way to Kira's quarters while intoxicated was more difficult that I'd anticipated. Not only did I have to keep myself upright, but I had to try and steady Quark as well. The dirty bastard's hand roamed several times, but a threat to remove them at the wrist seemed to sober him up just enough for him to process how bad of an idea it had been.

We were practically dragged into the Major's quarters when we got there, having seemingly stumbled our way into a meeting of her resistance group. So much for me not knowing who was involved. She'd clearly bet on the probability of me forgetting the night's events by the morning, otherwise she wouldn't have let me in at all.

After several rambling attempts at conversation, Quark got a little agitated, and Kira tried to drag him back on course.

"How can I relax when there are thousands of Jem'Hadar ships are sitting on the other side of the wormhole, waiting to come through?" He slurred, and Jake shook his head, trying to placate him.

"Don't worry about it. They're stuck there." He sounded so confident - so naïvely certain.

"Noooo, Jake. They're coming," I said, clutching at his arm as if I could make the young man understand. "If Damar was telling the truth, they'll be able to get through soon."

"What are you talking about?" Kira asked, and together we managed a somewhat intelligible, if slurred, explanation of what happened. Odo and Kira shared a look, and I was ordered to head back to my quarters.

How I got back, though, was a mystery to everyone, myself included. All I recalled the next morning was the vague impression of Weyoun helping me into clean clothes and letting me cuddle him until I fell asleep.

I really hoped that I'd dreamed saying how pretty he was so many times. He deserved to know he was handsome, but I didn't exactly want to sound like such a moron when conveying that to him.

Gentle lips against my cheek brought me back to consciousness in the morning, and I burrowed farther into my lover's embrace. My head ached and everything felt dry and scratchy and too loud.

No wonder I heard so many people warning about how strong kanar was. If this is how it felt the morning after, I was quite happy never to taste that syrupy shit again.

"Come, my love. It's time to get up," Weyoun crooned in a gentle, careful whisper. An involuntary groan escaped me, and he ran his fingers softly through my hair. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. I have something that'll help, though."

"I don't think even your gorgeous cock can fix this," I rasped as I forced myself to sit up - an utterly monumental task in that state.

"As honored as I am that you view me as a potential cure to many ailments, I was talking about this," he said reaching for a hypospray sitting on the bedside table. "It'll take away the majority of your symptoms."

I tried to nod my head, but it just ended with me wincing and lying back down. A quiet hiss sounded against my upper arm, and a few moments later, the pain melted away as if Weyoun's fingers trailing over my scalp had behaved like a poultice, absorbing the Evil Hangover straight from the source.

Featherlight kisses landed on my closed eyelids, and I let out a quiet sigh of relief at the sensation.

"I take it you and Damar had fun last night?" He teased, and I groaned.

"For your own health, never ever try to match drinks with a Cardassian soldier." I cautioned, but before I could say more, the comm system chimed.

"Dukat to Weyoun. There is an urgent meeting in thirty minutes. Bring the Lieutenant with you. She'll want to be a part of this." He didn't wait for a response, simply stated the message and cut the line.

A long-suffering sigh escaped my lover's lips, and he fixed me with a stare. Those soft, warm purple eyes of his filled with a playful sort of calculating stare. He then picked up a glass of water and gave me a wink.

"Computer, deactivate Universal Translator in this room," he ordered, and my eyebrows shot upward. The acknowledging chirp from the computer stirred my curiosity. Holding the glass of water between us, he pointed at it and murmured a single word. "Na."

I blinked, and he, noticing my blankness, smiled and repeated the word before gesturing a hand at me. I repeated the word, still mildly confused, but it pleased him, and just like that something clicked.

Apparently, this was my first lesson in how to speak Dominionese. My pronunciation had been right on the money, but I didn't know if he meant the cup itself, or what was in the cup.

"Na?" Reaching forward, I tapped the glass as I asked, then I dipped a fingertip into the liquid, "or is this na?"

A look of comprehension flickered across his face, and he touched the liquid as I had, repeating the word confidently. He had me say it once or twice more, and offered me the glass with a cheerful little kiss on the forehead.

As we dressed for our meeting with Dukat, Weyoun tapped items of clothing and various objects around the room, giving me their names in his language and having me repeat them until my pronunciation was satisfactory. By the time that the translator came back online, I couldn't help but feel proud that I'd absorbed so much while recovering from a hangover.

The Changeling standing in the wardroom sent a bolt of anxiety rocketing through me. Why was a Founder here? Wasn't it enough for the Vorta to keep their people informed? Odo stood at her side, looking confused, a little suspicious, and...was he happy? I supposed that he must be. After all, he wasn't the one who'd been exiled from ever returning to their homeworld. The slightly guarded yet curious glances he threw her way said more than words ever could.

How long had she been on the station? How deeply into him had she sunk her claws?

I had my answer when I glanced at the table and noted that Major Kira was conspicuously absent. For the safety of the resistance and the Federation's future, I had to assume that Odo had been compromised.

"Founder, it is an honor," Weyoun said sinking into a low bow at my side. His hand still rested squarely in mine, but I didn't copy his actions. Lifting my chin in defiance, I merely looked at her as her hawk-like eyes watched us - or rather, me. She didn't seem to even notice Weyoun, choosing instead to stare at me.

"We meet again, child of Meris," she said, but I just lifted an eyebrow. What sort of response could I possibly give after she banished me? I'd chosen Weyoun over my people - a decision I could never regret - but I had no intention of discussing my logic with one so cruel that she could not comprehend that what she'd almost done was wrong in the extreme. "Have you nothing to say to your kin?"

Glancing around the room in faux contemplation, I shook my head blankly.

"I see no kin here. Besides, the last time we spoke, you made your opinion on my existence quite clear." I was proud of how calm and logical I sounded despite the anger boiling within me.

"Perhaps our opinions of you have changed," she said taking a few steps toward me. Looking away from her, I spotted Dukat and was, for once, grateful for his presence.

"What did you call us here for, Gul?" The smirk that met my inquiry sent a shiver down my spine. "I trust it wasn't just for this...reunion?"

"Come, Lieutenant. Have a seat by me. We have a breakthrough to discuss," he called, and I did as he suggested. Pulling Weyoun gently along, I ensured that the Founder wasn't given the chance to sit on either side of me. All the meeting gave me were specifics on the plan to remove the minefield. Nearly everything Dukat and Damar said were things I'd heard from the latter the night before, and I forced myself to act surprised.

I caught Damar looking at me a few times, doubtless trying determine how much he'd said the night before and how much I remembered. When I gave him an innocent smile and acted engrossed in Dukat's speech as if it was all new, he seemed to relax.

Very well. Let the drunkard believe that he'd averted a crisis. The more his people underestimated their opposition, the easier it would be to catch them off their guard.

"You will keep me informed," the Founder said rising to her feet as if she was a queen. Without waiting for an answer from Gul Dukat, she turned to Odo. "Come. I wish to speak with you alone."

I expected him to toss out an abrasive comment, but instead, he followed her like an obedient puppy.

What the hell was going on?

Before I could say a word to Weyoun, though, the Founder tossed a glance over her shoulder.

"Come, Weyoun. We require your service," she called not waiting for an answer as she swept out of the room. He gave me an apologetic kiss on the cheek before rushing after the pair of Changelings, and then I was left alone with the two Cardassians.

"Well, well, that wasn't exactly what I was expecting," Dukat murmured, and I let out a heavy sigh. I still had the edge of a headache from this morning's hangover. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back against the headrest of my seat. "Oh dear. You do seem stressed."

It was all I could do to keep my eyelids from snapping open when one of his large hands rested on my thigh, squeezing the muscles there in what I guessed was supposed to be a soothing gesture. I hummed low in my throat - the sound's meaning was one that I let him interpret on his own.

"Did I wear you out last night?" Damar asked with a huff of laughter, and Dukat let out a scandalized gasp. I could imagine just how wide his eyes had grown as he looked between his officer and me.

"Don't tell me you were with another Cardassian!" He sounded sufficiently playful, but still just jealous enough to bring a smile to my lips. Good. I had him hook, line, and sinker.

"Only for a drink," I replied, and Damar took that as his cue to leave. The door hissed closed, leaving me truly alone with Dukat. Why shouldn't I use this as an opportunity to deepen his trust in me?

"No wonder you look so tired," Dukat murmured sounding much closer than before. His other hand touched my forehead and his lips met my cheek. "Poor girl. I can massage that headache away if you like...?"

Letting out a harsh, skeptical laugh, I finally opened my eyes and tilted my head to face him.

"And trust your hands not to wander? Forgive me, Gul, but I've heard stories of your dalliances during the Occupation–"

"Are you truly telling me that after all we've been through over the years, you wouldn't enjoy a little...dalliance of our own? Especially considering that your pretty little Vorta toy will likely be busy serving the Founder's wishes while she's aboard. We wouldn't want you to grow lonely, would we? I could keep you entertained," he challenged as he skimmed his fingertips down the side of my face. After seeing the Founder in the flesh and how unquestioningly obedient Weyoun was to her, suddenly Dukat didn't seem so bad.

Relativity, indeed. Tilting my head, I skimmed my lips ever-so-lightly over the palm of his hand and looked up at him - a nice touch, if I do say so myself.

"You wish," I breathed, and a devilish smirk stretched his lips. Oh, I was playing with fire.

"Would such a wish really be so surprising?" The Gul's voice was low and intimate - soft, as though he thought that was what I needed.

I did. I needed gentleness quite badly. Just not from him.

"Coming from you? Not in the slightest." I put as much condescension in my tone as I dared, hoping he'd take it as a clumsy attempt at Cardassian-style flirting. A raspy chuckle vibrated deep in his throat, prompting me to get to my feet.

"You're not leaving so soon, are you?"

"I should. After all, Weyoun–"

"–will be busy with the female Founder and Odo for quite some time. You are free to do as you wish," he argued, but I shook my head quietly.

"I have duties."

"You don't. I took the liberty of having Major Kira clear your schedule for the day." I froze, and obviously didn't hide my surprise well, because he continued in a more amused tone. "Initially, I believed that you'd want the time for a family reunion, but given your reaction to your long-lost relation, you could use the time for something more...enjoyable. Improving interstellar relations between Bajor and Cardassia, perhaps...?"

He stood and moved in front of me, tilting my chin up so that eyes met his.

"There's no need to be coy," he whispered. "Obviously, we both want this..."

"You want me?" I asked, attempting to sound as innocent as I could while my hand slid up to his neck ridge. He practically moaned out a 'yes,' and I grabbed the section of his ridge that Kira had taught me was a weak point for Cardassians. Dukat let out a pained hiss, but the delighted smirk on his face spoke more of arousal than discomfort. "Then work for it. I'm not one of your comfort women from the previous occupation. If you want me, then you need to earn the privilege. Understood?"

"Oh yes, Lieutenant." Though strained, he still managed to sound flirtatious. I released him and spun on my heel. Sparing him a single glance over my shoulder as I walked out, I noted the tent in his uniform trousers.

This was a mess. Everything was a mess. If the Federation didn't retake the station soon, the resistance might be in shambles. Damar was clearing the wormhole, Odo was wrapped around the Female Founder's little finger, and Dukat's actions today might have finally convinced Major Kira that I wasn't worth trusting...that I'd truly betrayed the Federation and Bajor. Besides that, I might have to close my eyes and do something I'd very much regret with Dukat.

Guilt wound through me every time that I acknowledged how much I'd encouraged his attraction. I knew I needed information for the Federation and the Resistance, and I needed the Gul to trust me, but was flirting with him even the right move considering everything at stake?

I had no idea how long I was stuck in my thoughts, but at some point that evening, I became vaguely aware that Weyoun had returned to our quarters. His voice washed gently over my ears, but I didn’t hear a word. My eyes remained lost in the stars just outside the window, and my arms had been crossed protectively around my middle for goodness only knew how long.

What could I do to stop the minefield being removed when I hadn't even found a way to communicate with Starfleet Command? I mean, what had I been doing all this time besides playing house with a Vorta?

A wave of concern flowed from Weyoun to myself through our odd link as he sensed my emotions, but I didn’t move a muscle. Even when his hands took up careful residence on my shoulders, I couldn’t bring myself to do more than blink.

“Something is wrong, isn’t it?” Weyoun’s smooth, concerned voice asked from behind me as I stared out into the oblivion of space. He could read people better than they could read themselves, and I was certainly no exception, not that I was making it particularly difficult for him at the moment. Even if we hadn't been empathically linked, it wouldn't have been hard to see how wilted I felt. “You’ve been quieter than usual since you returned from that late night with Damar, and now with Founder here... You’ve been preoccupied. I realize that you don’t want me to think of you as the offspring of a deity, but...I live to serve you in whatever ways you may require, my love. What can I do to help you?”

I felt too vulnerable and too closed off all at once, like a frayed wire being strangled by what little remained of its casing. Who else could I say anything to? Who else cared about what I said, even if this all turned out to be a ruse - a long game that he'd been playing so patiently - in the end?

Weyoun was the only one. I couldn’t trust anyone on this station, not anymore, not where it was important. Hell, I shouldn’t even fully trust him, but what other choice did I have?

For this...could I risk it just this once? He thought of Changelings as gods. He regarded the being who was my biological father as a god, and I myself as a demigod of sorts. Would this be taking advantage of the programming the Founders had included in his genetic makeup? Would he feel obligated to listen to me drivel on without regard for his own feelings despite my protests that I wanted only his honesty?

When I turned and my eyes met his, I felt something in me break. Weyoun looked so worried. Precious man. His almost neon purple eyes were moist as though he were on the verge of tears like I was - he truly was distressed over my current state. I knew my own eyelids were most likely puffy from the tears I’d shed - the emotions threatening to spill over again at any moment - and I knew that he’d have noticed that by now. He was much too clever for his own good.

A low whisper of my name brought me out of my thoughts enough to notice that the Vorta’s brow had furrowed just a little bit more than before.

“Please...it pains me to see you like this. I beg you, please let me help,” he said barely above a whisper, and whatever cracks had formed in my defenses extended far enough that I could no longer keep up my flimsy facade. My eyes burned, my vision blurred, and tears began rolling down my cheeks. A flicker of fear passed over Weyoun’s features and through our bond, and although I wanted to comfort him, all that escaped me was a quiet sob. There wasn’t much space left between us to begin with, but he still stepped forward as much as he could and lifted his hands, allowing them to hover on either side my face as if he was afraid to touch me. “H-How do I help you?”

In answer, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. Pressing my face quietly against his shoulder, I felt his own limbs envelope me without hesitation - one around my middle and one around my upper back - holding me close to him. Weyoun was nearly trembling from how fiercely and protectively he was embracing me.

“I’m here,” he murmured against my temple in that soft, comforting voice. This time instead of it being filled with steady lies as it so often was in meetings, I could hear it wavering with emotion just as it had so long ago on that Dominion ship and when he found that I'd remained on the station despite its occupation. “You are not alone. You have me; you always will. I promise. No matter what happens with the Dominion, the Alpha Quadrant, the Gamma Quadrant...you will always have me. I know what it is to be alone, and I swear you never will be again.”

Safe in his arms, I found myself no longer caring whether this was just a ploy or not, because I so desperately wanted to believe that I wouldn’t be alone anymore. He'd been here, but I hadn't allowed him to see just how stressed I was trying to toe the line between the Dominion and Bajor. I wanted to believe he was telling the whole truth. Just this once.

Just this once.

So I nodded my head against his shoulder and simply let myself be comforted by his embrace, by his promise, and by this one act of kindness, dangerous though it might eventually prove to be.

“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out around my stuttered breaths. I was. He didn’t deserve to have someone sobbing all over him for no reason. He was the one who needed kindness, especially after the way I’d seen that Founder treating him. He wasn't some pet for them to order around. He deserved so much more kindness than he was being shown.

Yet he was the one showing it to me. Whether incited by genuine concern or by his programmed devotion to the Founders - and myself by extension - Weyoun had never been anything less than sweet and gentle and courteous to me.

But how could I allow a shred of doubt into my head? Just thinking back to the first time I'd felt the extent of his love for me, I remembered how different his emotions had been compared with those he'd felt for the beings who had cloned him.

Shame wove hot and heavy through the ravages of my sorrow.

“You of all people have no reason to apologize to me,” he said before pressing his lips against my forehead in a tender kiss. “What could you possibly have to be sorry about? You have never been unkind to me, you’ve never hurt me. You’ve only ever shown me love and compassion. You are the most remarkable person I’ve ever encountered.”

“You have better things to do than put up with someone crying all over you,” I muttered daring to tilt my head back enough to look up into Weyoun’s eyes. He looked almost startled at my statement.

“My dear, you act as though you are a burden to be borne. I assure you, nothing is further from the truth,” he murmured in a pained voice. One of his hands lifted and cupped my cheek. His thumb skimmed gently across my skin wiping away the last of my tears. Leaning into his touch, I let my eyelids flutter shut. I knew I shouldn’t be this open with him - he was the Female Founder’s puppet while she was aboard the station, after all - but I couldn’t help it. Who else could I possibly be vulnerable with? Considering the cruelty and violence of this war surrounding me on a daily basis, was it really so wrong to enjoy a simple moment of self-indulgent intimacy? I raised my hand to cover Weyoun’s and turned my head just far enough to kiss his wrist.

It wasn’t even close to an adequate thank you for all he’d done for me, but it was all I could manage. I knew he’d understand - he always understood me with a startling degree of accuracy, even when I couldn’t express myself correctly or fully.

“Why do you think so little of yourself?” He asked in barely more than a whisper as his eyes slid from our hands to meet my gaze. “You are lovely and kind to everyone, even those like me who don’t deserve it–”

“But you do deserve it. You always have, Weyoun, no matter how the Founders may have treated you,” I said quietly looking up into his eyes. He blinked owlishly at me, and I leaned in, kissing his cheek. “Can you still not see that after all this time, darling?”

“I suppose I...still have a bit of trouble separating myself from the way the Founders created us,” he admitted as a lavender blush colored his cheeks. “Forgive me–”

“Hush. There’s nothing to forgive,” I promise coaxing him into resting his forehead against mine. Lowering my voice to a whisper, I knew his excellent Vorta hearing would still register what I had to say. “We are, always have been, and always will be equals.”

“I believe you,” he murmured as his hands took up a timid grip on my waist. He took a slow, deep breath and as he exhaled, I rested my hands gently on his shoulders. Nothing had technically changed - the war was still raging, my father was still a missing murderer, and Dukat was still playing a tyrannical, slutty version of king of the castle with the station.

And yet...there in Weyoun’s arms, such a fundamental shift had occurred that it felt as though I suddenly could take on the universe. Perhaps it was a part of the Vorta coding which bound them to the Founders that made me feel reassured as I stood there, his own confidence in me bleeding over and restoring my own.

Or perhaps there was another explanation. The relationship that had been developing between us had shown no cracks until Dukat tried to worm his way between us. Even now, I was acutely aware that the Gul had plenty of reasons to try and manipulate me on that front. Why had I ever allowed myself to listen to a single word he said? Was I so afraid of losing Weyoun that I assumed it was just my luck that I would?

I had doubted myself and my judgment regarding him for so long that I suppose I didn’t feel like I deserved to be loved with the kind over unwavering affection Weyoun had shown me. Even as that thought crossed my mind, doubts filtered through from my subconscious that I shouldn’t have allowed myself to take this much liberty with his affection as it was - that I was weak for doing so.

But I needed him, and I loved him. Weyoun had assuaged my fears on that front so many times before, but was that justification enough for continuing?

“Such chaos thrust upon one person... Let me be your shielding."

The soft earnestness surrounding Weyoun's words had me crumbling in his arms. Almost without conscious thought, I tilted my head and caught his lips in a kiss that I hoped said all the words I couldn't muster. My lover didn't hesitate to return the gesture, kissing me with such tenderness that it took my breath away.

Slowly, naturally, our movements gained momentum, becoming hungrier and more desperate by the second. Just as he'd done after my encounter with Keevan, Weyoun easily took control. Something urgent and lurid passed between us, and in a blur of discarded clothing, we fell into our bed.

We'd experimented with each other over the time we'd been together, but we hadn't quite taken that final step. With his fingers pumping between my legs and mine caressing the base of his length and the folds of his slit, he whispered in my ear.

"I want to make love to you. Please, I'm ready. I'm aching for you, my love. I've dreamt of you so many times..."

I couldn't possibly deny him. Why would I even want to after all this time? I loved him, and I would never pressure him into doing more than he was comfortable with. I would, however, be lying if I said that I'd never imagined what our first time together would be like.

My imagination paled in comparison to the sweet sounds he made as he entered me for the first time. His name was a prayer on my lips, just as mine was on his. Our pleasure was reflected, doubled, then increased exponentially by the bond that formed between our minds. We merged so completely that I couldn't tell where Weyoun began and I ended.

The wet slap of skin-on-skin sounded less obscene and more...restorative. We both needed this. Our reasons might have been different, but our desires, our love, stemmed from the same source.

When he finally spilled within my trembling body, tears dampened both our faces. Weyoun's teeth had left bite marks down my neck, and I'd left a few scratches down his back.

Aside from murmured declarations of love between kisses, we didn't speak. What could we say? What could possibly need to be said so desperately that either of us would risk disturbing the peaceful, content atmosphere that had settled over us like a blanket?

Gentle touches, cuddles, and affectionate looks carried us delicately into dreamland that night.

The next morning as I blinked hazily into awareness, I thought the Vorta was still asleep. Trailing my fingers ever-so-softly through his mussed, silky, black hair, I couldn't help but smile. He was supposed to be unsettling to the Dominion's enemies and charming in equal measure, but all I could see was how gentle he was. I knew he had it within him to be manipulative, charming, and underhanded all in a matter of moments - that was how the Changelings had cloned him to be - and I'd witnessed it. But there was something satisfying about seeing the head of station's occupying force curled up like a kitten in my arms.

"That feels good." The words breezed from his lips, carried on his breath as easily and lightly as a feather. I couldn't stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

"I won't stop, then," I whispered, and he let out an appreciative hum.

"I meant it, you know. Every Weyoun since our very first iteration over a hundred years ago has seen your face in our dreams. Seeing you on the Defiant...I recognized you immediately."

My hand slowed atop his scalp. My lover's voice was low and nervous, as if he was afraid I'd mock him or accuse him of lying. Instead, I watched as he lifted his head from my chest and looked up at me with wide, gentle eyes.

"But...that was so long ago..." I was confused, definitely, but I wanted to hear him out. Across our bond, I could feel tension, as if Weyoun was taking a chance saying any of this.

"My very first memories are images of you from prior iterations' dreams. They all saw your face so frequently that they knew you were someone vitally important...that the Founders were allowing us visions of a blessing they planned to give us. The fourth Weyoun...he'd almost lost hope the day you met him," he murmured. "Only the important memories - the ones that stand out - are encoded for future iterations to retain. You...your face has survived every activation."

A lump rose in my throat. How was that possible? I'd heard of people having visions they thought were from their deities - hell, even Captain Sisko had visions from the Bajoran Prophets - but I knew for a fact that the Founders weren't gods. Even they couldn't predict the future like that. Otherwise, I had no doubt that they would've stopped my father from mating with a Human.

"In the dreams, you called out to me...said my name...promised you'd find me no matter what. I've never told anyone this before, but in my darkest hours...the moments where my faith in the Founders was at risk of falling apart, I clung to the image of your face hovering over me...and it strengthened me," Weyoun admitted in a whisper as he cupped my cheek, gliding his thumb over my skin. "I-I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable."

Unable to make my tongue work, I shook my head and kissed his lips. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? What could I say about that revelation?

I hadn't even begun to sort through the messy tangle of emotions in my chest when the comm chimed.

“Damar to Weyoun.” Of course, there was never a calm, quiet moment on this station, even with it under the Dominion's thumb. The Vorta sighed quietly, the warmth of his breath caressing my skin as softly as his lips had in the wake of our intimacy.

“What is it?” He asked quietly, sounding more reluctant than I’d ever heard him. He didn’t move away from me any more than I did from him. If anyone had been watching, they’d doubtlessly assume that our nude bodies were stuck together beneath the blanket by some immutable, unseen force.

“You’re needed in Security. Now.” The Cardassian sounded smug, a fact which never seemed to bode well in his company. "We've just arrested a saboteur. The Ferengi bartender's brother, Rom."

~*~*~

Dominionese:

Na = water

~*~

Taglist:

@akamitrani @android-boyfriends @attention-bajoranworkers @bigblissandlove1 @darkmattervibes @emilie786 @groovyqueer @horta-in-charge @live-logs-and-proper @slutty-slutty-vulcans @starrynightgardens @toebeans-mcgee @weyounthevorta

#deepspacedukat fic #half-changeling!reader #Weyoun 5 #Weyoun 5 x Reader #lieutenant!reader #established relationship

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