#billie eilish snaps

[moralesluvr]

GANG BABY | billie eilish.

“she told you she celibate, but she told me i can nail her shit.” ft. subtop!billie (blake i love you!)

the bass of a rap song thrums through the club so loud that it rings in your chest, replacing your own heart beat as your eyes fixate on the neon lights that strobe each and every way, illuminating your face and bright silver jewelry as you strutted over to the bar by yourself. you broke off from one of your friends and told her where you were going before you perched over the counter.

“can i get a whiskey sour?”

the bartender adheres to your request with a nod, and you gladly take your drink and take a seat on one of the stools, indulging in some quiet people watching. sure, the club was fun— but all your friends were wasted and off with their significant others, and this was your chance to wind down a little bit and try to enjoy a few moments of peace.

well, emphasis on trying. you have your moment of peace for about five seconds before some guy comes up to your seat at the bar, tapping you on the shoulder lightly and peering down to where his face is next to yours. he’s obviously drunk— and smells of liquor mixed with his disgustingly strong cologne. his grin is sleazy as he wiggles his eyebrows at you, “can i buy you a drink, pretty lady?”

“no, sorry, i don’t drink.” you reply cockily, taking a sip from your whiskey just to prove a point that you want him to leave you alone.

he doesn’t back off, though. they never do.

he leans a little closer to you now, “oh, come on. just a drink is all— i promise i don’t bite, unless you’re into it.”

“i’m not.” you reply harshly, your former smile fading away. you were trying to be nice to him although he was making your skin crawl, but you could tell he wasn’t the type to back down at all.

“you don’t have to be shy.” he speaks, dropping his voice like he thinks it’s sexy. and it isn’t, and you can feel yourself literally gag as he keeps speaking, playing with the rim of his glass, “why are you being so difficult? just let me buy you a drink.”

you can’t really contain your anger much longer. you slam your cup onto the counter and give him fiery eyes, “i know you’re only wanting to buy me a drink so you can drug me or some shit, and get me to have sex with you. look, you’re cool or whatever— but i’m celibate anyways. so leave me the fuck alone.”

he’s seconds away from getting up to holler and scream at you as a rebuttal, before you hear a loud and clearly voice coming from close behind you,

“do you not have ears? get the fuck away from her.”

you turn your head to the side slowly to meet eyes with a pair of ocean blue ones, and your eyebrow raises slightly. it’s billie.

the only thing you knew about her was that she was pretty famous, and had been staring you down in the club ever since you and your girls walked in. you couldn’t say that you didn’t return her looks, though— she was beautiful, and her energy seemed so likable even though you had only shared smiles and quick glances.

she looks casual, resting her elbow on your shoulder as she broke eye contact to look at the weird guy, who now looked timid. she cocked her head to the side at him as a challenge, and his former ‘big and bad’ behavior seemed to subside as his eyes softened.

“who are you?” he asks timidly, and billie kissed her teeth as she gave him a disapproving glare.

“her girlfriend.”

the lie comes out so effortless, and billie’s voice is so even, like she believes what she just said. the guy’s whole face drops and you wished you could take out your phone and snap a picture, because it was priceless. he let out a soft gasp as you shrugged nonchalantly, adding to the lie, “yup. so fuck off, weirdo— i’m a lesbian.”

the guy doesn’t say anything, he just scoffs— looking between the two of you like he doesn’t believe what you just said. but then billie shifts closer to you, planting a soft kiss on your cheek, and that seems to make him uncomfortable— so he mutters something under his breath as he walks off, sinking back into the crowd.

you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, and billie lets go of your waist and backs up a bit.

“your girlfriend, huh?” you giggle, raising an eyebrow.

billie steps back, clearly a little shy as she shrugged, thought you could tell she was a little nervous by the way a pink hue dusted her cheeks, “i— well, just looked like you needed help.”

you chuckle, amused by her sudden shift from confident to awkward. she had seemed so bold the whole time you eyed her in the club, and her change in demeanor intrigued you. you flipped your hair to the side and smiled flirtatiously, “and what do you want in return?”

she hesitates, then grins, a flicker of her earlier cockiness returning, “maybe just a dance.”

“bold of you to ask,” you tease, but there’s no bite to your words. you wanna push her, figure her out, make her wonder what her next move is gonna be before she makes it. it’s clear that she’s never talked to someone that’s as bold as you are, because she seemed so much more ‘hard’ from across the club than she is right now.

“i can be bold,” billie murmurs, her voice quieter now, her eyes flickering to yours and then away, like she’s not sure how far she can push now. it’s confusing to you, but kind of entertaining, so you shrug and bite your lip,

“yeah? well prove it.”

her breath catches, but she doesn’t back down. instead, she holds out a hand, waiting for you to take it. and so you oblige.

you let her lead you to the dance floor, the crowd folding outwards around you as the music shifts to something slower, something heavier. the weeknd’s discography is on shuffle as billie’s hands find your waist again, pulling you closer, her touch firmer now but still cautious, her anxiety so very obvious.

“you’re nervous?” you say, but it comes out more like a statement than a question. you kiss your teeth in amusement, leaning in just enough for her to hear you over the music.

“oh, i’m not.” you think she’s lying at first until her ringed hands find the flesh of your ass, her fingers grazing over the exposed skin through your shorts, grasping at it lightly.

you let out a gasp that falls inaudible due to the loud music, but billie can see your jaw drop slightly as she gave you a smirk. her eyes were glossy and hungry for you as she tapped your waist, “something wrong?”

now you looked like a deer in headlights as you shook your head now, your skin hot with half surprise and half arousal as you smiled through your surprise. it was a contest now, almost— who could be more forward, who could push the other harder.

before you could second-guess yourself, you close the gap, your lips meeting hers in a kiss that’s soft but unrelenting. billie freezes for a split second before melting into it, her hands tightening on your waist as she kisses you back with more force than you expected.

her lips are warm, hesitant at first, out of respect. but then she deepens the kiss, a quiet, needy sound escaping her throat that sends a shiver coursing through your nerves, making your skin tingle.

the club's heat feels suffocating now, the bass of music pulsing through your chest as bodies hazily move around you in a blur, billie's hands still gripped onto your waist. she's what's grounding you as people move past left and right, mumbling drunken apologies and trying their best not to spill anything on you.

billie eyes that were once timid and sweet morph into something much sharper, her breaths coming in uneven little gasps, "come on, we're getting the fuck out of here. it's too crowded."

though her voice is airy and light per usual, her directions are commanding, not really leaving you room to disagree or offer a rebuttal.

before you can respond, her hand is sliding down to yours, her fingers intertwining with your own as she leads you through the crowd, and your heart is fucking racing. billie's usual easy confidence has flown out the window, replaced by something much more urgent and primal. it's like a flip switched, and fear laced with a little excitement tugged at your heart.

she looks back at you as the two of you throng through a sea of sweaty and dancing bodies, making sure that you're still following her. and of course you are— how could you not?

when you push the doors open to the club, the cool air outside hits your face quickly like a shock, but billie doesn't stop. her hand squeezes yours tightly as she leads you down the dimly lit street, her silence deafening to you as you follow her lead, almost skipping over your own heeled feet. the thrum of music that sounds from the club fades out slowly as she leads you to her car, opening your door.

she doesn't speak. she just grabs your jaw with a strong, ring-clad hand, giving you a sloppy kiss on your lips, smearing whatever was left of your lipstick before slamming the car door shut, opening her own.

billie cranks the engine and pulls out the parking lot, wheels screeching as she used the palm of her hand to reverse, and you swear that you really could've came right then and there.

she's leaned back a little bit, her loud music shaking the seat beneath you as she mouths some of the lyrics. you watch her movements deliberately— her free hand snapping to the beat, head bopping, lips in a pretty pout— you were practically losing your shit at how hot she was.

and this must've looked so bad on you. going home with some random popstar just because she saved you from some creep— but could anyone really blame you? she was beautiful.

billie almost looks like she could be mad at you from how tight her jaw is clenched, how her knuckles bleed white as the streetlights around you fleet out of your sight, pulling slowly into the driveway. you sneak a look at her and see that she's biting her lip, hard, and the way her jaw ticks and her chest heaves makes you nothing but more anxious.

"billie—" you start, but she cuts you off, her voice firm and strong.

"inside. now."

the command is simple, sending a jolt up and down your spine as you oblige, pushing open your door without a response, because your response was how pathetic your obedience was.

you're scared, if you're being honest. you're usually always in control, molding situations to fit to your liking— you never let anyone else just tell you what to do. but it seemed different now, like the situation was out of your hands. but you kind of liked it.

you waited patiently for billie to unlock the door, and when she does, she's immediately all over you. her hands find your waist, pulling your body against her own as her lips forcefully find yours. it's rough, almost desperate the way she kisses you, her teeth grazing your bottom lip seductively.

billie's hands roam to your sides as she pulls away from the kiss, her fiery eyes softening only a little, "you have...no idea what you do to me, and i don't even know your name."

she sounds almost frustrated by it. you whisper to her your name as graze your fingertips against her arms, "show me then, billie. show me what i do to you."

you expect her to say something cocky, but she just grabs a fistful of your shirt, pulling you closer to her as she forces your feet to walk a pattern that you don't know, all the way up the stairs and into her bedroom.

there's a shit ton of sound equipment scattered around, cool pictures and thrifted antiques decorating the walls and her dresser. she's got a long wall of vinyls hanging up in color order adjacent to the wall that holds some of her most cherished sneakers. you try to take it all in, but billie's a girl on a mission, scooping you up quickly as your legs wrap themselves around her waist.

when she sets you down on the edge of the bed, you start to open your mouth, but she's already a step ahead of you. billie kisses you like she's trying to make up for every millisecond she hasn't, soft lips molding onto yours as you find yourself underneath her, melting into her covers with her force that leaves you breathless.

"fuck, angel, you're so—“ she breaks off her sentence, her voice low and rough enough that you feel yourself grow wetter, billie's lips finding themselves on your jaw, nipping at the flesh sweetly, but enough to leave and mark. she makes a trail of hickeys from your jaw all the way to your neck, "— so perfect. i need you."

her words make your stomach flip, heat pooling in your pussy as billie's hands only start to further wander. they slide under your shirt easily, curiosity oozing out of the tips of her fingers as she plays with the lace of your bra.

"you've been driving me insane since i first fucking saw you." billie breathes out with honesty, her words disappearing into your neck as her teeth graze against a soft spot on your flesh, nibbling at it before soothing it with her tongue.

a soft gasp leaves you, your hands tangling underneath billie's shirt in a desperate attempt to keep her close. "yeah? well, what are you gonna do about it, hm?"

billie's head lifts, and her eyes lock into yours, dark and full of something unknown that makes your heart stop. all she needed was your bitchy little statement to get her worked up, her hands maneuvering skillfully against your body. she pills your shirt up in a swift motion, right over your head, her gaze dropping to take you in. her lips part, her breath hitching as her hands skim over your sides, her touch reverent now— like she's scared to touch you. to break you.

"you're so beautiful, such a pretty girl." she breathes, her voice so soft that it makes your chest ache.

her fingers find the clasp on your bra, her eyes flicking to yours for permission, which you give her with a nod. she unhooks it, catching the cups on her hands and tossing it to the side.

billie's slow with her actions, contrast from how hungrily she touched and kissed you earlier. her fingertips run across your thighs with passion, open mouth placing sloppy kisses on your abdomen like she's got all the time in the world. it's almost like a massage, the way she touches you— appreciating every single inch of your skin with tender love and care.

a kiss to your hip. "you're so pretty."

a kiss to your thigh. "just wanna make you feel good."

she yanks your skirt off. "need you so bad."

a kiss to your clothed clit is what makes billie stop talking. her fingers hook in the sides of your panties before pulling them down with a swift motion, making you gasp at the contact of cool air.

she can't stop herself. the way billie whimpers when her tongue slips into you, replaced by her wet fingers, it's all too much for her.

she rests her hand on your thigh as she squeezes it gently, "does this....feel good? am i doing a good job?"

you think it's cute the way she asks you, and you respond with a nod as her name breathily escapes your lips. her fingers are curling into you with a speed that seems inhumane, billie's thumb on your sensitive clit pushing your orgasm to be stronger and stronger. you can feel yourself unravel on her digits, a wave of pleasure so so close as your back arches off the covers, fingers digging into billie's soft comforter.

"bills— fuck!" you screech, and you can't even finish your sentence as you cum all over billie's fingers, coating them with your arousal as she kisses your clit, still fingering you slowly as you come down from your high.

you're still sensitive as ever when billie smiles against your sex, "was that good, love? you feel amazing, god— just squeezin' around me...so tight…”

you start to open your mouth and reply to billie's question, but you gasp as you feel her fingers brush harder and harder up against that sweet spot inside you, and you're seeing stars as you try to relax, but it's just too much.

"billie...n-no more..." you whine, your whole body tingling due to the sensitivity. but you watch as the dark-haired girl pouts,

"please...i just wanna make you feel good, i’m sorry— is that okay? can i?” billie almost pouts at you, and you can’t say no, especially because she’s looking up at you with such sweet and gentle eyes that are just hungry for you, wanting nothing but to pleasure you. so you oblige, letting her finger-fuck you gently yet powerfully enough to bring on your second orgasm.

billie feels you tighten up around her fingers, thrusting a little deeper into you as she coaxes that last drop of pleasure out of you, “cum for me baby, it’s okay…”

you feel your orgasm wash over you, making your skin hot as little moans and whines escape your lips. your eyes shut for a moment, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you sigh. you hear billie shift next to you, planting a kiss on your forehead as you heave, looking over at her. “again in a little?”

billie giggles, stroking your cheek with a free hand as she backs up, making a jokingly confused face,

“i thought you were celibate, huh?”

“nah,” you giggle, “you can always nail my shit.”

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[babydollxxblood]

intro post

basic ୨ৎ ophelia - she - english - shitposter - music addict - coffee fiend - certified cunt - groupie - film watcher - deprived whore - rotting femcel - ed and sh not pro

music ୨ৎ lana del rey - nirvana - mazzy star - guns n roses - fleetwood mac - hole - deftones - billie eilish - jeff buckley - jack off jill - alice in chains

film ୨ৎ ginger snaps - twilight - american horror story - skins uk - monster high - labyrinth - black swan - the blair witch project - girl interrupted

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tw ୨ৎ sgw: 128✓ gw1: 120✓ gw2: 115✓ gw3: 110✓ ugw: 100

contacts ୨ৎ send asks im bored

tysm for 700 !!

[the-nameless-wacky-inventor]

I was Upset over something so I started listening to my ‘playlist of general badassery’ to see if it would help me feel better and halfway through look what you made me do and you should see me in a crown I decided this is going to be my villain origin story.

[serpentandlily]

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.  

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort. 

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters. 

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.  

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl. 

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite. 

It hurt though, it hurt so much. 

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all. 

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you. 

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home. 

Alone once again. 

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again. 

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed. 

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you. 

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside. 

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat. 

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you. 

You looked away again. 

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?” 

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him. 

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?” 

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?” 

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?” 

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto. 

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.” 

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.” 

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself. 

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit, 

Tell me it's a bit, 

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain. 

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond. 

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room. 

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone. 

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind. 

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully. 

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation. 

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things. 

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments. 

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat. 

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again. 

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.” 

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much. 

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look. 

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.” 

You stared at the envelope in your hand. 

Stared and stared and stared. 

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her. 

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose. 

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.” 

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.” 

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night. 

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be. 

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did. 

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you. 

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief. 

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again. 

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything. 

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory. 

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips. 

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that. 

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw. 

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet. 

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed. 

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.” 

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?” 

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?” 

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again. 

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life. 

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.” 

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.” 

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!” 

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.” 

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest. 

And with that, the pain was finally gone. 

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

Epilogue

[chrissv4mp]

make a movie with you that we'd have to hide , CHRIS S.

summary: you can't help but be obsessed with everything about your boyfriend, and one night, you ask him if you two could try something... different.

pairing: chris stuniolo × fem!reader

warnings: SUPER subby!chris, sorta shy!chris, pet names (ma, baby, love, good boy, baby boy, pretty boy, etc.), handjobs, p in v, unprotected sex, recording, begging, overstimulation, degradation, choking if you squint, name-calling (slut, etc.), just pure filth🤷‍♀️

a/n: chris......... these photo dumps have me screaming, i think i'm transitioning to a chris girl😖

"clothes on the counter for you, try 'em on. if i'm allowed, i'll help you take 'em off..." - LUNCH , billie e.

the door shut softly, and the next thing you heard were chris's footsteps coming down the hall.

his lips curved into a smile the second he caught sight of you, stretching his arms put before falling into your embrace on the couch.

"hi, baby," you muttered, pressing a soft kiss to his neck.

chris exhaled, kissing your cheek, "hi,"

the brunette boy pulled away, staring deep into your eyes before smiling softly, "hi, ma."

he kissed your cheek before getting up, hanging his hoodie up behind the front door before going into the kitchen.

you sighed, moving the blanket off of you before following your boyfriend.

staring wasn't unusual between you two. he always looked so good, and chris had always said you looked gorgeous every second of the day.

but right now, he looked better than ever. his grey t-shirt was a bit small for him, so whenever he moved his arms it would ride up, exposing his v-line and some of his lower abdomen.

his jeans were bigger around his waist, causing them to fall a little lower. you weren't complaining, cause this was the best sight you've seen.

"y/n, baby, are you there?" you didn't even notice your boyfriends repeating your name until he snapped his fingers.

your eyes went back up to his in an instant, blood rushing to your cheeks at the fact that he might've seen you staring.

but chris wouldn't care, he knew what he was doing when he got ready this morning.

"sorry. i'm here, just zoned out." you laughed, walking closer to him and pulling him into a hug.

the boy chuckled, rubbing your back and giving your head a quick kiss before moving toward the fridge.

his eyes moved around the food inside before he spoke again, "should i cook? there's still that steak we bought on wednesday,"

he looked back at you, and you stared at his blue eyes just a little longer than usual before giving him a reply, "sure,"

"i mean, who's turning down professional chef, christopher sturniolo?" you joked, leaning against the kitchen counter.

chris giggled, looking back at the fridge before opening the freezer and grabbing out the packaging the steak was in.

"not even nick and matt can resist." chris smiled, grabbing the scissors to cut open the plastic.

you watched silently as chris carefully cut the packaging, eyes fixated on his hands and fingers that so delicately moved.

chris couldn't bear the silence, even if it was comfortable, "so, nick, matt, and i tried gummy food vs. regular food. shit was disgusting,"

he laughed, adding onto his topic, "also nick broke a glass, and almost the camera with a gummy donut."

you smirked, chuckling. your mind went blank for a few seconds before an idea popped into your mind.

chris was always vlogging with his brothers, and he loved to be the center of attention of everything they did.

if he liked the audience so much, then why not create a movie? a movie that was just for you and chris to see, make a movie that you two would have to hide.

"nick? seriously, out of the three of you, i would've never guessed him," you replied, the idea still lingering in your mind.

how would you even bring it up? it would be awkward, and chris might even think it's weird.

but he always told you to come to him whenever, so why were you so scared now?

"that was amazing, chris," you complimented, placing your hand on his thigh under the table.

he smiled, blushing slightly as he looked down, "thanks."

the brunette boy stood up, grabbing both of your plates and taking them to the sink. before he turned the water on, you grabbed his wrist.

"hey, i got it, go upstairs and take a shower. you've already done enough, 'kay?" you said just above a whisper, running your thumb over his palm.

he smiled softly, kissing your forehead before placing the dishes down in the sink, "you're the best. i love you, ma."

"love you, too, chris." you smiled, taking over his place at the sink as you listened to him walk up towards the stairs.

before he reached them, you called out, "i left you some clothes on the bathroom counter, too!"

he thanked you before continuing his way up to the bathroom.

rinsing off the plates and forks, you placed them on the drying rack before opening the dishwasher.

you grabbed the clean dishes from the dishwasher, putting them away in the cabinets before grabbing the dirty ones and placing them in.

as you finished, you decided to pass the time by going on your phone, lying back down on the couch before getting lost in the tiktoks on your for you page.

once you got bored, you went to instagram, going to the triplets' account and looking over their new friday photo dump.

chris was on the fourth slide alongside nick, and their friend, nate. his shirt was riding up his stomach and his boxers were showing just the slightest.

he smiled innocently, holding out the peace sign as his arm hung around nate's shoulder.

you crossed your legs, biting your lip as your eyes went over the picture again. he looked so good in it, but he also looked like he was so innocent.

fuck, you just wanted to ruin him for anyone else. you wanted to let everyone know that chris was yours.

if he allowed you tonight, you'd help him take off his clothes.

you remember picking out his red plaid pajama pants and a black wife-beater. he always looked good in that.

you decided to walk upstairs to your bedroom, it was too quiet downstairs and a bit too dark for your liking.

as you walked past the bathroom, you heard heavy breathing even over the sounds of water hitting the shower floor.

stopping right in front of the bathroom, you put your ear against the door. you gasped quietly as you heard chris moan. it was kind of high-pitched, and right after, he whimpered your name.

"fuck," you groaned quietly, deciding to just continue your walk to the bedroom.

something to tease him about later. so impatient, he couldn't even wait a few minutes longer to get off.

chris crawled onto the mattress, the edge of the bed dipping as he made his way over to you at the headboard.

his hair was still damp, water dripping off the ends every other minute.

"i missed you all day," he whispered, lying on your chest as he nestled his head into the crook of your neck.

your hands threaded into his hair, massaging his scalp as he lay comfortably.

"i missed you, too." you muttered, kissing his head.

his hands moved up your body, sneaking under the fabric of your shirt and continuing their way to your chest.

you sighed, feeling him toy with the fabric of your bra.

"missed all of you.." he mumbled, kissing your neck and occasionally nipping at it.

his touches weren't making the heat between your thighs any better. if anything, they just made you wetter.

you pulled on his hair softly, your grip tightening with every new mark he left on the soft skin of your neck.

"chris," you gasped, hands going down to his waist as you gripped it softly.

he whimpered at your motions, bucking his hips against yours and eliciting a groan from your throat.

a smirk came to your lips as you felt his dick bulging from underneath his pants and boxers, and the moment he stopped sucking your neck, you flipped him over on his back.

chris gasped silently, lips parted as he stared up at you with eyes full of lust.

"didn't you just get off, love?" you asked in a whisper, caressing his cheek and running your thumb over his bottom lip.

his face went red, turning his head to the side to try and hide.

you quickly grabbed his chin, turning his head back so that he could look straight at you.

"don't be so rude," you smiled, "can't you just answer my question? please?"

he sighed, biting his lip as he looked anywhere but your eyes. he hesitated before speaking, "yea- yes, mhm. i did, ma."

your hand went lower, traveling down his jawline and stopping at his neck. you wrapped your fingers around him, putting the slightest amount of pressure down.

"yeah? do you think you're better at getting yourself off than i am?" you teased, watching as his face contorted into a look of worry.

he shook his head frantically, and you applied more pressure to his neck for him to stop.

releasing your hand just a bit, you began again, "then why, hm?"

chris bucked his hips, his eyes rolling back as he whimpered out his answer, "was thinkin' 'bout you, fuck.. 'jus so pretty."

your frowned in fake sympathy, tilting your head a little to see his face better in the dimly-lit room.

humming, you looked around the room, eyes landing on the small digital camera chris had on his nightstand.

"hey, y'know what would make up for your mistake, baby boy?" you muttered, watching as chris's lips parted.

"what?" he whispered, finally making eye contact with you.

staying quiet, you got off him, walking around to his side of the bed and grabbing the camera.

chris sat up, eyes following your every movement as you went into your shared closet. he raised an eyebrow, clueless and confused.

when you came back to the bed, you put up his tripod, setting the camera onto it before adjusting the settings and placing it so that the camera was pointed toward the bed.

before chris could spill his thoughts, you spoke, "is this okay?"

he didn't even hesitate, nodding quickly. chris liked the idea of secret sex-tapes, ones that only you two would see.

he never told you many of his fantasies, keeping to himself every time because he would doubt you'd say yes to him.

before getting on the bed, you pressed the "record" button.

the side of the bed dipped as you crawled over to chris, pushing him to lay down again before trapping him in a heated kiss.

chris was already painfully hard, and the way you shifted around on his lap didn't make his case any better, gasps and whimpers being trapped between your two lips.

when he moaned, you slipped your tongue past his lips, exploring his mouth and running over his teeth as you groaned.

his hands went to your waist, holding you with possession as he guided your movements.

your free hand went lower, sneaking under his plaid pajamas and palming him through the soft fabric of his boxers.

chris couldn't reciprocate the kiss anymore within a few seconds, gasps, and whimpers falling from his mouth into yours.

"feels s'good," the brunette boy sighed, eyes staying shut even as you pulled away to trail kisses down his neck.

you could feel the damp spot of pre-cum on his boxers, and it made you impossibly wetter.

"so worked up," you muttered before sucking on his pulse point, hearing as chris begged in that whiny tone of his.

he wasn't even speaking coherently, blabbering out inaudible words as he gripped your waist tighter.

you left a hickey every time you went lower, leaving a trail of marks all the way to the neck of his wife-beater.

"need you, need you s'bad. please, please, ma." he groaned, eyelids fluttering open at the loss of stimulation on his clothed cock.

"be patient, i know you can." you crawled down his body, stopping right before the edge of the bed before tugging on his plaid pajama pants.

chris lifted his hips, helping you as your hands tugged the fabric down to his ankles.

before chris could beg again, you tugged his boxers down, revealing his dick that looked painfully hard.

"need you, mamas. need your hands, please, you're s'good," he whined, bucking his hips into nothing at the thought of your hands around him.

placing a hand on his hips, you stopped his movements.

he groaned out in annoyance before watching you spit in your hand and move it to his cock.

"shit," he gasped shakily, the feeling of your hand moving up and down his length making him shudder.

your thumb circled his tip, gathering the pre-cum from there and spreading it along his length.

your hand began to move faster, making chris moan even louder and buck his hips as best he could. it was all so overwhelming for him, and it was just the first round.

"god, baby, s'good to me." the brunette said in between moans, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his back arched slightly.

"better than your own hand?" you asked, and chris nodded quickly.

you laughed before crawling back up his body, capturing his lips in a kiss once again as you continued the movements with your hand.

chris was already so sensitive, making him more vocal and needy as he chased his high. he couldn't help it when you always looked so fucking gorgeous.

"g'nna cum, fuck, i'ma cum..!" the boy moaned against your lips, his thighs shaking as he continued bucking his hips.

your thumb circled his tip every time you stroked him, making those pretty whimpers fall from his red, puffy lips.

"c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you muttered in a seductive tone, and chris let out a low moan before doing just that.

gasps fell from his lips every second as he came down, your hand slowing down just a bit but not exactly stopping. not even when he came back.

he shook his head slowly, eyes squeezed shut from the pleasure that became more overwhelming as you pushed him past his second orgasm of the night.

"too much, baby, please," he didn't know what he was begging for, it felt so good but it also felt like it was too much.

hair stuck to his forehead from the sweat that formed there, and chris threw his head back into the pillows at your reassuring whispers.

"oh, but you wanted me so bad, pretty boy.." you kissed his jawline softly, whispering close to his ear, "you can take it."

"no, no.. can't," he whined, lips growing redder from how hard he bit them.

you rolled your eyes teasingly, the pace of your hand speeding up as you spoke, "you were acting like such a slut earlier, made it seem like you could take more than one,"

he groaned at your words, his resolve fading as he gave into you. his chest rose and fell rapidly, breathing heavy as he tried to keep eye contact with you.

"good boy, always so good," you praised, cupping his cheek with your free hand.

tears swelled in chris's eyes from the overstimulation, quiet sobs slipping from his lips from the pleasure.

it didn't long for chris to cum again, his thighs shaking as he whined loudly.

"see, you're so amazing, baby boy," you cooed, getting off the bed to strip yourself of your own clothes.

chris just stared, scooting up to sit against the headboard and sighing as he stared at every inch of your body.

"so pretty, fuck," he muttered, his dick getting hard just at the sight of your body.

he never knew someone would ever have this effect on him.

you crawled back on the bed, standing on your knees and lining chris's cock up with your entrance.

chris didn't have time to process what you were doing before you sunk down on his cock fully, making him moan out.

"one more for me?" you muttered, pecking his lips before beginning to roll your hips.

it didn't take long for chris to help you bounce on his dick, making it all the more pleasurable as you rode him.

the sounds of skin against skin filled the room along with both of your moans mixing together.

your hands tugged at his hair, making chris whine louder as he bucked his hips frantically into your pussy.

"oh my god..!" chris squirmed beneath you, nails digging into the exposes skin of your waist as he stared up at you.

your mouth hung open, gasps and moans falling out as you continued to ride him, picking up your pace.

"c'mon, baby, one more.." you muttered, eyes fixated on your boyfriends face.

chris cried out as he reached the edge, holding it as he stuttered out something, "need t'cum, please lemme cum, ma!"

you nodded, and a few seconds after chris came undone, so did you.

the brunette boy let out quiet whimpers as he came down once again, his grip on your waist loosening.

"fuck," you whispered, getting off of chris and sitting beside him.

he looked over at you, kissing your cheek with a smile, his eyes droopy from how tired he was.

"i love you," he whispered, resting his head on your bare shoulder.

"i love you, too." you replied, tilting your head to rest on his.

. . . . . . . .

tags: @starsturns234 @joemamaaa42069 @sturniolohisteric @whosthislyssbitch @sturniclo

[xjcjuis]

EYELINER

pairing: billie eilish x reader

synopsis: you beg billie to let you do her make-up for.. personal reasons

warnings: kissing, use of pet names, fluff

wordcount: 0.8k

a/n: UGHHH billie with eyeliner i just. i cant

"pleaaase, bils, pleaaase."

billie's unreasonable no has been going on for what seems like hours. the night had started with you scrolling through your phone as billie watched some show on your shared netflix, and then you'd come across a photo of one of billie's photoshoots in which she was wearing eyeliner.

your lip found itself between your teeth somehow, your eyes flicking back and forth around your screen as you took in the photo, as if trying to absorb the image into your system.

billie, having noticed the sudden silence (you'd been commenting vocally about cute dog videos beforehand), turned to look at you, finding you very focused on whatever was on your phone.

confused, and, admittedly, a little jealous, billie left her place on the armchair and leaned over you on the couch, one arm on the backrest to hold her up. "watcha got there, pretty?"

you looked up and met her gaze. such a fine line between green and blue and silver, or perhaps all mixed into one to form the cosmos. you no longer believed what science says when the universe so obviously inhabited billie's eyes.

phone now placed face-down on the couch, you locked eyes with her, smiling with obvious intent. "let me do your make-up?"

it's a command disguised as a request. billie immediately saw how much you wanted it and decided to play a one-sided game. with a teasing grin, she pulled away. "no."

cut to the present and you find yourself on your knees on the carpet. "why not?" you whine, "i just want to see you in eyeliner again, please?"

admittedly, billie does not have a reason to say no. but seeing you with that cute little pout, hands dramatically clasped together as you basically beg to see her in something as basic as eyeliner? oh, she just had to take advantage of the situation.

"okay, alright, fine." she cackles, pulling you up from your three minutes of misery. "i don't see why not."

"you-" you jokingly pull back an arm as if to hit her. "you made me do all that when you were willing to in the first place?!"

your girlfriend's laugh intensifies, briefly kissing the frown on your lips away. "do what you wanna do, pretty."

you pull her eagerly to your dressing table, hurriedly opening and closing several mini drawers to look for a simple black eyeliner pencil. "sit down."

amused at your show of insistence, billie obediently complies. you turn around to face her, eyeliner pencil in hand, and bend over a little to cup her cheek and start with your masterpiece.

oh, but billie's not letting you do your job so easily. her hands are suddenly on your hips, grip tight, pulling you closer.

"billie!" you shriek, hand pushing against her shoulder to avoid falling. she replies with nothing but a mischievous grin as you scowl at her.

"do you want me to poke you in the eye?"

"no, ma'am. sorry."

she's not. but you just roll your eyes playfully and get on with it.

but she pulls you for a second time. you ignore it now, choosing instead to smudge the material on her eyelids. but when she jerks your hips forward towards her for the third time, you shoot her a glare.

"what is wrong with you?"

"sit on my lap, mama."

how you melted from that one sentence alone. that sweet, sweet tone in her voice paired with the gaze that stared up into your face a tad bit too longingly, and then that damn pet name. how could you even stay annoyed?

so you do, pretending to dislike the situation. billie could tell you liked it though, with the corner of your lip quirking up like that.

she behaves for the rest of the session, and you lick your lips in contentment upon leaning back to admire your handiwork.

with her tongue over her teeth and an eyebrow raised, your canvas silently asks how she looks. carefully, you put away your make-up materials and pick up your phone to snap a photo. then you set it aside before cupping billie's jaw, inching closer.

"so beautiful," you whisper, pressing your lips onto hers.

billie responds with fervor, one hand resting on your lower back as the other finds its place under your thigh. your back hits the dressing table as she kisses you, fingertips digging into your skin as yours caress every inch of her face. you pull away, out of breath.

"oh, whoops."

the eyeliner you had worked so hard on was now smudged. whose fault is it, you wonder? you, because you couldn't keep your hands to yourself, or billie's, because she was just too damn pretty to be left alone.

catching sight of her face in the mirror behind you, your girlfriend smirks. she reaches behind you and grabs her phone, stealing a quick photo of herself in the glass with you still on her lap.

you watch as her fingers type away speedily, leaning over to look only to see her posting the same picture on instagram with the caption, 'guess what happened?'

you stare at her with an unamused expression, but she only hooks her fingers under your chin. "kiss me again, gorgeous."

with no eyeliner to be worried about this time, what was stopping you?

[reidmarieprentiss]

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.

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[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Escalating

"Should I really have to suffer for my actions?"

Previous SessionSession 2 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Patient Gojo displayed extremely flirtatious and unruly behavior during the first half of his visit. Mentions of escape and kid-napping were noted as well as enforced close proximity with his nurse. Threatening remarks were also made at the end of his lunch in response to mentions of disciplinary action. Patient is scheduled for a bath but is pending the possibility of negative punishment to instill corrective behaviors. 📋Length of Session (w.c): 8.3k out of "i said we will cross that bridge when we get to it 😊" 💊Intake Chart (tags): mild violence but no in-action descriptors, coercion, manipulation, drug use, angst, unwatched close contact and touch, nudity, mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️Doctor's angel’s note: i hope you know what you're doing, Nurse 🎼Waiting room music: Overheated|Billie Eilish

Choose wisely.

Hunger stirs in your tummy, and Gojo's words sit with you through lunch. Your spoon clinks around the bowl, stirring the soup growing colder by the second though the growls from your stomach are too obnoxious to be ignored. But your mind wanders.

You're stuck. Earlier, you were all for serving up justice on a silver platter, but now you're seriously second-guessing your "genius" idea to punish Gojo by making him someone else's problem.

As if anyone will be crazy enough to say yes.

Everyone already avoids his wing like the plague. It's kind of an unspoken fact that you are Gojo's one and only. The only staff he allows near him. Anyone else would be playing with fire.

And if someone is brave enough to willingly throw themselves into the lion's den, they definitely can't be new. New to nursing—new to the ward. High expertise is needed here. Someone seasoned—experience which you lack yourself—otherwise, they won't last a second with Gojo.

It'll be way too easy for him to make them snap, like tossing a bone to a dog.

"Persephone." Yuko brings you out of your coma.

You perk up, instinctively smiling. "Hey, what's up?"

"You tell me," she snorts. "You've been playing with your food like break isn't over in 10 minutes." She touches your arm. "Everything ok?"

It's written all over your face, huh? You could deflate right now.

This is why Yuko is your favorite co-worker. Always reading you like a book without you needing to say a word. Quick to call anything off out.

Leaning back in your chair, you huff, rubbing circles into your temples to relieve the headache you didn't know you had.

"Yeah, yeah," you begin, "It's just—" You stop, her eyes hold so much concern and you've barely opened your mouth. Not sure if you should now because you know what kind of person Yuko is.

And if she knew even half of what you don't tell her during your lunch breaks spent complaining about work, she'd hang Gojo out to dry if she could. She often makes it very clear she hates you have to deal with him at all.

"—I'm just a bit tired. Gojo's scheduled for a bath later, him and two others. Gojo's easy but...I don't know. I feel slower than usual today. Definitely won't get home until late, again, because of all these sponge baths." You cringe at the last part.

Aside from trying to keep Yuko cool, you also don't want to risk the news getting back to the Director who could take you off of Gojo completely. No one else can take your place. And who knows what would happen if you disappeared from his roster for good?

How would his threats manifest?

Yuko scoffs, waving her hand.

"Gojo and easy do not go together," and you both shake your heads and laugh. "But I get it. You did come in super early."

"Thought there'd be less of us," you sigh.

"Sonya's been on our asses lately, right? But hey, she finally got us all here."

"A little too late. The damage is done," you pout, resting your elbows on the table, realizing you've accidentally grown used to chaos and ever-changing schedule.

You routinely plan ahead to make sure you can stand up when people fall short. Constantly putting yourself on the back burner seems to be a thing that always set you back.

"Sooo, you just need rest, ya? Nothing else? Gojo—" there she goes "—been 'okay' with you lately?"

Your heart skips. "Ya. he isn't so bad today," you lie, "I'd just love to be home on time for once. Maybe even a bit early, I'm soo close. Overtime's been wringing my neck for weeks."

Yuko looks at you with puppy dog eyes. And not in a "I feel sorry for you" kind of way, but one that almost makes you feel bad for not telling her the whole truth.

"Here," she pushes your soup towards you, "How about I do Gojo's bath and you get an early start on my last two? That way you can at least binge that show you won't shut up about later." She smiles.

You immediately protest.

There's no way you can do that to her.

Yuko never even crossed your mind and was far from your first pick, not because she can't handle him but because she's your friend. Not just a colleague, but someone you actually care about more than anyone else in this run-down job even if she doesn't feel the same.

She's too good of a person, and you'd be the Devil Incarnate if you let her do something so risky. Especially when you can just suck it up and get it over with.

"Woah, woah, it's just a bath, calm down," she says, taking your hands in hers as you ramble on, trying to convince her that you'll be fine or that you'll find someone else. Burdening her is simply out of the question.

"Who else but me, Seph'?" and she tilts her head, "You don't you think I'm as good as you?" And the way she says it, giving you that look she does when you're being stubborn, dares you to challenge her.

Now you really have to think about what to say.

Goddamn it, you regret saying anything at all, but Yuko's so motherly, how could you resist? Hiding from her is impossible, she would've sniffed you out sooner or later.

Easing your pains when she can is her specialty—helping to calm and settle you down when you blow things out of proportion.

Could this be one of those moments? Or are Gojo's words more than just hot air?

The back and forth is killing you, but the combination of Yuko's reassuring touch and your gurgling stomach puts the final nail in the coffin as she reminds you of the time.

Eyes wide, you look at the clock, ticking away faster than you realized, then back at your lukewarm soup.

Denying that you need help would be silly because technically it's true. You probably should've asked the Director for a little Gojo break forever ago, even if just for a few hours a few times a week. It would be better than nothing because if you can't function, Gojo can't be cared for.

So, who better to help bridge that gap for you than Yuko?

The gutsy woman has been your rock ever since you started at the ward, having your back and sticking with you through tough times when staff constantly dips in and out of the facility like a rotating door, unable to handle the job.

Yuko's a real day one, and next to you, she's the most competent nurse in these walls, fully equipped with a "take-no-shit" attitude that routinely keeps her patients in check.

When you really think about it, it'd be silly, downright irresponsible to trust anyone else.

Her offer is simply too good to dismiss.

"Thank you, Yuko," you cave, grabbing your spoon and finally allowing yourself to enjoy your meal. "You're...amazing. I don't deserve you."

She looks on happily. "Just promise me you'll take some personal time after this," she insists, worry evident in her voice. "We both know how much you care, but even superheroes need rest." She's too kind and right in more ways than one. "Besides, I think Gojo will like me, ya? I'm cool. I'm fun. He'll like a friend of friend?"

You roll your eyes—ya, totally, cool people definitely say they're cool.

Not knowing whether to joke back or wave her off, you softly smile at her concern before nodding, vowing to make good on your promise and feel a bit lighter knowing your wish for early release will actually come true.

Maybe.

The latest threat to your miracle in the making is Mr. Hampton, who is personally making it his business to drag the already long day by its edges, almost bringing time to a standstill with the way he's handling his bath.

Enormous and lumbering, the man Yuko usually deals with took his sweet time gathering his things and even longer trekking down the seemingly endless halls leading to the bathing area. Occupying every inch of the space like those massive trucks that hog the interstate, yet inching along at a pace that makes a snail look like it's in a sprint.

All that was missing were the yellow hazard lights.

Oh no, please, take your time, you think, watching Mr. Hampton clean each limb painstakingly s l o w in a tub that's comically too small for him. You may have been able to rush through Yuko's first patient, but this one wanted all that time back.

His pace resembles a giant's, and his cheery, nonsensical hums echo around the hollow chambers and lull you to sleep, turning your eyes into bricks under the spell of his melody. Perfect timing for the energy drinks from early to crash you out, tag teaming with the chair beneath you that feels a bit too soft as you lean over the tub, willing the colossal man to hurry up.

Warm water flows over your skin as you scrub circles on his neck, deciding to bite the bullet and take over the bath so he can play with the bubbles and get out when you hear a blood-curdling scream.

Your entire body goes rigid, shock reverberating through your spine and forcing you to halt as your mind goes blank. But steamy water brings you back to life, drenching your shirt and upper thighs when Mr. Hampton jumps from the noise.

The rude awakening makes you lock in.

The scream. It sounds like...no, you know it came from the west wing...where Gojo is.

And Yuko.

Hurried steps rush past your door, sounds of multidirectional distress and frantic shouts echoing through the corridor—staff members and patients alike sweep into a whirlwind of panic.

You're number one, dropping the scrubber and scrambling to help Mr. Hampton out of the tub, hands shaking as he grips them.

A security guard bursts into the room, face ashen and jaw tight.

"Nurse! We need everyone in the west wing, immediately!" The command is sharp, laced with an urgency you've never seen before.

And immediately feel responsible for.

"There's been an incident."

Without another thought, you wrap Mr. Hampton in a towel, trying your best to assure him that everything is fine when your obviously trembling body says nothing is. His confused gaze follows you as you lead him back to his room, the commotion in the air moving him a lot faster than earlier before you rush back out and head straight for the west wing—where chaos reigns supreme.

The usually pristine floors, normally squeaky clean due to lack of traffic, are now barely visible. Staff members crowd the familiar hall for the first time since Gojo made it his own, filling the space with more bodies than you're used to and making it difficult to find the source of trouble.

Not like you need to. The truth is painfully clear, and it's disrespectful to even pretend you don't know exactly what went wrong.

You push through the masses, clumsily bumping shoulders, your heart beating into your ears and making the world seem quiet as you inch closer and closer to disaster. Dragging imaginary shackles on your feet until you all but collapse once you spot it.

Gojo—barely restrained by guards, straitjacket nowhere in sight—standing absolutely furious.

And for the first time today, time seems to slow down, your mouth suddenly becoming dry when you look past him.

Yuko.

Halfway out the door to his room. Sprawled out on the ground. Bruised, unconscious, and no signs of breathing.

Your hands fly to your lips, mouth agape. Murmurs from the crowd swirl around you before attendants rush to Yuko's side, knocking into your pathetic frame as you stand too frozen to move.

They gently pick her up, careful to handle her motionless body and place her on a stretcher. Her usually vibrant face is drained of color, twisting the dagger in your chest when you spot the subtle rise and fall of her chest. Fighting for breath.

Fighting.

It hits you like a train.

Someone as kind as her, always greeting you with warmth and empathy and capacity every time she sees you, should never have to lift a finger let alone fight for her life. The sight is too much to bear.

Waves of helplessness crash over you and you can't even look at her. Regretting with every ounce of your being that you sent her in your place. Knowing this could happen. Concerned only with your silly wants and needs.

But you're so confused.

The ward should have weakened Gojo—Yuko should have been fine. The only threat Gojo has up his sleeve is mental torture but Yuko might as well be Freud. Her mind is sound, strong.

And that's where you fucked up, forgetting that Gojo's pure strength, especially when he's lost his fucking mind and triggered, is stronger.

Even with his security system in place, the devil is still powerful enough on his own. And like this was some sick and twisted experiment to help you figure that out, Yuko was the one to pay the price.

"I warned, I WARNED YOU!" Gojo's words pierce the overlapping voices like a sword, breaking your shock and drawing everyone's attention to the strange interaction between the two of you. "I don't like to be touched by strangers, Nurse." Guards struggle to restrain him as he pulls away.

All eyes fall on you and the stares are intense. Confusion and judgment.

Why was Yuko here in the first place?Where was Seph’?How’d he get out?How did this happen? 

Whether the murmurs are real or in your head, the effect is all the same, and you wish you could just completely vanish. Standing like a deer in headlights—and they're so fucking bright.

But Gojo is brimming with malice and amusement, chaotic energy pulsing from the hellish man and threatening to send sparks flying. Daring someone to be brave and push the button.

But despite his outward display of dominance, the pure rage on his face that makes you feel sick to your stomach about every decision you've ever made, there's something...uncertain lurking behind those fiery eyes.

Something like...apprehension.

Like he knows he's done something wrong.

Yet, words escape you, as if anything needs to or even could be said. But soon, fear and guilt turn to anger, threatening to consume you. Ready to eat you alive and spit out the bones with disgust because you are not a victim.

You have no right to stand here, spineless, shocked, or feeling even a little sorry for yourself. Holding back tears because you know what you've done.

Your fists clench, unsure how to deal with it, but there's fire in your eyes because someone needs to pay.

But then you exhale, thoughts shifting to Yuko as you take a good look around at what happened the last time you decided to take things into your own hands. All of your actions, even now, are rooted in selfishness. Like you've learned nothing.

Pushing down the knot growing in your stomach, you turn away to follow the medics, deciding your friend needs you more than you need revenge. Gojo doesn't deserve any more of your attention, even if it means risking your job or life to turn your back on him.

And there's nothing Gojo hates more than being ignored.

Struggled and strained noises grow louder. Guards tighten their grip on the fuming man whose raw strength outnumbers thousands of them even without his cursed energy.

You look back, their determination to keep him contained making you nervous. You don't anyone else to get hurt and Gojo is fully exploiting that.

You're painfully aware that your decisions have put you in this position, watching the guards' valiant but increasingly pointless effort to prevent Gojo from causing further harm. But it's obviously a losing fight, and the unease on their faces is unmistakably clear.

You wonder why they don't just run like hell.

"Let's go," a guard barks, but Gojo remains fixed in place. Moving a boulder would be easier.

"No, I'm filthy," Gojo protests, smirking, "And if I don't have my bath soon, there will be hell to pay."

Seeing no one else in the room, his eyes are locked only on you, his expression a menacing promise that would send anyone else running for the hills. A look that says, "Try that shit again, and there will be casualties instead of mercy."

Reinforcements are called but it won't be enough. The goddamn military wouldn't be enough. Gojo is...the strongest, after all.

"Stop."

Your cry freezes the room. Everything goes silent.

You hesitate, fuck, what should you do?

What can you do? No one else can suffer—no one else should suffer. Because of you.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, you silently apologize to Yuko, swallowing a lump instead of looking back.

"I'll do it," you say firmly, "Just stop this and...and I'll give you your bath. Please—" The sharpest pang you've ever felt cuts through you. "—just don't hurt anyone else."

Pathetic. But necessary.

He looks into your pleading eyes with surprise, amazement even, before smiling.

The submission in your voice sounds better than anything he could ever imagine. A sweet tones that feed his already inflated ego.

Unsure of how to proceed, the guards exchange uneasy glances.

Gojo's strength is undeniable, that much is evident, and restraining him forever is simply not possible.

You know offering to give him what he wants is risky as hell...but this is your doing. Your mess to clean up.

So you squeeze your sweaty palms and give a decisive nod, signaling at the guards to let him go. They hesitate a second, then reluctantly agree, stepping back and leaving Gojo standing smugly before you.

Closing your eyes, you breathe, hating to have to look at him, but needing to stay strong. For Yuko. For yourself. And everyone else in the ward.

But Gojo's satisfied grin says it all. He's won this round.

You're ready to get the next over with.

The squeaking of your shoes has never been this loud, each echo bouncing off the empty halls and reminding you of how alone you are.

Alone—with a psychopath.

A bit more docile, doped-up psychopath but, the man could probably still rip someone's head clean off if he wanted to.

Still, Gojo despises anything that alters his body—mentally, physically, all of the above. Alcohol, medication, coffee, energy drinks—anything that threatens his need for absolute control.

But he also needed to compromise, and you refused to be alone with him again unless he took something stronger. Otherwise, it would be you, all the guards in the ward, and a pay-per-view premiere of his bath time.

He knew he had to agree because his ass is not for free, but only if you took it as well.

You blinked, hard.

You knew he would be skeptical—hell, it could be poison, and he wouldn’t blame you. But to suggest something so ridiculous?

"Half, then," he said, as if that made his suggestion any less idiotic, but, as you waited for your supervisor to dismiss the insane idea, the back and forth with Gojo actually didn't save you. And you didn't need to ask why. The entire ward shoots daggers at you any time someone walks by now.

Your supervisor reassured you that you'd be fine, the mild tranquilizer would be out of your system by the end of the day, then she patted your back as if to say, "Lay in the bed you made."

It felt unreal, holding the familiar pill between your fingers, one you were used to dishing out but now had to take.

With a quick snap, you broke it in half, holding his half out to the leering man. Gaze unwavering as he leaned forward and parted his lips, waiting. Taking a deep breath, you placed them both on your tongues, in disbelief at your reality, but Gojo's focus was elsewhere, not wasting this prime opportunity to rattle you more and taste you, closing his lips around your fingertip with a quick lick before you snatched away.

But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the tingles shooting up your arm as you swallowed, no longer needing the water you had set aside, and a confusing mix of emotions churned as the tingles spread throughout your body.

Making good on his promise, he swallowed his own, still watching you with a knowing glint in his eyes. Like he knows what he does to you. And despite just witnessing this man's violence firsthand, you'd give anything to deny that he still has an effect on you. Hating yourself for being more concerned with the way he looked at you and the lingering sensation on your skin than the tranquilizer now coursing through your system.

The guards carefully lead you and Gojo to his private bathroom—they're more there for show than for protection, but you'll take what you can get, and they keep a firm grip on his replacement straitjacket.

You trail behind, mind buried with thoughts of what to say once you're really alone with him.

The door shuts behind you, followed by the familiar sound of a series of locks clicking shut. "We'll be right outside," one of the guards mutters, eyes shifting between you and Gojo, a stereotypical warning lacing his voice, but even he probably doesn't believe it.

"Perv," Gojo sneers and laughs, but you don't find a damn thing funny, the keys to his jacket digging into your palms as you spin around and face him, furious. What would be better? Slapping him, kicking him, or knocking his teeth out. Or should you be particularly evil and just let him sit in the shower, fully restrained and drenched in cold water and you let it rain down. None of the above will do you any good, but it'll show him exactly how done you are with his shit.

"That isn't funny. None of this is funny," it fumes out before you know you're speaking, "You've hurt someone—you hurt my friend." Your rage echos through the vast bathroom.

Gojo's laugh fades, his smug expression slipping from his face. Even you're surprised.

...oh shit.

You're actually confronting him.

The intense words burn through his usual arrogance, leaving a heavy, uncomfortable silence between you.

Then, for a fleeting second, his face does something weird.

Something you haven't seen before as his eyebrows draw together. Is that...regret?

"I'm sorry."

The record scratches. You’re fully positive you must be dreaming.

But when he doesn’t make a joke or even crack a smile, you squint at him.

The words are muttered and reluctant, but there they are, hanging in the air between you.

"It...won't happen again."

And he's serious, the same seriousness you see when his heart races as you take his vitals...but why? Because an apology? From him?? Unheard of.

Gojo has said some nasty things to you in the past that you've immediately scolded him for, but he's never apologized. He'd make a note when certain jokes didn't land, but he never took them back, preferring to cut out his own tongue than to waste his breath being sorry.

You know better than to take anything Gojo says at face value, but...what the fuck??? You almost feel offended.

He has to be joking, fucking with you to dig even deeper under your skin.

Or is he?

Fuck, you don't know how to feel.

He's so good at that, stealing the air back and hanging his words in them. Tempting you to pause and even consider if he ever truly means them. If he could mean them. The mind games are endless.

But then, the familiar cockiness returns and overshadows your doubts, twisting your stomach into knots with that familiar smile of his.

"Now," he says, strutting towards the stalls, "let's get this bath started, shall we?" And his easy, but confident steps call you to follow, a stark reminder of who you're dealing with. But he never knows when to quit. "Or should I really have to suffer for my actions?" and the bastard pouts.

Though you know he's being sarcastic and not to feed into his taunts, you can't help but wonder—what would suffering even look like for someone like Gojo?

Violence? Physical pain? A slow and agonizingly painful death?

But the guy is damn near invincible. What on earth could hurt him?

Whatever it is, it would have to be his absolute worst nightmare, but nothing comes to mind at the moment other than frustration because you have to keep making choices.

Return his energy or keep it professional? Tolerance or revenge?

"Apologizing won't cut it," you snap and gesture at his jacket, wondering how the hell he slipped out of the first one without leaving a trace. "And no tricks, or those guards will be back in here faster than you can tell another lame joke."

Smooth.

Gojo sighs sooo dramatically, like he can see straight through your kitty claws. "Fine, fine. Loosen up," he drags, "I won't cause any trouble. Just don't go getting any ideas now, Nurse." and he winks.

He's insufferable—but despite your smoldering anger, tendrils of doubt still creep in.

Your fingers slightly tremble as you begin to unfasten his straps, but each click feels a bit like victory, a fragile illusion of your 'control'—at least for now—because at the end of the day, Gojo had chosen you to listen to. And after today, he's sure you won't forget there isn't room for anyone else.

The jacket falls with a heavy thud, your eyes immediately scanning his upper body in search of any signs of injury or stress. The cascading bruises on his arms surprise you.

They feel so feeble in your hands; the evidence of him not as invincible as he seems is jarring. Pale, weak, and resting between your fingers. Devoid of the power that makes him so feared.

"Never seen bruises before," he tilts his head, "at least not on me"

You hope Yuko was at least partly responsible for the marks on the villain, but they appear self-inflicted, and he's not as mobile.

Fuck, now you'll have to bathe him too. Still, it's strange, seeing him like this. Even weirder knowing that he could still do damage in this state and you can't shake the feeling of this temporary 'truce'. If it isn't obvious by now, you've learned that Gojo always has something up his sleeve.

Warm water soothes you a bit, flowing over your fingers as it fills the large white tub—pristine, imported from somewhere far away, and standing on decorative claw feet. Your eyes wouldn't stop rolling the first time you saw it, completely annoyed with Gojo's over-the-top alterations and sense of style, but you'd be a liar if you said you never thought about sinking your body into it.

The best you could do was cope with the little porcelain tub in your apartment, and you get lost thinking about how you'd love to take a long, hot, and steamy bath when you get home—if you'll even have the energy. There's no way you'll be leaving early now, not like you deserve it, and you feel sick for even thinking about it. You doubt you'll even have a job tomorrow.

You look so defeated Gojo thinks, sauntering forward and lifting the hem of his shirt. You turn away, focusing instead on the temperature of the water, but the rustling sound of his shirt being pulled overhead and pants falling to the ground warms your cheeks.

His physique certainly isn't lacking, even in his current state, but still, you wonder how such a slim but toned frame could be so...powerful.

Could you be more obvious? Your flickering eyes are so telling, shamefully darting between him and the water, but he catches your gaze from the corner of his eye as if he's read your mind. How cute, he thinks, trying to hide away your thoughts.

Clearing your throat, you toss in his loofah. "Well...go on. It's ready." But Gojo only grins, amused by your attempts to look away despite seeing his muscled frame a number of times. Relishing in the fact that he still manages to fluster you.

"Your shirt," he eyes your top, "Your pants. Looks like you've already started without me."

The water stains from earlier sit beautifully across your chest, not yet fully dry, and drawing his eyes to your semi-erect nips.

His teeth tug at his bottom lip, eyes shamelessly raking over your hefty chest. "Always such a tease, aren't you, Nurse?"

You grit your teeth, cursing the conflict swirling in your stuttering heart, fully aware of the thin line between professionalism and this game of intimacy he refuses to stop playing. Everything is always a game no matter the circumstances. And he loves to push your buttons.

"Just get in, Gojo," you order, and after what feels like an eternity, the silence is broken by the sound of splashing water as he steps into the bath.

He slowly sinks in, sighing at the warmth of the water. Ringlets of steam engulf him, almost making his silky white hair disappear with it.

His arms string over the rim of the tub, a look of relaxation resting on his face as if he's had a long, hard day. You resist the urge to slap it off.

Sudsy bubbles form from the solution you pour under the faucet, hoping to shield your eyes from his body. You've seen enough today and expect the mini-rebellious act to piss him off, but as the bubbles grow, so do his eyes. Picking up a handful, he actually starts playing with them.

"Nice touch," he adds, blowing them right into your face, and you watch with a tight lip as he decorates the bathroom with them, knowing you'll be the one to clean it all up.

He sits a crown on his head and gives himself a bubble beard, nipping your nose with some that you're quick to wipe away, and his pale eyes flutter and settle on you in a curious way.

His arms flex as he leans over the edge—steam-slicked sweat dripping down his face that he doesn't bother to wipe away. "I'm ready for my sponge bath," he says, and if it was hard to take him seriously before, it's damn near impossible now—especially with that ridiculous bubble mustache.

Sickening, him still being so playful, so unserious, at a time like this.

You know Gojo's unhinged, yeah, quote, "mentally unwell and a literal danger to society", but to nearly take someone's life and then make jokes afterward?

God, you feel so stupid, walking around him like you were the shit but with the wrong guard up the whole time, playing right into his hands and accidentally rewarding this grown-ass man who likes to play with suds.

The reality of your circumstances replays in your head, the story of how you ended up here, coddling this monster, and you're still confused as hell as to why it had to be you.

Then again, this is what you signed up for...right? To heal. To help those who can't help themselves. To offer redemption some sort of redemption no matter how sick and twisted the person in need is.

With your loofah in hand, you resist the urge to roll your eyes for the 400th time today and keep your morals in mind. "Keep talking like that and I'll stop, Gojo," you say, reluctantly drenching the tool in soap before proceeding to do your job.

Gently washing his back, he sinks into your touch, closing his eyes and letting his body completely rest on the cool cast iron, breathing. Feeling like he's won no matter what you say because your scrubs feel like magic.

Across his arms and over his broad shoulders, you work your way down, bubbles glistening in your trail as you're careful not to miss a single inch of skin but don't linger too long.

Every now and then, you catch glimpses of raised marks between the foam, and because you hate yourself, your brain absolutely refuses to give you a break. You have to give kudos to his dedication to his craft. The muscle definition, the scar tissue telling stories of battles won, the evidence of his past before corruption—everything it takes to be a hero.

It's unsettling, yet fascinating, the polarity between his beauty and his monstrous deeds.

You've never really noticed because this level of care is another first for you. Usually, Gojo just hops into the shower and takes care of himself while you wait outside—easy and thorough but always taking his sweet time, all while loudly singing some annoying song that inevitably ends up stuck in your head.

But after today, it'll be impossible to trust him or you again, and the hushed whispers as the guards walked you both to the restrooms made that abundantly clear.

The pitiful thoughts seep into the way you hesitantly clean him, moving down to his chest and abs while making sure to avoid more sensitive areas, but the malicious glint in his eyes is unmistakable.

"Whatsamatter, Nurse?" Gojo taunts, feeling you slow around his stomach, "Afraid of gettin' too close?" And you can't believe you're praying for a speedy recovery for this monster so he can handle this himself again.

You ignore his comment and try to get this over with as quickly as possible, feeling humiliated enough as it is and he can sense it, mocking you with a laugh.

"You're so uptight. Can't you just relax and enjoy the view?"

God, please make him shut up, begging for relief so you won't scrub his cocky brow right off his face. "Just doing my job," you mutter, twice squeezing the loofah that feels a little funny in your hand as the soapy water rinses his chest.

It feels heavenly on his skin, but the subtle change in your movements makes his brows furrow. Slowing, more deliberate, heavy as if you're wading through molasses. You keep adjusting your grip but the material feels so strange—the texture almost too soft like it could melt into your palm.

Your breath catches when you brush his skin, not realizing how close your fingers drifted to the edge of the sponge, and though it was only a second, it sends an unexpected jolt through his chest.

The muscle relaxers. How could you have already forgotten, you both think.

But Gojo, ever observant, doesn't miss a thing.

His eyes narrow slightly as he watches you. "Feeling a little funny, Nurse?" His velvet voice teases.

"I'm fine," you lie, though you couldn't be less certain as the muscles in your hands start to relax more than you intended, the sponge gliding over his abs, and down his sides, the rhythm almost hypnotic and making his head fall back. You try to push through the haze, to finish quickly and be free of him, but you're losing the battle against numbness and heightened awareness.

And fuck, he has to bite his lip at your touch that suddenly feels so intense, a sensation too good to keep to himself, and one that you obviously need to stop being such a tight-ass.

You need to loosen up in a way that medicine can't help. And Gojo knows just the trick.

He licks his lips, tongue curling over his canine before splashing a wave of water on you in one swoop.

Saying you gasp is an understatement as the steamy wash drenches your face and front once again, setting a new record as you're hit not once, but twice in a day. The loofah slips from your hand as you instinctively reach up to shield yourself, but Gojo is quicker, wrapping his hands around your wrists and holding you in place.

A scream is ready to surge from your body when Gojo maneuvers both of your wrists into one hand, placing a finger to your lips.

"Ssssh ssh ssh ssh ssh," he hushes, his voice a little too calm, "I'm not going to hurt you." A lone droplet hangs from your eyelash and he swipes it. "I just want you to listen."

You freeze, your nerves on fire as you're forced into close proximity with him for the second time today, inches away from his face that gradually softens.

Though you can easily call for help, you know better than to argue—he knows you know better too but he never felt threatened in the first place. Besides, he can feel your breathing slowing, the effects of the pill combined with his firm hold sending a faint buzz from your wrists to your stomach, and his finger remains on your lips as he brings his closer.

His eyes flicker to your bottom lip. "You're so good at your job, Nurse," smoothly pulling it with his thumb. "That's why I like you. You're thorough but real. Just what I need to keep me sane."

Sane?

"Sane," he repeats like he's heard your thoughts. "Believe it or not, you keep me grounded...like a good boy. Be proud, not a single soul here or anywhere else can compare to me, let alone deal with me, and yet...here you are." He looks at you like you're a marvel. "You can handle that...can't you?"

Words fail you. This feels rhetorical. Why does he keep torturing you like this? What is it about you?

You haven't really thought about it since your first few weeks with him but now he's forcing you to think about the little 'power' he's given you that he can easily snatch back.

What happens if he decides to go further than flirting?

You can't handle it, any of this.

Hesitating, you're unsure of what to say but know it could never be the truth.

Gojo must sense it because he leans closer, his breath warm on your cheek.

"If you leave, I just might crack completely, beauty." A breath you didn't realize you were holding slips. "How do you think everyone else will do against me then, hmm?" Gojo knows he's a prodigy, but still manages to surprise himself sometimes, his eyes lingering over the spots on your uniform soaked through just enough to make the fabric cling—perfect aim.

Ice shoots up your spine from the heat of his unadulterated gaze, but you refuse to let him see you falter, and he can almost feel a prick from the daggers in your eyes.

"Oh, don't be like that," he purrs, thumbs grazing your wrists in a mockingly gentle touch. "We all have our boundaries, right? I thought communication was key in a relationship."

"Let go of me," you find your voice, "We're done here."

His head slightly tilts.

Look at you calling the shots, he thinks. So strong, so very serious.

"God, I can't help it," he breathes, "You're so fun to mess with."

He could laugh in your face, have his way with you, and show you that your resistance means nothing, but instead, he slowly releases your wrists and lies back against the tub. "I know you think about it—there's nothing wrong with a little fun...right?" and though the connection is severed, you don't know if it's the drugs or just him that makes his amplified touch linger as you sheepishly rub your wrists.

Gojo watches you blush red—thoughts you didn't know lived within you rushing to the forefront as if he's pushed a button.

Grimy, raw, unwanted thoughts of forbidden fruit, wandering hands, and stolen touches in the dark, wondering what his idea of "fun" is like under the sheets. With a psycho named Gojo.

You feel like you should throw up in disgust but the nausea never comes, burning hot between your legs instead.

Fuck, you have to get out of here.

You draw a breath, forcing away the torturous daydreams and quickly finish his bath.

"You should rest," you firmly say and pull the plug to let the tub drain. "And don't expect any more favors from me."

He sits up slow, his expression stone-cold as he slicks back his wet hair. Then he smiles. "I promise. Now dry me off?" he quips.

You ignore his request, swiftly handing him a towel before he can flash you. With a gruff, you lower to your knees, beginning to dry the floor of his messes and hoping to distract yourself from your questionable sanity.

The sounds of rustling fabric fill the chamber as he dries off, and once you figure it's safe, you look up to find a nude Gojo. Dripping with bubbles, hair plastered to his derpy face, and toned muscles, all the muscles, presenting themselves in all their glory.

The only things dry are his damn hands.

He throws the towel over his shoulder, sauntering towards you with a wicked grin.

"Well, aren't you gonna help me put this thing back on?" He nods at the jacket he knows is more bullshit than security. "Don't want you getting all worked up again."

The first time your brain registered that Gojo was flirting with you was on your third day as his nurse.

"Well, aren't you a breath of fresh air?" Gojo was sitting on his bed, leaning against the wall. It was the second time he'd noticed how sluggish you looked while tending to him, suggesting with a grin that you must be quite the party animal.

Ha. If only.

You tsked, tossing his bedsheets into the hamper, and assured him that your sleepy eyes and dragging feet were the result of long hours and running on fumes. Having time for fun was just a dream.

"I don't get out much myself," he says, alluding to the situation he's in, wearing sarcasm like a necklace. "I love a good night in as much as anyone else but, I don't know. The stuffiness hasn't grown on me yet."

You tugged the collar of your scrubs—the air did feel a bit thick, like the room hadn't been aired out in ages and you couldn't help but wonder how long he'd been sitting in it—how he could. That alone would be enough to drive you up a wall.

Sunlight flickered in your eyes, and you raised your hand to block it, noticing the small window perched above his chair.

"Let's open this then," you said, walking over and wrestling with the ancient wood for a moment before finally pulling the creaky flap up to the ceiling.

A sliver of your midriff peeked out as you stood on your toes to reach it, but what captured Gojo's attention most was the way the sun rays washed over your face. You scrunched your nose, the breeze sending wisps of your hair to tickle it, and he imagined the feel of your strands between his fingers.

The view was beautiful, you thought, hands gripping the warm bars. Trees surrounded the vast area, stretching out as far as you could see, the pathway to civilization completely covered in dense forest from this angle.

You never realized how high up his ward was—or how long the drop was from here.

"Too bad I'm not small enough to slip through those bars." He rubbed his stomach. "But you know me, 'Mr. BigBack.'"

He joked around as he usually did, looking to trigger your defenses, but your reaction was...odd.

Not only was this the first time anyone cared to do something so simple for Gojo, but it was also the closest anyone had gotten to him without their knees buckling.

The first two days of your trial, the Director had guards posted right outside of Gojo's door, their presence a constant reminder to stay alert and maintain a safe distance from the convict. Gojo was positive the mental barrier would keep a wall between you forever.

But then, you laughed. A real laugh. Snickery and cute. Finding his joke funny instead of threatening.

It surprised him, that sound, so natural and pure without hesitation. And he wanted to hear it again and again and again. "Who knew you could bring so much light into this place?" he sighed.

Later at lunch, you sat with Yuko, having your usual midday catch-up. You never start with yours but she, like most people in the ward then, was absolutely dying to hear about how you were dealing with the villain of the century.

"He's actually not so bad...yet. Corny, but," you took a pondering breath, "He kind of thanked me today?"

She immediately scoffed and waved you off, and who could blame her?

You were an anomaly, Gojo already showed that he was capable of mercy and now he was thanking you??

Being polite was too far of a stretch to believe, you must have been mistaken. But when you gave her the deets on why he'd do such a thing, she nearly choked on her apple. "He said that??"

"Ya?" You patted her back with a concerned look.

"Watch out, Casanova," she teased, clearing her throat with a nervous laugh.

Her comment threw you off for the rest of lunch, but when you thought about it later that night while surfing for new shows, a light bulb went off.

He flirted with you.

Thinking it was just another one of those literal dry-humor jokes or simply gratitude for making his stay a little less crappy, it flew right over your head. You always feel warm inside when you help people so you didn't think too much about it.

To you, it was just a kudos. Nothing more.

But the way Gojo stands in front of you now is everything.

As bold and brash as it gets.

Fuck. Me.

And your body betrays you, sending all of the vulnerable sensations you've been fighting to suppress from your soaking chest, tingling wrists, aching thighs, and heavy breath, straight to your throbbing clit.

Air escapes you and you couldn't feel more conflicted, scrambling to grab your supplies and leave.

Enough is enough. The guards outside can restrain him and escort him back to his room for all you care. You just have to get out of there.

Away from him.

Away from temptation.

Hot, overwhelming, guilty, mentally and physically unstable temptation.

In the quiet of the hallway a level below Gojo's ward, you lean against a wall, taking deep breaths and completely disgusted with yourself.

How are you supposed to keep dealing with this, with him?

This force that keeps pushing and pushing and pushing you to the edge until there's nowhere else to go. You can only imagine the hell the nurses he didn't like went through.

Taking care of him isn't getting any easier, and now you were fucking up and making mistakes.

But you're the only one who can do this. Who must.

So suck it up. Play along, Stop thinking only of yourself. Pretend.

Pretend.

Pretend?

...

What terrifies you the most is the thought that you may not have to.

You keep your scrambled thoughts to yourself when you're called into your Director's office at the end of the day.

You tell him the same story you told Yuko and take full responsibility for what happened, blaming it on exhaustion and needing a break. Swearing to never let it happen again.

By some miracle, you get to keep your job, though your one wish to leave early ended up costing you an hour and a half of unpaid overtime, and almost a friendship.

When you finally get home, you collapse onto your bed—images of the day, the ward, and Yuko flooding your thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside. You tell yourself that it's just the guilt talking, just anxiety gnawing at your edges.

But then there's Gojo.

The most prominent one of all.

Staring you in the face with lifeless eyes and a ghostly smile. Tugging on your moral strings like a puppet.

When you close your eyes, you can't shake the feeling that he's waiting for you, a lurker in the shadows watching and anticipating your every move. Have you become predictable? Now you're wondering if you could do something he wouldn't expect.

Leave it. Leave it. Le—

You're scrolling through your phone on a deep-diving, scouring the web for any info on your tormentor.

His past, his affiliations, anything to tell you who Gojo was, and who he is now.

But the man is an anomaly.

Not much is known about him outside of mainstream news and internet rumors.

He's just this guy that kind of popped out of nowhere in the worst way possible, conveniently on the tail of what could have been the most devastating incident in the history of Tokyo.

The media says he's a hero gone rogue but not much else. They've damned him to hell and that was that. Even the Director disclosed very little about him during your briefing and you weren't allowed access to his files or records because it's all 'confidential'.

Nothing.

The more you search, you less that comes up. Not even silly conspiracy theories that you definitely thought would be riddling Reddit. The longer you scroll, the more you find yourself beginning to question your own mind. Your interest. Sweet little buds of obsession.

Even though you hated taking it earlier, you actually need the pill now more than ever to relax as sleep eludes you and your mind wanders to imaginary scenarios as you stare at the ceiling. 

Tomorrow, you'll have to face Gojo again. And the day after that and the day after that and every day after.

In between your nearly non-existent off days, you'll have to see him and decide what face you want to put on.

Because you simply cannot walk away.

After all, he's right—no one else can handle him like you can.

extended angel's note:

when i originally decided to make this into short story, i had no plans on using a y/n perspective. it was just going to feature an OC name i’ve used in stories before, named Persephone, buuuut i decided to wanted to keep it immersive and include no physical descriptors/personality specifics bc i knew i wanted to upload it to tumblr. 

to keep it reader-friendly, yk? 

alas, Persephone has had her claws in me the entire time i’ve been editing and said with her whole chest that i couldn't just dismiss her like that chile. so i decided changed the perspective but keep her name in place of y/n. 

you won’t see it too often in the story bc it’s not super significant or said a lot in general, bUT it is relevant for a certain moment later in the story. you’ll know when you know 🤭. 

anyway, hope it doesn't bother you guys too much. and def feel free to mentally plug your name when you see it to keep yourself grounded into the story.

tag list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @kiwismoother @rune1920 @blkkizzat @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @ressyshi @startatdawn

@khenanadeche @heijihatsutori @inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk

@rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping @sims-4lifers @bratidol @rh-tg1

@hyunsuks-beanie @n1vi @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111 @supsiii

@natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko @strawberrymilkshakes-posts

@nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow @sxnkuna

@misoyuh @lupitalove @sebastianlover @gojosatorubrainrot @sleepiebunniee

@mmmidkman @theonecrackhead @thathorsegotpoobrain @iveivory @samistar

@yuuan-66 @gojoslefttoenail @soyalovestoyap @winkwonks-world @thebiggestsimpforyou 

[dollarbils]

stay quiet, baby | b.e.

billie eilish x fem!reader

request masterlist

your lip was about to bleed. billie’s fingers so deep in your cunt she had you gripping the table while she chatted with the others seated with you at the grammys. you hoped your cheeks weren’t too flushed but the lights were so dim it was unlikely anyone would catch it. your hand gripped hers under the table, silently begging her to stop, yet silently pleading her to go harder.

“billie.” her name was merely a breath but she heard it and broke away from the conversation she was in to lean into your ear.

“stop squirming around, would you? unless you want me to stop?” you were so close yet so sweetly far from release.

“mm.” a shaky and broken moan, gave her the answer she was looking for.

“you’ve got to stay quiet, baby.” her lips left your ear as she excused her abrupt absence from the conversation. she positioned her body differently so that she had more access to your heat. your thighs were a mess as she continued teasing your folds under the table. you struggled to keep quiet, her hand continuing its abuse. your mind was foggy and your thoughts incoherent. all you could focus on was your grip on her hand, and your grip on the table. your lips were peeling apart at your teeth, as you painfully attempted to keep quiet.

“too much of a slut to keep quiet babe, huh?” you hadn’t realised her face come back towards you, breaking away from the conversation again. you were too focused on keeping your tattered lips intact, your knuckles growing white from your harsh grip on the table.

“answer me.” she broke you away from your thoughts, curling her fingers upwards. your breaths were jagged and uneven.

“mhm.” her pace didn’t falter however, at the small mumble that fell from your lips. the knot in your stomach tightened until it snapped all at once, hitting you so hard you let out a loud gasp, which you later disguised as pain from hitting your leg on the leg of the table. your eyes were wide, brimmed with tears of pent up frustration that you refused to let fall. she gave you a wicked smirk before turning towards the stage as the event started, licking your wetness of her fingers discretely.

[moralesluvr]

i just saw the new billie pics in her heels and then she posts a photo dumb with her baggy outfits and cap and omg can you write a fic where billie works in readers university and is all dressed classy and one weekend reader runs into billie at a party and shes all dressed baggy and smokes weed and is completely different and they hook up and then continue in uni but have to hide ?!

TEACHER’S PET | b. eilish.

ꨄ︎ includes substance use, age gap (reader is 20 and billie is 27), smut !!

out of all your classes, miss eilish’s music theory class was definitely your favorite.

she always wore strikingly put together her creative outfits, with her pointed black heels, black and white skirts and blazers— she was always looking put together.

you had first met her during orientation week. when you saw her name plastered across your syllabus, you were sure it was some stuck up, old woman with small glasses that would lean against her frail nose. but it completely and utterly shocked you when you were met with a black-haired beauty with a voice of honey and pink, plump lips. there was a private ocean in her blue eyes, long eyelashes making them look even prettier as she'd never break eye contact when she spoke with you.

it was so wrong of you to think of her like that. but when you first got a glimpse of her, strolling into your class with a coffee in her hand and heels clacking against the tile floors, you knew you were in trouble.

her suit's tailored and impossibly sleek, and your mind can't help but drift as she addresses the class, writing something on the board that you're not paying attention to. all you can look at is her. the way her hair frames her face to accentuate her jaw, the way her black hair sits neatly atop her head. you didn't want to admit it, but she was fine as fuck.

"okay, so, these notes clash, which makes the dissonance more prominent," billie speaks, pointing to different examples of music up on the board. you try to focus, you really do, but your attention keeps drifting off to other places. to the way billie's hands move when she talks, showing off her hand tattoo, or the way her lips curl slightly when someone asks a question that she clearly finds stupid, though she's always polite enough to answer it.

you feel your attention finally drift back to the material, but by then, it's too late. the bell rings and everyone grabs their belongings, ready to move onto whatever class they have next, but you linger behind, making sure to grab your things slowly.

billie's still up front, stacking up papers and taking a sip of her coffee when her eyes catch yours over the rim of her cup.

it's like a reflex for you to look away, eyes focusing on whatever irrelevant shit is on the wall so that billie doesn't catch you staring.

you hear her heels clicking against the floor as she moves toward the door, probably on her way to another class or a meeting, but then they stop.

she turns around to look at you, eyebrows raised as she cocked her head to the side slightly out of curiosity, "you staying behind for a reason?"

her voice pulls you back in, warm and honey-smooth, as always. you glance up to find her standing at the edge of her desk, one perfectly arched brow raised as she looks at you.

your throat feels dry now. this is the first conversation that you've really had with her, and you felt so torn. because even though she was your teacher, she was still so beautiful, and it made you anxious regardless.

you try to play it off, "uh, no. i was just—" and then you pause, struggling to find an excuse that doesn't sound ridiculous. "just taking my time, i guess."

"taking your time, huh?"

you nod quickly, slinging your bag over your shoulder and gripping the strap to steady you. you bite your lip and pray that what just came out of your mouth is believable.

and it seems to be, because miss eilish doesn’t move. she's just watching you with that same quiet intensity from before, the same kind that makes your skin feel tingly when you look at her, the same kind that makes your ears perk everytime you hear her voice.

there’s something about the way her eyes linger on yours, a softness mixed with something sharper, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"you’re... i'm sorry love, i'm not good with names. what’s yours again?" she asks, tilting her head slightly.

the little nickname of 'love' nearly makes you fall and crash onto the empty desk next to you. but you just mumble your name out to her, voice soft as you try to keep your behavior in check.

the conversation between you and billie is short-lived after that. she compliments your hard work and dedication, complains about some meeting she has to attend, and then she's off, the sound of her clicking heels fading as she disappears into the hallway.

and from that moment on, professor eilish is all you can think about.

you tell yourself it’s just a passing crush, something harmless and fleeting, but it doesn’t feel harmless when her voice lingers in your head long after class has ended. or when you catch yourself looking forward to music theory in a way that’s... unsettling.

there's nothing even fun about that class. it's hard and long and sometimes even gives you headaches, but the only thing that kept you so interested was her.

you started sitting closer to the front, telling yourself it’s because you want to focus better. and you do focus! ....at least for the first five minutes.

but then she’ll lean against the desk, crossing her arms in a way that makes the blazer pull just slightly against her frame, exposing her bare waist. or she’ll glance over her shoulder with a look so sharp, blue eyes glistening underneath the light of her classroom, making your breath catch.

and when she calls on you, there’s something in her tone, a faint lilt that makes it sound like she’s daring you to impress her. she always asks you a question like she wants you to get it wrong.

miss eilish calls on you one day, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the classroom. "what do you think, love? do these notes resolve, or is there still tension?"

your heart skips as every pair of eyes in the room turns toward you, but hers are the only ones that really matter. she's waiting, hand on her hip as she holds an expo marker in hand, ready to draw your answer up on the board.

"uh... i think they resolve," you cough out, hoping you don’t sound as unsure as you feel. you knew it was the right answer, but every single pair of eyes in that classroom was on you, especially your favorite blue ones.

billie nods slowly, a hint of approval in her expression as she turns around to write the correct answer, "good. and why’s that?"

you fumble for an explanation, trying to string together something coherent while her gaze stays locked on yours. she bites her lip, and you feel your words slip from you as you try not to freeze up.

"because, um, the intervals between the notes... they close the gap, so there’s no dissonance left," you say in short, choppy phrases.

her lips twitch into a small smile, almost like she’s pleased. "exactly. nice work."

you swear her eyes linger just a second longer than necessary before she moves on, but it’s enough to leave your pulse racing for the rest of class.

────୨ৎ────

there's one afternoon where you decided show up to class early, expecting to have a few quiet minutes to yourself, but miss eilish's already there.

she’s leaning against the desk, scrolling through her phone with a coffee in hand, per usual. her blazer is draped over the chair behind her, leaving her in a crisp white button-up that somehow feels just as striking. it's low cut, and with her leaning against her desk the way she was, it gave you a direct view to her chest, making you gulp. you knock on the open door to let your presence be known, "hi, miss eilish."

she glances up when she hears you enter, her lips curling into that faint, almost-smile that’s been on repeat inside your mind. she raises a hand to wave at you, setting her phone down, "early today?"

"yeah," you say, feeling oddly self-conscious as you settle into your usual seat. "figured i’d get a head start. i've been struggling with...um, some tonic stuff."

"dedicated. i like that," she says, taking a sip of her coffee, waving her hand at you as she swallows, "and don't worry about the tonic stuff, honey, you don't have to be anxious with any of that. we’ll review.”

the way billie calls you more and more pet names as time goes on makes you stomach flip. of course, she probably calls all of her students some type of pet name, but it doesn't change the way it makes your cheeks feel hot to the touch as she gives you a smile when she calls you all sorts of sweet names.

────୨ৎ────

it’s the end of a long, dreary week when miss eilish calls your name just as class is about to end. you’re really not in the mood— slinging your bag against your desk with a huff, eyes burning with former tears when you found out that you had gotten a sixty on the test today.

you were just about to leave, collecting your things and shoving them into your bag when you hear billie repeat your name again, her voice cutting through the low hum of conversation as your classmates gather their belongings and head out. "can you stay for a moment?"

you freeze, your stomach flipping as the rest of t your classmates filter out, their chatter fading into the hallway until it’s eventually quiet, and now it’s just you and billie. you keep your head down, pretending to check the straps of your bag awkwardly.

"close the door, please," she says, her tone casual but firm. you nod, your palms suddenly clammy as you push the door shut, returning back to your seat.

when you turn around, she’s perched on the edge of her desk, one leg crossed elegantly over the other. her blazer is draped over her chair, and her sleeves are rolled up just enough to reveal the faint edge of her hand tattoo. you swallow thickly.

"you’ve been tense lately," miss eilish starts, tilting her head slightly to give you concerned eyes. she opens her mouth like she wants to speak again, but she stops, giving you a chance to speak for yourself.

"i’m fine," you say quickly when given the chance, though the words feel hollow even to you.

she can tell you’re lying.

her lips curve into a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. it’s more sorrowful than all the other smiles she gives you, and she almost seems upset that you’re upset. “you’ve been saying that a lot, honey.”

you shrug, unsure of what else to say, so you avert your gaze to the floor. but she doesn’t let you off the hook so easily.

"school can be overwhelming," miss eilish continues, her voice softening. "but you don’t have to do it all alone, you know that, right? you can always—“

"i’m managing," you interrupt through a mumble, fiddling with the strap of your bag. you’re ready to bolt out the door. this is the first time that you wished you weren’t talking to billie right about now.

and as much as you want her to just hush and let you go, she doesn’t. her smile widens, just slightly as she tried to give you advice, "managing is one thing, but you’re allowed to take a break. you’re human. school it’s important, but it isn’t everything.”

her words catch you off guard. the way your name follows more intimate ones feels way too personal, like it doesn’t belong in this fluorescent-lit, dusty old classroom.

"i guess," you say, your voice quieter now. you don’t really know what to say. was there an appropriate response to this? and even if there was, you weren’t really in the mood at all.

"have you thought about doing something for yourself this weekend?" miss eilish asks, leaning back slightly, her hands resting on the edge of the desk behind her.

"not really," you admit, your attention definitely not on the conversation anymore. your eyes are fixated on her— her open top, her crossed legs, her freshly painted and cut nails…she was such a distraction.

billie hums thoughtfully, her eyes scanning your face like she’s trying to read you. "well, you should go out this weekend. do something fun, something that takes your mind off all of this for a while."

there’s a softness in her gaze that makes it hard to look away, even though every nerve in your body is screaming at you to do so.

"i’ll think about it," you say, forcing a small smile, though you really aren’t in the mood at all. but you muster up a fake laugh and a grin, packing up your final things to get ready and leave.

her eyes linger on you for a moment longer before she nods, sliding off her desk with a click! and grabbing her bags to go ahead and leave. "well, good. you deserve it."

────୨ৎ────

you don’t plan on going to this party.

you spend most of saturday afternoon curled up in your bed, your laptop balanced on your knees as you scroll aimlessly back and forth between netflix and pinterest, though neither of them really have your attention.

your intentions are mostly to take a chill day, but of course, your roommate, nadia— has other plans, bursting into your room halfway through the evening with a devilish grin and an outfit that screams bad decisions ahead!

"you’re coming with me," she announces, shaking a sequined top wildly before chucking it onto your covers. you don’t even look up at her, you just continue to scroll on your macbook as you shrug, informing her that you aren’t really interested in leaving your house.

"yes, you are," the girl insists insists, hands on her hips firmly. “you’ve been sulking all week. you need to get out! go get some bitches!”

"i’m not sulking," you protest, though the half-eaten bag of chips accompanied by a 3-day old dr. pepper can next to you might suggest otherwise. if it wasn’t for school, you really hadn’t left your dorm at all.

you felt like you were going crazy. school was kicking your ass, and all these little interactions with miss eilish just started to take more and more of a toll on you.

"come on, y/n," nadia speaks gently now, her tone softening out of respect for any decision you might make, though you know which one she wants you to make. "just one night. it’ll be good for you."

you sigh, glancing at the top she brought. it’s way flashier than anything you’d ever pick out for yourself, but her words stick with you. you needed to get out.

before you know it, you’re standing in front of the mirror, adjusting the hem of the sequined top and trying to convince yourself that this is what you needed. you put on a light base of makeup and fix your hair in a lazy updo, but still cute enough to where it makes you look put together.

“you ready to go?” nadia asks, applying some lipstick in the mirror as she planted a kiss on your cheek, the red tint contrasting against your skin. you frown, but you’re still showing all teeth as you shrug, “i guess so.”

maybe this could be good for you.

────୨ৎ────

the party is already in full swing by the time you and nadia arrive.

the bass of the most popular and newest songs reverberates through the walls, and the air is thick with the mingling scents of beer, weed, and something sweet— perfume mixed with all of the above, probably.

you follow your roommate through the crowd, your left hand gripping nadia’s and your right holding your phone so tight you thought your fingers could snap. losing your phone has to be number one worst things to do at a party, and tonight was definitely not the night to have anything bad added to your plate of stress.

you’re scanning the room, trying to find a quiet corner to retreat to when you realize that nadia’s twerking on some random guy, which you definitely had no interest in.

you’re walking towards a small sitting section with low eyes, and that’s when you see her.

she’s leaning against the wall in the back of the room, one foot propped up behind her. a red solo cup dangles from her fingers, and a joint rests lazily in an ashtray next to her, being picked up every once in a while for her to take a hit. her hair is loose, cascading around her face in soft waves, and she’s wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants that are so at odds with her usual polished appearance, it’s almost dizzying to you.

and it takes you a moment to process that it’s her.

miss eilish.

your professor.

your heart pounds as you stand frozen in place, torn between looking away and staring at her forever. her usual collected and sweet demeanor is absolutely nowhere to be found, and is now replaced with what you can guess as the authentic, raw side of her.

before you can decide whether you should speak to her or pretend you never even saw her, miss eilish’s eyes meet yours across the room, scanning your outfit.

you felt naked in front of her. with your gold, backless top and your tiny black mini skirt, you felt so immodest for your teacher to see you like this. you just bit your lip and looked down, knowing already that there was virtually nothing you could do to get out of this situation.

for a moment, neither of you moves.

then, slowly but surely, her voice calls out your name, smooth and unmistakable, cutting through the noise of the party. it’s hard to miss although you try your best to ignore it.

she was your teacher. you needed to bolt in the other direction and never look back, but it was like your feet were working against you as you turn back, your pulse racing, to find her weaving through the crowd toward you.

"didn’t expect to see you here," miss eilish says, stopping just a foot away from your idle spot near the booths in the back.

"didn’t expect to see you here either," you manage, your voice trembling slightly as you shrug, hoping that your attempted nonchalance would calm your nerves.

it didn’t.

billie chuckles, a low, soft sound that sends a shiver down your spine. her eyes flick over you, analyzing every single little detail about you. she’s taking in your outfit with an amused tilt of her head as she speaks with a surprised nod, “nice top."

"thanks," you say, your cheeks flushing. the air is thick now, and a little awkward, so you cough in attempt to calm your nerves. but billie does that for you,

"having fun?" she asks to break the silence. she reaches for the joint, bringing it to her lips and taking a slow drag.

"i’m really trying to," you admit, your eyes following the movement of her hand as she exhales.

she holds the joint out to you, her lips curling into a playful smile. "want some?"

your breath catches, and for a moment, you hesitate. you had never really smoked before, and the thought of calming your nerves down a little actually appealed to you.

"it’s just a party," miss eilish says, her voice soft, almost coaxing. "no one’s judging. it’s up to you.”

you didn’t really want to say no anyways, so you nodded, expecting billie to hand you to the joint. instead, she pulls it to your lips, low eyes fixated you as you take a couple hits, the smoke slipping past your lips.

────୨ৎ────

you really don’t know how, but you end up outside with billie, the cool air electrifying and sobering all at once. you were honestly just overwhelmed with all the noise, and there was too much going on— so you decided to sit outside at a patio, smoking and giggling, your nerves eventually calming down.

“you feel better, love?” there she does again with that damn nickname.

“a little,” you admit, crossing your arms and rubbing your hands against them to warm yourself. your mind feels a little hazy and your body feels slow, but it feels good, and you can’t help but giggle with billie as the both of you make fun of each other’s red eyes and sleazy looks.

she laughs softly, the sound low and intimate. “thought you’d be studying, i’m surprised you left your dorm at all.”

you shrug, the corner of your mouth lifting. “guess i took your advice. plus…my roommate forced me.”

billie giggles, resting her head in her arms as she lays atop the patio table. she gives you sweet eyes, “there’s something about you that i really like, but i can’t put my finger on what it is...”

you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying what you want to say. it’s wrong— it’s inappropriate, this is your teacher for God’s sake. but it wasn’t like you started it. maybe the both of you could keep a secret?

“you’re so pretty,” she murmurs, her gaze dropping briefly to your lips before meeting your eyes again. your heart feels like it’s gonna pound out your chest, the tension crackling like static between you two. you should lean back, say something to defuse this moment, but you don’t.

instead, you stay rooted to the spot as her fingers brush your wrist, the touch sending a jolt through you.

“can i?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, her lips so close now that you can feel the warmth of her breath on your skin. you nod, unable to form words, and then her mouth is on yours, soft and deliberate, and you feel your whole body tense as she billie you.

it feels so wrong, but so so very right, and you smile a little bit because you know that deep down, you wanted this, and you got exactly that.

────୨ৎ────

you realize that you’ve taken it too far.

one kiss turned into five, and then ten, and fifteen minutes later, you’re sitting on billie’s counter with a wine glass in hand, though there’s only juice in it. she had invited you over because she figured neither you or nadia were sober and couldn’t really be out responsibly. it was a refuge that tou genuinely did need, so you accepted, waiting until you were at least sober enough get home safely.

billie sits her glass down and makes her way over to you, hands finding your waist as she looks you deep in your eyes, telling you her secret before she does. she licks her lips, “you’re twenty, right love?”

you nod, “yeah….um…how old are you, miss eilish?”

“twenty-seven.”

shit.

seven years doesn’t seem like a lot, but it kind of is. but all of that concern flies out the window when her lips latch on yours, when your black miniskirt is nothing but fabric discarded to the floor, when billie’s head in buried deep in between your legs.

her eyes flickered to your exposed pussy, looking up at you before licking up a long stripe all the way up to your clit. you whine, your hand immediately finding her hair as you gripped at it, a handful filling your slick palms. billie’s tongue browses everywhere on you before settling on a singular spot on your bud, making you tremble underneath her. she suckles at your clit, her curvy nose alternating from side to side, maximizing the pleasure. you yank at her scalp, struggling to form words, "m-miss eilish… oh my gosh, p-please...please don't stop.”

it felt like such a sin the way she had your back arching, fists grabbing the counters beneath you— and yet it felt so right at the same time.

billie’s mouth is too busy to respond to you, but she answers you in a nod, causing the tip of her nose to bump against the sweet spot of your swollen clit. you fight not to scream out, your teeth desperately sinking into your bottom lip so hard that they nearly bleed.

billie slides her hand up to your torso as she resumes her sweet assault on your slick heat, kneading at your bra accented breasts. your toes flinch, begging to curl, causing you to cry out as billie takes your whole bud in her mouth. your knuckles turn white from gripping the counter, and she can tell you're close by the swelling of your sensitive clit.

she pulls away, serving you only mere licks, "gonna cum for me?"

"yes, god, yes," you pant, your head flying backwards. the pleasure is strong enough to knock you out, your eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks. the coil that's built up in your stomach finally snaps when billie returns to flicking her nose against your dripping cunt. her tongue settles idly against you, collecting all your juices, "so good, my good little girl, you did such a good job."

the stars in your eyes start to fade when your vision descends, looking directly at the girl who's basking in your current state. face all flushed, your cunt glistening and puffy, your hands still gripped against the table, your knuckles bleeding white. your chest rises, "want your fingers, miss eilish, please."

"since you asked so nicely," she coos, upstanding to her full height to peck you on the lips before shuffling in front of you. you shift backward so that she has full access to your pussy, watching as she gently plunged one finger into your sopping heat. a string of moans immediately rolls off your lips as you buck your hips forward, aching for more than what she was giving you.

"m-more," you pant, your eyes screwed shut.

"so greedy." billie nearly giggles, but she still adds another finger to the mix, per your request. she styles her thrusts in wide scissors, admiring your sloppy, relaxed state as you grunted beneath her. the tips of billie’s fingers curled upwards against your dilated walls, pressing against that sweet spongy spot deep within your core. a tingly feeling erupts in your stomach, making your hand fly to her exposed arms. your fingernails into her flesh, the outline of your acrylics leaving red semi circle marks on her bicep.

billie’s thumb unlatches from her palm, journeying to find your pulsing bud. she smiles when he locates it, rubbing tight, firm circles on it. you immediately clench around her fingers, "miss...oh my goodness, i-i can't..."

"c'mon," she encourages, her pace speeding up, "you can take it. you’re my best girl, always— in class, right now, prove me right, honey.”

you nod, although you were unsure about her statement. you chant her name like a prayer, moans escaping your throat. billie’s free thumb presses underneath your chin, forcing you to look at her. she looks back at you with stern eyes, "shut it up, or i'll stop, you hear me?"

"yes.”

“yes what?”

“yes ma’am.” you whine, watching as billie gives you a small nod before continuing to thrust her digits deeply inside you, watching you fall apart beneath her. your chest fluctuates and your back arches, your walls clenching irregularly around her fingers. she feels your core tighten, "that's it, good girl— i’ve got you honey. you can cum."

you do as told, your orgasm ripping through you as you cry out, your eyes sewn shut. billie continues to finger you—ignoring your post-orgasm sensitivity, grinning at the sight of you shaking at her tender touch.

"m-miss... f-feels s'good," you manage to breathe out, looking up at her smug face. she can't contain her giddy expression- she loved seeing you like this, a complete mess beneath her, your glistening body on display for her and only her. the squelching of your wet pussy is the only sound that fills the atmosphere, accenting her occasional praises.

“you wanna hear the truth?” billie starts, her movements not ceasing as she extended her height to put her face right up against your own, foreheads touching. “every since i watched you walk into my class, i couldn’t take my fuckin’ eyes off of you. you’re smart and attentive, fuck— so damn pretty. and i didn’t wanna lose my job, no, of course not— but i should’ve known that you were staying after so much just to come see me. is that true?”

you nod, the walls of your cunt tightening as you felt that familiar feeling grow in your abdomen as she continues, “i know, princess. but this our little secret, yeah? you keep your pretty mouth shut, and you can have whatever you want.”

the way she’s talking to you, it makes your stomach flip. you knew deep down that it was wrong, the way you’d have to slip past her in the halls like you didn’t see her, pretending like your attentiveness was just because of your love for the subject, though it really never was.

when you come down from your last orgasm and billie cleans you up, you’re laying in her bed with her clothes on, watching as she discards her own to throw on something more comfortable.

as she slips under the covers next to you, you feel her rest her chin in the crook of your neck, her hands resting on your waist.

“this is our little secret.”

and it was. you snuck around campus to see her, would linger behind in class just so you could steal a kiss before your next one. you’d leave after school and go to her apartment, drinking wine and making love, just to be back in her classroom the next morning.

she’d give you playful winks sometimes, and people speculated who miss eilish would’ve gone for, assuming it was some air headed guy in her sixth class. and though it was so very wrong, your lips couldn’t help but curl, knowing that you had gotten exactly what you wanted.

she was all yours.

send an ask to be added to my taglist !

taglist: @vharperr | @47lake | @hopingforgoodblogs | @zendayasredbottoms | @chrissv4mp | @mseilishmwah | @justtr | @natbelovasblog | @lovelyy-moonlight | @bilsdillldough | @billiesrighthand

[karaeilishh]

G!p billie getting hard when reader teasingly calls her daddy in her ear when theyre at an event (like the grammys or the oscars) and they end up fucking in the bathroom

omg omg this one my favoriteee

you can be be the boss b. eilish

"i think i look like the boss with the oscar," billie says, tilting her head and lifting the heavy statuette up to show off in front of you. she wants you to tell her again how proud you are of your girl. you giggle and bite your lower lip, a little distracted by her appearance: her hair is slightly disheveled, and her eyeliner is smeared. she looks pretty.

you take a small step towards her, rising up on your toes. her arm immediately wraps around your waist, holding you close to her. "you can be the boss, daddy," you whisper, burning her skin with your hot breath. billie swallows hard, freezing in place. you've hit a weak spot. "don't play with fire, sweetheart."

you have a teasing reply on the tip of your tongue, but you hear a familiar voice behind you. "you girls are the cutest couple this evening," you both smile as ariana looks at you with adoring eyes. she immediately hugs you in turn, making short conversation, almost distracting your mind from what you wanted to say. "i'm so sorry, i'm going to have to excuse myself to the ladies' room."

you smile and give billie a kiss on the cheek. "sorry, daddy," you say quietly. then you head to the bathroom, resting your waist on the marble counter. you weren't really needed here; you were just waiting for her.

and you don't have to wait long.

she practically flies into the room, slamming the door behind her and snapping the lock shut. you don't need any extra witnesses. "daddy?" her tone is mocking, but you only need to look down at her pants to see what's going on.

"i thought you liked this-,", her lips pressing into yours in a hungry kiss, smearing your lipstick across your chin. she finds her way to the zipper of her pants, quickly lowering them to her ankles. you feel her length pressing against your thigh. you want to let go of another dirty comment, but she covers your mouth with her hand. "shut up already."

as soon as your dress is pulled up around your waist, she pushes your panties aside and puts two fingers inside you. "billie!" you grab her shoulders for support and cover your eyes. she easily slides her fingers inside you and pulls them out immediately, making you whimper.

"what a pathetic girl. no more calling me 'daddy'?" she doesn't let you answer, placing two fingers covered in your juices into your mouth. her cock quickly finds its way to your pussy, making you moan and bite her fingers. "oh, no teeth, baby."

she lifts your leg, pulling it to her waist to change the angle and hit all the right spots inside you. you close your eyes and try not to clench your jaws and work only with your tongue.

"you're just perfect for my cock, baby. such a perfect girl..." billie growls, moving her hips faster, feeling her cock throbbing inside you. she presses her body against yours, wanting to feel you completely. skin to skin. you can feel when she's close, her breathing intermittent and heavy, her fingertips rubbing against your thigh, her movements all wilder and sloppier. "you're going to take all my cum, princess, right?"

you nod, feeling tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you approach your own release. billye replaces her fingers with her mouth, continuing to devour you while her cock is buried deep in your pussy and her cum drips down your walls.

daddy.

tags: @chrissv4mp, @hkkuugu, @sweet3nerrr, @krosep, @stonerfromlesbos, @loveyoumatthewbernard, @47lake @ohdoyoustillcry, @bilsdillldough,@n0vabug

[cherry-romper]

Loving You Sounds Like a Song

Playlist

+ Midoriya, Bakugou, Todoroki, Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, Iida, Momo, Jirou, Mina, Ochaco, Asui, Mirio, Amajiki, Aizawa, Hawks, All Might, Dabi, Twice, Compress, Shiguraki

Midoriya; Head over Heels - Tears For Fears

I wanted to be with you alone

I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much?

Something happens and I'm head over heels

One little boy, one little man - funny how time flies

Bakugou; Everlong - Foo Fighters

I've waited here for you, Everlong

Come down, And waste away with me

Breathe out, So I can breathe you in

And I wonder...if everything could ever feel this real forever.

You gotta promise not to stop when I say when.

Todoroki; Say Yes to Heaven - Lana Del Rey

Give peace a chance, Let the fear you have fall away

Say yes to heaven, Say yes to me

If you go, I'll stay, You come back, I'll be right here

And if you fight, I'll fight

I've got my mind on you

Kirishima; Lover - Taylor Swift

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

I take this magnetic force of a man to be my lover

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Kaminari; NEON - DPR LIVE

Your kisses make it go neon

Neon, I want to know you

Neon, lose the night with you

Girl, I'm liking your body, but more than that I love your, uh

Colourful smile, you make me wonder what's under, uh

The way you make the light go blurry

Sero; Coast - Hailee Steinfeld

You the wave upon my ocean, pounding rhythm and motion

Just relax and let the riptide pull you close

Baby, all I wanna do is coast, with you

The starts come down, you drown 'em out

I'm sinking deeper into you

Iida; This Charming Man - The Smiths

Will nature make a man of me?

Why pamper life's complexity, When the leather runs smooth on the passenger seat?

This man said, "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care"

A jumped up pantry boy, Who never knew his place

Momo; You've Got The Love - Florence + The Machine

I know I can count on you

But you've got the love I need to see me through

When my food is gone you are my daily meal

When friends are gone I know my saviour's love is real

Jirou; Wait a Minute! - WILLOW

I'm here right now, with you

I'll run my hands through you hair

You wanna run your fingers through mine

You left your diary at my house, And I read those pages, Do you really love me, baby?

Mina; DESERT EAGAL - Beyonce

Soft to the touch, let you hold somethin'

Soft kisses on some fat lips

Put on a show and make it nasty, Desert Eagle in the backseat

Oh, I keep it classy, let you love me like a lady, yeah

Ochaco; Strawberry Skies - Kid Travis

Girl you brighten up my world

Cant you tell I want you by my side?

We're gone with the wind, Hair in your face, Put my hand on your waist

Strawberry skies, all on your lips, 'cause I love how it taste

Hope that you catch me when I fall

Asui; Honey - Kehlani

I like my girls just like I like my honey, sweet, A little selfish

'Cause I'm a beautiful wreck, A colourful mess, but I'm funny

All the pretty girls in the world, But I'm in this space with you

Don't walk away, or would you wait for me?

Isn't love all we need? Is it love?

Mirio; I can't Help Myself - Four Tops

You know that I love you, I cant help myself

I love you and nobody else

Leaving just your picture behind, And I kissed it a thousand times

When you snap your figure or wink your eye, I come running too you

But every time I see your face, I get choked up inside.

Amajiki; Halley's Comet - Billie Eilish

But in my dreams I seem to be more honest, And I must admit, you've been in quite a few

But you're all it takes for me to break a promise

Silly me to fall in love with you

Midnight for me is 3AM for you

I was good at feeling nothing, now I'm hopeless

Aizawa; Adore You - Harry Styles

I get so lost inside your eyes, Would you believe it?

You don't have to say you love me

You don't have to say nothing

You don't have to say you're mine

I'd walk through fire for you, Just let me adore you

Hawks; Where u Goin' Tonight? - Mac Ayres

Just don't stand so close to me... Unless tonight, you'll be my only

All of the things I tried to keep low, Feeling like I been changing

Tell me where you goin' tonight? I'll meet you there if that's alright

Could I be the one to do the things that you like?

Burnt all my bridges, baby, But at least I'm staying warm

I been working on forgiveness, Said I don't think its catching on

All Might; I Was Made For Lovin' You - KISS

Tonight I wanna give it all to you

'Cause girl, I was made for you, And girl, you were made for me

Can you get enough of me?

Feel the magic, there's something that drives me wild

Dabi; LET THE WORLD BURN - Chris Grey

It's dangerous 'cause I want it all, And I don't think I care what it costs

I shouldn't have fallen in love, Look what it made me become

And I know you think you can run

But I just cant let you go

I'd let the world burn, Let the world burn for you

This is how it always had to end, If I cant have you then no one can

Twice; Caraphernelia - Pierce The Veil

There ain't a think that you can do that's going to ruin my night

This dizzy dreamer and her bleeding little blue boy

Hold my heart, it's beating for you anyway

Ill burn your name into my throat

What's so good about picking up the pieces?

Mr. Compress; Never Ever Getting Rid of me - From Waitress

I will never let you let me leave, I promise I'm not lying

I'm gonna do this right, Show you I'm not moving, Wherever you go, I won't be far to follow

I'm gonna love you so, You'll learn what I already know, I love you means you're never, ever, ever getting rid of me

Shigaraki; No Mercy - DeathByRomy

My boy hates everybody but me

He's sinister, but to me, he's sweet

In love with a monster, Daddy thinks I've lost it

My boy's a bullet in your brain, I show no mercy

Your nightmare is the man of my dreams

It turns me on when he makes you bleed

[bxeckersz]

LUNCH | kate martin x female!reader

summary: the girls wanna go out for lunch but kate decides to have a snack before…

warnings: smut (straight filth), p eating (r! receiving), language, mommy kink

“I could eat that girl for lunch. Yeah, she dances on my tongue.”

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Kate had invited her team to our house today since the girls had an off day. It was rare that they had any off days so we always made sure to do something.

“guys we should go out to lunch” Gabbie suggested. I was sitting on the couch, my legs draped over Kate’s lap as she slowly rubbed on my thighs.

The whole team was over at me and Kate’s house right now. Like the whole team. Most of the girls were sprawled on the floor watching their phones or making TikToks.

“We should” Jada and Caitlin said at the same time causing the room to erupt into laughter. “Bro, ya’ll are literally twins” I laughed. “I know right. My evil twin right here” Jada said as she interlocked arms with Caitlin.

The girls started to get up, grabbing their bags and stuff. “Kate, Y/n? are ya’ll coming?” Kennise said, grabbing her phone. “Uhm. Yeah. we’ll just meet you guys there” Kate said, causing me to look up.

“Alright” Molly said. With that everyone walked out of the door. “Why didn’t we leave with them?” I said, curiosity filling my tone in voice.

Kate just smirked and pulled me onto her lap, kissing me intensely. Her hands roamed my body, eventually going down to grab my ass.

“Kate. in- Lets go in the room.” I managed to get out in between kisses. “mhm” She nodded. She picked me up, my legs wrapping around her waist as we walked into our room.

She put me down on the bed, going on top of me. Her kisses roamed my body going from my lips to my neck. “Kate” I moaned out. “don’t. Don’t leave any hickeys.”

“mhm” she hummed against my skin. “let’s hurry up, hm?” Kate whispers, her voice low and husky. I nod eagerly.

“let’s take these off” She said, pulling my shorts and panties off. “So wet for me, ma.” She said, attaching her lips to my pussy.

“oh fuck” I moan out, gripping kate’s hair. I feel her smirk against me, speeding up her movements. “you taste so good” She hummed against my pussy.

“faster, kate. please” I moan out. “so needy” She rasped, moving her tongue faster. “kate. fuck. oh yes” I moan. she looked up at me, making eye contact as her tongue slid into me, finding the right spot.

“shit. right there.” I moan out, grinding my hips against her face. “fuck. feels so good. so good.” I moan. “Doing so good, baby” kate said, repeatedly hitting the same spot.

“fuck. i’m gonna cum.” I moan as my legs begin to shake, tightening my thighs around her head. “go ahead, ma. cum for me” Kate said, moving faster. Her words combined with that tongue of hers sent me over edge.

That tight knot in my stomach snapped. “oh fuck. mommy.” I moaned as i came. Kate smirked, looking up at me as she helped me ride my high out.

I felt her phone buzz from the side of me so i grabbed it, throwing it to her, very out of breath. “yeah?” Kate said, licking her lips.

“Bro, hurry the hell up.” Caitlin said. “aight, aight. we’re coming.” Kate said, out of breath. were ya’ll fucking or something? like why are you so out of breath?” Kennise said, popping her head into the phone.

“Bro. get the fuck off my phone. text me the restaurant you guys went to. we’re on the way” Kate said, hanging up. “We gotta go, baby. and you gotta fix that” Kate said, pointing to my shaking legs.

“Bro. shut up.” I said, getting up to get clothes out. “Watch that mouth of yours” Kate said. “shit. I’m so full off of eating you for lunch, i don’t know if i’m gonna get anything.” Kate added, laughing slightly.

I just rolled my eyes at her comment, walking into the bathroom to get ready.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

thanks for reading all the way through, as alwaysss!! guys this might be shit I literally rushed through this 😭😭.

anyways, hope you guys enjoy!

[canthelpit0]

Bottom

Pairing: sub!Billie eilish x Dom!famous!reader

Wordcount: 670+

Summary: reader always insists that Billie is a bottom, wich she is, but Billie denies the claims with her life.

Warnings: 2nd pov, SMUT, strap, pet names (baby), cursing, twitter mentioned, use of y/n

(A/n: this is short af, and literally starts w/ the smut, so 🤷‍♀️)

“Fuck-“

You smirk to yourself at the sound of Billie’s sweet moans. You keep your hands firmly panted on Billie’s hips holding her in pace.

By this point Billie had given up on holding herself up. Now her face was pressed into a pillow as she tried not to be too loud out of instinct.

You and Billie obviously hook up. It’s not news to anyone. Because frankly, you two never tried to hide it. It felt like too much pointless work.

Billie lets out sharp breaths as your hips snap against hers in a harsher rhythm. “You good, baby?”

Billie lets out a strangled hum in agreement. Your hips start snapping into hers in a harsher, faster rhythm.

“Fuck, I can’t-“ she breaths out. Her thighs shake just slightly, but she keeps pushing back into you.

Billie is a total bottom. It’s not so obvious at first glance. Because Billie can be dominant, and she definitely gives off that vibe. However something you had quickly figured out was- the hornier she gets the more submissive she becomes.

Now you can’t unsee it.

Billie would tease and flirt shamelessly on an average day, she’s just blunt like that, but as soon as you made any move back, you could practically see her resolve crumbling.

Whenever she tried to be dominant, she gave up after a mere 10 minutes max. Because frankly she would much rather lay back and get her shit rocked.

“Yes, you can, keep going.” You encourage her as your hand rubs her ass.

“More” you hear her breathe out softly. She needs it. She’s so close. Once again on the edge waiting, anything to be pushed over.

Your eyes trail to her back, the way she arches it and works herself back on the strap even tho she is sensitive.

Your eyes rake over her back tattoo. The tattoo spans across her spine. Just chaotic scribbles spanning from the nape of her neck to her tailbone.

The seemingly random scribbles and lines don’t make sense to you, but they make perfect sense to Billie. That doesn’t matter tho, because it’s hot anyway.

“You got this Bils” you encourage as you speed up just slightly to push her over to the edge you knew she was on. Her breathing was fast and shallow.

Your hand snakes between your bodies to rub fast and tight circles on her clit. Billie lets out a strangled moan and she’s done for.

You slow down to help Billie ride out her high. When she’s calmed down, you gently pull out. Billie lets herself collapse on the bed.

“Billie” you hum sitting down next to her. She lets out a tired hum in response. “You did so well” you chuckle lightly while leaning down to press a soft kiss on her head.

Billie turns to her side, her eyes half lidded but her gaze sharp as she looks up at you. “Thank you” she presses her lips into an amused smile.

She is sore, she feels like death. She just took Orgasm after orgasm, but she loved it. Because no matter how much Billie denies it, she is a bottom at heart. That is like, her default setting or something.

★ ★

@ y/n

Billie eilish is a bottom

@ BillieEilish replied to @ y/n

You wish 💀💀

@ user69 replied to y/n

I can’t picture that 🤨

@ user97 replied to y/n

There she goes lying again

@ user144 replied to y/n

Too much information 😭

★ ★

Billie is on an interview with a nice woman in her mid-20s. This is a casual interview, the kind of interview that doesn’t feel like an interview, more like old friends catching up.

“So are you a bottom?” She asks letting out a small chuckle.

Billie comically lets her jaw drop. She huffs trying not to laugh out loud. “No” she shakes her head as if that idea was ridiculous.

“You know y/n is always out there, on Twitter, saying you are?” She chuckles, looking at Billie amused.

“Oh I’m aware.”

MASTERLIST

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

(A/n: since there isn’t enough sub!billie. I mean come on the woman is litterally 5’3)

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh , @tillies33ssss , @sturncakez , @strnilo , @somegirlfromasgard , @mattslovelygf , @sturnsmaeve , @sturnstvr , @lucianastrun , @jnkvivi , @jamiesturniolo , @chr1sgirl4life , @h3arts4harry , @whosthislyssbitch , @jamiesturniolo , @sturniololover-09 , @zayyluvz , @sturnzsblog , @jetaimevous , @imwetforyourmom , @yoongslvr69 , @ilovethesturnstriplets , @obsessionsarenotfortheweak , @mininishiriki , @bigbootyjudyyyy

[chrissv4mp]

𝜗𝜚 WARM ME UP

NAVIGATION ; OCT 26 — COCKWARMING

WARNINGS: SMUT, nipple play, cockwarming, dry-humping, degradation, humiliation(?), strap-on sex, teasing, billie's a little mean, orgasm denial :((

NOTES: was supposed to post this like a week ago, but i FORGOT TO WRITE IT // also very rushed ending 😓😓

WORDS: 3k

SUMMARY: The change from summer to fall wasn't exactly slow, and Billie tends to keep the studio quite cold. Good thing you tag along anywhere she goes.

TAGS: @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livialifesblog @devynscomet @her-favorite @br4ttyeilish @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @hrtsdollie @zayluvss

BILLIE EILISH × F!READER

The cool air of fall blows in through the crack in the window. It'd been that way since forever, and nobody had complained until the first fall Billie and Finneas began working in the studio.

There's been many complaints since then, ranging from friends to even Shark, her dog. He was never able to stay in the room for too long during the fall or winter, and it always made you and Billie laugh.

This fall, though, seemed particularly cold. Maybe you'd just been too comfortable with the temperature during summer, but when Billie came back from a trip to the bathroom, she wasn't wearing her usual attire that consisted of a muscle t-shirt or some jersey from her closet.

Her upper body was covered with a hoodie, the hood covering her head. The sleeves of her thermal peeked out from under the hoodie, and you quickly noticed that she changed from her baggy basketball shorts to grey sweatpants.

They hung low on her waist, exposing just the tiniest amount of skin. Your eyes flutter for a moment, caught in a trance as you watch her walk toward the desk.

She sat back in her chair, stretching before her hands gravitated toward the mouse on the table, moving it around and fixing little mistakes in the song she was currently working on.

You lean back on the couch in the back of the studio, cuddling under the blanket you had stolen from her room just an hour prior as you watch her work from afar. She seemed to be uncomfortable, the sleeves of the hoodie rubbing against her skin every time she moved her arms.

She rolled them up, only to roll them back down as the cool wind hit her again. Her heavy breaths were a tell-tale sign that she was getting riled up. It didn't help that she couldn't perfect this one beat either, a frustrated sigh falling from her lips.

"Everything okay?" You ask, the question lingering in the air for a few moments as Billie tries to calm her nerves. She spins in her chair, eyes softening as your face comes into view.

She nods, picking at the sleeves of her hoodie as she smiles at you reassuringly, "Just so fuckin' cold in here." She mutters, a shiver going down her spine as the tag of the hoodie brushes against the back of her neck.

That was her last straw, her hands moving down to the hem of the hoodie and pulling it over her head. Her thermal rides up along with the hoodie, giving you a quick glimpse of her soft skin.

The hoodie drops to the floor as she throws it softly, letting it rest somewhere away from the equipment and not in anyone's way. Her eyes meet yours again, and you both erupt into a fit of giggles at her small outburst.

She shivers again, but this time, an idea pops into mind. Her eyes snap to you again, spreading her legs wider to get comfortable as her hands move to rest on her thighs. You don't miss the small twinge of annoyance that sparks in her eyes at the knowledge that you were still under the blanket.

"C'mere." She rasps, motioning with her ring-clad finger, a mischievous smirk on her face. You hesitate for a moment, too comfortable under the warmth of the fabric, but as you catch the look in her eyes, you quickly scramble to get off the couch.

You're standing between her legs in an instant, goosebumps rising on your skin as the cool air blows in through the window and hits you. You clearly hadn't read the weather forecast this morning, only throwing on one of Billie's sweatshirts before leaving the house. You were still only wearing your thin sleep shorts and a tight tanktop.

Her intimidating gaze rakes down your figure, eyes swirling with hunger, yearning. Her hands fight the urge to reach out and pull you onto her lap, gripping at the fabric of her sweatpants as her eyes snap up to yours again.

She pats her lap softly, her smile growing wider and showcasing the star tooth gem that was in between her two front teeth. The gem that you always felt on your neck each time she marked you up.

You quickly scurry to sit on her lap, hands resting on her shoulders and clinging to her body for warmth. Her hands finally find your waist, slowly traveling down your body and cupping your ass. She squeezes teasingly, a chuckle escaping her throat as she hears you gasp.

She squirms beneath your body, muttering something about getting comfortable as some lame excuse. When she pushes her hips up, though, you feel it. You feel the fake dick beneath her sweatpants.

Her eyes meet yours again, and this time, you can finally decipher the mix of emotions swirling deep in her irises. She inhales sharply before speaking, "Want'chu to warm me up," her voice is quiet, eyes slipping from yours and landing on your lips, "Can you do that f'me, 'ma?"

You don't give her a reaction at all for a few seconds, mind running wild with every different, animalistic thought imaginable. Thoughts of things you wanted her to do you. Thoughts of positions you wanted to try.

The palm of her hand lands on your ass, not too harshly but with just the right amount of pressure to catch your attention, "I know you're cold, too. Look at yourself." She whispers, breath heavy just from watching you.

"Wearin' nothing but my hoodie and those... thin shorts." She stutters for a moment, mind racing as her grip on your ass tightens, pulling you up closer. She wanted you closer. She needed to be inside you.

She chuckles softly as you grip her shoulders tighter, hips slowly rocking on the bulge as a whine bubbles up in your throat. She doesn't stop your movements, hands staying comfortably at your ass as she guides your movements subtly.

Your arousal seeps through the thin fabric, creating a wet spot on both your shorts and her sweatpants. The wetness wasn't as noticeable on your shorts, but on her pants... it was more than noticeable.

Her own hips push up, teasing you in just the slightest and earning a mewl. Your jaw hangs open as you find the perfect angle, head falling onto her shoulder as your pace picks up. Billie holds you tightly, mocking your noises and only further embarrassing you.

It was humiliating enough that you were quite literally dry-humping your girlfriend in her brother's studio while he was out of town for tour, but the way she whimpered in your ear, repeating your noises back to you, made it worse.

"Fuck," She moans, exaggerating the volume of her voice as she throws her head back, "God, I'm just such a needy bitch I can't even wait to ride you, Billie..!" Her voice breaks off in a sinister laugh, her affect on you clear just by the way you nudge your body closer to hers.

She frowns in faux concern, eyes still dark and mischievous, no remorse or sadness hiding behind them, "Was that too harsh, baby?" Her tone lets you know that, even if you do answer, she won't stop.

"Billie..." You whine, pawing at her clothes. Your hips never stop, even if you wanted them to. And you did. You didn't want to have to endure the torture of her mean words. You just wanted her to fuck you properly, and that's the one thing she wasn't doing.

A quiet sigh falls from her lips, her breath tickling your exposed shoulder and the side of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine that went straight to your core. She nods her head down at her lap, and you get the hint immediately, hands hurriedly rushing to tug down her sweatpants and let them pool at her ankles.

When the fabric that was constricting her cock is tugged away, it springs free, the indigo color reminding you of every single time she fucked you with it. On counters, over desks, in her bed, in yours, on the floor, in the shower, every place you could possibly think of, she'd fucked you there with this exact strap.

Billie clicks her tongue against her teeth as you stare down at the silicone, patting your bottom gently in impatience. For someone who always made fun of you for being needy, she sure was always craving the sight of you bouncing on her cock. Her hungry gaze meets your own, letting out a short breath before her eyes leave yours and travel down to your nipples.

They were creating an obvious print, and Billie just licked her lips as her eyes traveled back to yours, "Take it off." She growls, to which you nod, hurrying to throw it over your head and let it fall to the floor behind you. Her eyes immediately gravitate towards your perky tits, hands leaving your ass and gripping at your hips as her lips begin to trail kisses from your jaw to your chest.

Her lips suck at your supple skin, leaving a trail of marks all down your neck, leading to your perfect breasts. She wants to mark you everywhere, no spot missing as she hungrily sucks at the skin of your tits, lips finding their way to your erect nipple and wrapping around it as your fingers thread through her hair.

"Gettin' cold, baby, c'mon." She murmurs against your skin, looking up at you through her lashes with eyes swirling with lust and adoration for you. Only you. She smirks against you at your shaky sigh, lips parting in surprise as she bites down gently on your nipple, laugh muffled slightly, "Warm me up."

One of your hands leaves her hair, the other gripping tightly at her strands. You hastily tug down your sleep shorts, tossing them somewhere on the floor behind you. Her cock stands proudly, and you grab it before Billie can say another word. As you messily align the tip with your entrance, Billie watches with a smirk, her tooth gem showing and just making you all the more excited.

When you sink down on her cock, a guttural moan echoes all throughout the studio. The walls were soundproof, and nobody was here except you two, but it still made you attempt to hide your face in the crook of her neck. As she sees you start to lean forward, though, her hand leaves your hip and quickly wraps around your neck, stopping you.

Her lips leave your nipple, adjusting her position so that she can look you dead in the eyes. Her hips move, and you mewl quietly, biting your lip in an effort to stifle your moans. Her eyes tell you a million things, but you still don't get the hint, hips moving up, needing to ride her already. She'd teased you for far too long, and you were tired of it.

The hand on your hip stops you, grip tightening on your skin and pulling you down on her cock again before you even got an inch away. You let out a pathetic whine, the short feeling of the ridges of the strap against your walls making your mind hazy and your vision blurry. But, you still look into her cold blue eyes, regretting it instantly as she tilts her head with that stupid, sexy smirk on her face, "Didn't say I wanted you to ride me, baby,"

"Just said I was cold." She giggles, clicking her tongue as she pushes her hips up teasingly. She was being so mean, and yet you couldn't do anything about it, "And that I needed 'ya to warm me up." She corrects, her tone soft like she was talking to a child as she nodded her head slowly. Your lips push out in a pout, and Billie mirrors your expression mockingly.

You moan again as she adjusts her sitting position, spreading her legs further and watching as your face contorted into a twisted look of pleasure and frustration. She hesitantly dragged her eyes away from you, spinning in her chair slowly and hearing your quiet, short breaths as you shifted in her lap uncomfortably, "Gonna work, so..." Her eyes snap up to you again, her ring-clad hand moving from your neck down to your hip, joining the other.

"Don't want any distractions, 'mmkay?" Billie hums, cocking an eyebrow as she scoots her chair in closer to the desk. The shift makes the cock move in your cunt, eyes rolling to the back of your head as it brushes against your g-spot. The noise that falls from your lips is sinful, one hand tugging at her hair as the other paws at her chest through her shirt. The girl beneath you only bites her lip, slowly moving her eyes back to the monitor as she lets out a shaky breath.

You slowly roll your hips against her dick, eyes fluttering as you let out whimpers every now and then. The way you shift on her lap isn't unnoticeable, but you're too far in subspace to even realize that you're fully riding her now. She doesn't stop you, though. The base of the strap hits her clit with each of your bounces, breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth heavily as she grips at the mouse. It should've broke with her tight grip.

"Y/N." She huffs, hands leaving the keyboard and mouse and quickly halting your movements. Your eyes stay on hers, a silent plea to keep going, but she still doesn't break, a stern expression on her face as she bites her lip, "Stop bein' so fuckin' impatient all the time." Billie grumbles, throwing her head back against her chair for two reasons. Both reasons known to the two of you.

You rolled your hips again, and she let out the smallest fucking whimper. Just that noise alone made you wetter, closer to your release as you clenched around the fake cock. She swore she could feel it, but maybe that was just because her clit twitched each time you moved on her lap. Your hands stayed at her shoulders, nails digging into the fabric as your head falls forward, noticing that your pussy swallowed her cock all the way to the base.

"Ma," She grunts, grip on your hips loosening. Her weak demands only turn your on further, wanting to disobey her just to see where it would get you, so you continue to rock your hips, slowly working your way up to bouncing on her lap again. She tries not to make too much noise, but she really can't help herself, whines and pathetic cries falling from between her lips as her nails scratch down your bare back, head coming to fall on your chest as she huffs and puffs weakly, trying to catch her breath, "Mm.. Mama—Gonna fuck—fuckin' destroy you tonight."

She's weak beneath you. The roles completely reversed now. But, as you continue to bounce wildly on her cock, losing your mind almost, her dominance starts to kick in again. The way you blatantly disobey her fuels the fire in the pit of her stomach, her mind racing with endless thoughts. Thoughts of various punishments she would give you once you two weren't in her brother's studio. Shit. This was her brother's studio.

"Fuck—Y/N." Her voice breaks, but you can hear the stern tone of it. You can feel the way her eyes burn holes through your body, grip tightening on your waist and slamming you down onto her cock. You can't help but tremble uncontrollably, incoherent babbles falling from your lips as you try to move again, but she doesn't let you, "God, you're just so cock-hungry, aren't you?" She scoffs, raising an eyebrow, "Such a dirty slut." She reprimands, but little does she know it only brings you closer to that sweet, hot feeling.

The smell of sex consumes the room fully, now, and Billie mentally curses herself for not remembering that he would be back in LA in only a few days. But, it was your fault, really. That's what she told herself, "Makin' a mess of Finneas' studio—God, baby. Are you that needy?" She whispers, voice dripping with venom and anger and all of the above. Her hands slowly lift you off her cock, and with the slowness of her movements, you almost cum on the spot.

Her eyes gauge the look on your face, though, quickly pulling you off her dick and denying you the euphoria of your orgasm. Her eyes are dark, even in the bright light coming from the monitors, lamps, and the windows. You whine pitifully as she sets you on her thigh, just a few inches away from the silicone cock. Using your puppy dog eyes would be worthless, so you just sit and slowly grind on her thigh, only to earn a harsh slap on your ass by the girl beneath you.

"Put your clothes back on and get your things." She whispers, standing up and pulling up her own pants, hiding the cock beneath her sweatpants again. She'd use it on you later tonight, in more positions than you could even think of. But, she wouldn't let you cum. No, not until you learned true patience and who was in control.

You obey her this time, scurrying off her lap hesitantly and grabbing your things from the floor, dressing yourself, and collecting the blanket you had stolen from Billie while leaving the house. You sit at the couch in the back again, legs trembling with both excitement and from the fact that you'd just been denied. She turns off the equipment and the monitors before turning to face you with those beautiful ocean blue eyes of hers, a small smirk on her face.

"Car. Now." She demands, voice not trembling even a bit. She watches as you stand up on wobbly legs, eyes following you as your feet take you to the door. Her own feet follow close behind you, tongue poking the inside of her cheek as she takes a deep breath. She was gonna ruin you.

KINKTOBER

[allaboutsturns]

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ (ᴘ2)

matthew sturniolo x reader

warnings/content: angst, car crash, mentions of death, mentions of needles, mentions of hospital, serious injuries, mentions of respiratory tubes, very sad triplets.

summary: the triplets watched from the middle of the road as your vehicle flipped in the intersection at the end of their street. each of their minds raced with thoughts. would nick ever get to share a spa night with you again? would chris ever get to have another sleepover with you? would matt ever get to apologize for hurting you? would he ever get to kiss you again, hold you again?

• 2:10am

matt, nick, and chris stood in the middle of the road in front of their shared house, looking after you as you sped off towards the intersection at the end of the street.

the three of them turned to walk back inside, each of them feeling defeated, matt especially, but that was before they heard the screeching of tires against the asphalt as they fought for friction.

matt was the first to turn, followed by chris, and then nick. immediately, without hesitation, matt starts sprinting towards the scene unfolding in front of him. nick and chris are following closely behind him.

the adrenaline coursing through matt’s veins sobers him completely, ridding his body of any trace of alcohol. his eyes begin to pool with tears that begin to fall from his eyes and fly back in the direction of the wind that he felt he was fighting to get through.

he took in shaky breaths, the cool air nipping at his lungs with each inhale. he could barely hear anything other than his own heart beat which echoed through his mind.

badum. badum. badum.

he heard the muffled screams and desperate sobs of his brothers from behind him, but it didn’t register. all that mattered to him in that moment was getting to you as quickly as possible.

badum. badum. badum.

finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he reached the intersection and threw himself to the ground right in front of the drivers side door, his bare knees hitting the pavement. he barely flinched from the pain though. he could barely feel it.

badum. badum. badum.

he began trying to pry open the door which separated himself from you. soon after he had managed to reach your flipped car, his brothers managed to reach it too. they threw themselves onto the pavement just as matt had, and immediately went to help him pry the door away.

the smell of gasoline flooded their noses, sending shocks of fear throughout their bodies, “matt, we have to get her out now!!” nick yelled through tears, his throat sore with a ripping sadness.

badum. badum. badum.

matt didn’t acknowledge his brother, he couldn’t. he didn’t even know either of them had spoken. he yanked at the door, praying that the hinges which held it in place would snap so he could pull you from the car.

snap.

the hinges did exactly as he prayed. they snapped, releasing their firm grip on the separation they had created. the three boys dragged the heavy door away from its frame, nick and chris dragging it a couple inches away.

matt had immediately gone back to you, frantically reaching for the buckle of your seatbelt, and in one fell swoop, he clicked the button which released the seatbelt from its prison, and quickly grabbed you and dragged you out of the car before you hit your head on the asphalt and injured yourself more.

he dragged himself back with one hand, scooting as far back as he could, holding onto you tightly, making sure to not let you go this time.

as soon as he was a relatively safe distance from the flipped car, it ignited into flames, a bright orange illuminating the world around them.

matt frantically looked from the car, down to you. you were laying lifelessly in his arms. he brushed the hair away from your face with the palm of his hand, gently. your hair was tangled with a mix of dry blood and shards of glass. some glass had managed to plant itself into matt’s hand when he brushed the hair out of your face.

the breath in his throat came to a halt as he saw your face. there were deep cuts scattered across your skin and dark bruises that bit at your beautiful face.

“stay with me, baby.. please stay with me…” he managed to squeeze out through sobs as he pulled you into him as closely as he possibly could, gravity pulling your limp arms back towards the ground, your soft fingers brushing the asphalt.

nick was frantically searching for a pulse in your wrist while chris sat completely frozen beside matt, tears ruthlessly running down his face as he rocked back and forth.

finally, the ambulance arrived. the boys would never be able to tell you when they got their because they were so stuck in one moment of time.

the paramedics quickly but gently placed you onto a gurney and wheeled you into the back of the ambulance. matt got into the back of the ambulance in complete and utter shock.

nick and chris would have gotten into the ambulance as well, but there was no room, so instead they would have to resort to ordering an uber.

-

• 2:40am

the paramedics rushed through the doors to the hospitals emergency room, matt holding on tightly to your hand as if his life depended on it. he was scared that if he let go, you would disappear.

“we need some help over here!” one of the paramedics shouted. almost immediately, a couple doctors and a about three nurses ran over and guided the gurney that you lay on to an unoccupied hospital room.

matt just stared at your face as one of the nurses gently removed your hand from his grip, guiding him outside of the hospital room. he couldn’t even react, he was too shocked.

the nurse rushed back into the room and shut the door behind her, “she’s got a faint pulse! someone get a damn crash cart!” one of the doctors yelled urgently.

beep. beep. beep.

matt could faintly hear the imitation of your weak heartbeat on the monitor through the door. he put his back against the hospital wall right next to the door, incapable of moving to the waiting room.

beep. beep. beeeeeeeeeeep.

“we’re losing her!” another doctor yelled. through ringing ears, matt heard the muffled flatline on the monitor, signaling that your heart had stopped. signaling that you were gone and that he’d never get to fix what he had said to you last. never get to try and mend what he broke. he fell to the floor pulling his knees to his chest and hiding his face in them, sobs escaping his lips as his lungs fought for air.

all he could think about was everything he would never be able to do now, everything he’d never be able to fix. he remembered all the plans the two of you had. he would never get to kiss you again, never get to hug you again, never get to please you again. he would never get to hold you and run his hands through your hair, and it was all his fault. all because he told a lie. he never cheated. the only reason he had been distancing himself from you was because he was stressed and his anxiety was through the roof, that also being the reason he was at the bar so much the past few nights. if anything, anytime a girl even looked at him, he would walk over to them and brag about how amazing his girlfriend was and how bad he felt about how he was treating her recently.

nick and chris pushed through the door to the hospital, frantically looking around for a sign of you or matt.

“nick, over there!” chris said to his brother, his voice cracking from the soreness in his throat. nick and chris ran to matt and when they reached him, they heard it.

beeeeeeeeeeeep.

“no…” chris whispered, covering his mouth with one of his hands, tears managing to escape his eyes once again. nick just stood there, his hands at his sides, completely frozen and unable to mutter a word.

chris fell to the floor beside matt and buried his face into his brothers shoulder, soon after nick did the same. all three of their bodies heaved up and down with each shaky, unfulfilling breath that they took.

each of their minds were racing with memories that they had with you. you may have been matt's girlfriend, but you were family to all of them. you had always been equally as involved with nick and chris as you were with matt.

nicks sobs grew louder as his thoughts wandered. you always knew how to make him laugh only in a way that his brothers had ever made him laugh. anytime he texted you alerting you that he was upset, you would read the message and immediately be bursting through his bedroom door with snacks and nail polish in hand, ready to cheer him up. you and nick had a weekly spa night, you would paint each others faces with a face mask and put a movie on the tv while you waited for them to dry. nick would always lay on your chest and listen to your heartbeat as you watched the movie together, it was comforting to him. you were his best friend and practically his sister and he loved you so much. he couldn't help but think about how two nights prior would be the last time he ever listened to your heartbeat, the last time he ever watched a movie with you, the last time he ever painted your face with a green face mask.

chris shook as he tried to scoot as closely to matt as he could. you had always had a soft spot for chris. he was like a little brother to you even though he was older. you loved him so much and he loved you. you were the only person he allowed himself to be completely vulnerable around, he trusted you entirely. you couldn't count the amount of times on two hands that he cried in your arms when he became too overwhelmed because he couldn't focus or complete the task at hand without getting sidetracked. almost every night chris would have a sleepover with you because you kept his nightmares at bay. you were his best friend and he loved you entirely. he couldn't stand the thought of you being gone, he didn't even want to imagine it. what would he do? who would he go to?

-

• 3:10am

all of the nurses and doctors had left the hospital room by now except for one. the final doctor stepped out of the room quietly, leaving the door open a crack, and looked down at the three boys who had fallen asleep due to exhaustion, their bodies had been working too hard in the short period of time that these events were occurring. the doctor frowned, sympathy washing over his features as he looked at the boys. they looked tired and definitely not at peace. their sleep looked painful and restless, each of their faces were red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears.

atter a minute or two had passed, the doctor reached a hand down and gently patted matt's head to wake him, "hey buddy," he said gently.

matt's eyes shot open and he started frantically looking around, confused as to where he was at. as soon as he remembered what was going on and where he was at, immediate tears welled in his eyes.

beep. beep. beep.

matt's eyes widened when he heard the beep of the heart monitor coming from your room. he pushed himself up off the ground quickly, which woke his brothers up, and he ran past the doctor into the room.

he paused for a moment when he saw all the tubes connected to you and the iv's in your arms. finally, he shook the thoughts away and ran to your side, grabbing your hand gently in his and placing a kiss to it.

nick and chris followed closely behind matt and ran to the other side of the bed, both of them taking your other hand in theirs gently.

"it's gonna be okay.. you're gonna be okay," matt whispered to you, unsure if you could hear him or not.

-

• 10:01am

sunlight shone through the gaps of the blinds into the hospital room, painting the room a light yellow color.

your eyes opened slowly, so slowly that it would've been painful to watch. immediately you felt pain shoot through your body, but it was gentle pain. the meds the doctors had put you on numbed it almost entirely.

you looked to each side of you at your boys. nick and chris on the right and matt on the left. they were all asleep, their heads laying gently on parts of your body. they looked peaceful. worried, but peaceful. you coughed a little when you tried to speak, unaware of the tubes that were in your mouth. you were too tired to fight the tubes, too tired to panic.

instead, you gently rubbed both of your thumbs back and forth against the soft skin of nick, chris, and matt's hands.

matt was the first one awake, almost as if he had sensed you were awake. immediately he was planting the most gentle kisses to your head and face in spots that weren't as visibly injured as the others. you weakly smiled as best you could at him, completely ignoring the argument that you and him just had. that was the least of your worries now.

almost dying made you realize you never wanted to lose any of them, not over anything. you knew you could work things out with matt and he knew he would do everything in his power to fix what he broke.

nick and chris were awake a couple minutes after matt, all three of them had tears of happiness building in their eyes.

nothing mattered in this exact moment. nothing at all, except that you were going to be okay. you weren't going to leave them.

you and nick would get to make more spa night memories and you'd get the opportunity to help him when he was sad.

you would be able to be a lighthouse for chris, a comfort person. he wasn't going to lose his best friend, his safety net. he would get to cry into your arms and have sleepovers after a nightmare with you again.

you and matt would be able to fix things and finish everything you had planned together, make more memories and share more love. pain came with the territory but you knew you two would always find a way to work through it.

you were family to two of them, and to the other, well you were the love of his life. none of them wanted to lose you, not now and not ever, and you didn't want to lose them either.

you may not share their blood, but you share their happiness, their sadness, their anger. you share their love, and that was all that mattered. that's what made them so important to you.

today you lay in a bed with tubes and wires connected to you, but in a month you lay in bed with nick while your face masks dry. in a month you hold chris in your arms while he cries because he's so overwhelmed. in a month you kiss matt lovingly and hold his face gently in your hands.

today you hurt, but in a month you will continue to make memories with your boys.

divider by: @/Kafekitsune

ERMMM i'm crying wtf.

this is my SECOND time writing this because the first time the draft DIDNT SAVE and it had like 2000+ words. i cried many tears. hopefully you guys like thissss!! ¡ probably wont do a part 3 but if you guys absolutely want it i will! the support on my page the past 2 days has been insane and i love you guys so much and am so grateful!!

- ace <3

tags: @whoisabbyysblog @mattyblover07 @b2cute @samandcolbyfan22 @norr1ssturni0lo @sturnlover4eva @sturniololover-09