#but i know that this like all updates is something we'll get used to or overcome thru xkit or smth

[skrunksthatwunk]

BREAKING NEWS i said yeah on the phone and rascal meowed back at me from across the room hehe

[gothwineaunts]

Well hello there, readers!!

So, I have been lurking on our socials and in the webtoon comments of Nevermore's finale episode and have picked up some very subtle hints that y'all want to know when we're going to drop Season 2. Firstly I do want to let all the smarties who guessed we'd come back on Halloween based on our Ulalume quote know that they were onto something. When we originally left that hint for you, we were indeed planning to return in late October, but some unforeseen setbacks over the summer pushed our production schedule back. Still, I wanted to say congratulations for getting the hint right! We were impressed so many of you figured it out.

As for the updated launch of season two? While I don't have a specific date to share yet, I can tell you it'll be in January.

I know, I know. Trust me, I wish it was sooner too. I can't tell you how much Flynn and I miss updating weekly. Y'all make creating this series so exciting for us with your energy and excitement and creativity!! The talent I've seen in this community is off the charts. We feel unspeakably lucky to have readers like you along for the ride, and can't wait for you to see the episodes we've been working on.

If you're new to Flynn and I, it might not be common knowledge that we always do the absolute most all the time, compulsively, without stopping ever (save us, ahahhaa). And let me assure you that the opening episodes of season two? Are very most. A lot of most. Super long. Really, extra pretty. I wish I could post them now but I think webtoon might um. Be upset with me if I did that, so. Just trust me, ok? One thing I can share in th emeantime is some of the S2 character concepts. A few characters are getting minor glow ups. See if you can spot the differences!

Okay, well! We'll see you in January!! Or before, if you hang around our socials. I mean we're not disappearing. We'll be here, just. Plodding along on buffer in the background. If you're dying to spoil yourselves with wip streams you can hit up our patreon but I almost wouldn't recommend it on account of. You'll be so confused, at this point. Lmfao. Like. Wow, it would be a really weird time to join a wip stream with no context. This sounds like a shameless plug but I'm being serious when I say it's probably best you don't hop in at this particular moment?? But I mean. I'm not a cop. I'm just your weird goth wine aunt. 🍷

Cheers, Kit Trace

[nightingale-prompts]

Danny lives in a horror horror movie-part 2

Part 1

Once again this is inspired by surrealist horror books and podcasts. This is mainly inspired by Welcome to Nightvale more directly with other influences as well.

The people of Amity Park are strange. The entire town was off.

Wes, the teenager that worked late at the gas station was not the talkative sort but he gave quite the few clues.

"You aren't from here aren't you?" He said cleaning the black blood off his face.

"Uh, no. We are hero sent to investigate-" Superman tried to explain but Wes began laughing.

"Heros?! Haha! That's a new one. Alright, nutcases you got me." Wes laughed "New people are great. I only get locals these days."

"Wait, so no one outside the town comes here?" Batman asked, still trying to keep this investigation on track.

Wes went silent.

"No one comes here. This gas station is on the edge of town." He picked up his book again.

"If no one comes to this town why is there a gas station built just outside the city limits?" Batman asked this time more firmly.

"Let me specify. People tend to come here once. People come into town every once in a while and they stay. They don't leave. No one leaves." Wes didn't sound like he was making a threat just saying what he believed.

"That's not normal. Why would that happen?" Batman asked.

Wes sighed deeply as if he had this conversation time and time again.

"People don't just end up here. Usually, the ones that come here are those that want to leave their old life behind. They don't look for this place they just end up here. Sometimes they get freaked out but they settle like the rest of us and just make their place here." He explained but he really didn't feel like it.

When another question popped up Wes just turned his radio to a station and turned it all the way up.

"Good Evening citizens of Amity Park. It is another beautiful night here in our quiet little town. Here at the local public broadcast station, we wish you a great day and we hope that you remembered to not leave your shoes outside your door. Amanda Sawyer forgot last Saturday and hasn't been seen since. Please remember or end up like poor Amanda. This was a warning from the town's public health committee." A young but not too young voice said over the radio. "You know that is the mark of a caring local government. Sure they spend so much on bloodstone alters and bi-yearly mandatory festivals but we all know it's for our health and happiness. Now moving on to current events: A group of strangely dressed visitors are in our town. They are at the Cabbymart Gas Station at the end of town. They are asking Wes a lot of questions and Wes as always is in a bad mood. Hang in there Wes we all have those days. Retail am I right? We'll check in later with an update as this story evolves. Remember to welcome our visitors when you see them. Until then here is the-."

The broadcast was switched off as Wes turned to another station.

"Who was that? What was that actually?!" Flash asked hysterically.

"That's just Danny. He works at the radio station now." Wes grunted still not in the mood.

"Okay but how did he know we were here? We just got here and we haven't even gone into town."

"He just knows. I don't even get what you're asking! Why wouldn't he know, he reports the news?! Look can you guys just buy something or leave?" Wes said exasperated.

The heroes had little chance of getting more answers out of the teen so they went into town. Despite it being past midnight now the people of Amity Park were up and about. Watering their gardens and talking in front of illuminated cafés. They all looked carefree and jovial. Even a woman greeted them like the sight of people dressed in capes and spandex was normal.

But things here seemed out of place. Things just didn't match. Bloodstains made patterns into the sidewalk like children's sidewalk chalk.

The buzz if the radio station broadcast could be heard from window sills.

"We interrupt this broadcast for our sponsor Subway. Subway: Eat your cold dead heart out. Now with that out of the way an update on the revolutionary ghost situation. The mayor had formally declared that he would be kept at the museum where he could parade about however he liked. I'm sure the children of the town will adore his charming way of shooting at nothing and spending an hour to reload. There is also an update on the amusement park now that Mr.Stiches caretaker role has been filled by my friend Sam we can expect the horror house can finally reopen for the season. Buy tickets now. And lastly the update on the stangers in town. The brightly colored fellows are still meandering around town. I wonder what they're thinking. Probably things like: Where are these bloodstains from? What are we doing here? And most importantly. Will I ever see my family again? All good questions."

Amity Park was a strange place. But the people liked it that way. They never blinked twice at the horrid and horrific thanks that happened. Perhaps they were monsters in their own right but unlike the jaded masses of Gotham, they were downright jovial about it. In their world, there weren't demonic entities or ancient gods. What they experienced were things, undefined by mortals. Reality blurred with something else, somewhere else. So they adapted.

It was when the heros was a group of children attacked this Thing with long knurled limp and lips like puss-filled sacs under the watchful eyes of parents did they understand. They were the monsters here.

"Another win for Girl Scout Troop 667 in their hunt. Their parents must be so proud. It brings me back to 4th grade when all the children were kidnapped and brought to the library by the monstrosities we call librarians for the summer reading program. Had it not been for Valerie and her high reading comprehension score and display of berserker rage tactics we would have probably all died. I still remember as she stood over the body of the fallen librarian with the bloodied book Hannibal held aloft. She was an inspiration to us all and the reason we fled to the woods to train under her as her children's militia. Books and knives in hand we well-read warriors set out to keep our town safe. Remember kids of Amity Park, we look to heroes like Valerie and the clawed librarian's hand that hangs around her neck as a symbol of pride. Don't forget to return your library book. The librarians are still alive and while the most feral ones have been disposed of there still is a small population of them left in order to preserve the local food chain and they can smell late returns."

[endearng]

Firsts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: You and Spencer navigate through your firsts throughout your life as childhood friends.

WC: 6k

Warnings: death, grief, use of drugs to cope with grief, uhhhh i guess that's it

A/N: HELLO!!! It's been so so long and I'm sorry I took forever to update — uni's kicking my ass but now I'll try to write a bit more during holidays season. I hope you guys enjoy this one <3 Feedbacks are highly appreciated!

| masterlist

"Do you think we'll stay friends?"

"I'm sure we'll stay friends."

For a genius, your best friend, Spencer Reid, never seemed to notice some of his speech patterns — he would echo you sometimes, which you honestly found adorably funny, and he also had a tendency for rambling, even if it wasn't that appropriate at times. When you two were alone, you didn't mind; in fact, you encouraged him and let him talk to you all the way. When there was someone else, like either of your parents or a teacher (these were your regular companions), you would try to tap him on the arm subtly so he would know when to stop. Although it broke your heart, he said himself once that he appreciated when you helped him look more normal.

Right now, things are everything but normal. Spencer had graduated high school at the age of 12 while you were still in seventh grade and he was leaving to study at Caltech. You didn't dare to compare yourself to him, but you would definitely miss him around, since he was the first person you saw everyday (besides your parents, of course) and the one who walked you to school and then went on the way to his. Right now, you are sitting on the floor of your front porch, while Spencer is laying his head on your lap and you have your hands on his hair. You always said to him that he's got nice hair, no matter how he styled or decided to cut it. He blushed every single time.

"You know… I'm gonna miss you, Spencer."

"I'm gonna miss you. But you'll still be in my life."

"Will I?"

"I'm leaving, but I'll try my best to keep in touch. We can call each other. I'll spare a couple hours of my week so you can talk to me." A small grin stretched on his lips when he mentioned talking to you. A crease made its way between your brows when you thought you'd only talk to him weekly.

Trying to play it cool, you asked, just to be sure, just to check if the pang in your heart felt less intense, less hurtful. "Will you?"

"Yes, I will."

Despite having him in your lap, you couldn't see his eyes, for they were closed in delight from your gentle touch. You saw him smile softly and you could see just how relaxed he seemed with this big change — honestly, if you were him, you'd be terrified. Quickly trying to get rid of your sad and fearful thoughts, as you ran your hands through his hair, you poorly fought the urge to chuckle when you thought about braiding his hair. He felt the air that left your lungs hit his face when you did.

Curious, as he always had been, he inquired, "What is it?"

"You'd look good with braids."

"I'm not letting you braid my hair," even if his tone was one of mock offense, a chuckle made its way out of him.

"I didn't ask to."

You saw as he bit back a grin. Little did you know, but he's is heaven, here in your presence. In dire need of some place safe to just be, without the expectations and the big things that are expected from him and to happen to him. As you unknowingly soothed his thoughts with your gentle touch, he thought about how strange it is having someone touch him and not being utterly opposed to the idea. He also thought about how, for one time in his life, he didn't know something, which was the feeling spreading on his chest. Nevertheless, there was a ghost of a small, shy smile on his face as his shoulders relaxed.

He was happy.

—

As you made your way home from your sixteenth birthday dinner, something felt odd. Looking out the window, the city lights seemed to run from how fast your dad is driving. In the backseat, all alone, you tried to figure out what made you feel so empty all night long. As the car went over a bump, you instinctively looked to the side, and then everything made sense. Spencer wasn't there. Usually, after whatever family celebration you'd go to, he would be there (because you'd insist on taking him with you), by your side in the backseat of your dad's car, laughing at whatever funny thing had happened during the event. He was your company to every single thing you did, and you had been missing him quite more often as the contact between you two became more and more scarce.

Turning to look out the window again, your mom saw the frown on your face and sighed quietly, knowing precisely why you weren't chatting like you normally did. The specific pair of ears that you wanted to be listened by were not here. And she didn't blame you one bit.

As you got home, your frown was quickly replaced by a hopeful feeling on your chest and in your features when you found a voicemail addressed to you.

Hey! I hope you get home before midnight so that you won't think, not even for a minute, that I have forgotten about you. I'm so sorry I couldn't make it! I'm really stressed right now because there are too many things happening at the same time and I'm here all by myself, so... I guess you know, better than myself, how I feel. You… You know me so well. It is nice to be known by you. Anyway... Um... I'd like to wish you a happy birthday and, ah, I also would like you to know that I wish I could have been with you today. I'm really sorry because I know how much you love your birthdays. I'm sending you a gift, but I'm not sure if it will arrive on time. I miss you. I miss you and whatever Taylor Swift song you were always humming when we were walking back from school.

Anyway, er... I miss you—hah—I don't think I'll ever be able to tell you how much I miss you. And how much I miss our time together. Uh, happy birthday!

You didn't know when, but you had teared up at some point listening to him. You didn't know whether the cause was hearing his voice again or because he remembered you or because he told you he missed your time together or that he remembered the silly songs you'd sing when you were walking back home together. Before going to bed, you let your bedside table lamp on, as you always did before so Spencer knew, from the house beside yours, that you were up or you didn't care if he called you in the middle of the night. Either way...

You were happy.

—

Underneath the Christmas tree, the glow of the warm white fairy lights you and your mom had picked out was almost blinding. Yet, you and Spencer couldn't care less. You were both too infatuated by the blinding brightness that punished your eyes to care about having problems later. Closing your eyes, you smiled to yourself, happy to be doing something so ordinary, so dumb, with your best friend. Behind your eyelids, the light was not as relentless and it granted some relief from the current sight, which sort of looked like a kaleidoscope of... white. You heard when Spencer turned his head to look at you, but you missed his soft grin.

"It was overwhelming me," you explained.

"I know." He replied, still looking at you.

Your profile, under the yellowish glow, looked almost ethereal. The slope of your nose, the curve of your lips, everything was forever ingrained into his memory. By now, Spencer could map out every single freckle on your face — especially the particular one on your lower lip. He sighed at the sheer thought of your lips. You were now seventeen and so was Spencer. Puberty had been way gentler on you than it was on him and he noticed with a blush that you were growing up, just as he was. You were a little taller, for sure, and you had put on some weight in all the right places, not to mention your style that matched your personality. As for him, he had that voice pitch swing that he hated greatly, still wore thick glasses and overall went with the nerdy stereotype that everyone picked on him for… while you looked like you were glowing.

You opened your eyes and turned to look at him. You were so close that it almost hurt. Inches separated Spencer from what he thought would be the best feeling of his life. From the person that had him lying awake for hours, tossing and turning on his bed until the sun began to rise. "I can't wait to give you your gift. I think you'll love it!"

He grinned. "I'll be happy with anything." From you, he meant to say, but he didn't finish.

You closed your eyes again, a grin of your own on your face. He wondered... What if he got closer? What if he kissed you? What if you pulled away? What if you didn't pull away? What if you cut him off?

Almost unconsciously, he inched closer and closer to the point your breaths mingled together. You didn't pull away, not even for a second. Instead, you leaned in, getting ever closer to him than you ever had been before. The fairy lights made you look even prettier than before. You looked like a dream.

"I was thinking..."

"About what?" He asked. Despite his gaze being lost in you, he was acutely aware of the words coming out of your mouth.

God, your mouth.

"It's stupid..." You muttered, looking away from his eyes.

"You know you can talk to me." It's not stupid if it's you.

"Okay... okay." You breathed in. "Me and the girls were talking about first kisses. And I felt so, so embarrassed because I haven't had mine yet."

Spencer felt dizzy. Even if he wasn't the best at social cues, if he was reading this right, you wanted him to kiss you too. He exhaled softly, trying to clear his thoughts. His voice was weak when he asked, "And?"

"Have you had yours yet? I know we talk about everything and all that, but... have you?"

He chuckled at your question. How could he, the scrawny little nerdy boy have had his kiss and you hadn't? "You're joking right?"

"I'm not! I'm genuinely curious."

He didn't know, but your heart was in your throat, too scared of a positive answer.

"I haven't had my first kiss yet."

Somehow, that did nothing to calm your racing heart. Inching even closer, you muttered, "we could have it together."

If Spencer didn't pass out with your words, he was sure he would be unshakable for the rest of his life. Whatever life threw at him, it wouldn't matter as much as this moment of sheer strength and self-control, because he didn't pull you in immediately. "Are you sure?"

"I'd be fine with kissing you. You're my best friend. I—I know you won't judge me and you know I won't judge you either. And—and... even if things are... embarrassing... i—it will still be a good memory in the… future." As your soft voice reached his ears, he felt like he was in heaven.

Your arguments for kissing him made him wonder if you had spent that much time considering it as he did. "Okay, you've got a few points. I'm—I'm not... opposed to the idea."

Your heart burned. You both inched closer and closer, a hair width separating your lips. As your eyes fluttered closed and you placed one of your hands on the back of his neck, both hesitantly and surely, Spencer mimicked you and pressed his lips to yours with the lightest pressure as his hand found your waist tentatively. Your lips felt so soft and sweet. He knew he would feel you for days — and hoped you'd feel him for days, too.

Encouraged by him, you pressed your lips a bit harder against him. He gasped softly and you took the opportunity to capture his lower lip between yours and kiss it gently. Spencer could feel his heartbeat drumming on his ears and he tightened his hold on your waist the tiniest bit. Internally, he thought he died and went to heaven and that's how he was welcomed there. Your lips fit together so nicely and he felt his heart burning for you and he knew back then that he would do anything you asked him to in a heartbeat.

You pulled back to lick your lips and fitted them into his again. He sighed, again, moving to your accord as he tried focusing on how good it felt to be kissed by you rather than how you could regret it later. Distancing yourself, your eyes slowly fluttered open, finding his dazed ones already looking back at you. You grinned at him. Another secret between the two of you; but this time, it wasn't an embarrassing one.

He smiled back.

Later that day, Spencer sat on his bed, touching his lips, feeling the tingle yours had left behind. Smiling like an idiot, he wrote that date on the wood of his nightstand, black marker holding the evidence that tonight had actually happened, if he were to ever forget. If anyone asked, well, he would have to come up with something to hide the fact that he was relentlessly in love with you, but he would replay the best memory of his life in the back of his mind as his mouth stuttered out a little white lie.

He was so confused. And screwed. And so utterly happy.

—

At Caltech, at the ripe age of eighteen, on a working day, as usual, Spencer typed aggressively on his keyboard, writing an academic paper on a topic that had come to his mind during one of his classes and later inspired fully by a conversation with this one professor. Looking at the time on his computer screen, he cursed. It was already time he was supposed to be on his way to class, which was unlike him. There was a reason, though.

Last night, he had gotten home late. He had lost track of time talking to a girl whose name was Alex. They were both at the university library, and they hit it off immediately talking about Literature and then more mundane things — he had found out that she was a high schooler having classes with grad students, just like himself a few years back. Getting home late, his entire schedule for the day ahead had been ruined, so everything felt odd as he tried to navigate through his last obligations. He had gone to bed later than usual and overslept for some reason unknown to him.

As he got up abruptly, he knocked his knee on the desk, which was now getting very small for the size he had grown into. Shutting his eyes and suppressing a whine, he breathed in. As he opened his eyes, his line of sight caught glance of one of the two only photos he had hung up on his wall. The first was him and his mother, Diana. The second was you and him.

It was short after your fifteenth birthday, and he finally had had the time to go visit. You had greeted him with a very warm hug. That very same day, you had dragged him to your bedroom, which now didn't have the pink walls and the posters of the bands you liked so much anymore. Now, the walls were a cool tone of sage green and your walls were cleaner, the posters being replaced by photos of you and your friends from school. He had felt a tinge of jealousy, noticing just how much he was missing out on your life. Despite the lingering feeling, he tried to not let it get to him.

You thanked him so much for the gift he had given you, one of those polaroid cameras. He had spent so much time saving money to get you that present. The excited, happy tone in your voice during the phone call you had made to thank him made him feel like it had been worth it to spend that much.

"Hey, here she is! I named her Marie. From Marie Curie, of course." You explained, holding your camera carefully as you both entered your bedroom

"You named 'her' Marie?"

"She has a special place on my heart."

He chuckled. "You're so material, sometimes."

"You gave it to me!"

"I gave it to you." He whispered, a hint of a smile dancing around his features.

You smiled. "Come on, let's take a picture. It's her first. I waited a whole month so you'd be here to take this photo with me. It's only fair you're the first person to be photographed with me by Marie."

"Oh... okay..."

Holding the camera with both of your hands, you held it out so that it would capture the two of you. "Smile." You said, and, without checking his pose, you pressed the button, a big grin on your face, for the photo, of course, but also from being so madly happy that you were with him again. Spencer didn't know what do to, frozen on the spot because you were so, so close. He just looked at you, dumbstruck gaze on him as he watched you smile so beautifully at the camera.

His heart was doing somersaults.

After the flash in your face, you blinked rapidly, chuckling to yourself. "Oooh. That's uncomfortable, heh." You open your eyes and the first thing you see are his beautiful hazel ones, looking straight at you, as if he didn't even blink upon the bothering aftermath of the light on your faces. You nearly had to gulp under the intensity of his gaze. Then, you quickly regained consciousness and started fanning the small piece so that the picture would appear faster.

The result was the one now stuck to his wall: you, with the biggest smile on your face and he, lovestruck, dumb, lost gaze as he looked at you.

Sigh.

Spencer quickly shook his head, not meaning to be later and even more stressed than he already was. He missed you, though. And he let himself relish in that feeling of longing for a minute. Glancing at the photo, he couldn't help but think you were already eighteen. And that he had loved you from the first time he saw you — when he was twelve.

He sat on his bed, having removed the photo from the wall. As he held it delicately between his fingers, he thought of you. He always did. In spite of being late, in spite of everything telling him he had to go through his days, he felt something tugging at his heartstrings, a longing feeling that he should be somewhere else, something that told him something, so he knew.

It was time to go.

—

Back in his hometown, even the air felt different, despite exuding an aroma that reminded him of his younger days. It had been some time since he had visited, and the distance between you and him only grew further. Driving past your house — the state of California had finally issued his license —, he saw a somewhat big crowd of people, all dressed in black.

He felt like the noise around him didn't fully reach his brain. Like he was under water.

Robotically stepping out of his car, he approached the house cautiously. Almost as instantly as your mom welcomed him, he saw you across the room, dressed in black. Bloodshot eyes found him instantly, and a flicker of relief passed your expression — unable to muster up a smile, but oh so willing to show him that you were grateful for his presence. You felt frozen to the spot and had been standing in that corner for hours. A man placed his hand on your shoulder and that's when you looked away from Spencer. He noticed it, of course, and was obliged to acknowledge the blonde man by your side. You didn't smile at him either.

Spencer approached, somewhat relieved that you were okay, but so confused and overwhelmed by the entire situation. Almost unwilling to believe whatever bad thing had happened, because he had been so happy with you in that house.

Once he was within your earshot, you greeted weakly, "Hi."

"Hi."

Silence.

"Can we talk?"

Something about the look in your eyes told him that you desperately wanted, no, needed, craved it from him, his presence. With a subtle nod, you excused yourself from the man and lead him to the backyard. Sitting on the same bench you did when it was too late and you talked about the stars together, you reveal softly as you stare into the distance, "Dad's gone."

Spencer felt like he had been punched and all the air had left his lungs after your confirmation of something he was suspecting already. Finally, he blurted out, sitting down by yourself, "W—what?"

"He didn't wake up."

"He didn't wake up?"

"No... Last night, Spencer..." You begun, your voice thick with emotion, "he said that everything was alright." You frowned, tears streaming down your face, "That he... loves... loved me and mom... and that... that had been his role on Earth."

He stood quiet, waiting for the rest of what you had to say, still shaken by the news. Your broken voice and distant gaze were enough to skyrocket the pain he felt. Spencer absolutely adored your dad, and he was one of the few that Spencer confided in wholeheartedly when things got too rough for him to bear by himself. Even though your dad was the quiet type, Spencer would go as far as saying that he was somehow his dad as well.

With your silence, he had a little time to see past the pain. Analyzing your figure, he knew. He knew you had to leave. If you decided to stay, you'd be rooted to the spot and you wouldn't be able to grow any further, forever stuck into the never ending, relentless force of grief. Spencer knew that because, besides knowing you better than anyone else, he had left in hopes to escape the person he thought he was doomed to become. Your voice brought him out of his reverie. "I laughed. I thought he was joking."

"Maybe he was joking."

"Maybe he knew he was leaving."

Silence.

You look up at him. Asking for answers. For something. For comfort.

Sitting down beside you, he held your shaking shoulders as you let tears fall freely and you lost your breath and you choked on your own saliva. An ugly, guttural, desolate crying. Spencer held you through it all — he was ready to scream at anyone on the garden if they had the nerve to go there, but, actually, in that moment, you didn't care that somebody could see or hear you. The effect of the pills your mother had given you had started to wear off and you felt things way more intensely than when she first broke the news.

Dad's gone, was all that you could hear her voice say as Spencer turned his body to fully embrace you, placing your head on his shoulder and sobbing your pain as an effort to quell the ache of your loss.

It took every single ounce of self-control for Spencer not to break down with you, because in that moment, he preferred to swallow his own pain so that he could be your safe space instead. As your sobs slowly subsided, you sighed, squeezing your eyes shut as if that would make the pain that invaded your whole body go away.

"I think..." you started, but never finished.

Silence.

"I think you should move away."

You looked at him, baffled, puzzled, hopeful.

"What?" You whispered softly.

"I think staying won't do you any good. And you know I'm right." His gaze never faltered.

You took a deep breath. "M-my mom... Spencer... she doesn't have anyone else. I-I can't do that... to her..." You gulped. The meer thought of leaving felt exhilarating, but you had to stay. You were rooted.

"Your brothers are always around." He replied.

"Not anymore. Much has changed since… since you... left."

"I didn't leave." He said, defensively.

"I didn't accuse you. At least I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

He pressed his lips into a thin line. "Would you consider it? Leaving, I mean?" Please, say yes. Please, say yes. Come with me.

"I would... I don't know, Spencer." Your voice was broken. "Too... too much is going on. I can't just... go."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"There's dad. And now mom. And that stupid college... I don't know where I fit." You fit next to me, he wanted to scream at you, but he realized it wasn't fair of him to demand anything from you at that moment. "I don't know what path to take without my dad here to guide me." A wet chuckle made its way out of you. He hugged you again.

On a sudden wave of boldness, he stated, "If you stay, this will be your life. If you go, you'll have somewhere to come back to if things go wrong. I—I… I know, um, that I sound very insensitive right now, but that's the truth. Why do you think I went away?"

"I can't." And your tears began again, even harder this time.

He sighed, holding you against his chest once again. Despite the unbearable pain of not being able to help, to persuade you, he decided to respect your decision.

“My father's in a casket. I have got no plans.” You muttered softly. His heart broke for you all over again.

“You've got me. And I've got you.”

Looking up at him, your eyes glimmered with hope. Desperate to believe him, desperate to leave. With him, if he'd have you.

But that wasn't how it worked.

You buried your face on his chest again, willing the tears to stop, to have some control over yourself again.

He held you through it all. He was there for you.

Spencer's stay didn't last long, even though it was filled with an unspoken, desperate beg for you to come with him, even if he didn't quite know how things would work once you accepted. After some thinking, he realized he was asking too much of you for the sake of trying to protect you from what he knew was going to happen. Losing his own father, albeit for a different reason, had changed him permanently and he was scared that you, losing yours, would turn into a different person too. The mere thought of losing you to grief was too much to handle, even if he understood that his pleas were unfair to you, not to mention absurd.

Spencer's brain was turned into a whirlwind of thoughts, all of them desperate to find a way out of this situation, to find a way out to get you out of that place — both physically and mentally. As he stood by your side during your dad's burial, he let you squeeze his hand as if that would somehow make the pain less intense for you. It didn't, but it felt nice to have someone to carry the weight with you.

—

Spencer had joined the FBI at the age of 23, when you were graduating from college. The difference was staggering and it made you laugh the same as it had when he was going to college and you were going to seventh grade. It had been years since you had last met in person, after all, Diana was the main reason he'd go to Vegas, and he didn't go there much because he was often too busy with his studies and his career. Once, he had confided in you, saying that he secretly wished that it would be enough of a good excuse to avoid seeing his mother in a facility and saving them both from the pain. Tonight, though, that would change. You were visiting him in Virginia.

A little nervous, you knocked on his door. Once he answered, you took in his appearance and your heart swelled at the sight. In your eyes, he'd always looked the prettiest, but now… It's like something had shifted: Spencer was all that you saw. And you didn't want to look at anything else anymore.

“Hi,” you greeted in a weak voice. Perhaps the intensity of your smile stole away your will to speak properly.

“You're here.” Spencer muttered, eyes filled with many emotions, but that you decided to read as relief.

“I am.”

“God, it's been so long,” he says, closing the gap between you and him, wrapping his arms around your torso, resting his head on your shoulder, not so subtly trying to smell your perfume. And failing to hide the overdrive when he noticed it was the same from all those years ago, from when you had first kissed.

Pulling away slightly, you cupped his cheeks with both hands and took in his shiny eyes, the ones that you adored so much and now met yours with a new perspective on everything. Once entering his apartment, you found that the place screamed his name, from the scattered books and the endless piles all over his living room. His TV had a documentary in a foreign language on, and you smiled to yourself. Spencer had never changed and, at his core, was still the boy you were once close friends with.

Spencer filled you in on the things you missed. You knew they were mostly about his job because he wasn't one to step out of his comfort zone — not that you'd judge him for it. “I miss having you around, tapping my arm so I know when to stop,” he revealed softly as you two shared a tub of ice cream.

Forget germs, forget pathogens, forget viruses, forget everything. She is here.

You giggled. It set his heart on fire. “Ah, Spencer… You know I only did it when other people were around. Other people are just other people. You're you. And rambling is part of who you are. Don't let that disappear.”

He smiled. You were still you.

“In fact, I have something to tell you.”

His heartbeat fastened, thinking of every possible scenario, reliving every single one of your experiences in the back of his mind. “You… you have something to tell me?” He echoed. He was still him.

Chuckling softly, “I'm glad you're still you, Spencer. I still say your name when people ask me who's my best friend. It's an excuse to relive our favorite stories as I tell them all about you.”

Spencer was left speechless, bashfully looking away from you as he resumed to talk about his days at the FBI. He told you all about his team, the people and what they found on a daily basis. “Do you think it's weird that I study what I do study?”

“No, Spence. You've always had a curious mind. Why do you ask?” You inquired back.

“I don't know… sometimes I think that people find me weird.”

“You're not,” you said, simply. “Your interests are very diverse, and anyone who talks to you will find that out. Being a profiler is not weird.”

He grinned. Your words or arguments about his insecurities throughout your friendship weren't always the most complex, but he always felt better by talking to you. He was never ashamed, never too scared of admitting something or voicing his needs. You made him feel like it was okay to speak, to want, to be. Whatever his limitations were and whatever words he left unspoken, they were never your fault. You'd never frowned at him, not once.

As the night progressed, he filled you in on what he had been doing for fun, mentioning his current readings — one of them on his nightstand. Giddily, you went over to his bedroom to find the novel that he was talking about, so that you could hear him talk about it and recite, by heart, quotes that illustrated his points and interpretation from the book. Upon entering his bedroom, you smiled to yourself. So Spencer. The sand-colored walls, the neat and clean floor, his slightly wrinkled bedsheets, a pile of laundry on top of his bed, a few scattered items on his nightstand — which, by the way, was the same in his mother's house. You had always found it amazingly pretty, the light wood and the black paint that covered the iron of the drawer pulls.

As you reached the piece of furniture and removed the book, you found something scribbled right under where the object had been lying. You were ready to give him a piece of your mind and you opened your mouth, ready to tell him not to ruin the perfect nightstand, but as you turned on the lamp to try and find out what was written there, the writing in black ink made you shiver. You fell silent. It was the date of your first kiss.

Time stopped. Why was that date written there? And why did the possibilities both scared and thrilled you so damn much? You felt someone behind you. “So, you found the book or what?” The question made its way out of his lips in a teasing tone. But, as you turned around softly, the book still clutched tightly in your hands, your eyes questioned him back. Not accusingly, only… curiously.

When he realized what you had discovered, the air left his lungs and he tried desperately to come up with an excuse. It turns out that he hadn't been asked by many people about the meaning of that date — and it's not like he had many visitors, anyway. “I… You… You… Did you… see it?” You managed to nod, weakly.

“What does it mean?” You asked, eyes never leaving his.

Looking away, he replied, “I was scared to forget.”

“Forget?” You inquired, shifting your weight.

“About it…. That night, I mean. about… us.” You gazed at him understandingly once he answered.

“About us?” Funnily enough, now you were the one parroting him. It would have made you chuckle if the situation wasn't that serious.

He breathes out, “Yeah, us.”

A beat of silence. You take a step towards him, and his breath hitches. “Have you forgotten?”

He searches your face. Upon finding nothing but support, he reveals, “There's not a single day I don't remember that moment.” You gulp and he takes a step closer, which makes your grip on the book tighten even more. You closed your eyes — a silent invitation, but it makes him falter once he doesn't have your eyes to navigate him through what he's supposed to do.

I'm glad you're still you, Spencer.

Encouraged by the memory of your words from moments ago and the presence of you, he closes the distance between you, once and for all. There's nothing that could hold him back from loving you once your lips touch and press together in a kiss that makes the book fall to your feet as your hands find their place on the back of his neck.

On any other day, Spencer Reid would be pissed upon seeing someone drop a book, let alone a considerably heavy one, on his feet — that's absurd. That moment, though, he couldn't care less as he squeezed your waist, as if trying to convince himself that you were there, that it was real, and that he finally got to do what he has always wanted.

Spencer and you had been through many firsts during the time you've known each other; some good firsts and some pretty bad firsts. But, there was a quote, from ‘Doctor Who’, that you always reminded him and yourself whenever things got too tough:

"The way I see it, every life is a pile of good things and bad things. The good things don’t always soften the bad things, but vice versa, the bad things don’t always spoil the good things and make them unimportant."

As long as he had you to soften the bad things and had your company during the bad things that made the good ones unimportant, Spencer figured that life would be a pile of more good than bad things.

[bitchthefuck1]

Genuinely cannot fathom how this woman's mind works, it'll be a genuine miracle if I don't kms before the year ends

The universe saw me finally getting out of a toxic social circle and moving away from my family and said let's balance this out by giving her a manager with the poorest communication skills known to man

[777heavengirl]

Bless the Telephone ; ##02

James Potter x f!muggle!reader

word count: 1,511

warnings: i dont think theres any? lmk...

a/n: :) i hope yall like it, at the rate im pumping these out i might do two updates per week but we'll see how that goes..."

series masterlist

main masterlist

You sighed as you opened the door, the various bags of food, toiletries, clothes, and whatever else you had picked up during the day made your arms feel like they might fall off, cutting into your skin and your circulation. Your fingers had gone numb two stops away from your apartment, you could feel the relief as you dumped half the bags on the kitchen counter. 

You dumped the other half and the backpack that hung heavy across your back in your room. 

“Hey, darling-” your roommate popped her head up from where she lay on the couch, wild curls practically floating around her. “Yer phone’s been ringing nonstop for like an hour-”

You groaned, glancing at the clock briefly while putting your shopping in their rightful places. 

7:30 p.m.

“D’you know who it was?”

“Why would you ever think I’d get up to check?” She popped some chips into her mouth with a laugh

You turned, hands on your hips, a small smirk playing on your lips 

“You mean to tell me you’d rather put up with the ringing than get up?” 

“Yeah- why not? Turn up the telly and boom- can’t even hear a thing mate” She said, smiling from the couch. You couldn’t help but laugh along with her-

The phone rang, not as violent as that morning two days ago, sound muffled by the wall and your closed door. It was loud nonetheless.

Your roommate turned up the volume of the television.

“Talk of the devil!” she screamed through the roaring sound of whatever trashy game show she was watching.

You dragged yourself to your room, closing the door behind you. You could still hear the exaggerated volume of the telly. The phone kept on ringing, the red light angrily flashing at you to go pick it up already-

“Hello?” 

“Where’ve you been?” it was teasing, you wanted to say it was his voice. The mysterious voice on the phone, one Mr James Potter. You weren’t sure. You didn’t know how to feel about it either.

“Who is this?”

“Woah, one day and you’ve already forgotten me- you’re breaking my heart here sweetheart” the voice crackled through the static of the receiver. Oh it was definitely Mr James Potter calling again

“Potter?”

“James- But yes”

“Ah! That one- to what do I owe the pleasure?” You bit your lip slightly, excitement turning in your stomach. You grabbed the base of the phone, moving the machine as close to your bed as the cable would let you, the rest of the stretch between your bed and the telephone could be covered by the curled plastic cord. You sat on the mattress.

“Do you know any other Potters?”

“Just the one- but to be fair, I don't really know you either”

“Mhm… fair enough, I think I only know one other person with your name-”

“Really?” 

“Yeah, nasty woman really- called me daft two days ago,” he said, tone serious as if recounting a deeply wounding moment… you let out a laugh “You wouldn’t believe how rude she was to me”

“Oh was she really? That’s terrible news, maybe it was because you called her— a stranger by the way, at four in the bloody morning”

“You got me, wasn’t on purpose though— you still haven’t answered my question by the way” You could hear that little smirk on his lips again

“What would that be Potter?”

“James- but where were you?”

“What’s it to you? Trying to stalk me or something?” you could feel your heartbeat quicken, 

“I just tried calling earlier-”

“Yeah, my roommate said, the phone rang a ton— were those all you or should I check my messages?”

“I wasn’t sure I was hitting the right number okay? pissed off a few other people too”

“Oh so this is the norm for you-”

“Hey! It isn’t my fault, I just didn’t know how to do the little- you know…” had this guy ever used a phone before? “call the previous number thing- ugh I don’t know what it’s called but whatever I didn’t know how it worked” he huffed

“Potter, are you a ten-year-old boy? Scratch that, my cousin knows how to do that- maybe you are daft”

“If I say yes will you tell me what you were up to?” he said, you laughed again

“I was running some errands, nothing special… why’d you wanna know?” you raised an eyebrow, you curled the cable around your index finger, the rest of the cool plastic wrapping around your hand. 

“Was just wondering…”

A beat.

“I realize now that me calling you back might be strange-”

“You don’t say- only took you about ten minutes of conversation, you didn’t think about that before you called?”

“Not really- my mum says I lack impulse control,”

“I can tell you have zero of that-” 

“she blames Dad but we both know she’s the one I got it from” he chuckled, and you couldn’t help but mirror it. 

“You still haven’t answered my question, Potter-”

“You really not going to call me James?”

“No- I don’t know you-”

“I guess that's fair enough- what was your question?”

“Why’d you call?” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, almost as if thinking deeply about your question before his voice broke through the static again.

“Honestly?”

“Obviously-” you retorted, another chuckle left his lips.

“I don’t really know… I don’t really have a reason I just wanted to talk” you mouled over his answer, strange but not bad.

“You don‘t have friends for that already?”

“You’ve never made new friends with complete strangers?”

“Not like this-” you traced a pattern onto your sheets as you spoke, 

“Well, I can be the first! so how old are you?” he sounded giddy “If I say I’m sixty five will you leave me alone?”

“It would be worse- I love old ladies, but they love me immediately so I suspect you aren’t one”

“because I don’t immediately love you?”

“obviously” he mirrored you “I’m twenty-“

“What a coincidence, so am I” you whispered, he heard you nonetheless

You pursed your lips to suppress a smile as James asked questions and explained things about his life that you didn’t ask for. You felt quite silly- talking on the phone with a boy you’d never met, you didn’t know what he looked like, nor if he was really who he said he was.

His tone and his rambles seemed genuine enough, he was a very peculiar boy- talking about how he was mildly scared of the tube but my mate Sirius loved it. 

“Is this Sirius one of the voices I heard last time?”

“Yeah- he asked if you were pretty which looking back might’ve been a little rude”

“Eh- maybe, I’d feel terrible to disappoint him though”

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know if he’s expecting some striking supermodel to be answering the phone…” you trailed off slightly, James went quiet “I reckon I’m alright though”

“You’re probably selling yourself short doll,“

“Anyway- what do you do?”

“What do you mean love?”

“Like are you in Uni? or something else?”

“Oh! umm- something else for sure”

“What?”

“What?”

“Potter- like what do you do? you know… with your life”

“I just live? I don’t know- d’you mean like occupationally?”

“Yes occupationally idiot-“

“Okay okay don’t yell at me— you’ll break my little heart babe come on-“ he cleared his throat a couple of times  “I kind of work for my father I guess? What do you do?”

“I go to Uni- I also work at a little coffee shop on weekends… what does your father do?”

“he makes hair potions-“ he said, almost choking on his words. you raised an eyebrow 

“like hair gel and shit?”

“y-yeah that’s what I meant like… conditioners and s-styling… gels… and shit” you laughed out loud, not being able to conceal it this time. a short series of giggles that delighted James ever so slightly. You could hear him get quiet briefly, almost as if he was running out of words “What do you do in this Uni of yours?”

“Administration… not the most thrilling field I fear”

“I’m assuming you’re not the fondest of it then”

“not particularly, but it’ll do… do you like working for your dad?”

“he’s made a ton of money with his products- I’m very proud of him for it… to be honest probably not what I wanted to do with my life but it’s not… difficult, so I can focus on other things, more exciting things so I really can’t complain…” he was about to continue, rambling about the silver linings of it.

you interrupted “What did you want to do?” 

“Pardon?” he asked, 

“With your life James- what did you want to do with your life?” 

You thought he had stayed quiet, maybe thinking, searching for the words until the dial tone rang in your ear— he had hung up. You stared at the phone as you put it back on the base.

Peculiar boy wasn’t he?

tags ; @ilovejamespottersomuch @ravisinghs-wife @hidontmindtheintrovert @stella-thestars @caspiankingofnarnia @lovelyteenagebeard @starkluvrr @hisparentsgallerryy @leilani13gc

permanent tag ; @laufeysvalentine

pls send me an ask if you wanna be added!

[leclercinvegas]

Can I get a short blurb of Charles and the reader adopting the cat that ran onto the track ? 😂

A TRACKSIDE RESCUE

who: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: oh hey guys! what's up! it's been a while...but i'm back! it's finally summer break and i'm ready to get back at this. also this is a little bit more than a blurb

summary: during a race weekend, you and charles encounter a frightened tabby cat that darts onto the F1 track. After ensuring the cat's safety, they decide to adopt it. despite their busy schedules, he becomes a part of their lives.

warnings: none

The sun was beginning to set over the circuit, casting a golden hue across the track as the engines roared and the crowd cheered. You were standing in the pit lane, watching Charles Leclerc as he finished his final lap of the day. The excitement and energy in the air were palpable, but amidst the usual hustle and bustle, something unusual happened.

A small, frightened tabby cat darted onto the track, narrowly missing the speeding cars. Gasps erupted from the stands, and the marshals quickly moved to ensure its safety. The race was momentarily paused, and the tiny creature was gently carried to safety by a kind-hearted track official.

After the race, you and Charles found yourselves in the paddock, where the cat was being looked after. Charles, still in his race suit, crouched down and reached out to the trembling feline. It cautiously approached him, sniffing his outstretched hand before nuzzling against it.

"Hey there, little one," Charles murmured, his voice gentle and soothing. You joined him, kneeling beside him to get a closer look at the cat. Its big, green eyes looked up at you both, and you felt an instant connection.

"Looks like we have a new fan," you joked, smiling at the sight of Charles being so tender with the cat. He looked up at you, his eyes twinkling with an idea.

"How about we adopt it?" he suggested, his smile widening. "It seems like fate brought us together."

You hesitated for a moment, thinking about the logistics. "Do you think it's a good idea? With all the traveling and the busy schedule?"

Charles nodded confidently. "We'll make it work. This little one needs a home, and I can't think of a better one than with us."

With that decision made, the process of adopting the cat began. The team helped arrange everything, and soon enough, the cat was part of your family. You decided to name it Turbo, a fitting name given its dramatic entrance onto the track.

Back at home, Turbo quickly adapted to its new environment. It became a beloved companion, often found curled up next to you while you worked or perched on Charles's lap as he watched race replays. The cat even became a bit of a social media sensation, with fans adoring the updates and pictures you both posted.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race weekend, you and Charles returned home exhausted. Turbo greeted you both at the door, weaving between your legs and purring loudly. Charles scooped up the cat, holding it close as he made his way to the living room.

As you settled onto the couch, Turbo nestled comfortably between you, Charles wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You sighed contentedly, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I think Turbo has gotten used to the idea of being a celebrity," you mused, watching as the cat stretched out and yawned.

Charles chuckled. "Just like its owners, then," he said playfully. "But seriously, adopting Turbo was one of the best decisions we've ever made."

You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. "Definitely. Turbo has brought so much joy and love into our lives."

Over the next few months, Turbo became an integral part of your routine. The cat had a knack for knowing when you needed comfort, curling up on your lap during stressful moments or meowing insistently until you took a break. Charles loved to joke that Turbo was your shared therapist.

One particular day stood out. Charles had a rough race, and the disappointment was evident on his face as he walked through the door. Turbo immediately sensed his mood, trotting over and rubbing against his legs.

"Hey, buddy," Charles sighed, bending down to pet the cat. You watched from the kitchen, a soft smile on your face. Turbo had a way of lifting Charles's spirits like nothing else could.

Later that evening, as you all sat together in the living room, Charles spoke up. "You know, I never thought I'd be a cat person, but Turbo has completely changed my mind."

You laughed, gently stroking Turbo's fur. "I think Turbo has changed all of us in the best way possible."

Charles leaned in, his lips brushing against your temple. "Thank you for convincing me to adopt Turbo," he whispered. "I can't imagine our lives without this little furball."

You turned to him, your heart swelling with love. "It was the best decision we ever made together."

As Turbo purred contentedly between you, you felt a profound sense of happiness and completeness. Life was unpredictable, just like a cat running onto a racetrack, but sometimes, the unexpected moments brought the greatest joy. And in those moments, surrounded by love and purrs, you knew that everything was exactly as it should be.

[grandline-fics]

Immune To Your Charms

DESCRIPTION: Soulmates are incapable of harming the other in any way. Normally that would be a good thing but not when you're meant to be enemies.

WARNINGS: It's Doflamingo so that's it's own warning if you don't like reading fics featuring him. Soulmate! AU, Enemies to Lovers. Some descriptions of illness and death

CHARACTERS: Doflamingo

WORDS: 3,907

A/N: The next part is here and we've got some soft Doffy and in denial Doffy because lets face it the man isn't going to admit his feelings so easily. I hope you all like how this chapter turned out. I think this might be the longest chapter yet. Hopefully the next one won't have as long a wait

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Chapter Eleven(here) | Chapter Twelve(coming soon)

——————

Once again being soulmates had yielded unforeseen benefits- for a lack of a better term- with the way Doflamingo’s touch meant your body was incapable of feeling pain from your sickness. Doflamingo watched silently as one of the doctors approached to conduct their morning observations of your condition. The doctor, highly aware of his ruler’s intense stare, flinched when they lifted your hand into their’s, already braced and expecting your expression to contort into one of pain. He only relaxed when you continued to sleep, unbothered by the touch that would have caused you to audibly cry out in pain just hours prior. 

With a shaky breath, the doctor became a little braver and pressed their fingers against your wrist to measure your pulse. The night before, when they were first summoned to your chambers after being alerted to your illness this was something they couldn’t properly measure because of the extreme pain you were in. Now he and his colleagues could breathe a little easier, selfishly relieved their lives weren’t entirely endangered when it came to treating you now. 

“Any change?” The doctor jumped suddenly at Doflamingo’s deep voice breaking through the unbearable, tense silence.

“Uh their heart rate is still increased as we’re expecting to be the case for now. But it’s a good sign it hasn’t worsened.” They explained, swallowing the lump in their throat. Even though he was confident in his and the abilities of his colleagues, there was just no predicting how Doflamingo would take any of their statements. He could lash out quite easily and without any remorse or hesitation simply because he wanted to or because their phrasing didn’t fit with what he wanted to hear. “This long period of uninterrupted sleep has made a clear difference. When they wake we'll attempt them with something to eat-something light like broth- and if they can stomach that we’ll begin the first round of medication.”

The seconds ticked by heavily as the doctor waited for Doflamingo to make a comment on the proposed next course of action. He knew better than to prod or say anything that could be seen as forcing a response. So the doctor could only wait and continue to check over you, gently settling your hand against your body before doing another read of your temperature, knowing to monitor your fluctuating fever and chills. Still you didn’t even so much as twitch, the doctor didn't think he’d ever get used to seeing how the power of a soulmate could defy what he knew as a medical professional. “When you’ve finished, discuss an appropriate menu with the cooks and have them begin to prepare it.” 

Taking no further encouragement at his King’s finally uttered words, the doctor completed his checks and updated his notes before bowing and leaving quickly. Silently they were happy their next shift to check on your wouldn’t be until the next morning. Alone again, Doflamingo looked down at your sleeping form. With Doflamingo sitting up against the headrest, you were propped up too but sleeping soundly and unmoved since the second he pulled you into his hold. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. Annoyance that he’d acted in the moment without thinking. The image of your twisted in extreme distress flashed in his head and he turned his head away to scowl, refusing to consider the implications of his actions anymore than he’d already begun to. 

Thankfully you broke his attention by shifting in your sleep, a long lazy groan breaking from your lips as you stirred and forced your eyes to open. Doflamingo noted how exhausted you still looked but the sleep you’d managed to get without feeling pain had helped in some capacity. As you stared blankly in front of you the haze of sleep fell, confusion began to take over. Then panic. Sluggishly you tried to push the covers away and sit up fully. “Late…I’m late.” You croaked out, voice thick with tiredness and trembling with the infection still coursing through you. “Captain’s going…to kill me.”

Doflamingo tilted his head to the side curiously, you didn’t seem to realise he was there and from your sickly rambling it seemed you didn’t even know where you were. With how warm your skin felt he saw the spike in your fever was leaving you confused. He watched your feeble attempt to fight against the covers and listened to you mumble about morning drills for another few seconds before he acted. With ease he pulled the cover back to its original place and lean in so his chest was against your back a little more so he could tell you softly. “You’re on shore leave remember?”

At his voice you stopped and numbly nodded with a small hum of acknowledgement. Slowly you rolled over and slumped to lie down again, your back against his side and head resting on his bicep. While you weren’t conscious enough to know being in his hold prevented your body to feel pain, it seemed like your body now knew out of instinct that this was the only surefire solution for relief. Already your breathing had evened out to signal you were asleep but still Doflamingo could hear the tightened wheeze preventing you from taking calmer, deeper breaths like you normally would. Doflamingo glanced at the clock on the wall, already aware of the doctors’ routine with checking on you. The next would be arriving in twenty minutes, and if the previous doctor had obeyed his order then a servant would be bringing something for you to eat as well. 

In the meantime Doflamingo used his strings to pull the morning’s paper from the table into his waiting hand. Bored and in need of something to occupy his time, he slowly leafed through the pages, taking in the reports from around the world. Some stories about skirmishes made him grin, knowing he was behind the reason both sides had so much weaponry at their disposal and the bloodshed was increasing as he’d expected it to. Other stories of other pirates causing trouble and increasing their bounties made him roll his eyes at the numbers. No doubt the weaklings thought this made them big-shots in the New World but it would only be a matter of time before they ran into someone of real power to knock them down to the harsh reality of these seas. Doflamingo turned the page and paused to see a full story dedicated to the illness you were afflicted with, claiming more lives on the island you’d caught it at. His grin lessened and the vein in his head throbbed as he read through the claims that the island’s best doctors and with the aid of neighbouring islands were administering the treatments needed but for so many it was too late.

‘The cruelty of the illness is so severe to the afflicted that they physically cannot bear to be touched long enough to be treated. Meaning that so many of those that could be saved are unable to endure help from their saviours. These poor souls are meant to spend the last days of life in constant pain while also being too weakened with internal ailments to take matters into their own hands. The only saving grace in this poor report is that thankfully the illness’ source has been dealt with and the island will not suffer more of its populace to fall victim to this calamity. The island’s ruler-thankfully one of those not infected- was quoted to say “We mourn the tragic loss of life but our island will recover.”’ Doflamingo clicked his tongue harshly and discarded the paper.

————

“Just try some please.” You screwed up your face in exhausted distaste at the bowl on the tray. Your eyes stung, even with them being half-opened felt so heavy. Even blinking felt like a massive effort and you had no energy. You just wanted to sleep but the servant and doctor in front of you kept insisting on coaxing you to eat so they could give you medicine. Your gaze dropped to the vial of dark green liquid on the tray and you felt yourself gag, already anticipating the foul taste. “Just a spoonful?”

“No thank you.” You croaked out, turning your head away slightly in case they tried to force it into your mouth. You spotted the fear in their eyes at your refusal to even take a drop of the broth made specifically for you. Even with your mind clouded with the illness you knew they were doing everything they could to avoid the stare of the man you were leaning against. You knew that the reason Doflamingo was in your bed and had your body propped against him, his arm around your waist had been explained but honestly you were too weakened and drained to have really processed what the doctor had told you. All you could really retain was because he was your soulmate and that it was somehow helping. Which only left you more confused about everything. You could feel how tense Doflamingo was, impatient and silently angry. You weren’t in the mood to deal with his tantrums and taking any frustration out on a servant and doctor so you sighed.“Just leave it to the side. I’ll try later.”

While that seemed to relieve the two in front of you, your words only brought an extra note of silent displeasure from the Warlord. If you had the power to roll your eyes you would have. Instead you blankly watched the tray get moved to your bedside table. The servant retreated to the wall closest to the door, silently waiting for permission to leave while the doctor began to check over your condition. Already you were sick of being poked, prodded, and pestered like this and fussed over so intently. “Everything is about the same from the last recordings taken. I don't think we’ll see any real change until the treatment properly begins.”

“Subtle.” You remarked dryly, feeling like a child being lectured for not eating their vegetables.

“Please try to take some before the next check.” You gave no further response to the doctor, watching him and the servant finally leave. The second the door clicked closed you felt movement behind you and glared weakly as the tray as pulled back onto the bed beside you.

“I said I’d-”

“I know what you said.” Doflamingo noted far too evenly for your liking. “I also know that you lied when you said you’d try later. You’d really hurt their feelings by lying?”

“Rather their feelings get hurt than you hurt them physically.” You uttered before breaking out into a cough. Thankfully this time you felt no pain or brought up any blood but the tightness in your chest and constant action left your wheezing and breathless. When you’d recovered you glowered at Doflamingo as he adjusted you to recline back and hold a spoon of broth out to you. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because you’re too weak and stubborn to feed yourself.”

“No. This.” You barely managed to tap his arm around your waist. “Why insist I get better? Why help? This could kill me if we do nothing.” Doflamingo felt his jaw tighten as he fought to keep his expression unreadable to you. Thankfully your usual perception was dulled considerably and you failed to notice how your words got under his skin him and made him bristle. Instead he brought the spoon a little closer to divert your attention away from the question. Unfortunately your stubbornness and deep—seated need to defy him was still very much in tact. “Tell me.”

“Well I didn’t infect you did I?” Doflamingo asked smoothly, deciding to opt for an easier explanation for his actions, more for his own benefit than yours. “It’d be the same as having someone else kill you and that’s not going to happen. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.” You grumbled as you eyed the spoon hesitantly. If you gave in and tried the broth then it meant you were doing what Doflamingo wanted. Not wanting to lose to him in the strange sense of point scoring you both had you slowly looked at him, already seeing his grin appear when he could tell you were contemplating giving in and eating. Spurned on you pursed your lips slightly. “Say please first.”

“You’ve got to be joking.” Doflamingo ground out. Why did he expect that being sick would make you more agreeable. “Isn’t me holding you so you can sleep and spoon-feeding you enough?”

“You did that on your own.” You remarked with a pout, refusing to comment on how truthfully comfortable and reassured you felt against him. “You want me to eat? Say please.”

Doflamingo stared you down for what felt like an eternity. He was once a Celestial Dragon. Anything he wanted he took. Even now as Dressrosa’s king that was still the case. His every whim and wish was granted when he opened his mouth. Not once had he ever said please, or had to genuinely ask for something. Harshly he bit the inside of his mouth at the sheer absurdity of it all. Suddenly you began to cough again, this time more persistent that the previous bout that racked through your body. He glared at the sound of your worsened wheeze, no doubt because of the amount of talking and effort it was having on your body. Unwillingly he recalled the doctors telling him that your readings hadn’t changed and that  your body needed the balance of rest and nutrients to even be able to fight off the infection. Just because being in his hold meant you didn’t feel pain, it didn’t free you from the infection itself still coursing through your body and getting stronger. As you caught your breath, Doflamingo gnashed his teeth together and forced out a simple but audible. “Please.”

Surprise managed to bring a small amount of light to your eyes. Quite honestly you had expected Doflamingo to force your mouth open before even letting that one little word break from his own. Still you weren’t one to go back on your word and now having the knowledge that you made the Doflamingo Donquixote say please, made the fact you had to be spoon-fed like a baby less humiliating. Taking a breath you nodded and parted your lips, accepting the food reluctantly. 

For the entire process you were surprised to find Doflamingo didn’t rush you, simply waiting in silence for you to attempt the next spoonful offered. Even more surprising was that he seemed to know you’d reached your limit before you had to say so. The bowl was set aside and you let out a tired sigh of relief. Your relief was short-lived because immediately Doflamingo lifted the small vial of medicine and removed the topper and brought it closer. “You already used your ‘please’ so no absurd requests for this one.” 

“It’s fine…” You mumbled, more for yourself than anything else. “I’ve had awful shots in worse bars in the past…I can do this.” Doflamingo chuckled and helped tip the contents of the vial into your mouth, watching you force it down and tense as the full taste hit you. You winced and let out a shuddering breath. It wasn’t the worst thing you’d tasted in your life but even with the doctors making a clear attempt to make the experience more tolerable for you, it was clear it was medicine and nothing to be entirely enjoyed. You gratefully took a sip of water when it was offered to you and already felt the strange numbing warmth begin to spread through you from the medicine. You shifted to get comfortable and curled up, a yawn building in your chest that didn’t feel as tight as it had just a few moments ago. “You don’ have to stay…”

“Oh? You got someone else lined up to sneak in here if I go?” Doflamingo asked with a chuckle. You’d unknowingly moved your arm over his chest at the same time you told him he could go.

“Mhm…” You nodded, mind already hazy and eyes closed. “Don’ be jealous…’kay?”

“Oh I already told you I don’t get jealous, remember?” Doflamingo smirked as you sleepily laughed and forced your eyes open to briefly look at him.

“You also never said please before. First time…for everything hm?” Your sleepy triumphant smile was so endearing that Doflamingo couldn’t even get annoyed at your reminder of your getting the upper hand over him. Even if he did, you wouldn’t have heard anything because you were promptly asleep.

———

You were completely knocked out and in the deepest sleep when the doctors came by for their next check on you. They informed Doflamingo that your response to the first dose of medication was a promising sign. They explained that they’d ensured there was a good balance to assist your immune system to fight the infection, relax your airways, regulate your temperature, manage pain relief, and protect the vital organs. Doflamingo nodded in satisfaction at the report. “My King, there is something we’d like to test while they’re sleeping.” The doctor requested glancing briefly to your sleeping form still against Doflamingo’s chest. “Can you move them out of your touch? I’d like to ensure the pain relief is correct for them? We don’t want to risk them being under or over medicated in that respect.”

Doflamingo hesitated for the briefest second but relented, settling his arms around you and shifting to pass you down to lie against the pillows and climbed out of the bed. He watched silently and hands tensed, to use his strings and stop the doctor if need be. It seemed the doctor was nervous, already remembering what almost happened to her colleague the first night they tended to you. Experimentally her hand settled against yours, sighing in relief to see your fingers twitch at the contact but you gave no other reaction. your expression was kept at its calm, relaxed state as it had been while you slept in Doflamingo’s arms. “That’s promising. My King, you can leave them while they’re sleeping now should you wish? Stretch your legs or even attend to other business. They shouldn’t wake for another few hours if our assumptions are correct.” 

He nodded and offered you another glance. Immediately he felt reluctant to leave you and for that reason he forced himself to leave your quarters, needing desperately to clear his head and get away from your presence. He needed something recognisable, routine. Doflamingo headed straight for his own room and into his personal bathroom. The strong heat and stream of water from the shower helped to loosen the knots in his body and unravel some of the tension that had built in him over the course of the last few days. Between rushing home to Dressrosa from the Marine base until this moment he hadn’t let you out of his sight and had practically ignored everything else. When he was dried and changed, he made his way to the dining room, deciding to actually spend time with his family and eat while making sure to not give you a second thought, out of sheer determination to prove to himself he wasn’t in anyway concerned about you. 

“Doffy what do you think?” Doflamingo blinked in the middle of the meal, only now realising that he’d been absently looking at the time on the clock. Had he been unconsciously checking how long was left until you woke? No. He couldn’t have. He was just tired, he didn’t sleep at the best of times and the shower he had and wine he was drinking was just making him sleepy. 

“About what Diamanté?”

“We were just saying how funny the whole thing with that island is.” His elite officer said. “It’s further proof that you two are soulmates.”

“How so?” Doflamingo asked, not understanding how you getting sick was proof. Then again he’d not been listening to the first part of the conversation, a point no one at the table would point out. Doflamingo couldn’t help but think you would though. The second he slipped on anything, you would promptly call him out on it. Sharply he shoved that thought out of his head and focused on Diamanté who spoke, unfazed at having to no doubt repeat himself. 

“Well it was just a nothing little island, with nothing little criminals storing weapons for us. None of us were meant to even go there for the hand over.” He explained with an amused smile. “If I recall right we were going to send one of the middle tier pirate crews under your command to go. You decided last minute to go. If you hadn’t then you never would have encountered them and brought them here to then be treated by the doctors for that deadly infection. It’s interesting how it all played out isn’t it?”

Interesting certainly was one way of putting it and it was something Doflamingo couldn’t help but continue to consider it after dinner. He remembered now. It was just how Diamanté reminded him. A crew similar to Bellamy’s was instructed to collect the weapons and ammunition being stored at the warehouse. Then a tip came through from one of his other Marine informants that a unit was stationed at the island, waiting to strike and interfere with the operation without knowing it was his business they were sticking their noses into. He hadn’t gotten any names or further information about you or the unit. It was the vaguest report but still, Doflamingo had immediately made the decision to go there and deal with the unit himself. At the time had it been interpreted as something to entertain him. Had he been simply bored or had fate made him go? To inadvertently save your life from the sickness that was already in your system and incubating without anyone knowing? 

Harshly he rubbed his head as he walked down the halls, feeling a migraine coming on. Doflamingo reached for the doorhandles and pushed them open, stopping abruptly when he saw he’d made his way to your room instead of his own. Muttering a curse under his breath he closed the doors and stepped further inside. Silently he told himself he was only doing this until you were a little better and didn’t need the medicine. Pulling back the covers he got back into the bed and lay down beside you but knowing you were still sound asleep with the medicine in your system mean he didn’t need to touch you. Letting out a long groan, he closed his eyes and lifted his hand to press his thumb and finger against his temples. 

The slight sound of shifting fabric caught his attention, signalling him that you were shifting in your sleep. Doflamingo was caught by surprise when your body pressed against him, your head tucking into the crook of his neck. He could tell you were still fast asleep, your deep breathing the clearest sign. Everything in your movements was purely instinct, including when one of your hands lifted you lay over his head, your fingers settling over the point of his headache that immediately began to subside. As he felt himself drift asleep he began to consider that it was only fair you both benefited from the affects that being soulmates brought.

——————————————-

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[woewriting]

amae (ii)

pairing: cairo sweet | reader summary: cairo's actions continue to frustrate you, but when unspoken words are finally said out loud, you understand her. word count: 4619 warnings: mdni, +18 only! jumpscare: mr. miller, sexual tension, a bit of angst, jealous cairo, small reader x winnie situation, scisorring, face riding (reader receiving), language, smut in general, brief softness.

part 1 . part 2 | masterlist

Apparently, college parties were a bit different in Tennessee, which was a sweet surprise to you. Different from the ones you were used to back in your hometown, this one was hosted at the English professor’s house  — you noticed as soon as you opened the front door, a picture of him with his wife near the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows when you bumped into your professor, an apologetic smile on his face.

“I didn't see you there, I'm sorry.” He touched your arm in a weak squeeze before placing his hand back in his pocket, the other holding a red mug.

“It's okay, Mr. Miller. I didn't know you would be here.” 

“I always host this reading before the actual party. My wife and I will go on a weekend trip and Winnie asked if she could host a ‘small’ gathering; apparently, the house they usually go to for the party is unavailable. Beatrice left after noon. Smart decision of hers.” You laughed at his expression, knowing damn well it would be anything but small. You could tell by the faces around you that you never saw in any of his classes or readings before. They didn’t exactly fit the ‘tortured-poet’ profile “Are you joining us for the reading? It started a few minutes ago, I just came to the kitchen to get some more coffee. Cairo should start at any moment.”

At the mention of her name, you felt a bitter taste in your mouth and you took a deep breath. 

A week had passed since the girl sat on your lap, kissed you, allowed you to touch her and then started acting as if nothing happened. During classes, you could feel her eyes on you, that uncomfortable feeling of being watched taking over your senses every five minutes, as if she was waiting for you to turn around and smile at her.

But you didn't. You avoided her like the plague. As soon as the class ended, you gathered your materials, plugged in your earphones and left without looking back. 

Winnie complained a few times about your sudden avoidance of her and Cairo, asking non stop what had happened, if she did something that got you upset, but all you could do was apologize and say you had a lot on your mind with finals and assignments with a short deadline. It wasn't a full lie, but the girl could see the change in your expressions.

And now, all that hard work to avoid the brunette would go downhill as she was waiting a couple steps away from where you were standing, waiting for Mr. Miller's returnal so she could read what she had prepared for tonight.

“Cairo and I aren't in the best place right now, if I'm being honest. I didn't know she would be here.” 

“Oh…” The man scratched his chin. “I didn't know that, I'm sorry. If there's anything I can do to help, don't hesitate in asking. I know Cairo, she can be… stubborn.”

You bit the inside of your cheeks at the statement. During your first days in Mr. Miller's class, Winnie kept you updated on the strange relationship Cairo had with your now professor; on how starstruck the young writer was at being close to someone she admires and looks up to. It was uncomfortable seeing how close he would be to her, making your stomach twist inside you with anxiety, yet there was nothing you could do as she seemed happy to be noticed by him. 

When you asked about this whole situation to Cairo, trying to disguise your reactions, she told you: “he is someone I admire and I know he can help me with my writing. I look forward to our meetings as I have his attention all to myself.” You gave her a small smile that nearly made your eyes shake. Just like now.

You blinked a few times, pursing your lips together. 

“We'll be fine.” You decided to answer, not truly believing in that. “But I appreciate the offering, Mr. Miller.”

“Anytime.” 

“Does your wife know that soon her house will have drunk people stumbling against the walls?” You asked in an attempt to ease the sudden awkward silence.

“God, no.” He laughed.

“I’ll try to keep the glass decoration in one piece.” Once again his hand rested on your arm for a few seconds in a silent ‘thank you’ before he checked the silvery watch on his wrist. 

“The reading is almost finished. Walk with me?”

Unable to deny the request, you simply nodded, walking in front of the professor as he motioned to you. 

The second you arrived in the living room, your eyes landed on her like a magnet. It might be because she was standing in the improvised stage by the window, or because of the deadly stare she locked on you when you walked in with Mr. Miller by your side. If she had a laser in her eyes, you'd be a sieve by now with thick blood covering the dark wood floor. 

A hand wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to the corner. Winnie smiled at you, saying she saved you a seat by her side on the couch even though she wasn’t sure you'd be here for the reading. The childish side of yours screamed for you to answer her with: “if I knew she would be here, I wouldn't have come” in a very annoying voice, but you only smiled at her, squirming in the leather couch. 

The room was in complete silence, waiting for the girl staring at you to start her reading. Cairo took a deep breath, licking her dry lips to start. The sun was starting to descend on the window behind her, transforming that whole scene into a beautiful portrait that your mind would keep for as long as you could remember.

“And as I witness her most intense intentions through dark eyes, with hands marking mine own peachy skin in a bruising grasp, I fall asunder above her. My body; weak, begging, pleading for her merciless touch as I watch her slam the door shut. The smell of something burning fills the walls, yet it's not the smoke that leaves my lungs, it's the fog that fills as I turn, fated to fall and fated to fail, and wish for her gaze, my resolute resistance scrawled in sand, tumbling through her open hands just as through the neck of our hourglass.

From the high, the grayness takes form; thick, lascivious, dangerous. The unsureness of faith buries words that one day I aim to say. Miserable thing, watching with tearful eyes as she leaves. The tree branches knock on the window, witnessing the whole pitiful scene engraved in my memory.”

You paid attention to every word she enunciated with a strong, determined voice, it felt like she was trying to open your skull and carve each one onto your brain matter. You felt dizzy at them, heart beating fast against your ribcage. While everyone applauded the young writer, you clenched your jaw, swallowing nothing that would help your sudden dry mouth. 

Cairo smiled, the type of smile that would make anyone drop to their knees and pray for her. Winnie was excited by your side, the subtle scent of alcohol you smelled on her made you laugh. The girl was loud and, at the moment, when all eyes turned to you two, you regretted sitting by her side. From across the living room, your eyes met hers again, now sat beside Mr. Miller while he whispered something in her ear to which she smiled wide, turning to him. 

As another student took over the stage, you couldn’t absorb any words that were said, disappearing into thin air. All you could focus on was Cairo’s hand occasionally touching his forearm when she leaned to say something in his ear, earning a quiet laugh from the professor, the urge to stand up and drag her away from that bothering situation, instead you walked to the kitchen in hopes to find a single drop of alcohol that would make that tension vanish from your body. Soon, Winnie joined you. 

“This is so boring, my God!” She whined, sitting up on the kitchen island while eyeing you up and down in the bright light for the first time. “You’re  overdressed as usual, I see.”

“Your underwear as usual, I see.” Winnie spread her legs as long as the short leather skirt allowed her to, giving you the high quality view of a lacy underwear as she takes the vodka bottle from your hands, taking a long sip, feeling the burning spreading over her chest with a satisfied hum.

“You like?”

You let out a huff, looking away. “You wish.”

“I will kiss you one day.” She said more to herself than to you, like a secret promise that escaped due to the lack of inhibition — not that she had any, even in her sober moments that word didn't exist in her vocabulary.

Shaking your head at her statement, you pulled the sleeves of your sweater, taking the half empty bottle from her hands and getting ready to prepare yourself a drink that didn’t taste like a slow death. 

The reading kept on until the sun was completely set in the horizon, turning the living room into a dark scenario, lit only by the yellowish color from the table lamps. Slowly, the students started leaving while others arrived, walking in the house with bottles and bottles of alcohol, storing them in the kitchen’s fridge.

While you paid attention to the cup in your hands, wondering how long it would take for you to detach from the reality that was drowning you, you felt a bump on your shoulder.

“What is it?” 

Winnie signalized with her head, making you look over your shoulder, witnessing Cairo and Mr. Miller talking near the stairwell that would lead to the second floor of the house. 

“I think he wants to take her upstairs.”

“She can do whatever she wants, Winnie.” You mumbled, trying not to squeeze the cup in your hand when taking a sip. The bitterness making you frown. “Cairo is a big girl.”

“Are you sure about that?” 

“What do you mean?” Turning back to her, your eyebrows sewn together in confusion.

“Because she won’t stop looking at us.” You shrugged, finishing your drink in one long sip. You felt your stomach complain at the big wave of alcohol. 

“She can disappear with him for all I care.”

Winnie tilted her head, still looking at the two of them with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so I shouldn’t say they’re going upstairs and she seems pretty excited about it?”

“Yup, not a single thought about it is on my mind right now.” Grabbing the bottle again from her hands, less subtle and emptier than the first time, you poured yourself a very generous sip on your cup, drowsy smiling to Winnie when you handed over the, now completely empty, bottle. 

As the minutes went by and the alcohol went in, your control over your senses were slowly losing its grip and you started to worry about Cairo against your will. Controlling the impulse to run upstairs as you weren’t drunk enough to blame on the booze, you shook your head, leaning your body against Winnie’s while the girl talked excitedly to a random boy from the football team, your mind too caught up analyzing the things the young writer said earlier to pay attention to any conversation around you. 

The music wasn't loud enough as the professor still hadn't left, but you could feel every beat of it synchronized with the beat of your heart. 

Your fingers found the skin of Winnie's thigh, starting to draw random lines out of boredom. Other than the girl, and Cairo, you weren't familiar with the faces that kept on surging from the front door every five minutes.

“If you keep doing that, I'll drag you upstairs too.” Black whispered, making you tilt your chin up at her.

“Maybe you should.” 

Winnie was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. From the hazel eyes to the plump lips that looked so attractive at that moment, getting closer and closer, making a tingling feeling crawl over your legs like a spider. You wanted to kiss her, and you would have, if it weren't for the footsteps coming from behind you, making Black pull away. You knew it was Mr. Miller, the strong perfume making your nose burn. 

The older man stood in front of you, looking at Winnie who was still seated on the marble island, an innocent glow in her eyes that almost made you laugh, but a hand wrapping around your wrist pulled you away from that situation. All you could hear as you were being dragged to the — now empty — living room was Mr. Miller asking the girl to behave and to not destroy his house or he would fail her. You laughed to yourself.

“Did you seriously allowed Mr. Miller to take me upstairs?” Cairo asked, pulling at the sleeves of your sweater like a spoiled kid when you refused to look at her, waving at the professor when he turned around to leave, leaving the house and a bunch of teenagers and new-adults unsupervised.

Your eyes were dark and your body a little soft when you stared at her, yet you still were in control of your actions, the drinks just diminished the worry of doing or saying something wrong. At that point, you didn't care about what left your mouth. You wanted to curse the young writer.

“He's our English teacher, not a serial killer.”

“He could've forced me to do something!”

“You seemed pretty excited to go with him. Now, excuse me, I'm gonna find Winnie so we can finish what we were about to start.” Before you could walk past a furious Cairo, her hand, once again, glued to your chest.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You blew me off, Cairo. What did you expect? That I would run after you and beg for your attention?"

"Yes!"

You let out a breathy sigh, the corner of your lips up in disbelief. "You really are so self-centered, you don't care about anyone other than yourself. You're a fucking bitch!"

"And you're dying to fuck this self-centered bitch."

"Not after Mr. Miller, thank you." You scolf sarcastically.

"He didn't fuck me, you idiot.” The hand in your chest grabbed the fabric of your sweater, pulling you down to her so she could whisper with lips nearly pressing on yours. “He wasn't you." 

Her eyes softened as well as the fist that held you in place, moving it to the back of your head. 

Staring at her eyes, you didn't know what to find. You didn't even know what you wanted to find. Maybe a sincere answer.

“Cairo…” You started, sighing against her lips, closing your eyes for a brief moment, trying to gather cohesive words to form a sentence. You blamed the alcohol for this pathetic lack of senses. “What do you want from me?”

“I want you to care. I want you to show how desperate you are to have me, how you crave my body in your hands.” You swallowed hard, carefully listening to the whispery confession, the soft motion of her lips grabbing your attention. Once again, you wanted to steal that small freckle from her upper lip. “I want you to burn my skin with your fingers and bruise me with your mouth. And if you really wanted me to be yours, you would've turned around, thrown me on that fucking bed and taken me.” The strong pronunciation of that last part got your body heating up, the urge in your chest spreading in your veins and mixing with the existing alcohol. 

“You’re not very clear in your intentions, Cairo. You’re good at saying everything and nothing.”

Taking your hand, the writer pressed it against her chest. She took a deep breath, goosebumps covering her body at the warm feeling of having your hand touching her again.

“Can you feel that?” You nodded, letting your forehead gently fall against hers. “Do you understand now or do I have to draw it for you?”

Suddenly, your brain became fogged and you were getting lost again. You saw dark brown eyes. You felt a strong bumping in your hands. You smelled woody cologne and cinnamon. Yet, you didn't know where to go. 

“I want you to draw for me.” You said, desperately trying to find the right path.

Cairo nodded her head, pulling you with her once again, but this time, with her fingers intertwined on yours and more gentle than the first time. You trailed behind, careful to not trip on the stairs as she led the both of you somewhere you didn't know, the lights were off on the second floor, making impossible for you to see anything that wasn't right in front of you.

You heard the sound of a door opening and being locked once closed. The moonlight was invading the room through the open curtains. Blinking a few times to adjust the blurred vision, you felt your body being pushed against a soft mattress and a lightweight on top of you.

“I'll draw it for you.” Cairo whispered, pressing her lips on yours in a chaste kiss. “Do you have any idea of what you do to me?” She asked while kissing down your neck, your hands squeezing her waist over the cotton fabric. You shook your head, licking your dry lips, still tasting her lip balm on them. “Here, let me show it to you.” 

Cairo sat on your hips, guiding one of your hands under the white dress, in between her legs. Flashbacks returned and your heart stopped beating for a second while she moved herself on your fingertips, eyes locked on yours, a smirk surging in the darkness. When you moaned at the warmth that embraced your fingers, she did the same.

You breathed out the air that was stuck in your lungs, affected by the scene that unwrapped in front of your eyes. It was a erotic, alluring view, slowly burning itself into your brain like a polaroid. A flash of smile drew on Cairo’s face, satisfied with the reactions coming from you, with the way your eyes stared at her with a dark, flame of desire, lips parted as you struggled to breath.

The cold touch of her rings sent shivers down your spine when her hand wrapped itself around your neck, pressing the sides of it, feeling the pulsating vein under her fingertips. A sob escaping her throat when your fingers easily slipped into her, burying themselves in the warmth of her velvety walls, clenching around you, while the heel of your hand pressed against her swollen clit.

A vile glow shining in the dark brown eyes when she leaned down, squeezing the sides of neck harder as she felt the knot inside her getting tighter. That feeling of desperation growing impatient in her chest.

“Have I lost myself, or have I gained you?” You asked in a soft voice, following a steady pace with your fingers as she moved herself on you. Even when you were the one carrying her in your hands, it was hers that controlled the air in your lungs. 

You’ve always seen Cairo as a spoiled girl that grew up in a big house, having all her wishes wrapped in a pretty paper waiting for her on her bed when she came home from school. But now, as she falls apart in your hands, saying your name like a sacred mantra, you saw beyond words and actions, you saw the urge to be held and cared for, like a little girl that didn’t get a hug after they wake up.  

Staring at her in awe, you felt tears coming to the brim of your eyes, the squeeze cutting every small space for the air to bring you life, but you didn't care, not when you saw the vision of what heaven must be like; the curly brown hair falling over her right shoulder, the soft strands tickling the skin of your neck as she fell over you, hiding on your chest.

Coming down from her high, Cairo carried a sly smile when she looked at you. Her kiss tasted like ashes, bitter, against your tongue. 

“You taste sweet.” The writer whispered in between kisses, sucking your tongue into her mouth over and over, sighing in pleasure at the fingers that slid off of her. Carefully bringing your coated fingers to your mouth, you wrapped your lips around them, being watched with full blown eyes every movement of yours.

“And you taste divine.” 

It only took a millisecond for her lips to meet yours once again, the softness of the act long forgotten as she bit your lower lip, tasting the iron in her tongue with a sadistic smile at the painful cry you let out, squeezing her ass in your hands; burning the peachy skin with your fingertips. The words of her writing echoing inside your brain, spreading it on your blood flow. 

“I like this sweater, you look charming in dark blue.” Her hand found the collar of it, tip of her fingers tracing the skin underneath, making the fabric itch around your neck. “Take it off.” Despite the sweet tone in her voice, you obeyed the breathy order, pulling it over your head and tossing it somewhere in the unknown bedroom. Cairo stood up, removing the brown leather boots and her own dress, the white lacey set that remained on her body making you gulp. 

The writer stood in between your legs, her hands on your hair while yours held her by her waist, goosebumps all over her body as you kissed the toned abs, softly biting the skin.

Cairo looked down at you with curious eyes, the tip of her tongue trapped between her teeth, admiring the small galaxies your mouth left all over her like she was an empty canvas that needed some color. And you were doing the perfect job, painting an universe on her skin as you knelt down, bringing her underwear along with it. The writer kicked the useless cloth, putting her leg over your shoulder and hooking it behind your head; you salivated at the view of her cunt glistening in front of you. 

One of her hands caressed your face with gentleness, her thumb sliding over your bottom lip before she made you open your mouth, pushing her hips closer to your lips. She was dripping on your tongue, the taste of her filling your mouth as you hummed in pleasure, licking what escaped your agape mouth. 

The big brown eyes stared at you in flames, burning your skin into a bright scarlet crimson. You nudge your nose closer to her, inhaling the intoxicating smell; everything about Cairo was sweet, from her last name, to her voice that could recite the most beautiful poem by core, to the honey flavor slick that dripped from her aching hole, running down her thighs at the view of you ready to worship her, and when your tongue slid in between her folds in a long, slow lick, her head fell back and a shiver went down her spine. 

Pressing your tongue flat over her hardened nub, you closed your eyes, the grip on your hair pulling you impossibly closer. You circled her clit with the tip of your tongue, drawing random patterns with precision on the sensitive nerve, earning yourself a praise that came with a smile when she looked down on you. 

Moving your hands up her thigh, you squeezed the muscle, making her ride on your tongue, aggressively and delicious. The sounds escaping your open mouth reverberated all over her sensitive flesh. 

Cairo was an exhibitionist, she adored having eyes on her all the time, paying attention to every admirable detail that was attached to her. And having you on your knees praying against her cunt was filthy, enticing and agonizing, that heat wave scorching her insides and melting on your tongue, and you made sure to swallow it with a gratifying smile.

You could suffocate in between her legs and it would be a heavenly death. 

Kissing your way up, you brought her body closer, circling her waist as she hooked both legs around you, sliding her tongue over your shiny lips before you dropped her on the bed. Cairo was about to complain at the lack of care, but she soon shut her mouth, watching you kick your converse to the side and unbuttoning the tailored pants that hugged your curves in the right places.

Taking a deep breath, you slid the fabric down, taking your underwear with you, the shyness taking over you once you were free from any cloth covering your body; all this being watched with lustful eyes. 

The young writer’s eyes pierced your soul, engraving in her brain every mole you had around your shoulders, silently choosing her favorite one to add to the list of small details of your body she loved and kept fresh in her memories, always making sure to add ‘em in her writing. It amazes her how you never noticed the importance you had in her work, you were her muse. 

“Come to me.”

She didn’t have to ask twice, at the sound of her sweet voice your feet led your body closer to hers, moving according to her words, your knees sinking in the mattress only to find balance on top of her.  Her hands on your back brought you closer and you fell, once again, into that piquant feeling where it felt like you were about to drown, but her lips on your neck got you breathing in fervor. 

It was easy for the brunette to take control, reversing positions and sitting atop your abdomen, gripping one of your legs and casting one of hers in between them, fitting herself against you. 

“Fuck, Cairo.” You mewl, closing your eyes at the aggressive way she pressed herself down, easily gliding on you. One of your hands found her thigh, squeezing the flesh until it blemished under your fingertips, moving your hips according to the pace she set. It was cruel, desperate, the dark brown eyes fluttering closed. 

The bed slammed against the wall, the old wood-frame fated to snap at any moment; you didn’t care, it was impossible to focus on anything that wasn’t the girl in between your legs, rubbing herself on you with an inner desire to split you in half. You dazed at her, the angelical aura surrounding her like an armor, preventing the sins from escaping the walls of the still unknown bedroom like the squelching noises were, the lewd sounds from the both of you echoing around the hallway for anyone that dared to come closer and press their ears against the locked door. 

When the impetuous climax hit you like a jolt of electricity spreading in your veins, Cairo fell on top of you, exhaustion taking over her senses as well as the tired muscles complaining from all the spasms. 

The writer looked at you, tearful eyes as you soothed her bare back with an equally pleasured expression. Your bodies were weak, relying on each other at such a delicate and overwhelming moment, marked in black and blue by your hands and mouth, a greedy memory that will last. And if it ever vanishes, like the galaxies made out of bruises, all you needed to do is knock on her window.

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

Hello folks, it's Miles here! You may know me as the guy who deduced what Rayman is snorting in episode 5 of Captain Laserhawk! And today, I'll be going over how...

There Are 6 Types of Magic in LEGO Monkie Kid

You can honestly stop here if you don't want to get into the most convoluted stuff ever. If you're vaguely interested but don't have much time, click read more and scroll down to Red Son, because he's where shit gets interesting.

A disclaimer! I've literally never broken down or written a magic system before, I'm just like. writing down and making sense of what I've noticed while watching the show. If you disagree with my assessment of a character's magic, think there's a better term for something I've described, or think I'm just plain wrong, please let me know so I can update the post! I don't know what I'm doing, and I've never looked into magic systems before!

An important thing to note is that LEGO Monkie Kid adheres somewhat to the power systems in Chinese mythology, so I will be bringing up concepts from Chinese mythology that are not talked about in the show. Honestly, if you went 100% on the show and not on Chinese mythology at all, there wouldn't be a magic system in the first place.

Now, let's begin!

‎

First, vocabulary.

Magic Class: The root of a user's magic. Classes are not exclusive, but actually compounding. For example, Wukong has Intrinsic-based Actively Cultivated Magic. Magic Subtype: A modifier to a class; additional information to explain how a user's magic came to be or how it works. For example, Tang has Revitalized Bestow-Inherited Actively Cultivated³ Magic — the subtype goes before the class because it's a modifier. (Yes, I will explain why his Actively Cultivated Magic is cubed.)

(In the naming scheme of magic, everyone has a full classification and then a shorthand classification. The classifications above were all shorthand.)

Magical Energy: The basic form of magic; unfiltered energy that can be channeled, manipulated, and cultivated. This energy can be used to attack directly or utilized in a spell. MAGICAL ENERGY IS QI, "MAGIC" IS JUST BEING USED BECAUSE THIS IS WRITTEN FOR A WESTERN AUDIENCE. Power: A defined ability, such as a spell or a technique. Not all Powers are explicitly named, but powers have defined forms and details whereas Magical Energy is usually a geometric shape. Examples of Powers: 72 Transformations, Golden Sight, teleportation. Magical Expression: How Magical Energy and Powers form upon release. Examples of Magical Expression are glowing eyes, full body glowing, magical seals, anime-esque energy blasts, Red Son's* fire, Ne Zha's fire (two VERY different forms of Magical Expression), and Macaque's purple shadow outline. Ne Zha's Wind Fire Wheels are examples of Magical Expression with a conduit. Zero Magical Expression ≠ zero release, but can. Conduits: Anything that can hold, channel, or manipulate Magical Energy. All living beings and magical artifacts are examples of conduits.

Channeling: Collecting magical energy internally Releasing: The basis of Magical Expression; using collected magical energy for an attack

(Mei showcasing channeling and releasing in Rip and Tear) You can always tell when a character is channeling and releasing.

Knowing which class of magic a character is using can be hard — they all tend to utilize anime-esque energy blast graphics and glowing bodies for Magical Expression — so you have to pay close attention. I'll be going over how to identify the specific magic types as we go through them.

Each type of magic has a "poster child" — a character that fully embodies that type — and I'll be using them to explain how the magic works. Once we finish the easily categorized magics, we'll get into the Special Cases.

(MK showcasing Intrinsic Magic in Rip and Tear)

(Wukong showcasing Cultivated Magic in A Lifetime of Mistakes)

Now, onto the classes of magic!

Intrinsic Magic is a class of magic...

That's not inherently pedigree-related. Ne Zha's father Li Jing was a mortal man.

Most gods and local deities have, and some yaoguai have. (Older demons like DBK and Wukong have Intrinsic Magic, while younger demons like Pigsy and Sandy might technically have Inherited Magic. It all depends on how you want to look at it.)

That usually comes with unique powers, commonly the ability to walk and talk upon birth. (Wukong got laser eyes, and Red Son* got the Samadhi Fire).

And holders have unnatural births? Pangu's cosmic egg, Ne Zha being born a ball of flesh after being gestated for three years, Wukong's rock that's existed since the dawn of time, etc.

Ne Zha is the epitome of Intrinsic Magic! If you think Intrinsic Magic, you think Ne Zha. The unmistakable way to identify Intrinsic Magic is to look for themes. If a character has a theme to their magic, again and again, they likely have Intrinsic Magic! For example:

Ne Zha's Intrinsic Theme is (obviously) lotus flowers/petals.

Red Son's* Intrinsic Theme is flames.

Macaque would be a contender for intrinsic magic (we will be getting back to him, though).

Cultivated Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ACTIVE and PASSIVE, and...

That's ENTIRELY self-created. A magical pedigree can help, but no pedigree is required in Cultivated Magic — Li Jing cultivated magic as a completely human man, for example.

That NEEDS a Conduit. The conduit for Cultivated Magic can be the magic user themselves, but often it's a magical artifact or a technique. Note: a conduit doesn't require Cultivated Magic to be used, but Cultivated Magic requires a conduit. (Known Conduits include: Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels, and Princess Iron Fan's Banana Leaf Fan.)

That's very backstory-heavy. There's always a way that a character learned or got their power, or a description of how old they are.

A magic that you see most with yaoguai and immortals. The older the yaoguai, the more cultivated they are.

Passive Cultivation: Every living being is a conduit for passive cultivation — by existing, you are passively cultivating. The best method of passive cultivation is age; the older something is, the more passively cultivated. A Huli jing is the best example of passively cultivated magic. According to literature, the older a fox is, the more power it accrues.

Active Cultivation: Active Cultivation is when a being seeks out magical power. The most common form of active cultivation is being taught Tao techniques (Wukong's Cloud Somersault, Li Jing's Burning Pagoda Art). In this situation, the technique is the conduit. Other forms of actively cultivating magic are yaoguai eating humans and magic-accruing technology (specifically DBK's Furnace armor, which converts rarity into magical energy.)

Cultivated Magic comes with the implication of being wise, at least in some form, and those with cultivated magic are able to teach others. Being a disciple immediately means you have Actively Cultivated Magic.

Cultivated Magic often doesn't have Magical Expression, because it's all about existing and learning. When it does have Magical Expression, it's usually depictions of strength and power or the conduit itself glowing.

(Wukong's hairs glow as they are used as conduits for his cloning technique in Macaque)

(Wukong and Macaque's strength is showcased through Magical Expression during a fight in Macaque)

Cultivated Magic can be seen through any technique that was stated to have learned, such as Wukong's astral projection and his speed/quick reflexes.

(Wukong focusing in order to astral project to MK in Dumpling Destruction)

(MK having to actively learn and practice astral projecting in Minor Scale)

MK: Monkey King! It worked! Monkey King: Hey, bud. So, you figured out astral projection, huh? MK: Yeah, and I only had five nose bleeds.

Cultivated Magic is best showcased in action, and characters cultivate over the course of the show.

(Wukong showcasing his Cultivated Magic by pulling some fast ones on MK in Impossible Delivery)

(4 seasons later in Strings That Bind, Wukong and MK spar, showcasing MK's Cultivated Magic. Tumblr will NOT let me embed both videos, and the first one is more important, so this will just be a link.)

Inherited Magic is a class of magic that has two subclasses: ANCESTERAL and BESTOWED, and...

Comes from someone else and was given to or passed down to the magic user.

Is sourced from Intrinsic or Cultivated Magic, but the magic user is not intrinsically magical/did not cultivate that magic themselves. The Intrinsic/Cultivated Magic is specific to another (perhaps deceased) being.

Can have ZERO Magical Expression or release.

If a character has Ancestor-Inherited Magic, they'll have a family animal, a family artifact, and/or a known ancestor.

If a character has Bestow-Inherited Magic, they were given their power by another magic user (known as the Bestower) so that they would serve that magic user, defeat a foe, or as a reward. Bestow-Inherit Magic users are often previously mortal.

Bestow-Inherited Magic is most blatantly a character giving another character magical powers, but being granted godhood, being brought back to life under a deal, and everyone receiving heavenly ranks/Wukong and Tripitaka receiving Buddhahood and Buddha titles at the end of Journey To The West is also Bestow-Inherited Magic.

A quick note: Older yaoguai (DBK, Azure Lion, Wukong) are considered to have Intrinsic Magic, but Modern yaoguai (Pigsy, Sandy) are deemed to have Inherited Magic. This is because these younger demons are not yaoguai specifically unto themselves — their status as a yaoguai comes from their ancestors. They have no unique, intrinsic powers, nor were they specifically predestined to be yaoguai despite their heritage (such as in the case of Nezha, who was predestined to be a celestial being).

For example, Pigsy. His status as a Magic User exists because of his family history. While, yes, his family is important to his character and story, it's not something he did himself — he did not cultivate his grandma — and there is nothing unique about him biology-wise besides just being a pig demon. He is a reincarnation, but being a reincarnation didn't make him a yaoguai. (That was a whole fate, symbolism deal, though.) If Pigsy hadn't been born, his family would still have a pig demon kid.

Now, onto the subtypes. (As a reminder, a subtype modifies a class!)

Revitalized Magic is a subtype of magic. It means that the magic is from a pre-incarnation that a character unlocks and requires reincarnation.

Uuuuunless it doesn't, and it required Un-Death. Auto-Revitalization of Magic is definitely a thing, but it's not a real category. It's just a specification to explain things that have happened to a character.

For example: The reason Macaque's shadows turned into chaos magic at the end of season 5 is because he's dead. He's outside of the reincarnation cycle, he's Undead, his magic is Auto-Revitalized —so when the reincarnation cycle is broken, his magic is also changed. At least, that's my personal theory. I might be DEAD WRONG.

Okay, back to Revitalized Magic proper: Remember back when I said Tang's magic was cubed? Yeah, this is why. (Before we start, Táng Sānzàng will be referred to as Tripitaka from here on out.)

The full classification of Tang's magic is: Potential Revitalized Bestow-Inherited (Tripitaka), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Golden Cicada), Revitalized Actively Cultivated (Tripitaka), Actively Cultivated Magic. (Maybe, we'll get into this.)

The entire reason demons tried to eat Tripitaka was because he was the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, who was a disciple of Buddha, which made Tripitaka's flesh holy. Being a disciple immediately means Actively Cultivated Magic; Tripitaka had Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic. Tripitaka was a Buddhist disciple as well, which means he also Actively Cultivated. If Tang is a reincarnation of Tripitaka, who is a reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, then Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic twice (or, even, 10 times, if you look at the Sandalwood Buddha thing, but Tripitaka and Golden Cicada are the important disciples so we're only counting them).

If Tang has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic and Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic, that means he has Revitalized Actively Cultivated Magic². However,

Tang is a SCHOLAR. BEING A SCHOLAR MEANS THAT TANG IS ALSO AN ACTIVE CULTIVATOR.

HENCE, TANG HAS ACTIVELY CULTIVATED MAGIC³.

Celestial Magic is a subclass of magic that includes any magic with a seal. It's not exclusive to Celestial beings, but it's most often used by beings with Heavenly connections.

Celestial Magic is also known as "Spells", I'm pretty sure. Wukong just dropped this terminology on us in Season 5, and spells usually require words, but like. Okay, buddy. Whatever. You're the magic guy.

Celestial Seals have a unique symbol for every "Artist", or a Hànzì that explains the spell's purpose. For example, Li Jing's seals have a little pagoda on them, and the containment spell's seal (the only thing that can truly be called a spell here) has the character "牢", which means "prison" (or "enclosure", which is hilarious because it's containing 3 monkeys).

Consequential Magic is any magical energy or power gained as a result of an action taken by someone who is NOT the magic user.

Consequential is not a subclass of Cultivated because the magic user had no say in acquiring/did not know they were acquiring Consequential Magic; Consequential is not a subclass of Inherited because the magic user was not intentionally given these powers and they did not come from ancestry.

(Red Son* is literally the reason this subtype exists.) Every example of Consequential Magic is different, so I'm just going to some of the ones I know of in canon:

Wukong's Golden Sight (Consequence of the Eight Trigrams Furnace; Torture-consequence)

Ao Lie having the Samadhi Fire inside him after they fucked up the seal (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

Mei Dragon's ability to harness the Samadhi Fire/the remnants left over inside her after (Samadhi Fire/Red Son*; Samadhi-consequence)

MK's human form (form as in the shape of something btw) (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Birth Interference-Consequence)

Macaque's new Chaos Magic (Xiangliu fucked his shit up; Chaos-Consequence)

I have spent this entire post explaining the way magic seems to work in LEGO Monkie Kid, getting slightly more and more unhinged as we go on. But there might be two things on your mind: Why? and Why does Red Son's* name have an asterisk on it every time I've mentioned him in this post?

I can answer both of those questions with one statement: Red Son does not adhere to the magic rules other characters follow. I've tried to find examples to see if I was thinking of the magic wrong — and that's fully possible — but I didn't find anything. In fact, the more I look, the more sure of this I become. It's like he actively decides against following the rules of the magic system.

He can be used as EXAMPLES of the magic system, but when you dig into his magic specifically, it's completely wack-a-doo.

First and foremost:

Red Son has a completely unique form of Magic Expression. His emotions are directly linked to his Magical Expression and release.

Emotionally linked magic release is something no other character does, but here he is doing it over and over and over again. The only example close to it is MK's Mystic Monkey form flickering in and out when he's distraught, and that's LITERALLY CREATION-GIVEN NÜWA MAGIC, THAT'S FROM A CREATURE WHOSE CANONICALLY "OUTSIDE OF THE 10 SPECIES" AND CANNOT BE CATEGORIZED?? AND ALSO NOT QUITE THE SAME EITHER.

(This could also be attributed to the concentration part of the Samadhi Fire, but he doesn't... seem to have access to that anymore? At least, not like Mei does. We'll consider it a factor in his magic expression, though.)

About his fire,

Red Son and his mom are the only two characters with Wuxing/Elemental Magic — every other example comes from a magical artifact. It's actually a 50/50 chance on whether or not PIF has wind powers or if the Banana Leaf Fan gives her wind powers (I'm pretty sure it gives her wind powers, but just to be safe we'll count her as having wind powers.) Wuxing Magic is not uncommon in actual Chinese mythology, but it is in the show for some reason. And it ALWAYS has an artifact as a conduit. Wuxing Magic always seems to be just a visual effect or an added addition to attacks in the show.

Another weird ass thing about Red Son's magic is its contrast with Nezha's. I'm pretty sure Red Son's fire is actual fire that he conjures magically, in contrast to Nezha's Wind Fire Wheels (conduits that Nezha fuels, and release Wuxing Magic as a visual effect) which make specifically magical fire.

Okay, so, I've been going through this assuming you're aware of the show's visuals concerning magic, but this is important for me to cover in detail. Everyone has two magic colors (white doesn't count for this). They can change in lighting, but you'll always recognize them as being the same general colors. Other colors may be used for emphasis, but they'll only be darker versions of the colors and they'll be used as a background for the main colors. (Quick note, MK and Wukong might have only one magic color? Fun stuff.)

The reason I think Red Son's magic is not... magic persay, is because it doesn't follow the color rule. Like, it's not actually the color of Red Son's magical energy half the time, it doesn't follow the magic color rule. Red Son's fire shifts like an actual fire, which is very cool visually, but is not how magic works.

(Quick note, magic seems to be lighter in the celestial realm. This is because the Celestial Realm is really well-lit. The environment is literally pure sunlight or some shit, so all the characters and their magic are in perfect lighting. So Red Son's magic getting inexplicably darker would make no sense unless Red Son's magic is doing that on its own and the lighting has nothing to do with it.)

His magic also isn't the color of the Samadhi Fire, nor is his fire. That time in season 5 when Mei helped him with the seal, the two of them together made a Samadhi Fire-colored seal. He didn't seem capable of doing that by himself, which leads me to my conclusion:

I think the suppression of the Samadhi Fire suppressed Red Son's Intrinsic Magic as a whole, and his magical core (as one user put it) is compensating by drawing directly from his element.

Characters having an element isn't a new thing. Wukong's element is metal, he's a metal guy, it's why he can't swim, and it's why MK can't swim. MK needs floaties because he'll sink like a rock because he shares the metal element with Wukong.

But this is a possible explanation for why Red Son's magic is so weird.

On the note of Mei having more access to the Samadhi Fire than him, Skellebonez (my rock through this journey of a post) brought up a good point: "[I] think it makes sense because whatever they did to remove it from him could have also added a barrier preventing its return to an extent[.] Like a filter[.]"

This Intrinsic Magic cap/Samadhi Filter might also explain why he keeps getting his shit rocked despite having such potential to be powerful (that's probably just because it's silly tho) and it could explain why his parents are so damn disappointed in him in season 1. It's because they took his magic from him (however unintentionally) and he's not as magical anymore. The only type of categorizable magic he uses is Celestial magic, which HUMANS can use and can be bestowed on ANYONE. You can just like... LEARN THAT, and I think he just did.

In canon, nobody ever seems to be hurt by Red Son's fire? It seems to just be... a thing that he does. Everyone is less and less scared of it as the show goes on, and the only thing it does major damage to is MK's apartment. He uses his fists to attack more than he uses his fire, it's generally left as a visual effect. Red Son uses his fire as an intimidation tactic, not as an actual weapon, and I think this could also be explained by an Intrinsic Magic cap. His intrinsic magic is suppressed, so he has to rely on things like physical strength/cultivation.

I also think nobody knows this in canon, they didn't know about it, or they don't understand it. I think Red Son has a magic limiter on him, which is why his parents were such raging fuckasses in season one. They thought their son was "useless", or in Wukong's words, "half-baked", after showing such promise in his childhood before an incident. They only got a healthier relationship after they stopped obsessing over power and spent some family time together, when they realized that their son being a powerful magical demon isn't the most important thing in the world. (AND WE WEREN'T SHOWN IT.)

Red Son is magic-disabled, in this essay I did.

ALL MAGIC COMES FROM THE PRIMORDIAL CHAOS, SO, IN ACTUALITY, ALL OF IT IS THE SAME! FUCK YOU!

[yuyu1024]

Fate

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 mention of blood/violence/drugs/trafficing, trauma, mention of killing, kidnapping, gun, mention of food/eating/weight, cursing, sensual touching, making out smoking, smut (but not this chapter)

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 5.2k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note:

Until you (mini series)

Part 1 - Prisoner

Part 2 - Escape

Part 3 - Twilight

Part 4 - Fate

A/N: again... im really sorry for being a slow writer/update for this mini series🙏🏻 i can't help it. 😭 I do get msgs asking for updates & i feel bad... so sorry 🥹 I try my best to have time to get into the story/characters whenever i have free time. I work full time and have a 2nd job too so it takes all my energy. I'm really... really sorry.😭

But yeaah, thank you for everyone liking my yoongi fanfic. 🖤🫶🏻 thank you for the patience😭

I hope this chapter is okay ♥️

****

(Prologue/Flashback)

"Sshh..." she covers your mouth for you to stay quiet and not make any noise. She reminds you constantly to keep it together or else they will find you. "Just a little bit more, Yoongi." She whispers. "Calm down..."

You try your best to do what she says because you want you guys to survive this. To escape. However you are a kid and you are terrified. And you can't stop yourself from shaking like a twig. Also you are rapidly breathing through your nose. Tears even start to fill your eyes as you look into her eyes.

"You'll be fine..." she says to you. "Noona, will protect you."

"I'm scared..." You whisper grabbing onto her long braided hair.

You two are a few inches apart. If she could only embrace you, she will. However there are metal bars between you two and she is.... injured.

"Me too." She wants to cry to as she must be as scared as you or maybe, more. But since she's the eldest between the two of you she have to be brave for you. "Just go to sleep... I promise... the moment you wake up...when the sun is shining after the storm tonight... we'll be safe... we'll already be at home..."

"P-promise?"

She tries her best to not break down because she knows that she's promising something that's very unrealistic in your situation right now. Both of you are held captives, kidnapped and waiting to be saved.

"I promise." She sniffs "Just hold onto this for now..." she meant her hair and then reaches her hand to you slowly even it's causing too much pain for her. "Go to sleep... Noona will be right here..." the tip of her fingers barely touched your cheek. "I will protect you..." she adds

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

[Present]

The silence between you two is very deafening. Even the staffs at the mansion notices how both of you are very distant to each other.

Odd right? They should be used to this situation since Yoongi is the silent type or the one who does not talk that much especially to you.

However for you, maybe this is out of character as every one is not used to you being like this. Well THIS silent anyway.

You usually talk and greet them or make small talks with them or Yoongi even if it's just a random question to make him just...talk. You do anything to make him speak to you. You make small efforts to chase his attention just to get him look back at you per say. Like a dog.

But now, since he made sure to leave you the moment you got vulnerable with him during sex and mentioned a feeling you have, which in the first place you had no idea you have, really hurt you this time. Big time. It is a rejection that you never thought would bother you this much.

"You two are awfully quiet." Mrs. Min says as soon as she puts down her cup of coffee on the table. "You two are both quiet originally... I know... but..." she looks at you and Yoongi back and forth twice. "Did you guys had a fight?"

No one answers.

"Guessing...silence means yes?" Mrs. Min looks at us again, hoping someone will speak up. "What did you do?" She asks Yoongi.

But he didn't open his mouth to speak. He just continued on chewing on his breakfast while his eyes are glued to you.

He has been eyeing you since the two of you left the mansion. He have been silently watching you move along, react and walk from your back. You don't notice it as you are trying to achieve to ignore him completely today. And so far, you are a gold medalist at it. You don't even bat an eye on him.

"Fine... not gonna ask anymore questions..." Mrs. Min gives up. "Anyways, after this lunch... I'll have a meeting with Hannah."

Yoongi flinches, finally reacting and gets interested to whatever his mother is saying. "What for?"

"About the private resort project that she is building... she wants my opinion about what brands to use for the decorations. She have a final lists of candidates of brands and she wants to know my say to it."

"Really...."

"Yes... and as soon as it opens... she says you two can go there... and celebrate... as her gift. Since she missed going to your wedding."

"Celebrate?" You finally spoke after how many years. Even Yoongi whip his head to look at you.

"Yes dear," Mrs. Min smiles so brightly and holds your hand. "You're 2nd anniversary... next month... right?"

"Ah, yes... right." You try to smile it away. But deep inside, you are not looking forward to it.

Why would you? Last year Yoongi didn't even greeted you Happy Anniversary. He probably didn't care back then so why would he care now and celebrate this year? This marriage is nothing to him.

"Is she coming here?" Yoongi asks his mother, changing back the subject to Hannah

"No... I am meeting her at her office."

You are holding on for dear life on your gold medal for 'Ignoring my husband award'. You are so curious to look at him. To see his beautiful face, how he reacts when they talk about her. Hannah. The girl you saw more than a year ago. The girl you saw on the driveway, talking to your husband while she hooked her arms on his'. The girl that Yoongi seems interested about. The girl he seems to.... like.

"How about you guys? What are your plans today after our brunch?" Mrs. Min asks

"Hmm.." he sighs heavily and then takes his phone from the table. "Probably fuck my wife " Yoongi answers nonchalantly making you and Mrs. Min almost choke on nothing. That sentence made you even look at him with wide eyes and red cheeks.

"Omo..." Mrs. Min is too stunned to even comprehend what she just heard. "Well... okay... too much information but..." she then takes a sip of her coffee. "You do you."

"I'm sorry..." you apologize to your mother-in-law.

You are embarassed. This topic should be a private matter. Everyone in the mansion already seem to have the idea what you two do on a regular basis but you do hope that outside, no one has to know.

It's not that you are embarassed of having a sex life. It's normal. Yes. But to have to talk about it to his parents, oh dear god, no.

"Why are you apologizing?" Yoongi's face looks so damn serious. "We are husband and wife right?"

You scowl at Him. You don't like how he acts or portrays like sex is just a hobby for him and it's nothing to be embarassed about. Especially in front of his mother while you are present. He really does not treat you like you have any feelings. He is evil.

"Okay... children...children... don't fight about this... it's okay. You already have issues before we got here so... it's fine." Mrs. Min tries to sooth the situation up.

She's so nice to try. Though she does not know the real reason why there is a huge distance between you two today. It's not that simple. You don't even know if she knows how his son treats you.

***

"Sir." Mr. Kim bows as both Yoongi and you arrives at the driveway, about to leave Mrs. Min's property.

"Get in." He orders you

You glare at him then roll your eyes away. You are in no mood now. You have scowled at him earlier already so why not do it more now that he is irritating you.

"Hold on..." he suddenly grabs you by the arm, stopping you from getting in the car. "Did you just fucking roll your eyes at me?" He scoffs

You try your best to pull your arms from his grip but he is stronger than you. "Let me go." You grunt

"What are you doing?" He asks, "You've been.... acting up lately..."

"I don't know...what you're talking about..." you finally freed yourself from his grip.

"Don't act innocent on me... I know you."

"Know me?" You snap. "How? We barely talked these past two years... You only look for me when you want something done and someone to fuck...besides that, I am nothing to you. So how the fuck will you know me?"

Finally! You've said something. However you can't lie to yourself how terrified you are right now. Your legs are shaking. You have never risen your voice like this before. Not with him. Plus Yoongi is so freaking silent. There was no reaction from him not like Mr. Kim who just coughed because of the sudden tension.

Is he in shock? He must be surprised to hear you speak out after all this time. He had never heard you talk like this before. You can't even read his expression. He is just looking down at you, straight on.

"Ahm... Sir... Miss... I'll leave you two... alone." Mr. Kim finally broke the awkward silence. "Just message me if... we're going home."

You glance at him and bow. Also giving an apologetic look since the situation got a bit serious.

And as soon as Mr. Kim is gone from our sight, Yoongi takes a step forward closer to you, making you back up and your behind bumping on the car. "Is that... what you think?"

You glare up at him. "Yes."

"You think... I don't know you?"

"Yes."

He chuckles. "I know you more than you know..."

You frown. "You only see me when you are horny... you don't even talk to me unless to I ask you... unless you tell me what to do and what not to do... so, how would you know anything about me...?"

He scrunches his face. He looks irritated "I see you more than you think." He mumbles. And then he took a step back and looks at you and watch you tremble,"Do you regret it?" He asks

"W-what? Regret what?"

"The sex... do you regret it?"

"W-what? What do you mean...?"

He then puts both his hands on the car, trapping you between. "Just answer the question... do you hate and regret the sex?"

You look away. "No...."

"Do you want us to stop fucking?"

You sigh heavily. "Why are you focusing on the sex?!?" Your brows are furrowed. You are really showing your frustration. "It's not about the sex, Yoongi! There is nothing wrong with the sex... what I just want is... I just..." you look back at his face and you see an empty expression from him. Does he not get what you are saying or is he ignoring the other parts of what you told him. That the only thing he thinks about is your sex life. "Never mind..." you lower your gaze. "It's not like my opinion matter..."

"Y/N..." Yoongi begins. You look back st him waiting for whatever he's about to say. You think he was about to response to you or maybe say what is on his mind as well. (Maybe.) However, both of you got suddenly distracted by the honk of a black sedan car entering the property.

You have seen that car before. It is familiar. And then when it stops and someone steps out of the car...

"Yoongi?" The woman that came out of the passenger seat, is Hannah. "What are you doing here?"

She is smiling ear to ear. Her smile is as bright as her tear drop pear earrings that is perfectly shown under her tucked bob hair. She's... so pretty.

"Oh... Hi..." she waves at you when she finally notices you

"Hi." You try to smile as brightly as you can.

"You must be Yoongi's beautiful wife." She is sweet. She looks like a friendly and easy going person. "I'm Hannah by the way... I'm Yoongi's friend since we're... toddlers..."

"Nice to meet you." You bow

"What are you doing here? Mother said..."

"Ah... yes... we we're supposed to meet at my office but I just came from another meeting and since we will pass by the house I decided to just meet her now..." she explains

"She must be in her room now.. preparing to meet you."

"Oh. I see... well, I guess I'll just surprise her." She grins. "Are you guys leaving?"

"Yeah... we just had brunch with her..."

Fuck. What is going on?

Just a second ago, you're having a serious confrontation with your husband. You guys are about to talk about the situation between you two. Yes, it may not be the ideal 'talk' but it is a start. But then, here you are. Hannah arrived and stole his full attention. Literally, she have all his eyes and ears. You suddenly became a shadow.

Then you are also hearing Yoongi converse. You are hearing how is he when he's not alone with you. You are hearing a side of him that you are not familiar with. 'Fuck Y/N, stop it.' You say yourself

Maybe, you just need to stop. Just stop complaining about his attention and him not liking you. Maybe he is not the problem. Maybe.. it's you? They forced him to marry and got stucked with you. YOU are the problem. You are NOT the person he wanted to marry. You just got selected just because.

You are the problem. As always. Like what everybody says to you.

"I'll just email you my thoughts after..." Hannah says

"Why not discuss it now?" Yoongi suggests

"Hmm...but you're about to leave..." she glances at you

"It's okay." Yoongi then pulls out his phone and messages someone. "I asked Mr. Kim to come... wait for him... I'll be quick." He says to you

You look at him for a second before you turn your back on him. "Sure." You sound lifeless. You sounded like you've given up already.

"Y-yoongi... you're going to make her wait?" She whispers to him but you care definitely hear it

"Let's make it quick. I don't want to work over the weekend."

He's more worried of working on the weekend but not making you stay and wait all alone.

They start to walk away. You could see their reflection through the windows of the car.

They left you alone.

He left you alone.

Then as you are standing there, waiting for Mr. Kim to come back, you slightly bend over your torso, holding onto the yourself as soon as you felt a little uncomfortable feeling on your lower abdomen. It's not painful but it is a bit of discomfort.

"Fuck..." you hiss under your breathe.

You should be careful now. Atleast until it's fully confirmed. Yes, you are pregnant. Well, that's what the PT told you a few days ago.

You took the test, in your bathroom, scared and shaking like a twig. You have never felt this terrified in your life. Ever. And the freaking 3mins of waiting felt like forever whilst you are in there, sitting on the floor.

But yeah, after the torture of waiting, the test did show two lines. It was a faint but it is positive. And during that moment, your world suddenly stopped spinning. You had to gather your thoughts and emotion within the span of 30mins that you have. (Because your maid will enter your bathroom to help you get ready after 30mins). That was one other toture you had to endure. And to add more spice on this never ending problem is that you were all ALONE. You had no one to hold hands or hug for moral support.

You are, all by yourself.

After testing, you did processed the result in your mind and managed to get back right to reality and decide by yourself to be... okay. To take it as another good day. Because this is not something bad. It is a miracle. It's a life.

Though, you can't lie. It was a whirlwind of emotion. And you don't know what to feel yet about it. You are not even sure if you are able to share it with anyone, even Yoongi since you still need to see a doctor to really confirm it.

Confirmation.

You fucking need that final 'yes you are pregnant'. Because your further decisions in life will revovle around that one thing. Decisions that might affect this marriage and basically affect your whole life. So, you really have to find a way to get a doctor's appointment in secret. For now...

"Miss?" Mr. Kim arrives and sees you slouching, "Is everything alright?"

You turn around, stands up straight and smile. "Yes..."

"Are you hurt?" He asks

"I'm fine... but I just think... my stomach feels heavy a bit from eating... I did ate quite a bit." You lie.

"Okay, let me bring you home quick so you could rest." He says

"Thank you."

****

[Yoongi's side]

Yoongi can't sleep. He got home earlier just an hour after Y/N got home. He asked the maids to call her, to have dinner with him, but unfortunately Y/N was already fast asleep.

He waited for her to wake up from what he thinks is just a quick nap. But whenever he asks the maid if she's up, they just shake their head and say sorry.

They fought. He thinks. It felt like they fought. It's his first time hearing her talk to him like that. She have been always timid and her patience with him is very long. However, she finally have had it.

How can you make your wife, who is clearly showing you that she's falling in love with you, start to hate you?

Well, Yoongi knows what he did and is doing to her. He is very controlling, cold and distant. And these are the traits that can't be part of your life especially of you are married. However, this is how he is. As a child no, but ever since the incident happen fifteen years ago, the trauma and the life he had to put through made him, This.

Outsiders might call him as the devil or the punisher of the Min Family because of all the work he is doing inside the office and outside. He is a fighter and his hands are always covered with blood. Though what he's doing is not a crime. The Min's business is not illegal. They control everything that they can do end everything that is illegal in the most legal way possible. If that makes sense.

They were just a business before. A typical rich family. But yeah, since what had happened to them years ago, they changed their rules and how they do it now.

And that's why Yoongi have this cold exterior. He needs to show to everyone who's watching him that he can't falter. That no one could try to even break him like how those monsters break his father. How those monster took them and made them hostages.

10 million. That's all it takes, for some uneducated humans do the most horrendous thing in this world. To hurt and kill an innocent child. A 16yrs old girl and a 14yr old boy.

Their parents were willing to give the money and even more, just for them to surrender their children. However, the fear in them when they know that the children saw their faces, made them decide to end it all.

Yuna, his older sister, sacrificed her life to save Yoongi. She is one brave young lady. She managed to push his brother just in time to fall on the edge, to roll down small hill and get away through the woods. She got shot and died on the spot. Yoongi saw everything but didn't had the time to grieve then and there because he had to survive yet. To run.

It took two more days before he was found. How he survived? No one knows. But since that day, the happy and cheerful little boy grew up and became the cold Yoongi everyone knows now.

He knows that what he have been through is not an excuse to treat his wife so coldy like this. She was only forced the marry him. She didn't even know him. Which is his fault as well because he didn't allow her to enter his bubble. Up to now...

However, through all the times that he have been with her little by little, as per his therapist's words, 'You are slowly breaking.' She said.

She said that before, whenever she asks him about his wife. He is usually nonchalant or indifferent. Like he's just talking about someone he randomly met. But then one day, the therapists said, she saw a glimpse of change in his eyes the moment she asks about his wife. His expression is the same but his eyes started to shift like he's thinking about it more before he speaks.

'You care. You just don't know how to show it' she said to him.

At first, When Yoongi heard that from his therapist, he got worried. Not because He is starting to have this feeling for his wife. No. His wife is never and will never be a bad thing that happened to his life. He is worried because, what if he breaks his cold exterious and somewhere out there in the world takes advantage of it and what happened years ago will happen again?

That is his only concern. That is why, he added more men. That's why Y/N can't leavr a house alone. That's why he always tracks her phone wherever she is. That's why he can't sleep without know if she is fine or not.

If only... he never had these issues, these traumas from the past, maybe... it's easier.

"Please... don't quit on me..." he says out loud as he closes his eyes, imagining the smiling face of his wife. "Don't... leave me..." he mutters

****

After what it seems like a very, very long day for you you're finally home. You are so tired that the first thing you did after getting changed is sleep. It feels like this is the longest you've slept in like forever.

You keep turning and waking up every now and then but your body kept forcing you to not wake up. It's like its telling you that you needed this. After all of the worrying you have been having these past few days. This sleep is for you.

But then maybe after hour five of sleeping, you felt something cold touch your skin. It didn't sting. It oddly felt good.

Slowly opening your eyes, you see a blurred figure in front of you. He's so close that you could actually smell his scent. The smell of baby powder.

"Yoongi?" You ask softly as your eyes slowly adjusted to the little light of your lamp shade. But no one answered back. You then rub your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more. Just to be surez you saw what you saw.

No one. There's no one there.

"Did I... just dream about him?" You ask, looking at the ceiling. "But I swear..." you trail off. "How funny... even in my dream... I see him..."

But you swear you smelled his scent. Your imagination of him is getting stronger. Your memory of him is getting move vivid. Even the smell now. That's how longing you are of him.

You miss him. Even though he is there  you miss him. Oddly, you miss the time that both of you are just sitting down together in his home office and just reading. You miss casually asking him questions. You miss hearing him talk even though he's talking about his work and not to you. You miss him even though you just saw him earlier. Even though... he hurt you.

His scent. The scent you really, really like. His smell whenever you two have sex. It's not strong but it's there. Whenever you close your eyes and drift away from the high, you know you are okay as long as you could smell and hear him.

Fuck. Is this how being in love is?

Just thinking about him makes you want to cry. You are frustrated at him but at the same time frustrated to yourself as well. Why is communicating is so hard? You know that's the issue. Both of you are not good with talking nor expressing yourselves. Well, that's what Taehyun told you earlier.

Yeah, you went on a side trip earlier before going home, to meet your friend at his work. You needed someone to talk to and you know Taehyung is always there ready to listen to you.

You poured your heart out earlier, crying and all. You were sorry for disturbing him at work but you needed that cry and that hug. You had to told him your feelings about Yoongi. You have to say it out loud for you to truely understand the situation and yourself.

You needed someone's opinion to point out the obvious so it could stick in to your brain.

Growing up to a family where your opinion does not matter took a toll on you as well. Especially to an adoptive family. A family that only needed you for money.

To them, you always feel left out and does not deserve a voice. They always tell you that they only gave you a roof above your head and food to eat because you are what they needed. A piggy bank.

Your parents died in an accident years ago, when you are just 12yrs old. There was a police chase in the highway that rainy day. Every one is on high alert and giving way. But well, the criminals weren't exactly running away and trying to avoid cars. They hit quite a few vehicles during the chase and one of them was your parent's. The crash caused an explosion, killing them in an instant.

And like any drama stories on TV, yout aunt took you in because of your parent's insurance. They are not big but it is a decent amount. However, they could not actually touch it since it is saved for your education that's why the first month of you staying with them was torture. They beat you, make you work and starve you from time to time because they said, 'you don't deserve to eat unless you work for it'.

One reason why starving yourself was easy for you when you need to.

But then things changed a bit when someone knocked on the door one day and gave your adoptive parents a good amount of money. You remember the man saying 'this is for the trouble and lost we caused your family during our battle for saving our children.' You do remember you aunt, being a good actress that day, crying and all. You even saw them be in a good mood. Everyday because of that money. So since then, whenever you have a part time job or one good seasonal job, you save up and give it to them.

You do this not because you want them to be happy. You do this because you wanted peace for yourself. They will not hurt you if you give them what they need.

This is one reason too why you accepted this marriage. Even though, you know you will have trials too. But atleast you know, no one is going to hurt you physically anymore.

Though, you are having troubles now too.... it is still different. Like you said, it is the communication.

Is it all Yoongi's fault? No. Taehyung said that maybe, since I'm very submissive and him being very dominant, grew up giving orders or not listening to anyone because he is who he is, it affected the talking part in the relationship. Though he cannot say that it is a hundred percent fact. Because he explain, everyone have different stories of growing up and these affects every facet of their whole being when they get old.

Well, that's what you got from all his talk. Half of it, you are numb from all the crying and can't hear properly.

Though that talk with Taehyung,you needed that. Now all you have to do is talk to Yoongi.

If.... you have the courage too.

It is so hard to start a conversation not knowing how he feels about you. It is scary and a risk. But you are hoping it will turn out good especially now that you are expecting.

"Oh, right! The result!" You got up immediately and grab your phone.

You visited Taehyung in the hospital and he got to help you get a blood test to confirm. You forgot to talk to him about the result because you two are busy with doing friend therapy. He said, he'll just email you the result.

But then as you were scrolling scrolling through your emails your stomach growls. "I'm hungry..." you mumble and pause. "Taehyung said that if I am really pregnant... I need to eat properly now..."

And you haven't eaten dinner since you just slept since you came home. You need to eat.

Looking at the time it's pass 10pm already. Everyone must be asleep now or getting to bed so you must go and make yourself food yourself.

"Just one toast." You say as you push your blanket away. "Or two..."

You walk along the hallways as quietly as you can and then take the stairs instead of the elevator, going to the upper ground, so you could not disturb anyone.

There is still minimal light coming from the kitchen area. 'Maybe someone is still there?' You thought to yourself and hoping it is one of the maids so they could help you grab the things in the pantry. Since you don't really know how they organize it.

But then the second you turn to the corner, to enter the doorway

"Ah!" You hit your head first at something. Or at someone

Then after collecting yourself from bumping on someone, you look up to see who it was. "Sorry, I wasn't looking at--"

Fuck! It's not Yoongi nor anyone of the staff.

You tried to run back and scream but it was too late. He was quick to cover your mouth with a cloth. A scented cloth. The smell quickly pierced your nostrils and immediately made you feel dizzy and sleepy.

You are barely awake but you know he carried you over his shoulder. You could see the floor and the lights slowly to flicker. You are about to loose it.

'Help... Someone.... Yoongi... please...' You say to yourself before totally loosing consciousness.

-----

Taglist based on the replies last post 🖤

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@xkh0  @eli-deville

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

If they had given Lena's magic more time to grow and flourish, I wouldn't mind if they'd had it manifest as Lena slowly becoming a touch-know.

It's something I've already worked with before, but it seems like a very magicky ability. And it would be so fun to see how it would affect Lena's personality changes post finale.

She's finally opening herself up, allowing herself to connect with people. And then suddenly, slowly, she starts getting these flashes of other people's lives simply by touching them or objects they've handled.

Lena slowly starts retreating again. Where she'd finally begun to ask for and receive the tactile affection she's always craved, she now draws away, maintaining a small distance between herself and others. Most painfully, from Kara.

Because how can she tell the woman she loves that she can feel the ache of overwhelming loss Kara carries with her, and the haunting chill that clings to her since the Phantom Zone. How does she explain that she just can't handle it-- the grief that lingers, on top of all her own shit she's still working through.

Lena doesn't go quite so far as to wearing gloves. Not yet, anyway. But she wears long sleeves that she can tuck her hands into, and wraps her arms around herself as though to keep herself from touching anything by accident.

Until one day, Nia goes missing. Her roommate reports it to Lena first, who quickly calls in the rest of the team. But soon, they're in a deadlock, seemingly without a direction to go in. Until, slowly, Lena focuses on Nia's cell phone left behind on the kitchen island, and releases a long silent breath. Kara is the only one who hears it, and her eyes snap to Lena just as her partner relaxes her arms and shoulders, and reaches out to press her fingertips to the phone's screen.

Kara watches Lena close her eyes, features tensed as the muscles in her jaw tighten. After several long moments, Lena blinks her eyes open, and she retracts her fingers to tuck inside the cuffs of her sweater.

"She arranged to meet someone on King Street at 1am," Lena announces softly. Her gaze flicks to Kara's, and, realizing Kara had seen the whole thing, swiftly looks away. "No name."

They all stare at her, before Alex finally shifts into work mode. "Okay," Alex says with a nod. She nudges Kelly with an elbow. "We'll check out King. Brainy--"

"I will scan through any digital activity in the area," he says briskly. He's not using boxes, but he refuses to get lost in worry while there are still answers to find. "I will keep you all updated of any developments."

Soon, only Kara and Lena remain. A long quiet stretches between them, before Lena swallows thickly.

"There's something I need to tell you."

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 1

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring nightclub owner! Javier Peña)

Word count: 2,779

Summary: A chance meeting at a museum brings you companionship when you least expect it.

(Warnings contain spoilers beneath the cut)

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for allusion to smut/light smut and eventual smut. Rom com vibes throughout. AU as stated above. Reader wears dress and makeup. Mentions of loneliness. TW for infidelity and some violence (nobody harmed.. physically)

Author's Note: Some of you may be thinking, 'but Adriana, don't you already have a series about Dave?' to which I answer a resounding Yes, but I've left that story at a good place for right now and will get to updating it as time allows. Plus I really just wanted to do a light and fluffy story 😊 Fun fact: all the chapters are named after rom-com tropes 😉There will be more Pedro characters added in later chapters, so be on the lookout. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

You put on your earrings in the mirror, little violet flower earrings that match the soft purple in your dress. Your mascara, freshly applied, is at risk of being cried away before you grab a tissue to dab at your eyes.

"You're sure you're not upset?" your husband Javier asks behind you, sitting up in bed with a fresh cigarette between his lips.

"Of course not," you smile, doing your best to tamper down your feelings and brush your selfishness aside. "I know the business comes first." Javi has important meetings regarding his nightclub, more than ever these days, it seems. You're a good wife in letting him do what he needs to do.

"You know I'd come with you if I could. And hey, the museum's always gonna be there," he reasons. "Besides, we'll catch dinner later tonight at that new steakhouse on the east side."

"It's just.." you turn to face him, leaning against the vanity. "Today's the last day of the Kusama exhibit. I wanted to see it with you."

"Baby, we can catch it another time."

"After this they're moving across the country," you pout, not meaning to, but it's the umpteenth time Javier has broken his promise to you.

"Come here."

You obey his soft command, sitting on the edge of the bed, your skin warming to his touch as his fingers graze up and down your arm. "You smell good, baby. You used that perfume I got you?"

"Yeah," you smile, lifting your other wrist to your nose. "Roses de Chloe. My favorite."

"My favorite too, on you." He stubs out his cigarette and pulls you in for a kiss.

"Javi," you giggle as his hand dips below the scooped neckline of your dress, cupping your breast. "Didn't you get enough earlier?"

"I didn't fuck you good enough if you're still able to walk," he smirks, pulling you down against his chest.

"I'm already running late," you sigh as he pulls the top of your dress down and his lips pucker around your nipple, sucking and pulling.

"Late for a museum? Only you would worry about that, honey. Now come on," he says, scooting down on the bed. "Lift up that dress, baby, and sit on my fucking face."

Dave has been waiting in line with his daughters for only fifteen minutes when the announcement is made that tickets are officially sold out. Alice and Molly look up at him, expecting him to do something, but what exactly can he do? "Look, girls, I'm sorry. We'll have to come back another day."

"We wanted to see the exhibit. I wanted to take a selfie with those big neon wiggly things," Molly pouts.

"I know, sweetie, but it's just not in the cards today." He ruffles her hair, hating to disappoint them.

There's a scent of roses as he feels someone approach the three of them. "Hey, sorry, I heard you wanted to get into the exhibit."

Dave looks up and sees you, and has a momentary lapse of thought, struck by how pretty you are. Floral dress, white sweater, lavender bag. It's like you've stepped out from a commercial.

"Um.. yes, my daughters are kind of upset that tickets sold out so quick. It's my fault for not purchasing them ahead of time." He smiles sheepishly, wondering what you must think of him.

"I can get you in with me," you offer. "I have a membership pass. Kids get in free and I can bring one other person."

"You don't have to do that-"

"Please. I want to." You take a look at his daughters, who are looking back at you with hope in their pretty little eyes. "You'd be doing me a favor by accepting," you tell Dave.

The girls tug on his hands, jumping up and down, begging him to take up your offer until he at last relents. "Okay, okay," he chuckles. "Thank you, Miss..?"

You give him your name, offer your hand, which he takes in his own. He repeats it back to you, making sure he's got it right, the taste of your name like a sweet swig of wine in his mouth.

He introduces himself, Dave York, and his kids Molly and Alice, minus the wife Carol, who's working a double shift today. The usual pleasantries are exchanged, nervous smiles, comments about the weather.

Even after you break the handshake he swears he can still feel your skin against his, soft and delicate.

You willingly split from him once you're inside, not wanting him to feel beholden to stay at your side because of your help. Besides, you're used to outings where you're by yourself. It gives you time to think.

The exhibit is just as gorgeous in person as you've seen online. Love is Calling is an area filled with brightly-lit neon orange, purple, green, and yellow inflatable shapes that remind you of large stalagmites and stalactites covered in big black polka dots, which change colors gradually.

"It's like being in another world," someone says next to you, and you look up to find Dave.

"Yeah," you agree, smiling as you look around. "Like Dr. Seuss's world."

He laughs at that, and watches his older daughter take a selfie just as she'd wanted to do. You like his laugh, and a deeper part of you wants to hear it more often. From the corner of your eye you watch him in profile. Dark brown hair, neatly combed to the side, coffee-colored eyes, aquiline nose, soft-looking lips with a prominent cupid's bow, and a clean shaven jaw.

You realize you've been staring too long, blush creeping up your neck as you turn away just before he sees.

"Do you hear that?" he asks, brows drawn together in concentration.

You grab the brochure from inside your bag. "It's the artist, Yayoi Kusama, reciting a love poem in Japanese," you read. "The poem is called 'Residing in a Castle of Shed Tears'."

"Sad title for such a whimsical place."

"True.." you watch his girls playing, hiding from each other among the colorful shapes. "They're having fun."

"Do you have any of your own?" he asks.

"Oh.. no. My husband and I didn't want any." It was a little white lie-- Javier had gotten a vasectomy without your knowledge right after you'd gotten married. But it's not anything a stranger needs to know.

"They're.. life-changing," Dave says.

"No boys?"

He shakes his head. "We are pretty much done ourselves."

"Ah. Got it."

Entering into the next area is the most magical part. The infinity mirror room, dark but for a blue tint cast throughout, and hundreds of tiny LED lights. You're multiplied throughout the mirrors within, in seemingly endless space. It takes your breath away.

Next to you, Dave's fingers accidentally brush yours and you both startle from it, laughing a little nervously before you move away. You try not to think about the jolt that went through you at the contact.

You try to stay as long as you can in this area, before the next crowd comes in. It's in this one place you don't feel like yourself, as if you exist far apart from your life, and it's a very freeing feeling.

Dave loses you after the exhibit, and stamps down the disappointment at realizing he might not ever see you again. He tries to show the girls some art, what little he studied in college, explaining the way certain painters painted the way they did, or the intricacy of a sculpture. Molly and Alice don't seem interested, but they like spending time with him.

His heart jumps when he sees you across the gallery, studying a Renaissance painting, staying long after the others have moved onto other pieces. You must feel his eyes on you because you turn, and with a little smile you wave at him. He waves back, holding back a full on grin as you approach him. "Thought you'd left by now."

"I could stay here all day," you tell him, and there's something about the dreamy look in your eyes that melts his heart. A silent agreement crosses between you and you circle the gallery together.

So close to you now, he tries to be stealthy about his glances at you. He can't defend the awkward rhythm of his heart when you move closer to whisper some fact about the painter of this particular still-life. All he can think about is your scent: rose perfume, a sweet vanilla in your shampoo, and something else, unfamiliar and yet he'd know it from a mile away.

Sex. You smell like sex.

His eyes dart quickly to your dress, the flesh of your thighs not covered, wondering if you know, if you even care, because truth is he doesn't mind it at all.

Stop looking at her. You're married. She's married. The band of gold glistening on your finger is a dead giveaway.

"We need to come out here more often," he says, hoping to find a reason to run into you again. "We should get going. But not before a stop at the gift shop, right?" And the girls agree excitedly.

You pop in with them, not really knowing why. Maybe it's because Dave is so nice, or because his daughters are adorable and you'd like to have your own someday.

You're perusing the section near the cashier's desk you and Dave both reach for the same poster: Starry, Starry Night by Van Gogh.

"Sorry," you say at the same time, awkwardly letting go.

"You should take it," he offers.

"No, no.. your girls should have it. I wasn't going to buy it anyway."

He shakes his head, a little smile on his lips, which you can't stop glancing at. "You've done so much for us today.."

"Please," you insist, handing him the poster tube.

It's a warm feeling to watch the girls so excited, ending their day on a high note. You walk outside altogether, the late afternoon giving way to early evening.

"We wanted to thank you again. Right, girls?" And his daughters give a polite 'thank you' in unison, their cute faces beaming.

"It's my pleasure," you smile serenely at them. "I hope I'll see you again sometime. I actually own a little place a couple blocks away. It's a bookstore-slash-bakery."

"We could go check it out," Dave offers, and the girls are excited to spend more time on their adventure.

Dave doesn't know what to expect when he steps foot into your bookstore/bakery, Fiction & Frosting, but he can tell right away it's absolutely your creation. The bakery section is at the front, the scent of vanilla, cinnamon, and coffee greeting him, giving a cozy atmosphere right away. The glass display cases boast treats of all kinds: cookies, cupcakes, cake pops, brownies, everything a bakery could have. Down the counter, employees are making coffee, preparing orders as customers wait patiently, thumbing through the books they've already purchased.

He smiles when you slip behind the counter, getting the girls some treats after making sure it's okay with him, and strawberry milk to go with their sweets. Dave declines at first but is unable to resist a blueberry muffin and a black coffee. He insists on paying you, but you refuse his money. It's easy to be kind to him and his kids. You like taking advantage of being able to do nice things for others.

The four of you stroll the bookstore area, the atmosphere cozy, the scent of paper and ink that only a literary shop can provide. There are new releases as well as classics; magazines and journals. "This is impressive. I can't remember what this place used to be, and I've worked across the street from here for years." Dave says. Alice and Molly are looking at the kids' section.

"Oh you have?" you smile. "I've always wondered what that place is." All you know is it's a high-rise building, sleek glass and metal, with expensive suits coming and going.

"Here," he says, reaching into his wallet and pulling out his business card. Your fingers brush together for a moment during the transfer, and you both smile.

"You're a.. divorce attorney," you say, voice somewhat flat.

"Uh, yeah," he says as if he could apologize. He glances at your ring again, twisting his own gold band as if to ground his thoughts and remind himself that you're both taken.

When you burst into tears he freezes, his jacket left behind in his car with the handkerchief he would have given you. Luckily you pull a tissue from your purse and press it to your face.

"Are you okay? I didn't mean to upset you," he says, softly rubbing your back.

"I'm fine," comes your muffled reply. "I just.. I'm just emotional, that's all."

"Is everything all right.. at home?" he asks, concerned by your tears. So many years in this field and he knows an unhappy wife when he sees one.

"I don't.. is it okay if I don't talk about it?" you sniffle.

"Of course. I didn't mean to pry," he assures you, his voice soothing. He keeps his hand on your back, waiting for you to let it all out.

"I'm such a fool," you manage a smile at him through your tears. "I didn't mean to blow up like that."

"It's okay," he says, dabbing at a streak of mascara you'd missed on your cheek. "My number's on the card. If you ever just want to talk, please call. I promise not to charge you," he adds with a little chuckle, hoping to lift your spirits.

"Or maybe.. you could come by for a coffee. I promise not to charge you." You give him a real, true smile.

It's almost as if you don't want to go home, but there's no reason to stay once Dave and the girls have left the shop. The drive home isn't as long, despite the traffic.

You can hear the music from the front hallway. "Moment" by Victoria Monet, the smooth bass and vocals providing an atmosphere you typically walk into when Javi's in the mood, which is often. You smile, wondering if he's expecting your arrival and setting the mood before you go out to dinner. As often as he does break his promises, he has his ways of making up for it. You open the door to your bedroom.

"Babe, I--"

You freeze into place as your world breaks wide open.

Another woman is in your bed with your husband, her body writhing on top of him.

Rooted to the spot, you watch helplessly as this happens. His hands are all over her body, he's calling her all the pet names he calls you. Mami, hermosa, carino, ven por mi.

"What the fuck??" you shout over the music, putting a stop to the extramarital fucking going on in your marriage bed. Javi and his bitch scramble to cover up. "This is the meeting you absolutely couldn't miss??" You glare daggers at the woman, who's avoiding your gaze as she hurriedly puts her skimpy dress back on. You recognize her-- Cindy, one of the bartenders at his club. "Get out of here, you slut! I don't want to see you in this house ever again!" You throw nearest thing - a bottle of perfume from your vanity - at her, narrowly missing her as Roses de Chloe crashes against the wall. Cindy manages to escape unscathed but the true target of your fury remains.

"Didn't expect you back so early, baby. I can explain," Javier says, getting his jeans back on, forgoing his underwear. But you back away before he can come near you.

"Explain?? Explain to me how you fell into your employee dick-first!"

He looks guilty for only a second, a little smile on his lips as he tries again to broach your defenses. "She means nothing to me. She's just going through a lot right now and I wanted to help her. I can't help that she came on strong." He studies you, his face a perfect facade of innocence, eyebrows slightly lifted, plush lips pouting beneath his perfectly groomed mustache.

But you know better. You shrink from him as he tries to reach out and hold you.

You're sick to your stomach over his lies, and the readiness with which you have accepted them in the past. "Don't touch me!" you shout, ready to hurl something at him. "Don't ever come near me again," you manage, right before tears spill over your eyes. Without a second thought you hurry out of the house you've shared with him for years, get into your car and drive away.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @cafekitsune👑

Taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

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@sunnytuliptime @mysticsuitcasealmondwombat

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@604to647 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

[oceaneyesinla]

The squeak you let out when you find the pavement rushing to meet you is nowhere near dignified, but it does save you some nasty bruises and ripped tights. Sanemi catches you with ease, and you're almost jealous of the grace with which he holds himself - placing you back onto your feet like it's nothing, standing with his arm still around you like he didn't just throw himself towards you to stop your fall.

"You good, baby?" His voice is soft in your ear, and you don't know if he's even aware of his hand rubbing soothing circles into your shoulder blades. Knowing him, it's muscle memory.

Looking down at your feet, you spot the problem immediately - the laces of your boot have come loose. Probably because you were more focused on the pain bending to tie them up caused than on making sure they were securely laced.

You're already bracing yourself to retie them when, before you can move, Sanemi is crouched in front of you, tugging your laces to tighten the boot properly before retying them.

"Sanemi I can -."

"Shut up. Don't try and be brave; I know your back's bothering you again." How? You thought you were being sneaky - you even made sure he wasn't nearby before you look your strong pain meds. You didn't want him to worry over something so minor, not when you know it'll improve with gentle movement and being careful for a day or two.

You open your mouth to ask the question, but he's already giving you the answer, "You were stiff when you got out of bed. Plus, you only ever run the shower that hot when your back flares up." He's as casual as if he's giving you a weather update, shifting to retie your other boot as if he hasn't just admitted to knowing your little quirks like they're fundamental facts of the universe.

He looks up at you when he's done, and you're still just blinking down at him. Your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak, and he straightens up so he can lean in and listen, "You really notice all that?" Maybe the painkillers are making you sappy, but your chest feels warm at the thought.

"Course I do. It's you." Sanemi speaks with conviction, not hesitating for even a second. Then, once his brain catches up with his words, the most delightful little flush dusts his cheeks.

You coo at him, brilliant smile tugging at your lips as you cradle his cheeks in your hands, "You're such a romantic, baby." Your smile softens to something infinitely fond, and you press a loving kiss to his lips, "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything, but the love you feel is reflected in the mirror of his eyes. He reaches up to take your hand, lacing your fingers together and tugging you down the street.

"Come on. We'll grab the food, then when we get home, I'll run you a bath. I'll even put some of that smelly pink shit in there."

You know for a fact that he loves the smell of your preferred bath soak, because he always makes sure to burrow his nose into your neck after you've used it, and once or twice you've come home to the bathroom smelling of it even when you haven't used it.

You decide to let him keep his secrets - content to squeeze his hand a little tighter as you fall into step next to him. It's just one of a million things you've noticed about him, and apparently, he's noticed plenty about you too.

[endearng]

Distracted

Pairing: Spencer Reid x neighbour!fem!reader Summary: Finding time to date as a single mother is hard. Finding time to date as a FBI profiler is also hard. That's how you find yourself on a reckless date during a remote day of work. WC: 2.8k A/N: guess who failed miserably at trying to update more! me! Anyways so... this is Spencer and his neighbor having an impromptu date and forgetting everything around them as they should <33 neighbor!au masterlist | main masterlist

Olivia had disappeared under the giant umbrella she had to use that day — having forgotten her own at school, you lent her your own, while you let your raincoat try to shield you from the drops of water. Chuckling quietly to yourself, you kept an eye on her as she walked ahead of you for a couple of feet. As she reached the crossing, she waited for you and you tried to pick her up while balancing the weight of your daughter, your purse and her school bag. Once you both crossed the street, you put her back on the ground, sighing.

"Olivia?"

"Yes, mommy?" She asks, small hands gripping the handle of the umbrella, adjusting it so that her big doe eyes would look up at you.

"Remind me not to let aunt Jude ever borrow mommy's car again." You say in a serious-mock tone.

"Heheh, okay."

You both snickered, resuming your walk. As you dropped her off in her classroom, like you always did, you waved her goodbye and she returned the farewell, already searching the room for her friends. It made you smile internally, deadly proud of your daughter.

First days of school had a hint of terror in them that you could never shake off — it didn't matter if your first-days-of-school were all behind you by now, because everything could happen. New people? New friends? Enemies? Bullies? Teachers? Good or bad? Inspiring or dull? The chance to use your favorite notebook. The chance of not seeing a particular friend again. The chance of seeing them and possibly becoming friends. There were too many possibilities. And they were both terrifying and exhilarating.

Today, it was something special. It had made your heart flutter, churn, miss a beat, all within the same 10 minutes that a drive to Olivia's kindergarten school took. You braced yourself for her reaction, not knowing how it would be, even if the school had prepared a welcoming event to new students to get to know the building and the teachers a few days prior to the first day of actual class. Olivia walked the corridors cautiously, one hand holding yours and the other holding her father's. She looked at the two of you, questions behind her eyes that she didn't know how to phrase — or that she was too scared of the answers.

"Excuse me, hi. Good morning! Mrs. Davis, right?" You asked politely to a woman who appeared to be in her 50s in front of the classroom 205.

"Hello, good morning! And you are?"

You hastily held out your hand, a big, nervous smile on your face as you told her your name, that you and your husband were Olivia's parents. Mrs. Davis kneeled to Olivia's height to introduce herself properly. "Hello, Miss Olivia! I am Mrs. Davis, I'll be your first teacher." She said in a sweet tone.

"Hi... My Peacher?!"

You chuckled wetly already. It was an endearing sight, to say the least, Olivia in a uniform that was much too big for her small 3-year-old frame, making a few phonological exchanges — not to say mistakes. She squeezed Mrs. Davis hand, trusting, with a small, nervous smile. "Come in, dear. Your new friends wanna meet you."

Olivia stood in the threshold, looking at you and your husband, as if she wanted to know if you both were coming too. Why weren't you coming, too? You nodded, encouragingly, unable to speak anything as her eyes brimmed with tears. Your husband stood there, equally speechless, gazing at your daughter.

You managed to croak out, "Go on, dear. Your friends... wanna meet you."

Olivia nodded, her bottom lip jutting out. Carefully, your husband started, "Oli, baby, we'll come back... Go... go have fun," he said, a knot on his throat.

Olivia nodded yet again, even though her hand was reaching out to grab yours. You felt a tear on your cheek and you quickly brushed it away, not wanting her to see it. You smiled, trying to give her a bravery that you weren't sure even existed. "I'll see you soon, okay? Mommy loves you so much." You said, squeezing her hand lovingly.

Your husband kneeled to her height, giving her a kiss on the cheek. "I love you, baby. We'll see you in a bit." He said, pinching his thumb and index finger together to emphasize the amount of time. Olivia opened a small smile, despite her tears and the crease between her eyebrows.

The memory had, simultaneously, made you smile and tears prickle at the corner of your eyes. Choosing a café close to Olivia's school, you set down your belongings and finally have something to eat (you make sure to get the cookies she likes so much), and get to work, revising yet another chapter of the book you're currently assigned to. As time goes by, the words on the laptop screen start to blur together, so you look up, squeezing your eyes shut. You hear a voice close to you, but you don't acknowledge it at first, eyes still closed, relishing in the feeling of resting them a little bit.

Eyes open, you search your surroundings. There were a few patrons minding their own business and for a moment, you stood there, people-watching. It always gave you a sense of comfort, people just... being. Existing. Sharing ordinary moments. Sharing important moments that a stranger wouldn't be able to totally grasp what was going on, but that it made you feel glad to witness love happening around you.

Glancing back at your computer screen, because of course you have to, you read, and then you read again, and for good measure, revise the chapter about thrice before you distract yourself with the external world again. It's about mid-day when your neighbor, Spencer, comes in, a caramel satchel bag slung over his shoulder and the usual serious expression on his face. Upon spotting you, something gave you the nerve to give him a small smile and raise your hand in a shy wave.

Oh. Quick explanation.

Spencer Reid, your good-looking, nice, gentle, kind, smart neighbor had asked you out on a date. But, considering your busy and unaligned schedules, said date hadn't taken place yet. It made you sad and you kept asking him all the time — it had come to a point where you two would meet at the elevator and after exchanging wishes of a good day, you or him would ask a hopeful "Tonight?" and then the other answer with a sad shake of the head.

It was starting to make you frustrated beyond belief.

Coming back to the present, he beamed instantly and hesitantly made his way to you.

"Hi," he greeted, a bashful happiness on his face.

You smiled back. "Hey... Um, wanna sit with me?"

He glanced at your computer and made a funny face. "I don't want to bother—"

"Please. That is a cry for help." He laughs at your interruption, taking the seat in front of you. "Hi, hey! How, um, how's everything going?" You ask, finally, smiling at the fact that he laughed over something you said.

"It's... going good, actually. Today is a rare, boring paperwork day. I, uh... I'm already done with mine, so I came here to grab coffee." He explains, fiddling with his fingers, hands sitting on his lap.

"It's mid-day," you grinned.

He rubs the back of his head, sheepishly. "Yeah, I, ah... I'm a bit fast when it comes to certain things." He admitted.

"Is that so?" You asked, a bit surprised. You figured that the paperwork would be very complex and that involved many details that one could easily miss if they didn't pay proper attention. "Well, I guess it's safe to say that I couldn't work for the FBI to save my life! I've been stuck in the same chapter for some time now—heh—I'm always scared to miss out on something."

"Really?" He asked, trying to take a peek at your computer screen, even though it was impossible, but his curiosity was once again getting the best of him. "What's the current book you're working on?"

Glancing down at the screen, you made a face. "Ah, an anniversary edition of Dracula. Speaking of which, have you read it?"

"Dracula," he muttered. "Yes, I have. I find the gothic elements and the way Stoker blends them with the horror aspects fascinating. The transformation of Dracula from charming and seductive to monstrous and vile... It's an intriguing character study. I actually first read the book—ahm..." He trailed off, unsure if he should keep going.

"You first read the book...?" You encouraged him.

"When I was 8. For the first time, I mean. I've read it a couple of times by now. I, um, I have a soft spot for Gothic Literature." He revealed, shyly. You smiled.

"I take it that you like it? Dracula, I mean." You asked, curiously.

"I do, as I've said, as a big enthusiast of gothic elements, the foreboding and the slow realizations made by the characters earn a few good points in favor of the novel." He replied, grinning. "Do you?"

"Eh, it's fine, yeah... it's a classic for a reason, right?" You say, a bit dismissively. He chuckles and you look up at him.

"You don't seem all that sure."

You chuckled. "It's just... When you have a different opinion on a classic, everyone is ready to throw rocks at you. It's not my cup of tea, but what can I say? It's... decent." You finish, a hint of humor in your voice.

"Mhm... Favorite character?" He asks, amused by your answer and forwardness.

"Mina Harker. She's the closest thing to a brave person in the book, not to mention that she was the one who found out all about Dracula. These men were just..." You trailed off, shaking your head, even though your tone was of pure mockery.

"Can't argue with that."

At that time, everything else had just... disappeared. Spencer was thrilled, to say the least, that someone was taking their time to listen to him. Not just someone, her. And it meant the world that she had basically dropped her job to talk to him over something so intricate and dear to him. His heart fluttered as he looked down on his lap, biting back a lovestruck smile. He was absolutely gone, to say the least.

By not looking at you, he missed the soft, adoring gaze you threw his way. Say something. Say. Something!

"Speaking of Mina, something that makes me a bit controversial is..." you start, and he glanced back at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes, "I think that using the 21st centry lenses we have from our own age is not the wisest approach to a century-old work, whether poetry, of any kind, music, scientific records, novels, you name it. Anachronism doesn't always work, especially if you're thinking of older authors or artists. It's only going to lead you to disappointment." You say, shrugging a bit.

"That's for sure, actually. Some people are a product of their time. Writers are not an exception to that affirmation." He remarked, grinning. "It's nice to hear you have such a... clear view. I find it refreshing when I meet someone who doesn't try to... cancel... I hate that word... old authors just because their views don't align with the ones that are most common today. They were written almost a century and a half ago."

"That's right. And literature is also a form of documenting the thoughts of a certain era. Of course, there are authors way ahead of their time, and I do prefer to read them, of course, but human history so far is full of challenges and overcoming of such problems. With all that being said, Stoker was terrible at writing women other than Mina."

With your final sentence, Spencer laughed so heartily it almost sounded like a dream. Throwing his head back, even. It made you think that he was somehow exaggerating, but the humor and the hint of something in his eye told you that he was being genuine. You bit back a smile, looking at him fondly.

The glance was entirely disarming, the way your eyes crinkled at the edge as the prettiest grin spread on your face was too much to take. Spencer chuckled, totally flustered, by the fact that he had made you look at him like that.

"Yeah... I do read for a living. And Dracula is not my favorite because, in my humble, insignificant opinion, it is just too slow."

"Ouch."

"I blame it on the male characters."

"But you've just said that—"

Cutting him off, laughing, you defend yourself from the coming accusation. "No, I didn't. Pfft."

"But..."

"Nuh-uh."

"Okay, then, what's your gothic of choice?"

"Poe."

"Of course."

You hit your palms on the table, playfully. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He raised his own in mock surrender. God, this conversation was having an effect on him. "Nothing! It's just a safe choice. A good one." He laughs when he sees the skeptical look in your eye. "Favorites?"

"The Cask of Amontillado. The wording choices are just to die for," you giggled, "pun intended."

Spencer laughed, once again. Every time felt like the first that you made him laugh, not because he was shy or nervous, but because he had found something funny. Not only that, he had found something you said funny. It was silly, but mentally, you tapped yourself on the shoulder for the good job. You couldn't stop the endeared smile spreading across your face at the sound of his laughter. Your heart also beat like crazy.

Time stopped. As his laughter died down, you two stared at each other, almost as if analyzing each other's faces, just like the first time your eyes first landed on his figure. Had his eyesight not been this fucked up, Spencer could've probably be able to map out all the freckles of your face, so much was the intent on his gaze. You could feel your heart beat increase and your palms start to sweat, strong indicators of your rising shyness, but you didn't have it in yourself to look away, not when he looked at you like you meant something. Like you were something worth seeing.

"For God's sake," one of the baristas muttered in the background, clearly annoyed, shouting next, "SPENCER! ARE YOU STILL HERE?"

The yell broke you two out of your reverie, four eyes looking around to find the source of the sound. As Spencer bashfully and ungracefully stood up from his seat, being watched by every single patron and glared at by the angry barista, you couldn't help the chuckle that erupted from your lips. He awkwardly made his way over to the counter and got his order, returning hurriedly to the table he was sharing with you. You tried to cover the fact that you were highly amused by what had happened. It made you way too fond of him.

"Sorry about that," he said as he sat down, "I didn't... I didn't even realize my name was being called."

"It's okay. I didn't hear it either. I would've told you." You replied, smiling.

"I'm sure you would."

Staring contest, again. Your heart hammering inside your chest, again. Getting lost in those eyes which by now you could map at least three different colors—

Beep. beep. beep.

Picking your phone nervously, you answer the call without truly checking the ID. "H-hello?"

"Jesus, where the fuck are you? The meeting started 20 minutes ago!" A coworker, Paul, whisper-shouted over the phone. Your eyes went wide.

Spencer sipped on his coffee, watching your reactions closely.

"Be right there," and ending the call.

Looking at Spencer apologetically, you said, "I'm sorry... I had a meeting scheduled for—" you glanced at your, now, black computer screen. You had been chatting with Spencer for so long that your laptop had entered resting-mode. You blinked, now the one being embarrassed by reality calling you back. Spencer reached out and, during an exceptional display of bravery—nevermind the killers he chased for a living—, he placed his hand on top of one of your own, squeezing it lightly. The touch made shivers erupt on your skin and luckily, you had a long-sleeved top on that day.

"It's okay. I'm... I'm on my way back."

"Oh... okay... I just..."

He blurted out, not even thinking it through, "To be honest, I didn't want to say goodbye."

You smiled, giddily. "Me neither," but...

"Duty calls." He finished for you.

"Yeah."

He stood up to leave, removing his hand from yours. You missed it and the coldness it left was a bit too much to take. You fought the urge to wince, not wanting to look so out of place by his departure.

"Bye, Spencer."

"I'll see you."

He definitely would.

Fighting the urge to stand up and follow him outside to wherever he strayed to, you joined the meeting, silently comforting yourself with the thought that he definitely would. Screw schedules, screw everything. You two would make it happen.

[seospicybin]

TOO HOT TO HANDLE.

EXTRA HOT REUNION

Lee Know x reader. (s)

Too Hot To Handle Masterlist.

Synopsis: You and Minho are having a Too Hot To Handle reunion with other contestants to catch up on the life after the retreat. (7,2k words)

Author's note: Merry Christmas! Hope you enjoy my gift to you ❤️

HOST: Welcome to the Too Hot To Handle reunion! Today, we're going to get all the updates on your favorite couples and what happens once they return to the real world. And I know, you're all dying to know if the couples are still together or not but in the meantime, let's find out if our sexy group of people remember all the times they broke the rules.

-

AGNES: Uh, I did a lot [cringes]

LUCA: I wish I had broken more rules. [Laughs]

YOU: The kiss Agnes and I did with Jack.

JAI: [Counts with fingers] There's just a lot of 'em.

BRYAN: Uhm... I'm the accountant, remember?

MINHO: The sex?

YOU: Then I broke more rules with Minho.

AGNES: Oh, the kiss with Jack!

JACK: Just once but I kissed the two hottest girls in the retreat [grins]

-

HOST: Here's the couple who broke half of those rule breaks and managed to win the show. Welcome back, lovebirds!

MINHO: [Waves hand]

YOU: Hi, gorgeous! [Smiles]

HOST: You guys won. Congratulations! [Claps]

YOU: Thanks, girl!

MINHO: Thank you.

HOST: So, what are you guys doing with the money? Are you guys sharing it? Or maybe... saving it for the wedding? [Chuckles]

MINHO: I make her keep all the money.

YOU: He insists that I handle it.

HOST: Uh-oh. I sense something wrong. What is it? Tell us all about it...

MINHO: [Shrugs]

YOU: Ugh!

MINHO: We were supposed to go on this trip together.

YOU: [rolls eyes]

HOST: Girl, I can see you holding back. Spill!

YOU: [Sighs] Well, since I'm taking care of the money, I thought it would be nice to go on a trip together with the money we've won. On the day we were supposed to leave, we had an argument so yeah...

HOST: Oh, no [frowns]

YOU: I booked the flights, the Airbnb... I have to cancel all of that because he canceled last minute like... [exhales air]

HOST: Minho, you want to add to that?

MINHO: That's all true. We argued on the day of the flight and I canceled.

YOU: And I texted him, you know, he could have still come, we could sort things out face to face but no, he didn't reply to any of my texts.

HOST: If I were you, I would have still gone on that vacation.

YOU: Honestly, I was looking forward to that trip, I want to spend time with him and have fun... [sighs] I was a little heartbroken by that.

HOST: Just to clarify... are you still together or not?

YOU: I'm just going to let it out of my chest that I... I will always have love for Minho and I support him, I'll always be attracted to him. I—

HOST: I'm sorry, girl but you have to hold it right there and we'll get back to you later.

-

HOST: If there's one thing that the villa proves is that people are complicated and one person knows this more than most... it's Zara!

ZARA: [Blows kisses] Hi, hello! That's actually the nicest way to put it, it's complicated [laughs]

HOST: Let me tell you, I was sad to see you got eliminated [pouts]

ZARA: Aww... but that's the thing, I came home not feeling sad at all, and to feel that, I usually have to go out with friends and have a few drinks. But I was sitting at my home thinking of what Lana taught me and what I'd learned... [smiles] It was all a good life lesson.

HOST: What made you feel that way about your elimination?

ZARA: I don't know, I woke up feeling like I learned enough in the retreat, obviously, I didn't want to keep hurting myself and get myself into more drama... [inhales] it's for the best.

HOST: Are you seeing anyone at the moment?

ZARA: Yeah and he's amazing, he's sweet and fun and he's just as obsessed with me as I do for him [chuckles]

HOST: I love that, yeah. You just feel like want to eat him, right?

ZARA: [Laughs]

HOST: But in regards to what happened to you and Bryan, have you spoken to each other ever since? Are you on good terms?

ZARA: He sent me some texts once the show ended but that's just that [thinly smiles] let's just leave it at that.

HOST: It was fun catching up with you but I have to go and talk to Agnes and Jai.

ZARA: Send my love for them [Blows kisses]

HOST: And I am sending you my love. Cheers, babe!

-

HOST: I cannot wait to find out if they're still horny for each other, it's one of my favorite couples, Jai and Agnes!

AGNES: Hi, hi! [Makes smooching sounds]

JAI: G'day! [Grins]

HOST: I never knew I missed that grin of yours, Jai! [Chuckles]

JAI: I know [grins] I'm doing it for you.

HOST: Shush it, boy! Your girl is here!

AGNES: I'm very aware of how flirtatious my man could be. But I'm watching you [squints eyes]

JAI: [Holds both hands up]

HOST: Tell us what happened after the show. Are you guys still naughty and horny?

JAI: Oh, yes.

AGNES: [Laughs]

JAI: She stayed with me for a while, back when I was still having a roommate and he asked me if we were alright. We kept going at it that it concerned him.

AGNES: Oh, my God!

HOST: Oh! You two are just so passionate [laughs]

AGNES: [Nods] [giggles]

JAI: We are!

HOST: Now, for the most important question, are you guys still together or not?

JAI: We had a little break then we just kind of... found a way back to each other.

AGNES: [smiles] We are still together. Yay!

HOST: Oh, thank Goodness!

JAI: A month ago, is it? We took a trip together and eventually met her sister and her family.

AGNES: It was unplanned! [Laughs] [shows hand] There's no ring yet, everyone.

HOST: Jai? Any plans to put a ring on it then?

AGNES: [Laughs]

JAI: Uh... to be continued?

HOST: It's been lovely, you guys. I hope you two stay happy.

AGNES: And horny?

HOST: Yes [laughs] Thank you and see you [blows kisses]

-

HOST: Before we get to the final interview, the guests are sharing their best moments in the villa.

AGNES: Oddly enough, I missed the dressing room, I guess that's because we gossip so much in there [giggles]

JACK: The kiss, obviously [laughs]

LUCA: The first party in the villa. That was... just wild and so much fun.

MAISIE: The final date I had with Luca was just romantic, probably the nicest date I ever had.

YOU: It's all the times Sabine and I hang out in the pool. Then there's also the time when Minho said he likes me, with the cushion and everything [laughs] that was just so special.

BRYAN: Just having with the guys, I guess, we were fooling around a lot, just lots of laughs.

-

HOST: Finally, we have come to the most awaited moment. Let me take a deep breath first [inhales] [exhales] Okay, we're ready now.

YOU: Where were we? [Laughs]

MINHO: The canceled trip and you were sad about it.

YOU: Yes, that... we had arguments like that not once or twice, I think that's just our love language [laughs]

HOST: That's kind of sexy, actually.

YOU: At that time, I just knew I had to be the one putting on the big girl pants, again [rolls eyes] if he didn't want to come to me then I'll just come to him.

HOST: Oh, my God! Is it like one of those movie scenes where the girl chasing the guy—

YOU: yeah, it's pretty much like that but the problem was... it was around Christmas and you know how hard it is to get a flight during holidays, it was a nightmare but I went through all that to see him.

HOST: And...?

YOU: It was cold and snowing, I dragged behind me, and knocked on his door, expecting that his face would light up when he saw me...

HOST: Oh, no, I sense a 'but' coming...

MINHO: I was just telling you to stop knocking [shrugs]

YOU: That's what he did, he scolded me for knocking on his door.

HOST: It keeps getting worse... I don't think I want to hear the rest.

MINHO: We're still together, we made up that day.

HOST: Oh, thank you Minho. I was close to having a cardiac arrest [clutches chest]

YOU: [Smiles] I didn't mean to scare anyone, sorry. We're still together, we still argue sometimes but we're still together, thank God!

HOST: That's good to hear so what are the plans now? Besides trying to be civil with each other [laughs]

YOU: Oh, before I forget, Minho also said the L word that day [giggles]

HOST: What? How could you hide it from it?

YOU: We were exchanging Christmas presents and he casually dropped the L bomb.

MINHO: Casually?

YOU: Honey... [laughs] I didn't say I don't like it. See? [Sighs] We need a couple counseling.

HOST: That's not a bad idea [chuckles]

YOU: I think it was special that there were only the two of us, it was intimate and heartfelt, and it couldn't be more perfect [smiles]

HOST: Minho, that... I didn’t know you were such a gentle guy.

MINHO: I've been meaning to say it, I just... didn't have the right time to say it.

YOU: Because we're always arguing.

HOST: [Laughs] I love that you guys complete each other's sentences.

YOU: I know, that's why I love us. That, and also because the make-up sex is just... [moans] [thumbs up]

HOST: Ugh, okay, you got me jealous now. I'll leave you two back to arguing then [laughs] Best wishes to you two, my loves! [Blows kisses]

-

HOST: It's been a blast catching up with all the casts of Too Hot To Handle Season 2. Thank you so much for watching, see you next time!

-

LAST CHRISTMAS 

"I don't chase, I attract."

You say those words out loud and manifest them to the world when you meditate in the morning but here you are, getting off the plane to chase a guy who canceled your planned trip at the last minute and not replying to your calls or texts.

You might have attracted him but nobody tells you that you have to chase him around too.

The layers of clothes that should have shielded you from the cold only make your body hot and soon drenched in sweat.

Why there are so many stairs? Why Minho has to live up on the hill? Why is your suitcase so heavy? Why did you pack so many clothes? Why are you here at all?

Despite the fatigue that slowly taking over you, you manage to conquer the last flight of stairs and arrive at his house.

After hours of bustling through the airport and the traffic, not to mention, dragging your luggage through the street, you're aware of how you look and it's not how you want Minho to see you when he opens the door.

But he should be appreciative of your intentions to come here and surprise him.

Right?

Can't believe you have second thoughts when you're already standing right in front of his door, why couldn't you have these thoughts before you got on the plane?

You throw away your worries and stop thinking altogether, your hands start knocking on the door. Once, twice... no one opens the door.

Oh, God? What if he's not home? What if—

You keep knocking on his door in case he didn't hear you the first two times. Your knocking is almost turning into a banging when he finally pulls the door open.

Minho stands there and looks at you with your hand hanging mid-air.

"You can stop knocking now," he says, scolding you for the aggressive knocking.

You don't expect confetti or cake or grand entrance music, but not this either, just you and him, looking at each other in silence.

Another moment passes and Minho opens the door wider, "Why are you just standing there? It's cold, get in!" He scolds you again.

It's only been a few minutes but he has scolded you twice already and weirdly, you obey him, getting into his house, pulling your luggage behind you.

Something is beeping from inside the house and Minho runs to check it, you allow yourself to go further inside. You take off your coat and purse, putting them on top of your suitcase before continuing to look around his house.

It's not small, not big either and it's obvious that he keeps it tidy and clean. You expect nothing less than that.

It's like seeing a movie scene, except that it's real. Minho looks exceptionally gorgeous in his dark sweater with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and one hand that is busy stirring something in a pot.

"Go wash your hands!" He orders.

You're too deep in your daydream to listen to him the first time and only get what he said the second time.

"Dinner is almost ready," he adds, closing the pot with a lid and then turning off the stove.

"Where's the—"

"The door behind you," he answers your unfinished question.

You're too tired to bicker with him and the smell of the soup he's cooking is appetizing, making your stomach rumbling in hunger.

Is it why Minho is not that happy to see you? You look horrible with your eyes looking dark and heavy with exhaustion, your hair is greasy and stuck to your forehead.

There's no time to dig into your suitcase to get your toiletry bag so you do everything to make yourself look presentable, wash your face, and brush your hair with your fingers, hoping that it's enough for now.

Minho has already set everything on the dining table when you return from the bathroom, looking at the food he's serving, your stomach is getting impatient on being filled with some home-cooked meals.

"This looks good," you say, taking a seat on the dining table.

He doesn't say anything to your compliment but goes to the kitchen to bring back a pitcher of water, then sits opposite you.

Minho immediately starts digging into his food and as much as you want to do the same, you're hoping to hear something from him other than commands.

"Do you perhaps... want to say something to me?" You carefully say.

He continues eating, taking a few things from different plates and eating them with a spoonful of rice.

"Like... 'oh, what a nice surprise!' or 'I'm happy to see you, honey'," you recite a few lines you wished to hear him saying yet he seems to enjoy his food too much to pay attention to what you're saying.

You softly sigh and pick up your spoon, "A hug would be nice," you mumble.

He glances up from his bowl of rice and looks at you, "You must be hungry. Eat!"

You cave in, obeying him again, and eat the food just like he ordered. Maybe because you were hungry, you feel less upset now that your stomach is filled.

You help with the dishes after dinner, drying your hands with a towel once you're finished then refill your glass with more red wine before leaning against the counter, watching Minho slicing up fruits, he looks so relaxed but maybe because he's in his element, in his own place.

"You're different at home," you mutter, then take a small sip of your wine.

He glances at you for a second before focusing back on the task in hand, the hand gripping the knife showcasing the evident veins on his forearm.

"Off-guard," you point out.

He pauses cutting an apple then looks at you, "Should I be on guard?"

To other people, Minho may seem like he's trying to pick a fight with you but that's just how he communicates, a bit snarky with a whole lot of nonchalance in it.

It's a good thing that you've been with him long enough to know how to handle him. You put your wine glass away and smile, "You're the one holding a knife, I should be the one on guard."

He smirks hearing your words and it took you this long to make him do that.

"So... will you put the knife down so you can kiss your girlfriend who came all the way to see you?" You sweetly ask, tilting your head to the side and batting your eyelashes at him even though you're not sure these flirting tricks would work on him.

You see that he loosens the grip around the knife and you come closer to him, "That's it, easy, easy..." you playfully say.

You take his other hand and let the knife drop onto the cutting board, turning him to face you. Holding his eyes in a gaze, you slide your hands up his arms then reunite them on the nape of his neck.

"I missed you," you softly mutter but your heart is close to shattering.

"So much," you say all of those words out while deeply looking into his dark brown eyes as they stare down into yours.

"Do you miss me?"

Minho hates it when you're insecure like this but you can't help it, it's just happens when you care so much about someone so let's hope he still knows that.

Then he leans in and kisses you, answering your question with a fiery kiss that melts your worries away until the only thing that remains is the warm feeling he brings with those lips.

When he pulls away, you forget the reason why you ever doubted him.

He then rests his hand on your back, he then slowly and deliberately blinks his eyes before saying, "I missed you too."

It's nice to hear that you're not the only one suffering from the longing. You smile knowing that he thought of you when you weren't here with him even though you're sure not as many times as you thought of him.

"Okay, good, the feeling is still mutual," you awkwardly say with a dry chuckle.

What can you say? Dating Minho is not for the faint of heart, it takes a lot of patience and courage, and it takes... a lot of things.

But is he worth it? The answer is Minho worth everything and more.

- 

The shower helps you get rid of the stress that’s been clinging onto you and you come out refreshed, not feeling tired at all. If anything, you feel excited to spend the rest of the night with Minho, catching up on a lot of things.

Before that, you make yourself presentable this time, putting on your night dress and drying your hair real quick. You notice the toiletry bag Minho brought to the villa is on the sink and it seems like he packed it recently. You shrug it off, keeping your skincare routine brief, impatiently wanting to join Minho on his bed.

On your way to the bedroom, you also notice that he packed a suitcase in his closet, you wonder if he’s planning to go somewhere soon.

Minho is sitting on his bed reading a book, doing it so elegantly like he’s in a furniture TV ad.

“Are you going somewhere?” You get on the bed and lay on your stomach facing him.

“Huh?” He asks without looking away from his book.

You peek over to see the book he’s reading, from the cover you can see that it’s either a mystery, thriller, or horror book, it could be all of that combined.

“I saw your suitcase, packed,” you tell him.

He lowers his book to look at you, “unpacked, you mean,” he says.

Ah, that explains it but looking at how he keeps his things in his house tidy, there’s no way he lets his things stay in his suitcase for too long.

“You should dry your hair. You’ll catch a cold,” he says nonchalantly yet oozing with affection.

This is why you love him, he’s hot and cold, always keeping you on your toes, dating him is one endless thrilling ride.

“I just didn’t dry the end,” you tell him.

The talk about the suitcase reminds you of something. You roll over to the side of the bed and open your suitcase, taking two gift boxes you actually prepared for tomorrow. You bring them over to the bed, sitting next to Minho and place the smaller box first onto his lap.

“Merry Christmas,” You say with a bright smile on your face.

Minho raises an eyebrow at you then glares down at the gift on his lap, “What is it?”

“Your Christmas present from me,” you simply answer.

He seems way too calm for someone who receives a gift from his girlfriend and not sure you’re going to get used to this.

“Open it!” you impatiently say because he keeps observing the box and doing nothing to find out what’s inside.

He finally takes the lid off and sees the bracelet inside. You’re smiling as he takes it out to observe it. You hurriedly help him putting it around his wrist.

“Do you like it?” You ask once you clasped the ends together.

“Did you buy it with the prize money?” He asks with a sly grin.

Why he’s making it hard for you? You must admit that Minho makes you realize that you have a lot of patience in you. You take a deep, deep sigh and put on a big smile for him.

“I’m glad you like it and you’re very welcome,“ you respond, not going to make this supposed-to-be-a-heartfelt-moment into an argument.

It’s time to hand him the second box, instead of putting it on his lap, you drop it right on his crotch as a way to get back to him. He doesn’t flinch but pulls the box closer to his chest before opening it. You put your hand on top of the lid, stopping him from opening it.

“It’s not for you,” you tell him.

His eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “Then why did you give it to me?”

“Because I know you don’t have a Christmas present prepared for me so I got you one,” you explain.

It takes him a moment to process your words, “So, you bought this for me to gift to you?”

“Yes,” you answer without a beat.

He bursts into laughter and the box is shaking along with his body as he laughs, “So it- this one for you?”

You take the box from him and smile at him, “Thank you for the present, honey,” you say, then place a quick peck on his lips.

You put on an act, pretending not to know what’s inside the box and slowly uncovering it, taking the lid off with low exciting squeals coming out of your parted mouth. You tear through the wrapping paper and gasp at the sight of the content.

“Oh, my God! Honey…” You coo at him.

You take the pair of lingerie out of the box and show it to him, “This is so beautiful!” You exclaim with excitement even though you were the one who bought it.

“You like it?” He’s slyly smiling as he asks you.

“Are you kidding me? I love it!” You dramatically ask, clutching the gift close to your chest.

You lean in close and tilt your head to the side, “Ugh! You know me so well,” You sneer, then peck his lips.

“I’m glad you like it,” He coyly asks.

You put everything into the box and sigh, “I wanted to put them on and show them to you but…”

You put the lid back onto the box, excessively raising your shoulders, and slump them down as you let out another dramatic sigh, “I’m not in the mood.”

Minho snorts and puts away the boxes, stacking them on the bedside table, “Yeah, you’d better rest, you must be tired.”

And Minho always picks the worst time to be considerate towards you, you roll your eyes and stomp your feet as you walk back to your suitcase, tossing the lingerie into your suitcase and angrily shut it.

“But if you’re not tired, I would love to see you in them,” he says with a devilish smile dancing on his beautiful face.

Hate that you melt right away to his sweet consolidation, your foot is tapping the floor as you pretend to consider his request.

“Well… if you insist,” you say, grabbing the lingerie back from your suitcase.

You’re giggling as you walk to Minho’s closet, changing out of your night dress and putting the lingerie on. As you’re changing, you see Minho’s backpack sitting next to his “unpacked” suitcase. You don’t mean to snoop but it’s open, you can see what’s inside. Using your fingers, you pry it open wider and see that he has a plane ticket clamped between his passport, you reach down to take a look at it when he calls from you from the bedroom.

It feels as if you got caught stealing, you scramble to leave the closet and Minho is putting something into his bedside drawer when you come back. He looks at you, confused to see you standing in a silk robe that comes with the lingerie.

“That’s not the same as what I bought for you,” he playfully says, sitting on the edge of the bed facing you.

You come up to him and stop right in front of him, “Jeez, Minho! You’re not a kid anymore, unwrap your gift yourself,” you tell him with a cheeky smile.

It’s a good thing that he can’t hear how fast your heart is beating right now and it’s beating faster when he looks up, staring into your eyes as his hands reach for your silk robe, untying it until they part open.

You do the rest, sliding the silk robe down your arms and letting it fall onto the carpeted floor. You take a final step, closing the gap between you and him.

He places his hands on each side of your waist, his fingers teasing the thin straps of the lacy underwear but his eyes never stray away from yours even for a moment

“So…?” You curiously ask since he’s not saying anything the moment he sees them on you.

He glides his hands up to your back and draws you close until his lips land on your abdomen, inhaling your scent as he kisses it, making you flutter inside. After a while, he glances up at you and says, “Glad I bought it.”

That sends you into a laughing fit and at the same, he pulls you until you both collapse onto the bed.

-

A breathless gasp escapes your parted mouth as Minho inserts his fingers inside you, he uses two digits to find that spot that makes you let out another gasp, louder, almost inaudible.

He’s hovering above you as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a steady pace and his face is so calm, a contrast to your state: a moaning mess under him.

He presses a kiss on you with tongue and teeth clashing in your mouth, his kisses are hungry, it feels as if he wants to eat you whole.

“Oh…” You moan again, feeling his fingers curl inside you.

Minho then drags his mouth down your chest, using his free hand he yanks down the cup of your bra just so he can suck on your nipple and leave it soaked and wet with his saliva. He continues his trail of wet kisses down your body and he stops with his head hanging between your legs, watching your eyes fluttering as he keeps pumping his fingers.

He pulls your underwear to the side and keeps it there, without wasting another second, he plants his mouth on your cunt, not caring how wet it is. He lifts his head for a moment, using the tip of his tongue to trace your folds and gently, circling your clit that is pulsating with so much desire.

Minho dives down into your wetness again and this time, he lands right on your clit and sucks hard on it.

“Oh, fu-“You can’t even finish your profanity, your voice is shaking and so are your legs.

You slip your hands into his hair, tugging at it as he keeps on sucking and it’s a fruitless effort to try to stop him, the more you try, the harder he sucks on your clit and the faster he pumps his fingers, making you overwhelmed with pleasure.

The only conclusion is Minho won’t stop until you

“I’m- oh, I’m cumming…” you whine, helplessly tugging at his hair.

He hovers above you again but now, he slowly puts his body on top of you, pinning you as he presses kisses on your lips, making you dizzy as he can’t stop kissing you until you run out of breath.

“Honey…” you sigh as you gently push his chest away.

You smile at him and put your hand on the back of his head, wanting to keep him close to you. As you catch your breath, you allow yourself to take a moment to enjoy this moment with him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips and then letting out a low sigh as you pull away.

“Gosh…how I missed you!” You pour out all of the emotions you’ve been keeping inside you and seal the hole in your heart with a kiss that yet again, takes your breath away.

It’s time to show him how much your body misses him. You pull the hem of his sweater and take it off of him to continue kissing him. Slowly, you roll him to the side until he lays next to you and overlaps half of his body with yours.

Minho lets you have the pleasure of doing whatever you want to him, he puts his hands over his head as your hand goes lower and slips it under his sweatpants, palming his member before letting it out.

You glance down to see how his cock is hardening in your hand, “Oh, he’s excited to see me,” you playfully mutter to him.

 “What are you going to do then?” He coyly asks.

“Mmh…” you delightfully sigh as you pretend to think of an answer all the while your thumb is circling the tip of his cock.

“I just have so many ideas,” you answer him with a seductive tone.

To execute your ideas, you first get rid of his sweatpants then sit on his thick thighs. You seductively smile at him as you take hold of his cock in your hand again, slowly stroking it with your clothed cunt only inches away from it.

You both wanted it but what’s the fun in giving in to the temptations right away?

His cock is swollen and hard, so ready for you and you are just as eager to take him but refrained yourself. Instead of that, you lean down to lick the tip of his cock with your tongue. The second time, you place a lick from the base up to the tip and then stroke it again.

“How you like that?” you tease him.

Minho doesn’t say anything, he remains calm but his body tells you otherwise, not only his cock, his body reddens all over, his chest, his ears, his cheeks… he’s completely turned on.

You tease him by rubbing his cock to your clothed core, “Mmh… yeah,” you hum in pleasure.

To tease him more, you put his cock inside your underwear, soaking it with your essence as you start grinding on him, unknowingly teasing yourself too in the process.

The yes he’s giving you… oh, it’s so intense, so full of lust, he looks at you like you’re the sexiest thing he ever laid his eyes on, making you feel so wanted, and admired. You suddenly feel a charge of confidence surging all over you and you lean down, kissing him with so much passion until you drain all the air in your lungs.

“Screw this!” you mutter.

 Carefully, you push his cock inside you and ease yourself down, taking him little by little until he’s fully sheathed inside you. You just sit there to adjust yourself to his size, closing your eyes as your hands start touching yourself.

Minho gets his hands on you too, he places them on your thighs and glides them up the sides of your body. You take his hands, using them to cup your breasts and fondle them together. You’re lowly moaning as he squeezes on them.

Minho only stops just to pull you close so he can kiss you, putting his arms around you to not let you go and without warning, he starts bucking his hips into you. You can tell he’s smirking against your lips while you let out a broken moan.

“That’s not-oh, not fair!” you mumble yet pressing another kiss on him.

Minho insists on you keeping the lingerie on, he ends up being the one taking it off of you and tossing it onto the bedroom floor. He made you climax twice already but Gosh, looking at him passionately making love to you, you can already tell you’re going to climax for the third time.

“Oh, my God! You feel so good,” You murmur into his shoulders with your fingers clawing his back.

Minho crashes his lips on you, deepening his kiss as he thrusts harder into you. He can sense that you’re about to cum again, he adds intensity to his thrusts and goes as shallow as possible.

Your eyes are screwed shut, feeling the knot inside you keep tightening, getting close to your-

Minho slows down, knowing that you just cum around him and the way he kisses, it’s so gentle as if he knows that you’re already overly stimulated.

You hold him close as you come down from your high, returning his kisses while keeping him inside you.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?”

You brush his hair back with your fingers, putting all the hair covering his face and holding his jaw, “Don’t stop, honey,” you whine.

Nothing gets him off than hearing how needy you are for him. You wrap your legs tighter around his waist and pull him closer, “I don’t want you to stop until you cum inside me,” you whisper into his ear.

That seems to work as planned, Minho picks up the pace of his thrusts, harder and deeper, giving what you both wanted.

You give up on holding in your moans, you let them spill out of your parted mouth and as he gets closer to his release, you press a haste kiss on his mouth.

“Want you to cum inside me, honey,” you whine again.

You have to pause a few times as he mercilessly pulsates his hips against you and the bed creaks along to his movements.

“Oh, please, please!” you sigh.

“Minho, please!”

At this point, you can’t tell if you’re begging him to stop or keep going, the pain and pleasure start to blur into one. You hold onto his shoulders with fingers digging into this flesh and forming crescent marks on his warm, honey skin.

It takes Minho a few more thrusts to finally cum inside you, releasing all of his seed inside you as he collapses on top of you. You embrace him, holding him with so much love, and kiss him with all of your heart until it quakes inside your chest.

Minho hastily kisses your lips, then drags his mouth close to your ear, you’re already drowsy and tired from the day that you barely can keep your eyes open anymore. You can hear him mutter something into your ear but when you’re about to tell him to repeat it, you fall asleep instead.

-

"Honey, wake up!"

If it isn't because of the hand squeezing your asscheek, you wouldn't have budged from your sleep. When you try to open your eyes, they are heavy and you feel like taking another hour of sleep.

Then Minho bites at your arm, making you jolt on your bed in reaction.

"Minho!" You sharply gasp.

"Wake up!" He says again, now slapping at your ass cheek.

Your feet are kicking the duvet as you whine like a fussy kid, "It's too early."

You turn over on the bed, lying on your side to face him, and croak, "What time is it?"

"One."

"One a.m?"

Minho presses a kiss on your shoulder then gets up from the bed, "Come on, wake up!"

He walks out of the bedroom and leaves the door ajar. You force yourself away and rub your eyes before opening them.

The daylight is almost blinding you and you immediately shut your eyes again, scooting to the side and your hand reaches for your phone on the bedside table.

You tap the screen until it lights up, showing you that it's indeed one o'clock in the afternoon. You must be tired from the flights, dragging your suitcase up the hill in the cold, and then there was the sex, a lot of sex. You remember how you passed out not long after he cum inside you.

Oh no, you missed the whole Christmas morning and that's not the plan. You thought of how nice it would be to snuggle together with Minho on the sofa while having hot chocolate on Christmas morning.

Instead of that, you stand in front of the sink and feel horrified to see your reflection in the mirror, how tired and miserable you look after ten hours of sleep.

Instead of wearing your clothes, you stop by his closet and borrow one of his comfiest knitted sweaters. His suitcase and his backpack are still there, you assume he didn't know you were snooping into his stuff.

Well, there's another reason to snoop in further to see where he's going with the flight ticket. You check for the situation first and waddle back inside, taking his passport out of the bag.

Minho looks so hot even on a government-issued ID photo and before you forget the main goal here, you flip it open to see the details of his flight ticket and you see it.

Unless he has someone else to see in the city you live in, you can safely assume that he planned on coming to see you too, and probably wants to spend the new year with you.

"I knew it!" You exclaim to yourself with a giddy smile on your face.

You wanted to remain calm and pretend that you didn't see the flight ticket and everything but... you can't help but smile when you see him sipping his coffee in the kitchen.

Minho is what people say as one with the softest heart builds the hardest shell. He acts cold, nonchalant, and a bit mean, but that's how you know he really cares for you, and he's genuine and sincere about you.

You come up to him and throw your arms around him, not wasting time kissing his lips, putting all of your affection into this long kiss, and pull away with a gasp.

"Merry Christmas," you happily say to him.

Minho smiles and returns the kiss with a quick peck on your lips, "Coffee?"

You eagerly nod and you wait on the sofa, taking a cookie out of a plate full of them, watching the snow floating in the air through the window.

"Thank you," you mutter as he hands you your cup of steaming hot coffee.

"This is good," you tell him, taking another cookie from the plate.

"I made them," he casually says like he didn't put any effort into baking such delicious cookies.

Minho is good at a lot of things so when he said he made these cookies, you didn't doubt him even for a second.

You place a kiss on his cheek, "These are really good," you tell him again.

You might have missed the Christmas morning but there's always a time to snuggle close to him. It's quiet and warm, it's such a nice moment and to be able to spend it with him is one that you're most grateful for.

Suddenly, Minho takes something from the end of the sofa and shows it to you.

"For you?"

You stop chewing your cookie and put the rest away, "For me?"

He nods and coyly sips his coffee, watching you excitedly unwrapping the gift to find out what's inside.

You gasp as you see a necklace inside, white gold with a small pendant, delicate and beautiful.

"I love it," you tell him with a gleeful smile.

It's always the thoughts that counts. The fact that he thought of you when he picked this gift worth more than the gift itself.

"You should be. I bought it with my own money," he pokes fun at you.

You pout at him, handing him the box so he can put it on for you. You hold all of your hair up in your hands as he puts the necklace around your neck, safely clasping the ends together.

"I love it," you mutter again, letting go of your hair so you can bring his head close and give him a sweet little kiss on his lips.

"Thank you," you say as you break the kiss with a soft caress on his cheek.

He smiles and places a kiss on your cheek, then your jaw. When you think he's going to kiss your neck next, he brings his mouth close to your ear, and ever so softly he murmurs, "I love you."

Your heart shrinks and the next second, it expands twice its size, overflowing with warm feelings. You feel like flying, riding on the clouds of those three words.

"What did you say?" You ask with a foolish smile on your face.

He slyly smiles and sips his coffee, "You heard," he says.

"I heard but..." you lean in close to his side and hold his hand, "can you say it one more time?"

Your sweet smile and the fondness in your eyes are not enough to make him cave in. You should have known it wouldn't be that easy.

You pout and then sigh, but you feel the need to return those words to him. It's not because you have to, but you have known for a while that he is not just a passing fancy, you see a future with him, and as silly as it sounds, you can see yourself growing old with him.

What you have for him is real and it's powerful, it's taking over you.

You hold his jaw and turn his head to look at you, you lean in close until your noses meet in the middle, softly you nuzzle them together while softly smiling at him.

"I love you," you say back with all of your heart that it aches.

Then you place your lips against him and let your heart pour out, flowing all of your emotions into the kiss.

When you open your eyes, his eyes are staring straight into yours. He holds your gaze and lovingly, he says those three words again for you.

"I love you."

And in his eyes, you find comfort, safety, you find a home you want to live in, forever.

-

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