#have a wonderful day or night if you're reading this

[mrsfancyferrari]

Hey I hope you've having an amazing day/evening/night. This is my first time requesting something😅, and I was wondering if you could possibility write something like what you did with my type but the reader having natural auburn curly hair, with freckles thinking that she's not his type or something along those lines.

Gold in Snow

Summary: you and lando are in a relationship but you're reserving hate comments about you being a ginger, with freckles because the fans don't think you're his type

Song: Golden Hour · JVKE

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 5.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the crowd was deafening. Another podium finish for Lando, another shower of champagne soaking his expensive suit. You watched from the relative calm of the garage, a small smile playing on your lips.

He looked genuinely happy, and that, more than anything, made the constant noise and pressure of Formula 1 palatable.

You’d been dating Lando Norris for almost a year now. A year of stolen moments, whispered secrets in hotel rooms, and navigating the chaotic whirlwind that was his life. A year of pure bliss…mostly.

The “mostly” came in the form of comment sections. Forums. Twitter threads dedicated to dissecting every pixel of your existence and comparing it to the accepted prototype of a WAG – Wives and Girlfriends – in the F1 world.

You were… different.

They’d say it with a thinly veiled, almost clinical detachment, but the message was always the same: you didn’t fit. You were too… ginger. Too freckled. Too… you.

The ginger part bothered them the most. Lando was a global superstar, practically sculpted from marble, with a smile that could melt glaciers. He was everything they wanted him to be: conventionally attractive, charming, and effortlessly cool.

And you? You were… well, very, very pale. Your hair was a fiery halo, and your skin was dotted with a constellation of freckles that bloomed fiercer in the summer sun.

“He likes the exotic look,” one comment had sniped. “She’s probably got a killer tan when she’s not hiding in the shade.”

You’d chuckled then, a hollow sound that didn’t quite reach your heart. Exotic? You’d spent your life battling sunburns and jokes about having no soul.

And killer tan? Honey, you burned so fast, lifeguards would start applying sunscreen just by looking at you.

You tried to ignore it. Lando certainly seemed to. He showered you with affection, praised your quick wit and sharp mind, and constantly reminded you how beautiful he found you, flaws and all.

But the insidious comments burrowed under your skin, planting seeds of doubt that you desperately tried to weed out.

You saw him heading towards the garage now, adrenaline still buzzing through him. His eyes found yours, and that signature Lando grin spread across his face. Your heart did that familiar little flip.

“Hey!” he said, pulling you into a hug. He smelled of champagne and victory. “Did you see that last overtake? Unbelievable!”

You laughed, burying your face in his still-damp fire suit. “Yes, I saw it. You were amazing, as always. Just try not to spray me next time, okay?”

He pulled back, his brow furrowed. “You okay? You seem… quiet.”

You forced a smile. “Just tired. It’s been a long weekend.”

He didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. “Well, we’re flying back tomorrow morning. We can just chill in the hotel tonight. Order some room service, maybe watch a movie?”

“Sounds perfect,” you said, meaning it. Just the two of you, away from the cameras and the judgment.

That night, as you lay in his arms in the dimly lit hotel room, the familiar ache in your chest returned. You couldn't shake the feeling that you were somehow… undeserving.

“Lando?” you whispered, the sound barely audible above the hum of the air conditioning.

“Hmm?” He nuzzled into your hair.

“Do you… do you ever read the comments? About us?”

He stiffened slightly. “I try not to. You know how toxic that can be.”

“But you do read them, right? Sometimes?”

He sighed, a heavy sound that vibrated against your chest. “Okay, yeah, sometimes. But I don’t pay any attention to them. They’re just… noise.”

“Noise that says I’m not good enough for you.” The words tumbled out before you could stop them.

He pulled back, his eyes searching yours in the dimness. “What? That’s ridiculous. Who says that?”

“Everyone. Online, anyway. They don’t think I’m your type. They think I’m… too ginger. Too freckled. Too… plain.”

He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs gently stroking your cheekbones. “Hey. Look at me. You are absolutely stunning. Inside and out. You are intelligent, funny, kind, and you have the most beautiful smile in the world. And yes,” he added with a mischievous grin, “I also happen to think your hair is gorgeous, and your freckles are like little constellations scattered across your skin. They’re unique, just like you.”

You felt tears welling up in your eyes. “But they say…”

“They say a lot of things. People are always going to have opinions. But their opinions don’t matter. Only mine does. And I think you are perfect.”

He leaned in and kissed you, a slow, tender kiss that chased away the doubts, at least for a moment.

But even as you melted into him, a small, insidious voice whispered in the back of your mind: He’s just saying that. He has to say that.

The knot in your stomach tightened with each passing day, each new photo plastered across social media. You and Lando, laughing at a restaurant, holding hands at the airport, just being normal.

What shouldn't have been a cause for concern, was. It should have been a happy bubble of romance, but it was quickly becoming a breeding ground for anxiety, a place where your insecurities festered and grew.

Because under each picture, nestled amongst the supportive comments and heart emojis, they lurked. The whispers, the not-so-subtle digs.

"He could do so much better." "She's not even his type." "Another generic influencer." And the worst of it? "Ginger + Freckles = No."

You knew it was irrational. Lando loved you. He told you every day, showed you in a million little ways, from the way he held your hand to the way he looked at you with genuine adoration.

But the internet had a way of burrowing into your brain, planting seeds of doubt that blossomed into thorny vines. You found yourself scrutinizing your reflection, picking apart every freckle, every strand of your fiery hair.

Was it too much? Was it enough? Were you enough?

"Penny for your thoughts?" Lando's voice startled you, pulling you back from the precipice of your spiral. He was standing in the doorway of your shared flat, his racing helmet tucked under his arm, a familiar mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"Just thinking about this weekend," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Excited for the snow."

"Me too! Max and Steve are already counting down the hours. You're coming to the slopes tomorrow, right?"

You hesitated. "I… I have something I need to do in the morning. I'll meet you guys up there later, okay?"

Lando frowned, his blue eyes searching yours. "Everything alright, love? You seem a bit off."

"I'm fine," you insisted, forcing a smile. "Just… a doctor's appointment. Nothing serious. I'll explain later. Promise."

He didn't look convinced, but he knew better than to push. "Alright. Just text me when you're on your way. Drive safe.”

He kissed your forehead, the warmth of his touch a brief comfort against the chill that had settled within you and left.

The next morning, the drive to the snow mountains felt endless. Each mile was another step closer to the potential storm brewing in your head.

You told yourself you were being ridiculous, that you were letting faceless strangers dictate your feelings. But the seed of doubt had been planted, watered, and was now taking root.

When you finally arrived at the ski resort, the crisp mountain air did little to soothe your nerves. You walked into the reception area, the scent of pine and hot chocolate thick in the air.

"Name?" the receptionist asked, her eyes glued to the computer screen.

"It's… uh… Y/L/N, party of Lando Norris."

The receptionist's fingers clicked across the keyboard, and she looked up, a polite professional smile gracing her lips. "Ah, yes. Mr. Norris's party. You're all set. Here's your lift pass. Your equipment rental is just through those doors. Have a wonderful day."

You collected your ski boots and poles from the rental shop, the familiar weight grounding you slightly. You'd been skiing since you were a kid, practically born on the slopes.

It was one of the few places you felt truly free, truly yourself.

You strapped on your skis and headed towards the main lift, scanning the crowd for a flash of Lando's familiar McLaren Racing beanie or the boisterous laughter of Max and Steve.

The lift carried you higher and higher, the view expanding to reveal a breathtaking panorama of snow-covered peaks and pristine valleys.

For a moment, the internet, the comments, the doubts, all faded away. You breathed in the crisp air, feeling the thrill of anticipation course through you.

As you reached the top, you spotted them. Lando, grinning and waving, Max, already carving down the slope with reckless abandon, and Steve, carefully navigating the beginner trail.

You took a deep breath, pushed off, and let gravity do its work. The wind whipped through your hair, the sun glinted off the snow, and for the first time that day, you felt a genuine smile spread across your face.

You were good. Really good. You weaved and turned, carving graceful arcs in the powder, your ginger hair a vibrant streak against the white landscape. You glided past other skiers, feeling the rush of adrenaline as you navigated the slopes with practiced ease.

You found yourself on a black diamond run, moguls stretching out before you like frozen waves. This was where you belonged, where you felt alive. You took a deep breath and launched yourself into the challenge, navigating the bumps and dips with precision and skill.

Suddenly, you heard a whoop of excitement and a familiar voice. "Wow, check out the ginger ninja!"

You glanced over your shoulder and saw a couple of guys, clearly impressed by your skiing skills.

You grinned, threw them a wink, and continued your descent, the compliment a small spark of warmth against the doubt that still lingered.

The crisp mountain air bit at Lando’s cheeks, painting them a matching shade to the gaudy orange ski suit Max insisted he wear. He shifted his weight from one ski boot to the other, impatience radiating off him in visible waves.

He’d been waiting at the base of the slope for what felt like an eternity. Max was already halfway up the mountain for his third run. Steve was content to nurse a lukewarm hot chocolate and offer unsolicited advice on Lando’s form, despite the fact Lando hadn't even put his skis on yet.

"She's taking her time," Steve commented, taking another careful sip. "Probably intimidated by the black runs."

Lando rolled his eyes, though fondness softened the gesture. He knew you weren't intimidated by anything. This was more than likely your first time on the slopes, so you were probably taking it easy.

You were a natural athlete, thriving on competition, but you’d also confessed, with a sheepish grin, that skiing looked deceptively easy on TV.

He was about to tell Steve as much when Steve suddenly straightened, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Oh, there's your girl!"

Lando spun around, instantly forgetting the cold, the wait, and Steve’s irritating commentary. He searched the throng of skiers snaking down the slope, his heart doing a little skip. And then he saw you.

You moved with a surprising grace, your skis carving effortless arcs in the snow. Sunlight caught in your fiery red hair, turning it into a cascade of glittering copper. Each freckle seemed to dance on your skin, illuminated by the mountain sun.

He knew, objectively, that you were beautiful. He saw it every day. But seeing you now, flushed with exertion and radiant with joy, took his breath away.

He froze, utterly captivated, as you approached. You navigated the final stretch with smooth confidence. “Show off,” he muttered under his breath, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You slowed to a stop, kicking up a spray of snow just inches from his boots.

"Hey!" you exclaimed, laughing. You pushed your goggles up onto your forehead, revealing eyes the color of warm honey. "Sorry! How long have you been waiting?"

Your cheeks were rosy, your breath misting in the cold air. Lando stared, speechless.

"Baby? What's wrong?" you asked, your brow furrowing with concern. You reached out, your ungloved hand gently touching his cheek. The cold stung, but he barely noticed.

He swallowed, his voice a low rasp. "You're beautiful."

The words were a whisper, almost lost in the wind. He hadn’t meant to say it so abruptly, so…exposed. But the sight of you, framed by the snow-covered peaks, had rendered him incapable of coherent thought.

Your eyes widened slightly, and a blush bloomed on your cheeks, a delicate counterpoint to the healthy glow of the mountain air. "Lando," you said softly, "you okay? Are you coming down with something?"

He blinked, shaking himself slightly. "No, I'm fine. More than fine, actually. You just…you look incredible."

Steve coughed pointedly beside him. Max, having apparently teleported from the top of the mountain, snickered. Lando shot them both a warning glare. They knew how self-conscious you were, especially around his racing colleagues.

The comments section of his social media had been a cesspool ever since you two became public. Hateful words about your appearance, thinly veiled as concerned opinions that you weren’t “his type,” were a constant, ugly background noise.

He knew it bothered you, even though you tried to brush it off with a laugh and a casual, "Haters gonna hate." But he saw the flicker of hurt in your eyes when you thought no one was looking.

He hated those comments, hated the people who wrote them, and hated that they had the power to make you feel anything less than extraordinary.

He took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Ignore them," he said, his voice firm, his gaze locked on yours.

You looked confused. "Ignore who? Max and Steve?"

"Everyone," he said, his thumb stroking the back of your hand. "Anyone who makes you feel like you're anything less than perfect. Because you are. Perfect. Just the way you are."

The blush on your cheeks deepened, and you ducked your head slightly, a shy smile playing on your lips. "You're sweet," you mumbled. "But I know I'm not everyone's cup of tea."

"Good," Lando said fiercely. "You're mine. And that's all that matters." He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your forehead, ignoring Max's exaggerated gagging noises.

He pulled back and met your gaze, his expression serious. "Listen to me. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're not beautiful, or that you're not good enough, or that you don't belong. Because they're wrong. They’re absolutely, unequivocally wrong. You’re amazing, inside and out. You’re kind, you’re funny, you’re fiercely intelligent, and yes, you’re unbelievably beautiful. And I’m the luckiest guy in the world to have you."

A tear, born of emotion and the biting wind, escaped your eye. "You're going to make me cry," you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

"Good," Lando said, wiping the tear away with his thumb. "Let them see you cry. Let them see how real and how beautiful you are. Don't hide anything. Don't let anyone dim your light."

He knew his words were bold, maybe even a little cheesy, but he meant every single one of them. He wanted you to know, deep down, that he saw you, truly saw you, and that nothing anyone said would ever change that.

Max, surprisingly, had stopped snickering. He clapped Lando on the shoulder. "Alright, mate, enough with the declarations of love. Let's hit the slopes. Before I get frostbite."

Steve nodded in agreement. “He’s right, Lando. You can gush later. Right now, let’s see if your girl’s got what it takes.” He winked at you. “No pressure.”

You smiled, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Pressure is my middle name," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Let's go."

Lando grinned, relieved to see the familiar spark back in your eyes. He squeezed your hand one last time before letting go.

He watched as you adjusted your goggles and clicked your poles into the snow. He felt a surge of pride watching you. He knew the comments would still be there, lurking in the shadows of the internet, waiting to pounce.

But he also knew that you were strong. You were resilient. And you had him.

He grabbed his own skis, a newfound confidence coursing through him. He would protect you, always. But more than that, he would celebrate you, every freckle, every fiery strand of hair, every brilliant facet of your being.

As you pushed off, gracefully navigating the gentle slope, Lando felt a lightness in his heart that had nothing to do with the altitude. He knew, without a doubt, that their love story was just beginning, and he couldn't wait to see where it would take them.

He followed you down the slope, his orange ski suit a beacon against the white snow. He caught up to you easily, skiing alongside you, matching your pace.

"So," he said, grinning mischievously. "Think you can keep up with me, ginger?"

You laughed, a bright, joyful sound that echoed through the mountains. "Try me, Papaya boy."

And with that, you kicked it up a notch, leaving Lando in your snowy wake.

He laughed, his heart soaring.

He pushed off, determined to catch up, knowing that even if he never did, he would be perfectly content just to chase you, forever. . . .

The papaya coloured dress hung on you, a vibrant splash of sunshine in the sterile white bathroom. It was Lando’s favourite colour, or so he claimed. He said it reminded him of McLaren, of speed, of… you.

But all you could see in the mirror was a canvas of imperfections.

Your reflection stared back, a stranger dissected and judged. The fiery red hair, usually a source of pride, now felt like a neon sign screaming "OUT OF PLACE."

The constellation of freckles scattered across your nose and cheeks, tiny sun-kissed stars Lando often traced with his fingertip, seemed like blemishes, flaws magnified under the harsh bathroom light.

The original plan, a simple elegance of no-makeup and loose waves, lay discarded. You'd envisioned a carefree evening, a confident entrance with Lando by your side.

Now, the thought of facing the public, the prying eyes, the inevitable whispers, felt like climbing a mountain of anxiety.

Social media had been a minefield lately. Ever since your relationship with Lando Norris became public, the comment sections had become a breeding ground for toxicity. Most were overwhelmingly supportive, celebrating your love.

But a persistent undercurrent of negativity gnawed at your confidence. The "fans," or rather, the internet trolls masquerading as them, were relentless.

“She’s not his type.”

“He could do so much better.”

“Ginger? Really? He's lowering his standards.”

The worst were the comments picking apart your appearance. The freckles, the hair, the perceived lack of "glamour." They painted you as an anomaly, someone who didn't belong in Lando's world. It was absurd, of course.

Lando loved you for you. He told you every day. But the insidious nature of online hate was that it seeped in, whispering doubts in your ear when you were most vulnerable.

Tonight, facing a McLaren party filled with glamorous personalities and industry insiders, the doubts had reached a crescendo. You grabbed a tissue from the dispenser, dabbing at the corners of your eyes, fighting back the overwhelming urge to cry.

The reflection in the mirror blurred, the colours swam, and the vibrant papaya felt like a mocking reminder of everything you weren't.

That’s when you heard the familiar click of the front door.

“Y/n?” Lando’s voice echoed through the house, a warm, comforting sound that momentarily cut through the anxiety clouding your mind.

Panic seized you. You couldn't let him see you like this, a mess of insecurities and mascara-smeared cheeks. You needed to compose yourself, to build up a façade of confidence before facing him.

Quickly, you turned the small lock on the bathroom door. The click was loud in the sudden silence.

“Y/n?” he called again, his voice closer now. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, just… just getting ready,” you managed, trying to inject a lightness into your tone that felt utterly fake. Your voice wavered, betraying your true state. “I’ll be out in a second.”

You heard him pause outside the door. “You sure? You sound… different.”

He knew you too well. He always did. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing the tears away. “Just a bit of a headache. Nothing serious.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment, thick with unspoken concern. You could almost feel his presence on the other side of the door.

“Okay,” he said finally, his voice softening. “But don’t rush. I’m happy to wait. Do you want me to get you some water?”

His thoughtfulness, his unwavering care, only made the guilt swell inside you. He was so genuine, so supportive, and here you were, hiding from him, consumed by the petty insecurities fueled by strangers on the internet.

“No, I’m fine,” you insisted, a little too quickly. “Just… give me a few more minutes, okay?”

“Alright,” he said, a hint of reluctance in his voice. You heard him move away from the door. “I’ll be in the living room.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning against the cool porcelain of the sink. This couldn’t go on. You couldn't let these hateful comments dictate your life, dictate your relationship.

Lando deserved better. You deserved better.

Taking a deep breath, you turned on the cold tap, splashing water on your face. You grabbed a towel and gently patted your skin dry, removing the remnants of your almost-attempted makeup.

You looked at yourself again, really looked.

The fiery hair, the freckles, the flaws… they were all part of you. They were what made you unique, what made you you. And Lando loved you for it. He saw beauty where others saw imperfections.

He saw strength where others saw vulnerability. Why were you letting the opinions of anonymous strangers outweigh the love and adoration of the man you adored?

You let out a shaky sigh, a weight lifting from your shoulders. It wasn't a complete cure, the insecurities wouldn't vanish overnight, but it was a start.

With newfound resolve, you took another look at the papaya dress. It shimmered under the light, a vibrant symbol of sunshine and joy. You smoothed the fabric down, a small smile gracing your lips.

You unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out.

Lando was standing in the living room, fiddling with his phone. He looked up as you entered, his face immediately lighting up. He was wearing a simple dark suit, impeccably tailored, but it was the genuine warmth in his eyes that truly caught your attention.

He took a step towards you, his gaze sweeping over you from head to toe. The smile widened.

“Wow,” he breathed, his voice laced with admiration. “You look absolutely stunning.”

You blushed, the compliment genuine and heartfelt. “Thank you.”

He closed the distance between you, cupping your face in his hands. His thumbs gently stroked your cheeks, tracing the familiar pattern of your freckles.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice soft with concern. “You seemed a bit… off earlier.”

You hesitated, the urge to brush it off still lingering. But you knew you couldn't hide from him. He deserved the truth.

“I… I saw some comments online,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “About… about me. About not being ‘your type.’”

His expression darkened, his eyes hardening with anger. “Don’t you dare listen to those people, Y/n,” he said fiercely, his grip on your face tightening slightly.

“They don’t know anything. My ‘type’ is someone who is kind, intelligent, funny, and beautiful, inside and out. Someone who makes me laugh every single day. Someone who challenges me and supports me, even when I’m being an idiot. That’s you, Y/n. That's always been you."

He paused, his gaze searching yours, making sure you understood the sincerity of his words.

"And as for the… the physical stuff," he continued, his voice softening again. "Your hair is the most beautiful shade of red I've ever seen. Your freckles are like little constellations, guiding me through the darkness. And that little dimple you get when you smile? Drives me absolutely crazy."

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t ever let anyone make you feel like you’re not good enough, Y/n. Because to me, you are perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but this time, they were tears of relief, of gratitude, of love.

You threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. “I love you, Lando,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his jacket.

He held you tight, his arms a comforting embrace. “I love you too, Y/n. More than you know.”

After a long moment, you pulled back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. You took a deep breath, feeling a surge of confidence wash over you.

Lando was right. You couldn't let the negativity of others define you. You had his love, his support, and that was all that mattered.

You looked at him, a genuine smile gracing your lips. "Ready to go to this party?"

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Absolutely. And just so you know, I'm planning on spending the entire night showing you off to everyone. They need to see how lucky I am."

He took your hand in his, his fingers interlacing with yours. As you walked out the door together, you knew, with absolute certainty, that you were exactly where you were supposed to be. And that, you realised, was all that truly mattered.

The haters could say what they wanted. You had Lando, you had your love, and that was more than enough. The papaya dress suddenly felt like armour, not a target.

You were ready to face the world, hand in hand, imperfections and all. . . .

The party was exactly what you expected: loud music, flashing lights, and a sea of familiar faces from the F1 world – drivers, team principals, engineers, and their partners.

The sheer volume of people made your anxiety prickle, but Lando kept a firm grip on your hand, navigating you through the crowd.

He introduced you to what felt like a hundred people, his arm possessively around your waist, his smile beaming. You tried to focus on the conversations, to be witty and engaging, but the whispers seemed to follow you, phantom echoes of the comments haunting your mind.

“Lando’s with her?”

“She’s… different.”

“Not exactly what I expected.”

You squeezed Lando’s hand tighter, trying to ground yourself. He seemed oblivious to the undercurrents, his attention solely focused on you.

“Having fun?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the music.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, it’s… great.”

He looked at you, his eyes searching. He knew you better than anyone, and he could see the forced cheerfulness masking your discomfort.

“Hey,” he murmured, pulling you closer. “If you want to leave, we can. We don’t have to stay here.”

“No,” you said quickly. “No, I’m fine. I want to be here. With you.”

He smiled, relieved. "Okay, but seriously, if you change your mind, just say the word."

Just then, a tall, lanky figure approached, his face breaking into a wide grin. “Lando! Mate, good to see you.”

“Oscar!” Lando clapped him on the back. “Good to see you too. Oscar, this is my girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N, this is Oscar Piastri.”

Oscar offered you his hand, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You shook his hand, trying to gauge his expression. Was there judgment there? Pity? You couldn’t tell. “Likewise, Oscar. Congratulations on your season so far.”

“Thanks,” he said, his smile genuine. "It's been... interesting, to say the least." He paused, then gestured to a woman standing beside him. "And this is my girlfriend, Lily."

Lily stepped forward, her smile warm and inviting. She had kind eyes and a simple elegance that immediately put you at ease. "It's lovely to meet you, Y/N. Lando talks about you all the time."

You blushed, glancing at Lando, who just winked. "All good things, I hope?"

Lily laughed. "Of course! He's completely smitten."

The four of you fell into easy conversation, discussing the season, the pressures of being in the spotlight, and the challenges of maintaining relationships in such a demanding environment.

You found yourself relaxing, the tension slowly draining away. Lily was refreshingly down-to-earth, and Oscar, despite his reserved demeanour, had a dry wit that you found endearing.

As the conversation flowed, you noticed Lily subtly steer the topic towards your interests, asking about your work, your hobbies, and your passions.

She seemed genuinely interested in getting to know you, not just as Lando’s girlfriend, but as an individual.

“So, Y/N” Lily said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity, “Lando tells me you’re a writer? That’s fascinating! What kind of writing do you do?”

“I dabble in a bit of everything,” you replied, feeling your confidence grow. “Short stories, poetry, some freelance journalism. It depends on what sparks my interest, really.”

“That’s amazing,” she gushed. “I’ve always admired people who can write. It’s such a powerful way to express yourself.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “It is. I’m useless at it. Give me a steering wheel any day.”

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, your earlier anxieties fading into the background. You were having a genuine, enjoyable conversation, with people who seemed to genuinely care about you.

Suddenly, a voice cut through the noise. “Lando, darling! There you are!”

A woman, dripping in diamonds and designer clothes, glided towards you, her eyes scanning you from head to toe with blatant disapproval. You recognized her as the wife of a prominent team principal, a woman known for her sharp tongue and even sharper judgment.

Lando’s smile faltered slightly as he turned to face her. “Genevieve, good to see you.”

She completely ignored Oscar and Lily, her gaze fixed on you. “And who is this, Lando? A new… acquaintance?”

You felt your cheeks flush, the familiar knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach. You knew what was coming.

Lando’s arm tightened around your waist. “This is my girlfriend, Y/N.”

The woman’s eyebrows shot up. “This is your girlfriend? How… interesting.” Her tone dripped with condescension. “Well, congratulations, darling. I’m sure you’re very happy.”

She turned back to Lando, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Lando, darling, you really could do so much better. Don't you want to think about your image?”

You felt your heart sink. This was it. The moment of truth. You braced yourself for the inevitable onslaught of negativity.

But then, something unexpected happened. Lando’s eyes flashed with anger, and his grip on your waist tightened protectively.

“I’m perfectly happy, thank you,” he said, his voice cold and firm. “And Y/N is more than enough. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we were in the middle of a conversation.”

He turned his back on the woman, effectively dismissing her. He looked at you, his eyes filled with concern. “Are you alright?”

You nodded, still reeling from the encounter. “Yeah,” you mumbled. "I'm okay

Lily stepped forward, her expression fierce. “Honestly, some people are just ridiculous,” she said, her voice laced with scorn. “Don’t let her get to you, Y/N. She’s just jealous.”

Oscar nodded in agreement. “She’s got nothing better to do than spread negativity. Ignore her.”

Lando squeezed your hand. “They’re right. Don’t let her ruin your night.”

You looked at them, at Lando, at Lily, at Oscar. You saw genuine support, genuine kindness, genuine acceptance. And suddenly, the weight on your chest lifted. The comments, the whispers, the judgment – they didn’t matter.

You had people who loved you, who supported you, who valued you for who you were, not for who the internet thought you should be.

You took a deep breath, straightened your shoulders, and smiled. “You know what? You’re right. I’m not going to let her ruin my night.”

Lando grinned, relieved. “That’s the spirit. Now, how about we get out of here and go somewhere more… private?” He winked suggestively.

Lily laughed. “Sounds like a plan. Oscar, you’re driving, right? I’ve had one too many cocktails.”

As you walked away, hand in hand with Lando, you glanced back at Lily and Oscar, a warm feeling of gratitude washing over you. You had found unexpected allies, people who saw past the surface and appreciated you for who you were.

You were still an outsider, still a ginger with freckles, still not “his type” according to the internet. But tonight, surrounded by love and support, you didn’t care. You had Lando, you had friends, and you had the courage to be yourself.

And that, you realised, was more than enough. The papaya dress no longer felt like armour, but a symbol of your strength, your resilience, and your unwavering commitment to being true to yourself.

You were you and you were happy. . . .

landonorris

liked by carlossainz55, alexandrasaintmleux, yourusername and 867,879 others

landonorris

Happy anniversary to my beautiful girl. Two years. Two years of laughter, adventures, and learning to love you more fiercely every single day. I know the internet can be a dark place, especially for someone as radiant as you. Don't listen to anyone who talks about you bad, especially those whispering nonsense about "types." They see a snapshot; I see the whole damn masterpiece.

Your fiery hair is sunshine on a cloudy day, each freckle a tiny star mapping out the constellation of my heart. They don't see the intelligence that sparkles in your eyes, the quick wit that keeps me on my toes, or the unwavering kindness you show to everyone you meet. They don’t see you. You are everything I could ever want, and more than I ever deserve. So, happy anniversary, my love. Let's keep painting our world with joy, ignoring the noise, and celebrating the beautiful, unique you. I love you more than words can say. ❤️

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[pinkyqily]

IT OKAY,WE'RE OKAY, WE ARE DEFINITELY OKAY

Summary: juju apologize and makes it up to you like the good girlfriend and teammate she is.

Part one

Contains: fluff, snappy lovers, cursing, groveling, not proofread throughly yet

A/n: here is part two as promised with a happy ending, would love to get reactions or feedbacks of what you guys think, if you have any juju requests feel free to send them in anyway happy reading readers 🩷

Next few days between you and JuJu pass by a blur. Having your coaches telling you guys to solve out your shit was definitely a wake-up call for you, you're mind just keeps on replaying those awful words from juju.

Was that how she really saw you as a player? was all your mind could wonder.

But at the same time, you couldn't stop thinking about how she felt even though you were the one that got hurt the most.

Ken, who was your roomie and heard about what happened between you and juju,tried getting you out of your hotel room. But you declined again. the only time you went down was when there was barely anyone down at the lobby side.

You couldn't face your teammates after that embarrassing showdown. It made you feel like a failure.

"Come, you'll still have to face everyone when we leave for the arcade, why do you have to be the one embarrassed juju was basically at fault too". She said trying to shake you up.

"She's literally one of the best players of course, what she said is going to get to me, if it was said in private, okay, but she did that in front of everyone". You told her, feeling a cold wind reach your spine.

"For somebody who always steps up for us you sure love discrediting yourself like you also aren't the best out there, juju saying that was nasty and loud for no reason so please get your ass up". Was all Ken said.

This time you did, because fuck juju who clearly had her head far in her ass to see how great of a player you are. and what you bring to the team all those 3s she be pulling must have blinded her vision or what.

"You know what you're right fuck her from now I'll be standing on business, she can go find another bitch to be pissy on cause I'm not the one".

"That's my girl now let's head down, and when you see her, you keep your head high." She told you, pulling you into a tight hug.

But the universe had other plans by slapping you in the face, because as you opened your room door, there was a juju watkins pacing back and forth in front of your door with a messy looking bun that definitely not her brand.

With only one look, you could tell she wasn't the only one who had a bad night.

Normally, you two would fall asleep on call listening to each other's voices as it helps the other person calm down.

It didn't matter if you were states away one block away down the street or rooms separating you guys would still call.

but after what happened last night, you both couldn't bring yourself to pick up that telephone.

And here you both are staring into each other's eyes unable to speak up until a familiar voice does it for you.

"JuJu, what are you doing here?". Ken asked her, crossing her arms over, letting her disapproval be known.

"I know you guys are mad at me rightfully so, but please give me 5 minutes that all I ask for." She said, fidgeting with her hands.

"Five minutes is all you're getting don't think I'm not timing it." She said as she left you both heading downstairs herself.

You and juju stood in that silence for a good two minutes, avoiding eye contact most ju.

"You have three minutes left, so whatever you want to say now,speak up." You said with a mean tone, not glazing any bullshit.

"I know, I messed up really bad and shouldn't have said what I did, you're an amazing player to our team you pick up the pieces whenever everyone seems lost." She started by saying her voice breaking as she fought back tears so she could speak.

"you put the teams needs before your own, your flow on the ball is way different than anyone else and you're a very unique player who contributes so much to the team"

"You're so important to me way beyond being teammates but girlfriends at the same time not only was I a bad teammate but also a bad girlfriend for saying and treating you like that." She told you this time around, able to meet your eyes after avoiding them.

"I just want to apologize because I know that I'm better than that, you deserve better and I want to be the better person you deserve so would you forgive me you don't have to rush it". She finished of by saying.

You we're definitely shocked to see her being so vulnerable and raw to you.

"You really hurt me by saying all those things in front of everyone I felt so embarrassed standing there looking like a fool ju, but that doesn't mean I hate you I'm just really hurt you had me overthinking like I did something wrong when I wanted was to help you". You told her, feeling a little hesitant as you moved your hands to grab hers.

"But that doesn't mean I'm not willing to forgive you". You told.

"I know, baby, take your time can i hug you, though?" She asked you before doing anything. You pulled her into a hug, forgetting about your whole standings on business cause you missed having your 6'2 social awkward girlfriend in your arms.

And that is how you found yourself standing next to her at one of the arcade games because she said she was going to start by winning you a prize. She didn't lie about that one and won the biggest bear in there for you.

Ken was already looking disappointed but was happy that you guys fixed things.

"Couldn't even stand on business for 24h". You heard a voice say.

"Bruh, she's still not fully forgiven how do you expect me to stay that mad at her?". You told her

"Whatever you guys are ruining my mood with your sappyness."

"You're just mad and single Ken it okay you'll find the one". You told her.

On the way back, you both sat down together in the bus, falling asleep on each other. Everything ended up being okay. ju stil has hella groveling to do, but you guys are okay, and that's all that matters.

[animasola86]

LOST & FOUND 🫂 CH4

After agreeing to become their little girl, you are woken up by Mommy, who has special plans to ease you into your first day of your new life.

soft!Daddy!dom x Mommy!domme x little girl!reader

WARNINGS: F!Reader insert. Explicit sexual content. Mommy/Daddy kink. Dd/Md/lg dynamics. Pet names. Dom/sub undertones. Shared shower. Nudity. Vaginal fingering/assisted masturbation. “Self” care/makeover/waxing. Angst/humiliation. Hurt/comfort. (More notes under the cut!)

WORDS: 8k 🔷️ READ ON AO3

A/N: This chapter is a direct continuation of Chapter 2 and keeps focusing on Reader's new life as the Little Girl of Mommy and Daddy. All following chapters (unless stated otherwise) will follow the past-timeline and show how Reader ended up like she did in chapters 1 and 3. (For more info on Reader, check out the Notes in Chapter 1.) ❗ Please read THIS if you're confused about the tags I listed this under!

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

Several months earlier

You woke up after that first night, completely knocked out and overwhelmed, to someone gently shaking you, lips pressing to your pillow-wrinkled cheek, a soft voice cooing for you to wake up. Mommy was there, and while your first instinct was to groan and turn back around and ask for five more minutes, not quite realizing where you were, she basically dragged you out of bed and into the bathroom.

While she certainly meant well, you felt very uncomfortable as she helped you out of the clothes you slept in and into the shower. You wanted to protest, against the fact that you were naked in front of a stranger, and also, didn't you just shower last night? With your mind still hazy with sleep, you wondered if rich people did it like this, showering every night and every morning, possibly several times a day? They definitely didn't have to worry about too much water consumption, apparently. But then the strangest thing happened: the woman you were supposed to call Mommy stripped down as well and stepped in after you, and your muddled mind was silenced immediately.

You were so surprised and more than taken aback by it that you just stood there, with your back to her, not even daring to take another look at her beautiful body. She was a bit taller than you and had all the right curves in all the right places, perfect skin, not a single hair anywhere on her body, except for her long black locks that she wore in a messy bun atop her head, and when she stepped behind you, her hands found your shoulders before she wrapped your unruly tresses around her fingers and brought them up in the same fashion, then slipped a hair tie over the mess to keep it in place.

Then she leaned past you (her perfect breasts pressing against your shoulder blades) and turned the shower on, and while you expected to be hit by either ice cold or scorching hot water, the temperature was perfect right away. That alone was a luxury you'd never experienced before. She angled the shower head to spray down below your chin to keep your head and hair dry.

You were still just standing there, baffled and embarrassed to be this close to such a gorgeous woman (though your main concern was how you felt like a literal child whose Mommy had to help them showering, but you figured that was part of her wanting to take care of you). As you woke up more and more, you became more and more aware and self-conscious of your neglected body. For months, self-care hadn't been an option for you, too much hassle, and for what? But now you wished you could have prepared yourself for this experience in some way, shaved maybe? Made yourself more presentable?

The question remained: what did this woman see in you to treat you like this?

Your anxiety spiked when you felt her soap-covered hands on your body, first on your arms, then she went straight to your breasts, cupping them, squeezing them lightly, rubbing the suds into your skin. You froze, holding your breath, clenching your hands into fists. It was such an intimate gesture, you weren't ready for it. A little sob escaped you, and you felt her pausing, before she leaned closer again, pressing her body against your backside.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked directly into your ear, her velvety voice causing you to shiver deeply. “You gotta tell me if you don't like what I do, okay? This is for you. If you don't want it, I'll stop.”

You took a shuddering breath. “N-no,” you urged out. “I... I mean... it's okay... it's just... all so new...”

Her laugh echoed through the steam-filled room. “Never been touched by a woman before, sweet girl?”

“N-never had somebody... take care of me like this...” you whispered breathlessly, the thick air and her closeness making you dizzy.

You felt her lips on your cheek, the touch lingering as she spoke softly: “You better get used to this. We have so much love and care to give, you have no idea.”

It could have sounded like a threat, but you closed your eyes and nodded, leaning against her when she continued the gentle groping of your boobs. She chuckled again, bringing her lips down to your shoulder. Her hands moved lower eventually, rubbing over your stomach and down your hips, and you still couldn't move, you just endured (or silently enjoyed it?), but when you could feel her stepping around you, one of her hands slipping down your front while the other curved around your rear, you flinched badly.

Your feet squeaked on the tiled floor, and you almost lost your footing, but instead of getting away from her, she grabbed you a little harder, her hands on your waist, pulling you back, gently but firmly. Your chest was rising and falling faster, your heart nearly exploding behind your ribs. She shushed you, kissing along your neck as she returned her hands where she initially wanted to bring them.

“It's okay, sweetheart, let Mommy see, yes?” she cooed into your ear, and you stiffened, inhaling deeply and holding your breath as her hand brushed down your tense belly and directly between your legs.

You felt so embarrassed. You were not as spotless as she was, some would say natural, and while you let everything grow because you couldn't care about it anymore in the months of your slow downfall, you wished you could go back to not caring now. But you cared, you didn't want this woman to touch you in places nobody had touched in a very long time, yourself included, at least not this intimately.

You tried to squirm away, but she grabbed your ass in response, holding you in place. You let out a quiet yelp. “It's alright,” she said calmly, her lips back at your ear, the touch scorching hot. “I will not hurt you. I will not judge you. You are a beautiful girl, sweetheart, and nothing will ever hide that.” As she spoke, she started rubbing her fingers along your slit, a gentle touch, just a caress, every stroke of her hand accentuated by more soothing words. “You deserve to be loved, my sweet thing. Loved and touched and pampered. Do not be shy, do not be embarrassed. There's no need. You are beautiful. So beautiful...”

Her voice lulled you, made you relax into her ministrations, and as she finished her soothing pep talk, her fingers dipped between your labia, a little gasp escaped you, your lips parting, and before you knew it, she had caught it by pressing her mouth to yours, kissing you softly as she rubbed her fingertip slowly up and down until it prodded your entrance, and while her tongue pushed into your mouth, her digit pushed into your clenching cunt.

Your moan was swallowed by her own little inhale. Her other hand slid up your back until her palm was pressed to your neck, holding you steady as she continued to kiss and finger you, and all you could do was melt into her caresses, meeting her tongue with your own, gliding your lips against hers, even grinding your hips into her hand. Your head was spinning, breathless and overwhelmed as you were, and the more she touched you, the less vulnerable you felt.

The way she moved her fingers (she seemed to have added another one) inside you, slow and careful, pressing as deep as her knuckles allowed, fingernails scraping gently along your tight walls, it all felt very good very quickly. Your eyes fluttered shut, your breaths rasping out of you, new air barely able to reach your lungs as she kept plunging her tongue into your mouth. You felt like floating, surrounded by warm water and even warmer steam, pressed against a soft body, her hand closing around your nape, and all those touches sent more tingles down your spine, shivers and shudders, that all gathered low in your stomach, and lower, making your clit throb.

And it was when she suddenly pressed her thumb against that sensitive bundle of nerves that you yelped against her mouth, eyes flying open, a strange assortment of white and black spots dancing at the edge of your vision. Your legs trembled badly the more she rubbed at your clit, her fingers still plunging in and out, a little curl to them now, hitting different spots deep inside you. You stared at her, or tried to, she looked blurry, and you tried to blink your eyes back into focus, but instead a loud moan was ripped from your throat when she moved her fingers and her thumb in a clawing motion, pressing directly against your clit and g-spot.

You shook, your limbs twitching, and your hands found her waist for support as you gasped for air like a fish out of water, your eyes rolling back, your head reeling, and for a moment you felt as if you'd left your own body, floating away, without a care in the world...

You came back when she pulled her fingers out and kept caressing your sensitive labia, and every brush against your hood gave you another deep shudder. You clung to her, your forehead resting on her shoulder, your breaths labored and raw, your heart thundering in your chest. She rubbed your back with her free hand, soothing you with words you couldn't understand. The first that did make it through the cotton in your head, dug themselves deep into your soul:

“Good girl.”

A smile appeared on your trembling lips, the praise like an additional caress down your spine. You found yourself hugging the woman you barely knew and somehow trusted a lot more now, your arms snaking around her waist as you pressed yourself into her. She embraced you gently, holding you as the water sprayed against your shoulder. You felt her lips on your forehead, her exhale warm against your skin.

The rest of the shower was a blur. She kept washing you, rubbing her hands over your warm skin, and she even nudged you to touch her as well, which was yet another overwhelming experience as you weighed her big breasts in your small hands.

She continued to be gentle and patient with you, giving you time when you needed it, but also pushed you a little to get you out of your old habits. As embarrassing as it should have been, it was also refreshing and comforting to know that even if you might fall back into your dark hole whenever new and old doubts would resurface, Mommy was there to pull you back out.

By the time you were out of the shower and wrapped in a large, fluffy towel, a knock sounded on the door. You froze, but the other woman just huffed a sigh and walked to open it, still as naked as before, no shame whatsoever. Your eyes widened when you saw the tall man appearing in the door frame, his eyes first grazing the woman before they wandered to you. He smiled softly.

“Good morning,” Daddy said, his smile widening when he saw you blushing deeply, pulling the towel tighter around your body. He looked back at Mommy then, raising an eyebrow. “You beat me to it, huh?” he mused.

The woman laughed, nudging his bearded chin with her index finger. “Gotta be faster, old man,” she teased with a soft laugh.

You watched the two silently, frozen to the spot, acutely aware of just wearing a towel, your exposed skin warming up badly as your eyes wandered from Mommy's naked backside to Daddy's tall frame behind her. He wasn't wearing a suit today, but a tight shirt and formfitting sweatpants, and his hair was tousled, cheeks a little flushed. Had he been running? Probably, with a body like that –

“How are you feeling today, darling?” he addressed you, ripping you from your thoughts. Your face heated up even more.

“Really good,” you whispered shyly, chewing on your bottom lip as you met his gaze.

“I'm glad,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, his eyes crinkling.

“And she'll feel even better today. I'm taking her to the salon,” Mommy interrupted the moment by pressing a hand to Daddy's chest. “You can have her tomorrow.”

He sighed, bringing his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “Don't do anything she doesn't want to do, okay?” he told her quietly. “Don't scare her away on her first day...”

She laughed, turning back to you. Your heart skipped a beat. “Don't worry, we already established our bond, didn't we, honey?”

You lowered your eyes, your blush spreading all over your shoulders. “Yes, Mommy,” you whispered. It still felt a little weird to call her that, but seeing her reaction to it made up for the awkwardness. She mewled softly and turned around fully, extending her arms until she could pull you into a tight hug.

“My sweet girl,” she cooed, kissing your hairline. You leaned against her warm body, meeting Daddy's curious gaze over her shoulder.

“You'll be okay,” he told you with a gentle smile. “But remember: you can say no, we will not force you to do anything you don't feel comfortable with. Won't we?” he added pointedly, making Mommy turn her head to him. She gave him a smirk and a wink, and he sighed.

She let go of you then, taking a step back to him. “Go take your own shower now,” she told him, poking his chest. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her a little closer, eyeing her darkly.

“Don't tell me what to do,” he whispered.

“Make me,” she replied with a chuckle.

You watched them with growing curiosity, still wondering what kind of relationship these two actually had. For a moment they just stared at each other, before Mommy leaned up on her toes and pressed her full lips against his.

“Let us have our Girls Day, okay, papito?”

“Fine,” he said with an exhale, his other hand moving along her bare shoulders up to her nape before he grabbed the messy bun on top of her head and pulled her back a little. “But I mean it: I still want to recognize her later.”

Her turn to sigh. “Of course, don't worry,” she replied, putting her hand on his cheek, giving it a soft pat. “Unless she wants a complete makeover. This is about her,” she added, turning her head back to you. “Isn't it, sweet thing?”

You blushed when the attention was back on you.

“We'll do whatever makes you happy, okay, honey?”

“Okay,” you mouthed a little breathlessly. Your eyes wandered between the two adults (the longer you stood watching them, the smaller and younger you felt, no matter the fact that you were technically an adult yourself). You weren't used to all this attention, but it grew on you. It made you feel warm and seen (even if you'd prefer to wear more clothes while being looked at).

Daddy let go of Mommy then, taking a half-step into the bathroom. “Can I get a hug before I leave you in Mommy's care, sweetheart?” he asked quietly, extending a hand towards you.

Your body's immediate reaction was a sudden jerk, a clear indication that you wanted to sink into his strong arms and never emerge from them again, but your mind was still a little timid, and then there was Mommy, stepping between you and the tall man.

“Get away, you're all gross and sweaty. I just cleaned her!” she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

He lowered his hand slowly, his eyes still on you. There was a darkness within them, a strange look that made your stomach twist in a weird way, warm and tense, like a throb, a clench, an itch. “I... I don't mind,” you heard yourself stammering. Before you knew it, you took a step forward, your bare feet padding on the tiles, and when his smile widened, you extended a hand to put it onto his big palm. At the same time as he pulled you closer, you heard Mommy sighing. She stepped away, and you hoped she wouldn't be too mad, but you couldn't resist him – and the urge growing inside your own body.

He wrapped his big arms around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed to his chest. It was warm, his scent filling your nostrils, filling your head, a mixture of body wash and sweat, a masculine smell that made you dizzy, but in a good way. You carefully snaked your arms around his waist and held onto him, closing your eyes for a moment.

“My sweet girl,” he whispered, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “Have a good time today, okay?”

“Okay, Daddy,” you murmured into him.

He squeezed you a little more at that, his inhale loud and almost surprised. As he embraced you, you suddenly felt another presence behind you. Mommy's arms joined yours in encircling the tall man as she pressed herself into you. His arms loosened, leaving you, pulling her closer against your back. You gasped a little as they hugged you tightly, and you would have never expected to feel this comfortable in a Mommy-and-Daddy-sandwich.

It was certainly strange to go from nobody caring about you, to having these two people taking such an interest in you. And they weren't lying. They had a lot of love and care to give, you could feel it in the way they held you and spoke to you. And you'd only met them yesterday! How was this possible?

But you didn't want to question it, you just wanted to melt into their warmth and strength, enjoy the moment, neither look back nor ahead. It felt good. Good enough to bring tears into your eyes. A little sob escaped you, and you buried your face firmer into Daddy's chest. Mommy let go first, and before you knew it, Daddy's hands were on your shoulders, leaning you back a little.

Looking up, you realized your vision was blurry. As you tried to blink your eyes into focus, you felt his fingers wiping at your wet cheeks, a concerned look on his handsome face.

“I... I'm fine,” you murmured quickly, sniffling quietly. “These are... happy tears...”

His relieved exhale hit your forehead before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth. Meeting his gaze, you couldn't help it, you turned your head a little bit and used his closeness to brush your lips fully against his. His hands held you still for a moment, the kiss, if you could call it that, a lingering press, before he leaned back with a deep sigh.

“Sorry, darling, today's Mommy's day,” he whispered, giving you a wink. “We can expand on this tomorrow, okay?” As his fingers curled around your ear, his thumb rubbed over your bottom lip. “Trust me, I can't wait...”

You gave him a shy smile, your face properly burning now. He eventually let go of you fully and stepped back. Mommy put her hands on your shoulders. “See you later, Daddy,” she cooed.

“Bye, ladies, have fun,” he said with a little wave, his eyes fixed on you.

“Bye, Daddy,” you whispered, watching how his eyes sparkled when he winked at you, before he turned around and left the room.

You were still buzzing, basically floating, so when Mommy told you to wash your face and brush your teeth and use the toilet, you did as she told you, ignoring how degrading this should have felt, being told to do the most basic things, things a person your age should be able to do on her own. But it also felt good, having someone push you to do so, and she didn't sound condescending or mocking, but caring and sweet now that you were alone again.

Once you were all ready for the day, you stood, still in your towel, in the middle of the room (your room) while she pulled out various clothes, watching you as she did so, assessing your build and size, and in the end she chose a pair of pink panties for you and a matching bra that was a little loose but she assured you to buy better fitting things for you soon. You wondered then who all those clothes belonged to, they looked too girly to have been hers, and the wide array of different sizes also made you curious.

She looked at you as she held a knee-length pink dress to your chest. “We bought these for our old subs,” she said nonchalantly as if reading your mind. “I told you we've been looking for the right girl for a while. And we tried, tested a few, but none of them would really fit our needs, you know? You, however,” she added, putting the dress down to place her hands on your shoulders as she looked down at you with a soft smile, “you are what we're looking for. I can already tell. You belong here, and soon we'll fill this closet with your own things, and only yours, okay?”

You stared at her, your throat tight. Knowing that other girls had spent their time in this room, with these people, with your Mommy and Daddy, made you feel strangely small and insignificant. Like one of many. And you wondered when they would realize that you might not fit their needs either so they could move to the next girl. But you still hoped beyond hope that what she said was true. “So... so you won't... send me away again?”

“Oh, sweet thing, of course not, unless you want to leave, but I really hope you'll stay with us. We can give you anything you need, and you'd make us so happy too!” She pulled you against her bare chest (she still hadn't bothered putting on any clothes and you really envied her confidence), her arms tight around your shoulders as you gingerly hugged her back, feeling the soft slope of her spine under your clammy palms.

She kissed your forehead and let go again, smiling down at you. You felt the need to reassure her. “I'll... stay, I want to stay,” you whispered, biting your lip as a little smile played around the corner of your mouth.

Her hands found your face. “I'm glad,” she breathed, her lips brushing against yours, and then she really kissed you, a hard press, a confident lick against the seam of your mouth before you indulged her and kissed her back, timidly moving your tongue and lips against hers. “You taste so sweet,” she muttered, sighing deeply as she moved her lips down your jaw to your neck, giving your pulse a little suck that made you flinch a little. “I can't wait to taste more of you...”

Her words sent another deep shudder down your spine that ultimately gathered right in your throbbing clit. You had no idea what it was about this woman, about this whole situation, but anything she did to you, any touch, any word, made you feel like you never felt before. It was all warm and cozy, but it could turn hot and overwhelming in the blink of an eye. You slipped from feeling comfortable to completely aroused, back and forth, and it should be weird, but it wasn't. It felt right.

Mommy gave you another press of her lips to your neck before she leaned away, letting go of you to pick up the pink dress. “Alright, let's get ready for our Girls Day, shall we?” she said happily, shoving the dress into your hands. “Get dressed, I'll do the same, and I'll meet you here soon, okay?”

“Yes, Mommy,” you whispered, enduring/savoring another tight hug and a squeal from her, before she did what she told you and left the room, as naked as she was, her hips swaying as she went.

Later, you sat next to her in the back of the car again. She had put on a dark blue blouse and wide-legged pants, the pointy tips of her high heels poking out from the wide hem as she crossed her legs and leaned back into her seat, her hand on your thigh as she smiled at you. You smiled back shyly, feeling rather small next to her, in your soft pink dress, your magenta tights and those white little sneakers she gave you.

You had never cared much about being girly or wearing bright colors before, but it felt okay when somebody else told you to do so. The way she looked at you, so proud and happy, made it all worth it, even if you didn't quite feel like yourself anymore. But that was the point of this, wasn't it? To get you out of your old habits and show you something new, a new side of yourself. It could only get better from here, right?

Well.

Before it got better, it got a lot worse when you found yourself in a small room with a woman telling you to strip for her. Mommy was there too, but the stranger made you feel very uncomfortable. You were in one of those beauty salons you'd never seen the inside of. The woman seemed nice enough, or rather passive more likely, because it was her job to groom and take care of other people and she probably saw many different kinds of women each day, but you couldn't shake the feeling of a deep-rooted shame as you pulled your dress over your head, exposing yourself, feeling vulnerable and embarrassed and very insecure to show this stranger your neglected body.

Mommy helped you, her eager hands pulling down your tights (and panties) in one swift move, and you gasped and squirmed, trying to cover yourself, but she shushed you quietly. “It's okay, no need to be shy. I'm right here, you can do this.” You inhaled sharply, trying to focus on her as you stepped out of your tights, watching her put your clothes onto a nearby chair before she snaked her hands around your torso and unclasped your bra, adding it to the pile.

“Sit down please,” the other woman told you. When you looked at her, you noticed her almost bored looking gaze, as if she indeed did this several times a day. Nevertheless, you didn't, never had done this before, and when you scooted up on the reclined chair covered in a soft towel, you felt close to tears.

Clamping your thighs together, you put your hands on your breasts (wondering why you had to expose them in the first place when this was about trimming your body hair), when you felt Mommy's hands on yours as she leaned over you from behind. “Relax, baby girl,” she told you, turning her head to kiss your cheek. “Just relax. Lean back, close your eyes, and let the nice lady do her job, okay?”

And you tried. She kept her hands on your chest to ground you, giving your boobs gentle squeezes whenever you flinched or winced or squirmed as the nice lady began working on you. She started on your legs, and while you thought she might shave them as you would have done, she waxed them, and it felt strange when she applied the warm wax, but even worse when she suddenly ripped the sheets she pressed down onto your leg away again, causing you to squeak and almost kick her in the face.

Mommy kept close to you, hugging you, soothing you, her fingers drawing distracting circles around your nipples. You turned your head to her, your face flushed, watching her soft smile, the twinkle in her eyes, and somehow you made it through the torture of having your legs waxed. But then you felt a nudge against your thigh.

Looking back to the woman, you noticed her adding something to the chair you were resting on. Some sort of stirrups, and you realized you'd have to spread your legs and put them on there, because she –

– was about to wax your sex next. Oh dear God.

A whimper escaped you, your thighs pressing even tighter together, and you looked back at Mommy, pleading with her. She shook her head and caressed your cheek. “It's okay, honey, it won't hurt for long.” But it will hurt, you wanted to tell her, your eyes widening. “You're a big girl, aren't you? You can take it.”

And somehow her well-meant words made you feel even worse. Shame flooded your entire body, your blush spreading down to your chest. Your legs were still burning and irritated, the skin tight, and to imagine the same procedure between your thighs? But being treated like a little girl in front of this stranger gave you a weird boost of confidence, reverse-psychology-style. Because you were not a little girl, you were a grown ass woman, you should be able to deal with this! Clenching your jaw, you inhaled deeply, looking up at the ceiling as you lifted your legs and put them into the contraptions of the chair.

You forced yourself to ignore the cold breeze against your pussy lips, the way the woman stepped closer, the way her gloved fingers applied the wax over the coarse hairs of your mound. Your own hands clamped down on the edge of the seat, your breaths labored as you waited for the inevitable pain to shoot through your body. But when it came, you still jerked, a scream escaping your tight throat that was quickly silenced as you felt Mommy's hands on your face, making you look at her.

You felt tears burning in your eyes, the throbbing pain between your legs only part of the sudden waterworks. Her gaze was stern and hard, and you couldn't look away. You kept chewing on your bottom lip, wondering if you'd disappointed her by being so squeamish about this. If she'd change her mind about you being the perfect one. As the first tear rolled down your cheek, her gaze softened, her thumb tracing the path it took to your jaw.

She leaned in then, pressing her lips against your forehead, while another jolt of pain ripped through you as more of your hair was pulled out. You flinched, but you also forced yourself not to scream again. You did bite your tongue and tasted blood, but you didn't want to show her how much you suffered. She had brought you here, probably spent quite a sum to give you this treatment (and you were in dire need of it too, even if you couldn't really handle the pain and shame it brought with it), and you knew you should be grateful. And you were, you would be, afterwards, when the pain was gone and your skin smooth again, but right now all you could do was cry quietly and endure.

You felt dizzy by the end of it, barely able to move your limbs. So you let the woman arrange you how she needed you, noticing that Mommy had shifted behind the chair, looking down at you, holding your hands above your head as your arms were being lifted, more wax came down and more pain throbbed through you, your armpits burning like they'd never done before. Through bleary eyes you watched her, squeezing her hands back, feeling lightheaded and disoriented.

And then it was over, finally. Someone pulled you off the chair and onto trembling legs, Mommy helped you get dressed again. Your skin was warm and tight, but as smooth as it had ever been. The shame of the procedure was just a little flame in the back of your mind now, somehow you felt too numb to care anymore.

Once you were in your tights and dress again, you were guided into another room, onto another chair, and while Mommy sat down on a stool next to you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, you felt a new pair of hands on your head, fingers loosening the messy bun on top before slipping through the wild strands. You inhaled deeply and leaned into the chair, letting them do their thing. It hurt when they brushed through the unruly mess that was your hair, it hurt when they plugged your eyebrows into shape, it hurt and stung and the shame flared up from time to time, but you tried to focus on Mommy and her beautiful face, as she watched you closely, never not paying attention to you.

That might have been the weirdest thing. The way she always watched you, so attentively. Nobody had ever looked at you like this, not even your own mother, who had always been busy with other things, your siblings, one of her husbands, her phone, the TV, anything else, while you tried to tell her about that drawing you made in preschool that day. You remember that you eventually gave up telling her anything, and the older you got, the more you distanced yourself from her, because it wasn't worth it anymore. She just didn't seem to care, and she did a very bad job at hiding it also.

But this woman, the one you met yesterday, looked at you with so much care in her pretty eyes, held your hand between hers, warm and gentle but firm, showing you she was there. She cared, she barely knew you, but she cared, and it brought another tear into your eye that you quickly wiped with your free hand, before giving her a brave smile as your head was jerked back a little again. And because she cared, you cared too, you wanted to show her that you were indeed a big girl, that this didn't hurt, that it wasn't uncomfortable, that you could endure.

This was for your own good anyway (even if it felt like torture). She was trying to make you your own person again, bring you back into the world that had spat you out so ruthlessly.

Eventually, you relaxed into whatever was happening around you. Your eyes fluttered closed, your hand gave hers the occasional squeeze, and you just lay there, thinking about your new life, thinking back to the tall man waiting his turn back home (your home... what a twist), and you wondered how he would spend the day with you. Would he do Dad-things with you? Take you to some sports event? Watch TV with you? Go fishing, maybe? You realized you had no idea what a father would even do with his kid, because neither your biological father nor any of your various step-fathers had ever shown any interest in you.

Then again, maybe you shouldn't focus on the Dad-things, but the Daddy-things. Because quite frankly, you didn't want this man to be your father, you wanted him to be there for you, hold you and kiss you, be something more to you, you wanted to sit on his lap again, lean against him, feel his warmth and strength, and his hands all over you...

A little gasp escaped you as you felt your core clenching around nothing, a little throb, then a little drip into your underwear. It had been a long while since you were attracted to anyone in any way, and somehow, after just a few moments with that man you knew practically nothing about, you felt your heart beating faster just thinking about him. But when you opened your eyes, coming back from your mind to notice the woman still holding your hand, you realized it wasn't just him.

You also liked her, the way she touched you, kissed you, how confident she was, how she made you feel both small and comfortable at the same time. You had never questioned your sexuality, never really considered yourself one or the other or anything else for that matter (you had a boyfriend in high school, and girlfriends you'd play around with, but it was never as intense and eye-opening as whatever you were experiencing right now).

It was all new and exciting, and knowing you had the attention of a beautiful woman and a handsome man was just mind-boggling to you. It felt like a dream, and not even the throbbing pain still coursing through your body seemed to be able to wake you up from it.

At the end of it all, you sat in the car again, next to Mommy, who still held your hand. After getting a new haircut (only a little trim), she'd taken you to the nail salon, and together you chose a subtle pink for your nails. They remained short and natural, but it felt so much better knowing they added to the overall transformation of your once neglected body. You did feel like a new person, a new girl, a young woman, ready to begin a new chapter of her life.

The trunk of the car was full of bags, filled with dresses and skirts, blouses and shirts, sweaters and cardigans, socks and tights and a variety of shoes, all of it girly, elegant, but also comfortable and chic, a whole closet full of things that only fit you. Buying underwear was another ordeal with Mommy, but in the end she found you beautiful pieces, ranging from cute and modest to really extravagant and barely covering anything.

And you felt good seeing yourself in them, confident despite all those areas you didn't particularly like – because apparently there was underwear that didn't have to be too loose or too tight, like the ones you'd bought before, the cheap ones. These new ones hugged your body like a second skin, accentuated the good parts and hid the bad ones, making you feel so much better about yourself.

During your shopping trip, Mommy bought you lunch and later a milkshake, walking with her hand around yours. While she did most of the talking, small talk mostly that you appreciated very much, you felt more and more at ease with her. Yesterday she'd been a stranger, and now, she was your Mommy, someone who took care of you, who laughed with you, who made you feel comfortable.

When the car returned to the mansion, the adventures of the day weighed you down more than you thought. You were tired, still a little sore from the waxing, but overall you were happier than you'd been in ages. Mommy helped you out of the car and pulled you towards the entrance door, while the driver started carrying all those bags into the house. In the kitchen, you were met by a delicious smell, and a large frame that made your heart beat faster.

“You've returned,” Daddy greeted you (looking so incredibly handsome in a white button-up with the sleeves rolled up over his strong forearms), putting down a dish towel before he approached you. Mommy let go of your hand and gave you a gentle nudge that you didn't really need, because in the next second you had fallen against the tall man's chest, your arms tight around his waist. “Aww, did you miss Daddy, baby girl?” he cooed, embracing you just as tightly.

You mumbled your confirmation against him, closing your eyes as you just leaned into him, no longer wondering why it felt so easy to be this close to these people. It just felt right. The way they looked at you, treated you, paid attention to you, all the trouble they went through for you. It was special, and you embraced it by embracing them, knowing how easy it was to please them with just a few words and a few simple displays of affection.

Eventually, he leaned you back by holding your shoulders, his eyes wandering over your flushed face and your bouncy new hair. His fingers stroked along your tresses, twirling the ends playfully. “Looks really good on you,” he told you, and you smiled shyly. “You're even more beautiful now, sweet girl,” he added quietly as he bent down to press his lips against your cheek.

You squirmed away with a soft giggle when he nuzzled your jaw, his hands roaming down your body to tease at your ribs. You fell into a full-on laughing fit when he continued tickling you, digging his fingers into your sides, while his teeth grazed along your pulse, your own hands grasping helplessly at his forearms.

“What a sweet sound,” he breathed against you before he stopped and grabbed your waist, lifting you effortlessly until his arms rested just beneath your rear, holding you up. You put your hands on his shoulders, looking down at him with your cheeks aflame and tears burning in your eyes, still smiling at him. “My sweet little pumpkin.”

You scrunched your nose at the nickname, making him grin even wider at you.

“Can I call you pumpkin, sweet girl?” he asked quietly, shifting you on his arms.

You considered it, wondering how he even got to calling you that, but then couldn't find a reason for him not to call you so. It did sound rather nice. “You can call me anything you want, Daddy,” you whispered breathlessly, your heart beating even faster.

“Yeah?”

You nodded, biting your lip. He turned you both around then and sat you down on the counter, leaning on his arms as he caged you in. His face was inches away from yours, his hot breath ghosting your lips. You watched him with growing anticipation, that tension in your stomach intensifying with every rapid heartbeat. He leaned closer, his nose brushing against yours, his eyes boring into your own, so intense, so hungry, and he tilted his head, your lips parted in preparation –

“So what's for dinner?” cut Mommy's voice through your special moment.

Daddy closed his eyes and leaned back slowly, exhaling loudly. You watched him, still holding your breath, your hands curled tight around the edge of the counter, your knees pressed together so hard your legs were trembling. He brushed his hands over your thighs, fingers teasing between them only for a second before he was gone, stepping away to the other side of the kitchen island, while Mommy took his place in front of you.

You saw them exchanging a long gaze, something dark glinting in Mommy's eyes. Her hands found your knees, and without looking at you, she forced them apart with a strength you hadn't expected from her. Gasping softly, you stared at her, and when her hands disappeared under the skirt of your dress, you stiffened. She looked back at you then, her eyes as intense as Daddy's had been.

“Girls Day isn't over yet, sweetheart,” she whispered, tilting her head before she leaned closer, brushing her full lips against yours. Her fingers moved around your rear before they slipped under the waistband of your tights. Your heart skipped several beats as she started pulling them down, and you squirmed on the counter, struggling between allowing her the motion and fighting it.

“You should give her a break,” sounded Daddy's voice from behind her, and when you looked past her as she lowered her head with a deep sigh, you saw concern and something else in his dark eyes.

“Don't tell me what to do,” Mommy whispered quietly, slowly turning around enough to look at him. Her hands were still halfway down your tights, her body wedged between your spread legs.

He stared at her, narrowing his eyes. “It's her first day, babe,” he said, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

She gritted her teeth, looking away until her suddenly cold eyes found yours. Your breath hitched in your throat. “But Mommy's hungry,” she muttered, licking her upper lip. You swallowed thickly, watching the exchange with bated breath, not quite understanding what was going on.

“Have dinner then,” he replied from behind her. “Greta made ravioli.”

Slowly, she slipped her hands from inside your tights and grabbed the waistband, shifting you back into them with a jerk. You gasped softly, scooting back on the counter. Then she gripped your chin and made you look at her. “Fine,” she said quietly. “Let's have dinner. I'll have you for dessert then, hm, sweet cheeks?”

She pulled you closer to her and smashed her lips against yours, inhaling deeply before leaning back again, letting go of you abruptly and stepping away, her heels clicking over the hardwood floor. And you sat there, on the counter, with your lips parted and trembling, confusion washing over you as you followed her with wide eyes.

Daddy extended a hand to you and, once you grabbed it hesitantly, helped you off the counter. Still holding your hand, he bent down to whisper softly: “Don't mind her, she gets cranky when she's hungry.” He winked at you then, squeezing your fingers.

You blinked up at him in even bigger confusion, but eventually you let it slide and let him pull you through the kitchen and into the dining room.

“By the way, I haven't asked before, so I told our chef to make something vegan. Do you eat meat, pumpkin? Do you have any allergies?” Daddy asked quietly as he pulled out a chair and motioned you to sit down.

“I, uh, I do, eat meat, I mean. And no allergies I know of,” you replied with a stammer, your legs still shaking a little.

“Good, that's perfect,” he mused and walked around you, sitting down at the head of the long table, while Mommy sat across from you, studying her nails.

Between you was a large plate covered by one of those fancy metal hoods, and when Daddy lifted it, a heavenly smell distracted you from the strange tension around you. There were three different types of handmade ravioli, big ones, not those tiny ones you'd eat straight out of the can, they looked so fancy and professional and delicious of all things, and when you listened to his explanation of which was which, you couldn't decide which one to choose, so you took one of each, earning you a little laugh from Daddy.

“That's a good appetite,” he praised, taking one for himself before he held out the prongs to Mommy. She turned her head to him, her eyes narrowed, and when she closed her fingers around his, you could see her knuckles blanching.

“Shopping makes hungry, you know?” she said pointedly, snatching the prongs out of his grip to put two ravioli onto her own plate.

He just sighed and lifted his fork. “Well, dig in, and again, welcome to your new home, pumpkin,” he added with a nod towards you.

You smiled shyly, nodding back. “Thank you,” you mumbled timidly, before you inhaled deeply, looking over the table to Mommy who seemed to poke at her food with quite the disinterest. “Really, thank you for everything, Mommy,” you said a little louder. “I had a great time today.”

She looked up then, her hard gaze softening immediately. Her hand reached across the table to brush against yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Me too, cariño,” she whispered, a small smile grazing her lips.

Seeing her relax again made your heart beat a little faster.

“Aren't you two the sweetest,” Daddy mused, his fork halfway up to his mouth. “Eat up now before it gets cold.”

Mommy pulled her hand away and focused back on her plate, ignoring Daddy's comment. You looked at him, feeling your cheeks burning up when he gave you another wink, before you turned back to your food as well.

Your mind was reeling from all the impressions of this single day. It was still something of a blur, a dreamlike experience, and occasionally a few doubts would poke through the cotton in your head, making you wonder when you'd wake up again. But you didn't. It seemed real enough. A real dinner, with real food, and real people. People who watched you, who offered you more, who reached out to scrape sauce off your cheek.

It had been twenty-four hours, and yet it felt as if you'd known these people way longer. The way they cared for you made it all so much easier. It was a dream, but a dream come true. And somehow you knew that there was a lot more on the horizon.

Chapter 3 🔷️ Chapter 4 🔷️ Chapter 5

End notes: Probably should have mentioned it earlier, but the whole waxing/makeover scene is only to show how Reader's depression made it impossible for her to take care of herself, it's not to shame anyone choosing to have body hair, because that is of course a choice. Please do not take offense in Mommy's ideals, she just wants to make Reader feel pretty in her own, slightly controlling way (that could be considered a bit dubcon if you squint, but really, Reader just isn't in a state of mind where she knows what she wants yet, so this is all some good-natured nudging).

Thank you for reading! New chapter every Saturday!

Up next: You are back in Daddy's arms, and he has his own special plans for you...

MASTERLIST 🔷️ AO3 🔷️ ORIGINAL WORKS

[h0efor2ho]

Tutoring Temptation

Wonwoo X Reader

WC - 6.1k ( I got carried away )

TW - Nerd!Wonwoo, there is plot here with the porn, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it kids) cream pie, Wonwoo is the sweetest ever.

You'v always been a pretty good student. Able to keep up a 3.6 gpa while still having a decent social life. That was till you entered advanced calculus in your second year of college. You just couldn't grasp it no matter how hard you tried to study. Your grades dropping down to a 3.2 gpa. Your parents threatening to pull you out of school if you don't get your shit together. "Stop partying and start studying" your mother said. So you did. Spending night after night reading your text book, looking over your notes. Turning down invitations to house parties. Even going as far as to record your class and watch it back later. That's when you noticed that the guy who sits in the front of the room seems to always raise his hand and always gets the answer right. The idea formed in your head right away. You'd ask him to tutor you. You desperately needed the help and you figured he knew what he was doing.

The next day you make your way to class early, waiting and looking as students file into the lecture hall. It doesn't take long before you see his head of dark hair enter the room and make a b-line for the front seat. You quickly make your was down the steps past people talking till your feet hit the bottom floor and turn to carry you right up to his chair. He's bent over, back angled toward you as he pulls things out of his bag. His shirt neatly tucked into his brown pants, with a blazer over it. He doesn't notice you at all. "Uhm hey..."

Shit, you dont even know his name. You try and think back to the videos from class, of your professor calling him by name when you raised his hand. You're drawing a blank. He spins in his chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose as he looks up at you. "Uhmm" you say again as you take in his features. He's not that bad looking for a nerd persay you think. "Wonwoo" he says snapping you out of your own thoughts. "huh" you ask.

"Wonwoo. My name. It's Wonwoo" he gives you a small smile. "Oh yea." you give him a small nervous laugh. "Sorry, I'm bad with names. I'm also really bad at calculus. Which is why I'm here bothering you. I was hoping maybe you could tutor me?" you finish rambling and give him what you hope is not a cringy smile. Wonwoo tilts his head slightly, considering your request. His dark eyes study you for a moment before he replies, "I see. And here I thought you might be asking me on a date," he quips, his voice low and unexpectedly smooth. You feel heat rise to your cheeks, caught off guard by his playful response. "Oh, uh, no... I mean, not that you're not... I just..." you stammer, mentally kicking yourself for suddenly losing your ability to form coherent sentences.

He chuckles softly, seemingly enjoying your flustered state. "Relax, I'm just teasing. I suppose I could help you out. When were you thinking?" Relief washes over you. "Really? That would be amazing. I'm free pretty much any evening. Whatever works best for you." He nods, pulling out a small planner from his bag. "How about tomorrow night at 7? We can meet at the library." "Perfect," you say, trying not to sound too eager. "Thank you so much, Wonwoo. I really appreciate it." He gives you another small smile. "No problem. Just make sure you bring your textbook and notes." You nod enthusiastically, about to respond when the professor walks in and calls the class to order. You quickly make your way back to your seat, heart beating a little faster than usual.

As you sit down, you can't help but glance down at Wonwoo. He's already focused on the professor, his pen poised over his notebook. You find yourself wondering what he's like outside of class. Is he always so composed? Does he ever let loose? The lecture begins, but your mind keeps drifting back to your upcoming tutoring session. You try to concentrate, scribbling down notes and formulas, but your thoughts are a jumble of calculus and curiosity about your new tutor. The rest of the day passes in a blur. You barely remember your other classes, your mind preoccupied with preparing for tomorrow night. That evening, you gather your calculus materials, making sure everything is organized and ready. You even jot down a list of specific questions and problem areas you want to address. That night, you toss and turn, your mind racing with thoughts of complex equations and Wonwoo's unexpected charm. When you finally drift off, your dreams are a bizarre mix of calculus symbols and dark, knowing eyes behind glasses.

The next day drags on endlessly. You constantly check the time, willing the hours to pass faster. When 6:30 finally rolls around, you grab your backpack and head to the library arriving early, claiming a quiet table in the back corner. As you spread out your materials, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and anxiety. The sound of approaching footsteps makes you look up, and there's Wonwoo, looking as put-together as always in a navy sweater and dark jeans. "Right on time," you say, trying to sound casual. He smiles, sliding into the chair next to you. "I'm nothing if not punctual. So, where should we start?" For the next hour, Wonwoo patiently guides you through problem after problem. His explanations are clear and concise, and you find yourself grasping concepts that had previously made you struggle. As you work through a particularly tricky equation, you can't help but notice how close he's leaning in, his shoulder nearly touching yours as he points out a crucial step. You catch a whiff of his cologne – a subtle, woodsy scent that's surprisingly appealing.

"See? It's all about breaking it down into smaller parts," he explains, his voice low and close to your ear. You nod, trying to focus on the numbers and not on the warmth radiating from his body. As the session progresses, you find yourself relaxing, even joking with Wonwoo about some of the more absurd word problems in your textbook. His dry sense of humor surprises and delights you, and you catch yourself laughing more than you have in weeks "You know," he says, leaning back in his chair, "you're not half bad at this when you actually focus." You feel a flutter of pride at his words. "Thanks," you say, smiling. "I guess I just needed the right teacher." Wonwoo's eyes meet yours, and for a moment, you think you can see a spark of something behind his gaze. He clears his throat and glances at his watch. "We've been at this for almost two hours. Do you want to take a break?"

You nod, suddenly aware of how stiff your muscles feel from sitting hunched over your textbook. "Yeah, that sounds good.” Wonwoo smiles “Maybe we could grab a coffee? I know just the place," He says, standing up and stretching. You try not to stare as his sweater rides up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his waistband. You follow him out of the library and across campus to a small, cozy coffee shop tucked away in a corner you've never noticed before. As you step inside, the aroma of freshly ground coffee beans envelops you. The shop is dimly lit, with mismatched vintage furniture and local artwork adorning the walls. It's intimate and charming, nothing like the bustling campus coffee chains you usually frequent.

"This place is amazing," you say, taking it all in. "How have I never been here before?" Wonwoo smiles, a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's a bit of a hidden gem. I like to come here when I need to escape the chaos of campus life." You follow him to the counter, where a barista with long blonde hair greets Wonwoo by name. "The usual?" she asks, already reaching for a mug. "Please," he nods, then turns to you. "What would you like? Their lavender latte is excellent if you're feeling adventurous." "I'll try that then," you say, intrigued by his recommendation. As you reach for your wallet, Wonwoo waves you off. "My treat," he says. "Consider it payment for being such a good student today."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his gesture. "Thank you," you say, touched by his kindness. You follow Wonwoo to a cozy corner booth, sinking into the plush velvet seats. The soft glow of Edison bulbs hanging overhead casts a warm light across his features, softening the sharp angles of his face. You notice  things about him you hadn't before. Like a small scar just above his left eyebrow, and the fact that is hair is not black but a very dark shade of brown. "So," you say, breaking the comfortable silence, "What made you decide to major in math? I mean, you're clearly good at it, but there must be a story there." Wonwoo looks at you, a thoughtful expression on his face. "It's always just made sense to me, you know? There's a beauty in the logic of it all. Plus," he adds with a wry smile, "it impresses people at parties."

You laugh, surprised by his humor. "I can imagine. Though I have to admit, I've never been to a party where calculus was the main topic of conversation." Wonwoo's eyes twinkle with amusement. "Then you're clearly going to the wrong parties. What about you? What's your major?" "Psychology," you reply. "Interesting," Wonwoo muses. "So you're studying the complexities of the human mind while I'm dealing with the complexities of mathematics." You're struck by his observation, realizing there's more depth to Wonwoo than you initially thought.

As you talk, you find yourself opening up about your struggles with calculus, your fears of disappointing your parents. Wonwoo listens intently, his dark eyes focused on you. When you finish, he leans forward slightly. "I understand that pressure," he says softly. "It's not easy living up to others' expectations." There's a vulnerability in his voice that surprises you. For a moment, you see past the composed exterior to someone who might be struggling with his own doubts and insecurities. "How do you do it?" you ask. "How do you make it all look so effortless?" Wonwoo's lips quirk into a half-smile. "Trust me, it's not effortless. I just... I've learned to channel my anxiety into my work. But sometimes, I wonder if I'm missing out on other aspects of college life."

You're about to respond when the barista approaches with your drinks. She sets down two steaming mugs, the rich, floral scent of lavender rising from your cup. You give Wonwoo a quick glance, and he nods in thanks, offering a soft smile. "Here you go," the barista says before retreating behind the counter. You wrap your hands around the warm mug, feeling the heat seep into your palms, a comforting contrast to the coolness of the evening. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, the warmth in your chest spreading. "This place really is great. Perfect for getting away from everything." Wonwoo nods, taking a slow sip from his own drink. He seems more relaxed here, away from the chaos of the main campus. "Yeah, it's one of my favorite spots. Feels like a little slice of calm." His eyes flicker to you briefly, an unreadable look in them before he shifts slightly in his seat, settling back.

For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable silence, the ambient hum of the café filling the gaps between your conversation. You take a sip of your lavender latte, savoring the sweet, floral taste, feeling oddly at peace. "So," Wonwoo finally breaks the silence, his voice a little softer now. "You mentioned earlier that you're majoring in psychology. What made you choose that?" You think for a moment, your fingers tracing the rim of your cup. "I guess I’ve always been curious about what makes people tick," you say. "Why we do the things we do, how we make decisions, how we deal with emotions... There's just so much to learn, you know? It feels like there's always something new to discover." Wonwoo listens, his gaze thoughtful, and you can tell he's really taking in your words. "It’s interesting," he murmurs, "how you’re trying to understand people while I’m trying to make sense of... numbers. There’s something kind of poetic about it."

You smile, surprised at how well he understands. "I guess we're not so different after all, huh?" He chuckles lightly, leaning back into his chair. "Seems like it." His eyes meet yours for a brief second, a spark of something flickering in them. "You know, I didn’t take you for a psych major, no offense. It's just the only thing I knew about you before tonight was that you partied a lot. You chuckle, a little embarrassed. “Yea, I guess I gave off that vibe before I got serious about school,” you admit, feeling a bit sheepish. “I always had a good time, but I’ve definitely been focusing more lately. Trying to get things back on track. Your parents threatening to pull you from school does that to you" Wonwoo nods in understanding, his expression thoughtful. "It's good that you're figuring things out. College can be a balancing act. But you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily. I think you’ll get there."

His words, simple but encouraging, make you feel a little lighter, like the weight of everything isn't so heavy anymore. "I hope so," you say, taking another sip of your latte. "Honestly, it’s nice to talk to someone who gets it. I feel like I’ve been caught up in my own head lately, especially with everything going on at home." Wonwoo's eyes soften at your words. "You don’t have to carry it all on your own, you know. It’s okay to lean on people." He pauses, then adds, almost as an afterthought, "And sometimes it’s okay to take a break too." You look at him, really look at him for the first time since you’ve sat down, and for the first time, you notice that there’s more to him than just the quiet, reserved guy who aces every class. There’s a quiet strength in him, a kind of stability that draws you in.

"Thanks, Wonwoo. I really appreciate everything," you say, your voice sincere. He smiles again, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly, and for a second, you can’t help but feel a little spark of something more between the two of you. Something you can’t quite place but that feels strangely warm and comfortable. "Anytime," he replies, his voice low and steady. "And hey, don’t worry. You’ll figure out calculus. But if you ever need someone to talk to... about anything else, I’m here." You smile, feeling a little flutter of gratitude. "I think I just might take you up on that."

The two of you sit there for a while longer, enjoying your drinks and the quiet atmosphere of the café, talking about everything from school to silly memories to your favorite music. You realize how easy it is to talk to him, how comfortable you feel in his presence. And even though you’re still not sure what exactly is happening between you two, you can’t deny that something is starting to change.  As the night grows later, the cafe begins to empty out, and you both realize it's getting late. You stand up, gathering your things, and Wonwoo does the same. "Thanks for the coffee," you say again, a little reluctantly. "And for everything tonight. I feel like I actually get calculus now." You grin.

Wonwoo smirks, clearly pleased. "I’m glad I could help. Just don’t expect me to tutor you every night. I have my own assignments too." He says it with a teasing tone, but you can tell he’s enjoying this new dynamic between you. “I’ll take that as a challenge,” you reply, grinning back. "I hope you do." He replies as he opens the door for you. As you both step out into the cool night air, you feel a sense of warmth linger between you, something subtle but unmistakable. The evening was a nice break from the grind of school, but there’s also this growing sense that maybe, just maybe, you’ve stumbled upon something more than just a tutoring session.

As you walk together back to campus, the conversation flows easily, the chemistry between you two undeniable. Wonwoo’s witty remarks and insightful comments seem to draw you in further, and you can’t help but find yourself eagerly looking forward to the next time you’ll see him, even though you try to play it cool. “So, same time tomorrow?” you ask, trying to sound casual but failing to hide the excitement bubbling underneath. Wonwoo turns to you, a half-smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I think we can make that happen. But how about we meet at my dorm, I expect you to bring your A-game,” he teases, nudging you playfully with his shoulder “Deal,” you breath out.

The next day feels like it stretches on forever as you go through the motions of your classes, but your mind keeps drifting back to Wonwoo. The way he helped you the night before, the casual banter, and that lingering smile — it all replayed in your head in a loop. Something about him made everything seem easier, not just calculus, but the world in general. When evening finally rolls around, you find yourself feeling oddly nervous, though you try to brush it off as you gather your notes and make your way to his dorm. Your heart beats a little faster as you walk, the excitement of yesterday's conversation still fresh in your mind. 

As you approach the dorm, you see Wonwoo waiting outside, leaning casually against the brick wall, his arms crossed talking to Mingyu, the quarterback on the football team. He’s wearing a simple white tee shirt and gray sweatpants, his usual composed demeanor softer, somehow more approachable in this setting. When he sees you, he straightens up and gives you a smile that makes your stomach flutter, before dismissing himself from their conversation. You watch as Mingyu walks away as Wonwoo walks to you.

“Ready for round two?” he asks, a playful glint in his eye. You laugh, feeling the tension melt away. “I’m ready. Let’s do this.” You glance at his outfit. "Glad we chose casual attire today" you poke at him. He chuckles rubbing the back of his neck. "Yea I just got out of the shower, I was at the gym with Mingyu." You make your was up the flight of stairs. "I didn't realize you two were friends." You say as you follow him. "Yea we grew up together. He's the closest thing I have to a brother." As you step inside his dorm, it’s clear this isn’t your typical college living situation. The space is surprisingly neat and organized, with a few bookshelves lining the walls and a desk cluttered with notebooks and textbooks, but in a controlled way, as if it was a deliberate mess. There’s a sense of order to it, just like him. You hang up your sweater on the coat hook, take off your shoes, and take a seat on his bed. Wonwoo follows you into the room, his footsteps quiet on the carpeted floor. He grabs his textbook from his desk and then turns to face you. There’s a small, amused smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he observes you settling in on his bed. 

“You sure look like you’re comfortable there?” he asks, his tone teasing but still warm. He walks over and climbs up on the bed with you, close to you. "Comfortable?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. You smirk, leaning back slightly on your hands. "Very. I figured if I’m going to suffer through calculus, I might as well do it in comfort." Wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head before sitting down beside you, placing the textbook between you both. "Alright, let’s get started then. No distractions this time." You nod, but it’s hard to ignore the fact that you’re sitting this close to him, the warmth of his body radiating next to you. You force yourself to focus as he starts explaining derivatives, his voice calm and patient.

The study session goes smoothly at first, but as the minutes tick by, you find yourself more aware of the way Wonwoo’s fingers move as he writes out equations, the slight crease in his brow when he’s thinking, the way his lips curve ever so slightly when he glances at you to check if you’re following along. At one point, you get stuck on a problem, groaning in frustration. "I swear, calculus was invented just to torture people." Wonwoo laughs, leaning in slightly as he looks over your work. "You're overcomplicating it. Look—" His hand brushes against yours as he reaches for your pencil, his touch brief but enough to send a tiny spark through you. You glance at him, and for a second, neither of you says anything. The air between you shifts, something unspoken lingering in the silence. He leans in slightly, eyes tracking your face. "It's all about perspective," he murmurs, his voice low and unexpectedly close. He's still holding your pencil, his fingers brushing against yours, and the simple act feels charged with an energy you can't quite explain. You can smell his cologne again, that same subtle, woodsy scent from the coffee shop, and it’s intoxicatingly distracting.

He doesn't pull away, and neither do you. The textbook lies forgotten between you, the complex equations blurring into meaningless symbols. His gaze flickers down to your lips, then back up to your eyes, and you can see a flicker of something in the depths of his dark pupils – something that mirrors the nervous excitement fluttering in your chest. "You know," he says, his voice barely a whisper, "I never would have guessed you were so… focused." The word hangs in the air, loaded with a double meaning. You know he's not just talking about calculus anymore. "Focused?" you echo, your voice equally soft. He nods, his eyes still locked on yours. "Yeah. You seem… different than I expected." "Different how?" you ask, your heart pounding against your ribs. He hesitates for a moment, as if considering his words carefully. "More… intense. More… interesting."

A blush creeps up your neck, but you don't look away. You're mesmerized by him, by the way the light catches his glasses, by the slight furrow in his brow that suggests he's just as nervous as you are. "I could say the same about you," you reply, finally finding your voice. "I thought you were just… a genius. Turns out you're also… interesting." He chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Is that so?" You nod, unable to articulate the thoughts swirling through your head. You're acutely aware of the proximity of your bodies, the way your thighs are almost touching, the warmth radiating from him. The air crackles with unspoken tension, and you have the distinct feeling that something is about to change between you two.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your skin. "Maybe… maybe we should take a break from calculus," he whispers, his eyes searching yours. You swallow hard, your pulse quickening. "A break?" He nods, his gaze dropping to your lips again. "Yea. A break." He doesn't need to say anything else. You know exactly what he means. The calculus book slips off the bed and falls to the floor with a soft thud, unnoticed by either of you. His hand reaches out, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear. His touch is feather-light as it lingers in your hair, sending a jolt of electricity through you.

"Is this okay?" he murmurs, his voice husky. You nod, your own voice lost somewhere in the sudden rush of adrenaline. "More than okay," you manage to say. That's all the confirmation he needs. His lips are soft when they meet yours, a tentative touch at first, as if he's testing the waters. But the kiss quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, more passionate. His hand moves from your hair to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and you instinctively reach up, your fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss grows more urgent, more heated, and before you know it, you’re lying back against his mattress, Wonwoo hovering over you. His glasses are slightly askew, his breathing uneven, and the sight of him like this—disheveled and undone because of you— sends a thrill through you.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks, voice low, gaze searching yours. You nod, your fingers gripping the fabric of his shirt. “Yes. I want this. I... I want you” He kisses you again, a searing kiss that leaves no room for doubt. His hand finds its way under your shirt, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You arch into him, your own hands exploring the contours of his back, feeling the rapid beat of his heart against yours. His lips trail down your jawline, his breath hot against your skin, and you can't help the small moan that escapes your lips as he nuzzles your neck, his teeth gently grazing your skin, and you gasp, clutching him tighter.

Your hands slide up under his shirt, your hands flat against the muscles of his back. It's not long before his mouth reaches the collar of your shirt. He pulls back, sitting on his knees as he looks down at you. "Can I take this off?" he asks breathlessly pulling on the bottom of your shirt. You eagerly shake your head yes "Please" you say. His hands make quick work of pulling your shirt off over your head, his hand coming down and sliding under your back. His hand gripping the clasp of your bra. "This too?" he ask's as his lips ghost over yours. You kiss him in response. His hand move quickly, undoing your bra before he pulls back from the kiss. 

He gently removes your bra, his eyes darkening with desire as they rake over your exposed skin. The cool air brushes against you, making you shiver with anticipation. He leans in, his lips finding your skin again. His hands roam over yourbody, his touch setting you on fire. You gasp as his teeth graze your neck, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. He pulls back slightly, his gaze intense as he takes in your flushed skin. "You're so beautiful," he murmurs, his voice husky. His hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips as he presses himself against you, the evidence of his desire hard against your stomach. You moan softly, arching into him, wanting more.

Your hands gripping the hem of his shirt and tug. "Off" you say breathlessly. "As you wish" he says, pulling his shirt over his head and revealing his sculpted chest and abs. The evadence of those work outs with Mingyu. Your hands immediately explore the hard planes of his muscles, earning a low groan from him. He captures your lips again. His lips trail down your neck, leaving a hot, wet path to your collarbone. You arch your back, craving more contact. His hand slides down your stomach, slipping beneath the waistband of your pants. You gasp at the intimate touch, your hips rising to meet him. His fingers find your core, already slick with desire. He groans your name, the sound sending a thrill through you.

He coats his fingers in your wetness before finding your clit. With deliberate strokes, his eyes locked on yours, watching your reactions. You writhe beneath him, your breaths coming in short, sharp gasps. "Please," you beg, your voice barely a whisper. He smirks, his touch becoming more insistent, pushing you closer to the edge. You grip the sheets, your body tensing as the pleasure builds. He leans down, his lips finding yours again, swallowing your moans as you shatter around him, waves of ecstasy crashing over you. He pulls back, his eyes dark with lust as he watches you come undone. He grips the top of your leggings, pulling down both them and your underwear in one swift motion till they are a heap on the floor.

 His hand moves lower, slipping two fingers inside you. You cry out at the sudden feeling, your walls clenching around him. He pumps his fingers slowly, curling them to hit that soft spot deep inside you. Your back arches off the bed, your hands gripping his sheets as he drives you wild. "More," you plead, your voice ragged. He slowly, adding a third finger and increasing the pace. The sound of your wetness fills the room, mingling with your moans and his groans. He leans down, capturing your nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting gently. The sensation of both pushes you over the edge again, your body convulsing as you come undone around his fingers.

He doesn't stop, continuing to thrust his fingers as you ride out your orgasm. Your vision blurs, pleasure coursing through you. He pulls his fingers out, bringing them to his lips and tasting you. The sight sends a fresh wave of heat through you. He moves down your body, spreading your legs wide. His tongue replaces his fingers, licking and sucking your clit. You scream his name, your hands fisting in his hair as he drives you higher. His tongue lapping at your wet entrance,  his fingers gripping your thighs as he devours you.

He looks up at you, his eyes filled with desire as he continues his assault on your senses. His tongue circles your clit, teasing and tormenting you. You can't hold back any longer, your body tensing as another orgasm crashes over you. He doesn't let up, not even when the tears start to flow. 

He finally pulls away, his lips slick with your arousal. He moves back up your body, his hard length pressing against your thigh. "How are you doing?" he ask's, concern shining in his eyes. "I need you to take then off now" you say as you push the waist of his sweats down his hips. He gives you a small chuckle before standing up and pulling his pants down. Your eyes widen at the site of his huge cock. This long and thick and has a head the prettiest shade of pink that currently is driping pre cum. He climbs baack ontop of you, pepering kisses along your skin till he meets your mouth again. 

You reach down, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slowly. He groans, breaking the kiss, his forehead resting against yours as he tries to regain control. But you're not done with him yet. You guide him to your entrance, "Please Wonwoo" you moan. With one smooth thrust, his cock is deep inside you. You let out a moan from deep in your throat as your eyes slam shut. He still's. "Hey, hey. Open your eyes  for me baby" he coos down at you. His hands pushing your hair out of the way, cupping your face. You peel your eyes open, finding his right above you. "Are you okay?" He ask's sweetly. Your chest filling with warmth. "Yea" you whisper out. "Do you want me to stop?" He starts to raise up on his arms. "NO" you say gripping onto his arms to stop him. "I just needed a minute to adjust. Your big Wonwoo" you watch as a blush creeps across his face, joined by a smile. 

"You are going to be the death of me aren't you" he laughs "And you will be for me if you dont move" you push your hips forward to get your point across, instantly regretting it as you feel him nudge inside of you. A moan slipping from both of your mouths. In response he starts to move his hips. Slow and cautious at first, but your sounds quickly spur him on. He picks up the pace, growing more confidant as he watches you chant his name with each thrust. Your hands gripping the sheets to keep yourself grounded as the coil in your stomach tightens. Wonwoo leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your jaw, his breath warm against your skin. "You feel so good," he whispers, his voice rough. His fingers lace with yours, pinning them beside your head as he thrusts into you. The room filled with the wet sounds of his hips meeting yours, your small gasps and moans and his grunts every time you tighten around him. 

"Wonwoo," you whimper, your back arching as the pleasure coils tighter inside you. He presses his forehead to yours, his lips brushing against yours as he murmurs, "I’ve got you, baby." His thrusts grow deeper, more deliberate, hitting that perfect spot. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer, desperate to feel every inch of him. "You’re amazing," he breathes against your lips, his voice trembling as he fights to make this last. But the way you feel around him, it's unraveling his control. His free hand trails down your body, tracing over the curve of your waist before slipping between you, finding your clit and making  your breath hitch. He starts with tight pressured circles. "Wonwoo, I—" Your voice breaks as you're vaulted over the edge. Your wall tightening around him as you release all over his cock. His movements turning erratic as he chases his own release behind you, burying hims cock deep inside you as he shudders with pleasure. Spilling deep inside you. 

His body collapses onto of you, staying buried deep in you. He presses gentle kisses along your jaw, his touch now featherlight, a stark contrast to the intensity from moments ago. "You okay?" he murmurs, his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your hip. You nod, a blissful smile stretching across your face. "More than okay." He chuckles softly, rolling onto his side and pulling you against his chest. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as if afraid to let you go. You listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, feeling safe, cherished. "I have something to tell you" he says as he kisses the top of your head. "okay" you say hesitantly, fear creeping into your mind at what it could be. 

"I have had a little crush on you for a long time now." He says voice just above a whisper. "But I'v been to scared to ever approach you. Afraid you wouldn't want to be with someone like me" Your breath catches at his confession, your heart squeezing in your chest. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your fingers tracing soft patterns over his chest. "Wonwoo," you whisper, his name a gentle reassurance on your lips.

His eyes flicker with vulnerability, a rare sight that makes your heart ache. "I didn't know how to approach you. You were always hanging out with the popular kids." he says "it felt like we were in two different worlds." You look up at him thinking back to just last week and you could see how that could be. "Well we're not anymore" you say kissing his chest. He laughs "Your right, so if I were to say ask you out on a date this weekend, your answer would be?"

You grin up at him, your fingers still tracing lazy circles against his skin. "I’d say yes," you murmur, watching as relief washes over his face, quickly replaced by the softest smile you've ever seen from him. "Yea?" he asks, as if he can’t quite believe it. You nod, tilting so your face is closer to his. "Yes, Wonwoo. A thousand times yes." you ghost your lips over his. His arms tighten around you, pulling you flush against him. He presses a lingering kiss to your forehead, then your nose, before finally capturing your lips in a slow, tender kiss. It’s different from before. Less urgency, more depth. Like he’s trying to memorize the way you taste, the way you fit against him. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with something deeper than just desire. "Guess I should start planning the perfect first date, then," he says with a soft chuckle.

You smile, nuzzling into his chest. "Yea I guess you should."

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[kiwriteswords]

congrats on your 2k 🎉

for missing scene Monday, could we get bearded Hotch's new gf he met on his secret assignment in Pakistan?? I'll leave it to you if you want to extend it back to the US and the BAU team!!

Just begging for anything with bearded Hotch and yes this was inspired by your 2k celebration gif choices ❤️ love ya!

Let It Be [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader]

Ki2k Masterlist||Main Masterlist (not updated, sorry!)|| Ao3||Word Count: 8k|| AN: Thank you so much for sending this request so early for day one! I was able to get a head start on this last week, and I really love how it turned out!

Tags/Warnings: female reader, canon-divergent, beard!hotch, canon-typical themes, hurt/comfort, banter, Hotch in Pakistan, non!BAU reader, kinda left tbc?

Summary: Hotch meets you on assignment in Pakistan, and you're exactly what he was looking for...someone who's just there without pushing.

The sun was relentless, bearing down on the barren expanse surrounding the base. Sweat collected under your tactical gear, but you barely noticed. It was the kind of heat that stripped away all distractions, leaving you focused on the mission ahead--or at least trying to be.

You adjusted the strap of your duffel bag and glanced around the bustling camp. This wasn’t your first special operations assignment, but the tension in the air felt different here. Heavier. 

It could have just been you dragging the weight of unresolved emotions halfway across the world, or it could have been the stakes of the mission--a dangerous operation involving an international terrorist cell that required precision, discretion, and teamwork between agencies not known for always getting along.

“Agent Y/L/N?”

The voice was deep, cutting through the camp noise. You turned and found yourself face to face with a tall man, his sharp features etched into a permanent state of seriousness. His gaze was steady, and his presence commanded attention without effort.

“That’s me,” you replied, clipped but polite.

He stepped closer, extending a hand. “Aaron Hotchner, unit chief for the BAU.”

The name was familiar. You had read the reports and heard the stories--his work on high-profile cases, his leadership, and his reputation for being unflinchingly methodical. You shook his hand, noting the firm grip and how it matched the intensity in his dark eyes.

“Special Agent Y/L/N, CIA Directorate of Operations,” you said, introducing yourself with the same straightforward efficiency. “Behavioral analyst and covert operations specialist.”

His brow shifted slightly, just enough for you to notice. He nodded, acknowledging your credentials with a quiet respect.

“Briefing starts in five,” he said, his tone all business. Then he turned and walked away, leaving you with the distinct impression that there was more to him than the stoic exterior he projected. You had worked with people like him before--people who carried their burdens in silence--but something about the weight in his eyes made you wonder if he had brought his own ghosts to this mission, much like you had.

….

The first few days were a blur of briefings, strategy sessions, and late nights poring over intel. You didn’t interact much with Hotch beyond the occasional exchange of information, but you caught yourself noticing him. The way he carried himself--calm and composed, but with an edge of tension that never seemed to leave him. You recognized it because you felt it, too.

As you reviewed reports in the command tent one night, he walked in, filling the space. He set a folder on the table and glanced at you.

“You’ve been here for hours,” he said, not a question but an observation.

You shrugged, keeping your focus on the documents in front of you. “So have you.”

“I’m used to it,” he replied, his tone neutral.

“So am I.”

For a moment, there was silence. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat across from you, his gaze steady.

“It’s easier to keep busy,” he said quietly as if he was sharing a truth he rarely voiced.

You glanced up, meeting his eyes. There was something there--something raw and unspoken. You wanted to ask what he was running from, but you didn’t. You weren’t ready to share your own truths, so you didn’t ask for his.

….

The nights were the hardest. The quiet gave your mind too much room to wander, dredging up memories you’d rather forget. One evening, you found yourself outside, staring at the vast expanse of desert under a blanket of stars. You didn’t expect company, but the sound of footsteps behind you made you turn.

It was Hotch.

“Couldn’t sleep?” you asked.

He shook his head, stepping closer until he was standing beside you.

“Me neither,” you admitted.

For a while, you just stood there, the silence between you feeling strangely comfortable.

“I read your file,” he said eventually, his tone careful.

You glanced at him, eyebrows raised. “Did you now?”

“You’ve handled some difficult assignments. Made a name for yourself.”

There was no arrogance in his words; it was just observation.

“Guess you could say I have a knack for throwing myself into the fire,” you replied. Something flashed across his face like he was going to respond with something, but he didn’t.

Neither of you spoke for a while, but his presence was steady, almost calming.

“Why are you really here?” you asked, breaking the quiet. Nobody in their right mind would have volunteered for this unless they either A) had nobody to go home to at night, or B) were trying to forget about something else. You could tell by the small photo Hotch carried around of, presumably, his son it wasn’t option A.

He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was low, almost reluctant. “Because it’s easier than being back home.”

You nodded, understanding more than you cared to admit. “Yeah. Same.”

He glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “What are you running from?”

You hesitated, the question hitting too close to home. “A mistake. One I don’t want to repeat.”

He didn’t press for details, and you were grateful. Instead, he said, “Sometimes running is the only way to keep moving.”

You nodded, even though you weren’t sure if you agreed.

……

As the mission dragged on, the weight of it started to press down on both of you. You began to notice how Hotch avoided certain topics, not that personal topics frequently came up. You noticed how his eyes darkened when the name "Prentiss" came up from the communication specialist on the special ops team.

You didn’t ask--he didn’t offer--but the pieces slowly started to come together. You had to be living under a rock in this field not to have heard about the major loss the BAU took this past year.

One night, after another tense meeting, you found yourselves in the makeshift kitchen, both reaching for the last cup of coffee.

“You take it,” you said, stepping back.

He raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

“I insist. I’ve had worse days.”

Something shifted in his expression, a flicker of understanding. “I doubt that.”

You smirked, the slightest crack in your guarded exterior. “Careful, Hotchner. That almost sounded like empathy.”

His lips twitched--the closest thing to a smile you’d seen from him. “Don’t get used to it.”

….

A sudden sandstorm sent the entire team scrambling for cover. The wind howled outside the command tent, shaking the canvas walls as you huddled with Hotch and two other agents.

“Typical,” you muttered, brushing sand off your gear. “Mission’s hard enough without Mother Nature making it worse.”

Hotch sat across from you, his expression unreadable as he tightened the straps on his vest. He was scruffier than he was when you first arrived. It wasn’t a bad look, but you brushed down that thought.

“You’ve been through worse,” he said matter-of-factly, not a question but a statement.

You let out a short laugh. “Don’t give me too much credit, Hotchner. I’m not invincible.”

“No one is,” he replied, his tone softer than you expected. “But you’re resilient. I can see that.”

The compliment, if you could call it that, caught you off guard. You didn’t reply, unsure how to. Instead, you focused on the storm outside, the roar of the wind drowning out everything else.

But later, when the storm passed, and you stepped out into the eerily quiet desert, you found yourself glancing at Hotch. He met your gaze for a moment, and something unspoken passed between you--a mutual respect, a shared understanding.

….

It was late, and the compound was finally quiet. You were seated at a makeshift table, cleaning your sidearm, when Hotch approached with two cups of coffee.

“You’re a lifesaver,” you said as he set one down in front of you.

“I doubt that,” he replied, but there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

You took a sip, wincing at the bitter taste. “God, this is terrible.”

“It’s coffee,” he said with a small shrug as if that explained everything.

You glanced at him, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Do you ever lighten up, Hotchner?”

His lips twitched, almost a smile. “On occasion.”

“Define ‘occasion.’”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting to the weapon in your hands. “When it’s earned,” he said finally.

It was a cryptic response, but it made you smile anyway. “Well, I’ll consider this progress.”

He sat with you in silence, but it was comfortable. The company was more needed than either of you realized.

….

The day had been relentless, the kind that left your muscles aching and your mind frayed at the edges. You had lost count of how many hours you’d been awake--thirty, maybe forty. Every bone in your body screamed for rest, but the tension from the mission had settled into your chest, making sleep impossible.

You found yourself outside the command tent, slumping onto an old crate with a half-empty water bottle in your hand. The distant hum of generators buzzed like a white noise machine, masking the desert’s eerie quiet.

Hotch appeared a few minutes later, wordlessly lowering himself onto the crate beside you. His presence, steady as always, should have been comforting, but tonight it only made the lump in your throat harder to ignore.

For a while, neither of you spoke. You told yourself you liked the silence, but the truth was, it gave your thoughts too much room to spiral. Your chest felt tight, and despite the coolness of the night, your face burned with exhaustion-fueled frustration.

“I shouldn’t be here,” you blurted out, the words tumbling from your mouth before you could stop them.

Hotch turned his head toward you, his face unreadable but his attention sharp. “Why do you say that?”

You let out a shaky breath, staring out into the endless darkness of the desert. “Because I’m running. I didn’t know what else to do.” You hesitated, feeling the weight of your own admission. “I thought putting space between me and...everything would help, but maybe it just makes it worse.”

The words sat heavy in the air, and you instantly regretted saying them. You felt exposed, as though admitting it aloud would make it all the more real. Your hands fidgeted with the bottle, and you kept your gaze fixed ahead, unwilling to meet his.

You thought about the way your life had pretty much unraveled around you back at home. If it wasn’t for work, you’re not sure you’d still be standing on your two feet. Here you could be the strong, independent person you aspired to be. At home, you were heartbroken without an end in sight. 

The silence stretched long enough that you thought he wouldn’t respond. But then, in that low, even voice of his, he said, “It doesn’t make it worse. It just makes it...quieter. And sometimes quiet is all you can handle.”

You glanced at him, surprised by the quiet vulnerability in his tone. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, distant and heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Is that why you’re here?” you asked softly, the rawness in your voice betraying how fragile you felt.

He nodded, barely perceptible, his gaze never leaving the horizon. “I thought being here might help me make sense of things. But some things…” He trailed off, his brow furrowing. “Some things don’t have answers.”

There was something about the way he said it--not defensive, not self-pitying, just honest. It broke through the dam inside you, and for a fleeting moment, you thought you might cry.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat tightening. The weight of his answer settled between you, tangible and heavy, yet somehow reassuring.

For the first time, the silence felt like a shared space rather than an empty one. You didn’t push for more. You couldn’t, not with your emotions already threatening to overflow. But as the desert night pressed in around you, you realized you didn’t need to.

Whatever walls you both had built were starting to crumble, and neither of you seemed inclined to stop it.

…..

The air in the abandoned warehouse was stifling, thick with the smell of rust and dust. You moved carefully, your weapon drawn and your eyes scanning every shadow. Hotch was just behind you, silent but steady, his presence grounding you in the tense atmosphere.

The intel had been solid: a potential threat against the local embassy was being planned here, and your team had been tasked with gathering evidence. But now, as you crept deeper into the maze of crates and machinery, something felt off. The place was too quiet.

A faint creak made you freeze. You glanced back at Hotch, and he gave a subtle nod, his dark eyes sharp with focus. He gestured for you to take the left while he veered right. You obeyed without question, trusting his instincts as much as your own.

You edged around a stack of crates, your pulse quickening. The sound came again--a faint shuffle, followed by a whisper of movement. You tightened your grip on your weapon, adrenaline flooding your system.

Then everything exploded at once.

A figure lunged from the shadows, slamming into you with enough force to knock you off balance. Your weapon clattered to the floor as you struggled against the assailant, their grip bruising as they tried to pin you down.

“Agent Y/L/N!” Hotch’s voice cut through the chaos like a lifeline.

You twisted, freeing one arm, and drove your elbow into the attacker’s side. They grunted, loosening their grip just enough for you to push them off. But before you could retrieve your weapon, another figure appeared, this one heading straight for Hotch.

“Behind you!” you shouted, scrambling to your feet.

Hotch spun just in time, deflecting the attacker’s blow and delivering a calculated strike that sent them stumbling. But the odds were quickly stacking against you--more figures emerged from the shadows, their movements coordinated and purposeful.

“Fall back!” Hotch ordered, his voice calm but commanding.

You grabbed your weapon and fell into step beside him as the two of you retreated toward the exit. The sound of footsteps echoed behind you, growing louder with each passing second.

“We’re not going to make it out clean,” you said, your voice tight as you scanned for cover.

Hotch’s jaw clenched. “We don’t have to. We just need to slow them down.”

He pointed to a stack of crates near the exit, and you understood immediately. You fired a few shots, not aiming to hit but to force your pursuers to take cover. Then, together, you pushed the nearest crate, toppling it over and creating a barricade that bought you a few precious seconds.

“Go!” Hotch barked, motioning for you to move ahead.

“No way,” you snapped, falling into position beside him. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

His gaze flicked to you, something unspoken passing between you. It wasn’t the time for arguments, so he didn’t push it.

The two of you moved as one, covering each other as you navigated the narrow corridors toward the exit. Your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn’t let it distract you. Hotch’s steady presence was all you focused on, his calm precision a stark contrast to the chaos around you.

Finally, you burst into the open air, the sounds of shouting and gunfire fading behind you. You didn’t stop running until you reached the safety of the extraction point, where reinforcements were waiting.

You doubled over, hands on your knees as you caught your breath. Hotch was beside you, his breathing heavy but controlled.

“You good?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

You nodded, straightening up. “Yeah. You?”

“I’ve been worse,” he replied, a faint flicker of dry humor in his tone.

You couldn’t help but let out a shaky laugh, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. “That’s one way to bond, I guess.”

Hotch glanced at you, and for the first time since the mission began, you saw something close to a smile on his face. It was brief, but it was real.

“Good work out there,” he said simply.

“Right back at you,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

In that moment, you realized just how much you trusted him--not just as a colleague, but as someone who had your back, no matter what. And from the way he looked at you, you had the feeling he felt the same.

….

The day had been unusually quiet. The base hummed with its usual activity, but the weight in the air seemed heavier that day. You had noticed it the moment you walked into the briefing room. Hotch had been there, as he always was, but there was something off.

His usual sharp focus felt dulled, his replies curt even for his standards. He spent more time staring at his tablet than actually reading it, and the lines etched into his face seemed deeper somehow.

You weren’t a profiler, but you didn’t need to be to know something was wrong.

Now, hours later, you found him alone in the makeshift command tent, the harsh glow of a desk lamp illuminating the strain on his features. He was seated, elbows on the table and his hands clasped in front of him, staring at a map as if willing it to make sense.

“You’re still at it?” you asked gently, stepping inside.

His head lifted slightly, but he didn’t look at you. “There’s a lot to prepare for.”

“There always is,” you replied, pulling up a chair across from him. “But it’s late. You should take a break.”

“I can’t afford to.”

The edge in his voice wasn’t aimed at you, but it still made you hesitate. You considered leaving him to his work, but something kept you there.

“Hotch,” you said softly, your voice cutting through the tense quiet. “What’s going on?”

He finally looked up, his dark eyes shadowed by something heavy. For a moment, you thought he might tell you, but then his expression hardened, his walls slamming back into place.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” he said, his tone measured but distant.

You didn’t believe him, not for a second. But you also knew better than to push.

Instead, you leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. “You’re allowed to have off days, you know. Even you.”

His lips twitched, almost a humorless smile. “I don’t have the time for that.”

“You’re human,” you countered, your tone steady but not pressing. “It’s not a luxury. It’s just...life.”

He didn’t respond, his gaze dropping back to the table. But his hands, usually so still, were fidgeting now--his fingers twisting the edge of the map absentmindedly.

You let the silence settle between you, giving him space. After a few minutes, you stood and moved toward the coffee pot in the corner of the tent. You poured two cups, setting one down in front of him without a word before returning to your seat.

Hotch stared at the cup for a moment before picking it up, cradling it in his hands like it was the only thing tethering him to the moment.

“It’s fine,” he said abruptly, almost as if he was telling it to himself, though his tone betrayed him. “I just--” He stopped, shaking his head as if to dismiss whatever he’d been about to say.

“You don’t have to explain,” you said quietly, your voice steady. “We all have those days.”

He let out a breath, somewhere between a sigh and a scoff. “This one feels heavier.”

You didn’t know what he was carrying--something about him always felt impenetrable, as though he kept the world at arm’s length. But you didn’t need to know the specifics to recognize the weight he was under.

“You’re allowed to let it feel heavy,” you said after a moment, watching his reaction carefully.

Hotch’s hand tightened around the coffee cup, the faintest flicker of vulnerability flashing across his face before his walls went back up. “I shouldn’t let it distract me,” he muttered.

You leaned forward, resting your arms on the table. “Maybe letting yourself feel it for five minutes wouldn’t be a distraction. Maybe it’d just be human.”

He didn’t respond, but his jaw shifted as though he was grinding his teeth. His silence didn’t bother you--it was enough to just sit there, letting him know he wasn’t alone.

After a while, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For not digging,” he said, finally looking at you. His gaze softened just enough to make your chest ache. “For just...being here.”

You offered a small smile, reaching across the table and resting your hand lightly over his. It wasn’t much, but the way his shoulders relaxed told you it was enough.

“I’ve got your back,” you said simply. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone.”

Hotch nodded, his grip tightening briefly on the cup before setting it down. He didn’t say anything else, but the tension in the room felt lighter somehow.

The two of you sat there in silence, the night pressing in around you. And while the weight of whatever he was carrying didn’t disappear, you could tell it didn’t feel quite so unbearable anymore.

…

The sun blazed mercilessly overhead, reflecting off the shallow, winding river that cut through the barren terrain. You adjusted your gear, sweat dripping down your temple as you followed Hotch’s lead. The mission had gone sideways--nothing catastrophic, but the extraction point was now miles further than planned, and the only route was straight through the rocky riverbed.

“Watch your step,” Hotch warned as he leaped from one jagged boulder to another. His movements were precise, practiced, but you could tell the exhaustion of the day was catching up with him.

“I was planning to fall flat on my face,” you replied, the edge of sarcasm in your voice lighthearted enough to soften the tension.

His lips twitched, that almost-smile you’d grown accustomed to. “Let’s avoid that.”

The river wasn’t deep, but the current was deceptively strong. The rocks were uneven; some were slick with moss, and others were barely stable. The whole setup was a sprained ankle--or worse--waiting to happen.

You made it halfway across before your boot slipped on a loose stone, your footing completely giving out beneath you. You stumbled, and the weight of your gear made it impossible to regain your balance.

Before you could hit the water, a substantial hand shot out, grabbing your arm and pulling you upright. The force of it brought you chest-to-chest with Hotch, his grip firm and steady.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low and close, his breath warm against your temple.

“Yeah,” you managed, your own breath catching as you looked up at him. His face was inches from yours, and for a moment, the world shrank to just the two of you.

His dark eyes searched yours, something unreadable flickering in them--concern, maybe, or something deeper. He didn’t let go right away, his hand lingering on your arm as though he needed to make sure you were truly steady.

“I told you to watch your step,” he said finally, his tone softer than usual. His words did not match the gentleness in his tone.

“And I told you I was planning to fall,” you shot back, the corner of your mouth quirking up into a wry smile.

His lips twitched again, but this time, it felt closer to a real smile. His hand slipped away reluctantly, the warmth of his touch lingering long after he stepped back.

“Let’s keep moving,” he said, his voice all business again, though you caught the slight shift in his expression--something unguarded, fleeting, but unmistakably there.

…

The day’s trek had left you both bone-weary, but the setting sun brought with it a chill that seeped into your skin. The fire crackled low between you as you sat on overturned crates, the glow casting flickering shadows over the rocky outcrop that served as your makeshift camp for the night.

You had stripped down to your undershirt, your jacket drying on a nearby rock after the river crossing. Hotch sat across from you, rolling his stiff shoulders and rubbing his neck, his usual stoicism slightly cracked by the day’s exhaustion.

“You’re going to be sore tomorrow,” you commented, watching him massage the tension from his muscles.

“So will you,” he replied, his eyes flicking to your bruised forearm from the earlier stumble.

“I bounce back quickly,” you said lightly. “You, on the other hand, might want to consider a hot bath.”

His lips quirked, and he shook his head. “I’ll add that to the list of luxuries I’m missing out on.”

“Right after edible food,” you added, holding up the protein bar you’d been gnawing on. “This is basically punishment.”

He chuckled softly, the sound low and rare, and it made your chest tighten unexpectedly. You leaned back slightly, letting the warmth of the fire and the rare ease of the moment settle over you.

“You’re not always so serious, are you?” you asked, half-teasing but genuinely curious.

Hotch glanced at you, something unreadable in his expression. “Depends on the company.”

The weight of his words hung between you, and for a moment, you couldn’t look away. The firelight danced across his face, highlighting the lines of exhaustion and something deeper--something you couldn’t quite name but felt pulled toward.

“Well,” you said finally, breaking the tension with a small smirk. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He didn’t respond right away, his gaze lingering on you before he nodded slightly. “You should.”

The fire had long since burned down to embers, but neither of you had moved. The quiet was comfortable now, a shared understanding that didn’t need words.

“You’re different,” Hotch said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. His tone was thoughtful, not heavy, but it made your stomach twist in a way you didn’t expect.

“Different how?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You don’t push,” he said simply. “Most people do. They want something, even if they don’t say it.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tightening at the vulnerability in his words. “Maybe I just know what it’s like to need space.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze dropping to the glowing embers. “It’s rare,” he said quietly. “And...appreciated.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and you realized with a startling clarity that you didn’t want this moment to end. The mission, the chaos, the fleeting moments of quiet connection--they’d all built to this, and you weren’t ready to let it go.

You didn’t say anything, but you shifted closer, just enough that your knee brushed against his. He didn’t move away, and the warmth of his presence felt like an anchor in the cool desert night.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. But when he finally looked at you, the guarded distance in his eyes had softened, replaced by something you couldn’t name but felt deeply.

“Get some rest,” he said eventually, his voice low but gentle. “Tomorrow will come too soon.”

You nodded, standing and brushing the dust from your pants. But as you turned to leave, you paused, glancing back at him. “Good night, Hotch.”

“Good night,” he replied, his gaze following you as you walked away.

And for the first time since this mission began, you felt a flicker of something you hadn’t let yourself feel in a long time--something you weren’t sure you could name but couldn’t deny was there.

…..

The air in the base felt heavier than usual. The usual hum of activity buzzed in the background, but your focus was locked on the figure in front of you--Aaron Hotchner, standing by the transport vehicle, his duffel slung over his shoulder. A stark contrast to how he had shown up so long ago. Now, slimmer and with a face full of facial hair.

You hadn’t expected the mission to end like this--not with him leaving before it was over. The news had come down hours ago: he had been called back stateside. No explanation, no warning. Just orders.

“Something urgent?” you asked, keeping your tone steady even as you struggled to meet his eyes.

He nodded, his expression unreadable but his jaw tight, a tell you’d come to recognize. “I have to return to Quantico. The team needs me.”

Of course, they do, you thought. You had known from the beginning that this wasn’t his world. His world was back home, leading the BAU, carrying burdens most people couldn’t fathom. Still, the abruptness of his departure left a hollow ache in your chest that you hadn’t prepared for.

You stepped closer, your arms crossed, not out of defiance but to keep yourself grounded. “We’ll manage here,” you said, the words feeling both true and hollow.

Hotch’s gaze flicked to you, his dark eyes softer than you’d ever seen them. “You will,” he said, his voice low. “You’re good at this.”

A faint, humorless laugh escaped you. “That almost sounded like a compliment.”

“It was,” he replied, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips before it disappeared.

The silence between you was heavy, filled with all the things you wanted to say but couldn’t. You weren’t naive. Whatever had brought him here was bigger than the mission, bigger than you. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch him leave.

“Will you be back?” you asked finally, your voice quieter than you’d intended.

Hotch hesitated, his gaze shifting to the ground for a moment before meeting yours again. “I don’t know.”

The honesty in his answer hit harder than you expected.

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and nodded. “Well, in case you don’t…you know, good luck, Hotch.”

He studied you for a moment, as if committing your face to memory. Then, to your surprise, he stepped closer. His hand reached out, resting lightly on your arm.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “For everything.”

The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you, but you didn’t pull away. “For what?”

“For being here. For making this easier,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You searched his eyes, the words catching in your throat. Instead of speaking, you reached up and squeezed his hand where it rested on your arm, the small gesture saying more than words could.

His hand lingered for a moment before he pulled back, his professional mask sliding into place once more.

“They’re waiting for me,” he said, his voice steady but distant.

You nodded, forcing a small smile. “Go. They need you more than we do.”

He hesitated again, his eyes flicking to yours one last time. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too,” you replied, your voice barely audible.

And then he turned and climbed into the vehicle. You stood there, watching as it pulled away, the ache in your chest growing heavier with each passing second.

When the dust finally settled, and the vehicle disappeared from sight, you let out a shaky breath, the reality of his absence sinking in.

You hadn’t expected this assignment to change anything. But now, as you stood alone under the relentless desert sun, you realized just how much it had--and how much he had.

You weren’t sure how you’d get over missing him the way you felt the minute he left your side. 

…

The harsh glow of the tent's fluorescent light was a poor substitute for the sun. You rubbed your temples, trying to chase away the dull ache that had settled behind your eyes after hours of pouring over intel. The mission dragged on, one step forward and two steps back, and you were beginning to feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

The faint crackle of the comm system startled you, drawing your attention to the communications officer stationed at the other end of the tent. His head tilted, listening intently before he turned and called out, “Y/L/N, secure line for you. Priority channel.”

You blinked, confusion flashing across your face. Secure lines weren’t uncommon, but they were usually pre-arranged. Rising from your chair, you crossed the tent, curiosity buzzing in the back of your mind.

When you picked up the headset, the officer handed you a notepad with a string of verification codes scrawled across it. “Verify the code,” he instructed.

You input the code into the secure terminal, and after a moment, the line cleared. “This is Y/L/N,” you said cautiously.

There was a beat of silence, then a familiar voice. “It’s Hotch.”

Back in Quantico, Hotch leaned back in his chair, his fingers gripping the phone tighter than necessary. The bullpen below his office was dim and quiet--most of the team had left for the night, but the stillness did little to ease the weight pressing on him.

The fallout from the Ian Doyle case was still reverberating through the BAU. Emily’s return had blindsided the team, and though he had tried to justify the deception, the cracks in their trust were impossible to ignore. Strauss’s scrutiny had sharpened, and his every decision seemed to be under a magnifying glass.

He hadn’t called to talk about any of that. He couldn’t.

But the familiar tension in his chest--the suffocating combination of guilt, stress, and isolation--had driven him to dial the secure line. He wasn’t even sure you’d pick up, but when your voice filtered through the line, steady and sure, it was like a knot in his chest loosened.

You straightened instinctively, surprise rippling through you. “Hotch,” you repeated, unable to keep the astonishment from your tone. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you.”

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he replied, his voice steady but laced with something you couldn’t quite place.

“You’re not…no,” you assured him, leaning against the edge of the table. “What’s going on?”

There was a pause, the kind that stretched just long enough for you to sense the weight behind it. “I just wanted to check-in. See how things are going on your end.”

You frowned slightly, his words not matching the tension you could hear in his voice. “Things are...as expected. Slow, frustrating, and complicated. But manageable.”

“Good,” he said, the word clipped, almost distracted.

You weren’t a profiler, but the exhaustion in his tone was unmistakable. He sounded like a man carrying too many burdens, with no room to set them down.

“You sound tired,” you said gently, knowing better than to pry.

He let out a soft exhale, the kind that felt heavier than it should. “It’s been a long few weeks,” he admitted, though his words felt like an understatement.

Hotch closed his eyes for a moment, your voice cutting through the static in his mind. He could still see the look on Morgan’s face when Emily had walked into the room, the betrayal simmering under the surface. He could hear the edge in Strauss’s tone as she grilled him about his decision to keep the team in the dark.

But here, with you, there was no judgment. No interrogation.

“You’re taking care of yourself, right?” you asked, keeping your tone light but genuine.

A soft scoff met your ears. “I’m trying,” he replied, the words carrying a note of dry humor.

You smiled faintly, leaning back against the table. “That doesn’t sound convincing.”

His silence stretched again, but this time it felt less heavy. You knew he wasn’t the type to reach out without a reason, but you also knew he wouldn’t say more than he wanted to. And you weren’t going to push.

“Thank you,” he said suddenly, his voice quiet but firm.

You blinked. “For what?”

“For picking up,” he said simply. “For not asking.”

Your chest tightened slightly at the honesty in his tone. “Of course,” you replied softly. “You don’t have to explain anything, Hotch. You know that.”

For a fleeting moment, Hotch considered telling you. About Emily. About the team’s trust--or lack of it. But the words felt too heavy…too complicated to put into the space between you. He didn’t want to drag you into the mess, especially not when you had your own mission to worry about.

And yet, knowing you were there, steady and unwavering, brought him a sense of peace he hadn’t felt in weeks.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the faint hum of the secure line filling the silence. Despite the distance between you, the connection felt tangible--grounding.

“I should let you get back to work,” he said finally, although his voice sounded reluctant.

“Yeah,” you agreed, even though you didn’t want the call to end. “But Hotch...don’t wait so long to call next time, okay?”

There was a pause, then a quiet, almost imperceptible, “Okay.”

And then the line disconnected, leaving you standing there with the headset in hand and a heaviness in your chest you hadn’t felt in weeks.

Across the ocean, Hotch set the phone down, his hand lingering on the receiver. For the first time in days, the storm inside him felt a little less suffocating. And though he couldn’t explain why, he knew that calling you had been the right choice.

….

Throughout the remainder of your mission in Pakistan, Hotch’s calls came sporadically, never announced, and always brief. Each time the secure line connected, his voice carried a steadiness that seemed to ease the tension that surrounded you. The conversations were simple--updates on the mission, quiet exchanges about the weather, or mutual remarks about the relentless grind of your respective work.

Yet, beneath the surface, those calls meant more. 

They weren’t about the words exchanged but the connection that had grown between you. Somehow, through the static of secure lines and the distance of continents, you felt you knew him intimately. 

Not in the way of shared stories or confessions, but in the quiet understanding of someone who had seen the same kind of pain.

Hotch never spoke about what weighed on him, and you never pressed. He didn’t need to. The heaviness in his tone, the pauses that lingered too long--they told you everything you needed to know. And you, in turn, found comfort in the silence he offered, in the unspoken acknowledgment of your own burdens.

It was a strange closeness, one that felt both fragile and unbreakable. You knew so much about each other, and yet nothing at all. He never asked about what had driven you to this mission, and you never asked about the strain you could hear in his voice. Yet, you understood each other in a way that words couldn’t capture.

In those stolen moments on the phone, it didn’t matter that the world outside was relentless. It didn’t matter that neither of you could put your pain into words. What mattered was that, for a few fleeting minutes, you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

It was those moments that patched up the pain in your chest, almost making you forget about the heartbreak you left at home. The failed relationships, the loneliness…you wondered how it would continue on--or if it would continue on once you were back home. You hoped. 

…..

The bullpen at the BAU was its usual hive of activity, with agents moving between desks, typing up reports, and chatting quietly between tasks. But today, there was an undercurrent of curiosity rippling through the team--one that centered on Hotch.

Seated at her desk, Garcia spun her chair toward Morgan, a playful smirk on her lips. “Alright, Derek, spill. What’s with the boss man and those secretive phone calls he’s been making?”

Morgan leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “What makes you think I know anything, Baby Girl?”

Garcia raised a skeptical brow, gesturing dramatically toward Hotch’s office. “Because every time he steps in there and picks up that phone, he looks...different. Like, not his usual stressed-out-because-the-world-is-burning look. It’s something else.”

JJ, passing by with a file, paused to join the conversation. “You’re not wrong,” she said thoughtfully. “I noticed it, too. He’s been...quieter lately. More introspective. Not that Hotch is ever exactly chatty, but it’s different.”

Rossi appeared from behind them, holding his ever-present coffee mug. “And you’re all assuming that a few phone calls mean he’s seeing someone?” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine curiosity behind it.

“I mean, it wouldn’t be the craziest thing,” Morgan replied with a shrug. “The man deserves a little happiness. Maybe he finally found someone who gets him.”

Reid, seated nearby with his tablet, looked up. “It could be related to the fallout from the Doyle case. He might be reaching out to someone for professional advice or support.”

Garcia shook her head dramatically. “Oh, boy-wonder, that’s far too clinical. This is Hotch we’re talking about. If he’s calling someone regularly, it’s personal.”

JJ frowned slightly, leaning against her desk. “Whoever it is, I just hope they’re good for him. After everything with Haley, and now the strain with the team...he needs someone who can be there for him.”

Rossi took a sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Hotch’s closed office door. “Maybe it’s not about what they say. Sometimes, it’s just about having someone who listens. God knows that man doesn’t let anyone in easily.”

The group fell into a contemplative silence, their gazes drifting toward the office where Hotch was currently on a call. Inside, his expression was characteristically composed, but the slight relaxation of his shoulders and the faintest twitch of a smile betrayed something softer.

Morgan broke the silence first, smirking. “Well, whoever this mystery caller is, they’ve got our fearless leader smiling. I say we let him have this one.”

Garcia gasped dramatically, clasping her hands together. “Smiling? You saw him smile? Oh, this is bigger than I thought.”

JJ and Rossi exchanged amused glances, and even Reid couldn’t suppress a small smile at Garcia’s theatrics. But beneath the playful banter, the team shared a collective hope--that whoever was on the other end of those calls was helping their stoic leader carry at least some of the weight on his shoulders.

….

Hotch sat in his office, the low hum of activity in the bullpen barely reaching his ears. His personal phone buzzed on the desk beside him, an unfamiliar number flashing across the screen. He frowned, picking it up cautiously. It wasn’t often he got calls from unlisted numbers on this line.

“Aaron Hotchner,” he answered, his tone brisk.

“Well, that’s formal. Do you always answer like you’re being interrogated?”

His breath caught, the familiar voice pulling a genuine, if fleeting, smile to his face. “Agent Y/L/N. I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” you teased. “Just because I’m not in Pakistan doesn’t mean I’ve vanished. I still exist, contrary to popular belief.”

“Good to know,” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “I heard you finished the mission. Back stateside?”

“For now,” you said, your tone carrying the same measured ease he remembered. “It’s just a pit stop, though. The CIA doesn’t let its covert operatives sit idle for too long.”

“Sounds familiar,” he said, the faintest trace of humor in his voice. “How’s it feel to be back?”

“Strange,” you admitted. “Like I’m not entirely here, you know? You get that, don’t you?”

He did. More than he cared to admit. 

“I do,” he said simply, his voice low.

“And you?” you asked, your voice softening. “How’s the BAU treating you?”

He hesitated, the weight of recent weeks pressing heavily on his chest. The fallout from the Doyle case, Emily’s return, the team’s shaken trust--it all simmered just beneath the surface. But he wasn’t ready to unpack that. Not now.

“Still busy,” he said instead, his voice even. “But you know how it is. Work doesn’t stop.”

“I do,” you replied, a knowing edge to your tone. “Sounds like you’re carrying more than just case files, though.”

He stayed silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly on the phone. “It’s nothing I can’t handle,” he said finally.

“You always say that,” you said, a note of fond exasperation in your voice. “I’m starting to think it’s your catchphrase.”

“I don’t have catchphrases,” he replied, his lips twitching in the faintest of smiles.

“Sure you don’t,” you shot back. “Next, you’ll tell me you don’t ever crack a smile.”

“That’s a rare occurrence,” he said, his tone lighter.

“Well, I must be one of the lucky few then because I swear I’ve seen it.”

The warmth in your voice caught him off guard, but he didn’t mind it. Not one bit. “You’re in a unique position.”

“Unique, huh?” you teased. “You make it sound so exclusive.”

“It is,” he admitted, his voice softening. “Not many people see past the job.”

Your tone matched his now, the playfulness giving way to something more sincere. “That’s because the job is easier to focus on. It’s harder to look past it.”

He let out a quiet sigh, nodding even though you couldn’t see him. “You’re not wrong.”

The call buzzed with a quiet warmth neither of you acknowledged outright, but both felt. Hotch leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment before letting out a breath. He stared at the phone in his hand, debating whether to say what had been sitting in the back of his mind.

"So, this call," he said, his voice measured but holding a thread of something lighter. "Official business, or are you just checking up on me?"

"Can't it be both?" you asked, your teasing tone doing exactly what you intended--it made him relax, even if just a little.

He let out a soft laugh, surprising himself. "I suppose it can."

"I don’t know," you said, your voice playful. "Can it?"

He hesitated just a moment before admitting, “I actually thought about calling you too; I wanted to see how you were doing. And…I guess I needed to hear a familiar voice.”

The silence between you settled softly, comfortable, and filled with an understanding neither of you needed to articulate.

“Well, I’m doing okay,” you said finally, your tone calm. “Work’s the same. Chaos, classified details, long hours. Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” he replied, the weight of shared experience clear in his voice. “Too familiar.”

“And you?” you asked gently, your tone softening. “How are you, Hotch? Really?”

He hesitated again, the instinct to protect himself battling against the trust he felt when speaking to you. “I’m…I’m managing,” he said at last, quieter than before. “But it’s...been a lot.”

You didn’t push. You never did. That was one of the things he appreciated most. 

“Well,” you said, the warmth returning to your voice, “if you ever feel like you need to step away from saving the world, give me a call. I’ve got plenty of experience in chaos management.”

He let out another rare, quiet laugh. “I might take you up on that.”

“Good,” you said lightly. “Don’t be a stranger, Hotch.”

He let the words settle, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t sure what prompted him, but before the conversation could end, he spoke again.

“Actually,” he started, his voice betraying a hint of nerves that even he couldn’t suppress, “have you ever thought about meeting up?” The question lingered, and he immediately wondered if he had overstepped. “I mean, if your schedule allows it,” he added, his tone faltering slightly. “I know how demanding your work is.”

You paused, clearly caught off guard. “Meeting up?” you repeated, a smile audible in your tone. “You mean in person?”

“Yes,” he said quickly before he could second-guess himself. “I just thought…you’ve been a consistent voice through everything, and…” He trailed off, realizing he didn’t know how to explain it without giving too much away. “It would be nice to catch up.”

“I think that sounds...great,” you said after a moment, your voice softer now. “Though I should warn you, Hotchner, I’m still terrible at small talk.”

“Somehow, I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he replied, his lips twitching into a smile.

“Well,” you teased, “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried.”

“Flattered,” he said, surprising himself again with the sincerity in his tone.

The brief pause that followed carried an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding of the connection that had been building between you since the mission in Pakistan. Neither of you said it outright, but it was there, tangible in the way you lingered on the call longer than necessary.

“I’ll check my schedule,” you said lightly, breaking the silence. “But don’t think I won’t hold you to this.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” he replied, his voice steadier now.

When the call ended, Hotch sat back, his thoughts circling the conversation. He realized that while he still didn’t know the full scope of your personal life or if there was someone waiting for you back home, he felt compelled to try--to find out, to see where this connection might lead. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself the thought of something beyond the weight he carried every day.

Tag List: @zaddyhotch @estragos @todorokishoe24 @looking1016  @khxna @rousethemouse @averyhotchner @reidfile @bernelflo @lover-of-books-and-tea @frickin-bats @sleepysongbirdsings @justyourusualash @person-005 @iyskgd @hiireadstuff @kcch-ns @alexxavicry @superlegend216

[tarotbyjam24]

You and your future spouse's 1st valentine's day date

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

Masterlist\pick a cards

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️,shall we ?

Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

This reading a collab between @tarotbyjam24 and my girl @winisayswhat 🖤 don't forget to check her account loves

Pile 1

Pile 1 : your first valentine's day date might possibly be a 50-50 date like you couples splitting your bills or it could be like you both are always so busy so it took effort from both sides to have a valentine's day date together finally. It's gonna be a very planned and calculated date . You guys might also not show your truest self to your spouse on this date because either of you or both can have your guards up even though you're married. I also feel on this date you could also fight with eachother 😭 probably because of hiding something. I see 'hide' word is so prominent here . I wonder how you guys are so mysterious to each other . Mostly I see you guys could be trying local street foods , trying drinks here n there. Although I feel you both will be dressed perfectly for a date to bring the date date vibe . Having drinks on this could help both of you to loosen up a bit and open up to each other . This date will be a start for something new probably you could think of starting family or something else . This pile seems like both of you love eachother but also don't show it and hide it very well that you both seem to each other like enemies ✨ that's all pile 1 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 2

Pile 2 : your first valentine's day date is gonna be amazing I swear . They'll make you feel like a prince\princess . Almost worshipping you and giving all the power . I also feel your spouse will be older than you . So ofc they gonna spoil you it's natural to them and you gonna enjoy it . They'll surely take you on various activities for this date like taking some fun classes in day , eating local foods , taking you on shopping, then dinner night at a perfect place probably by river or seaside . This date will grow more love between each other . I get the vibe of ' material girl ' from this pile and I support you for this lol . You go guys . You deserve it all . Now from another perspective if we see this than your spouse could be bit more domineering in this date like those ceo and their girlfriends where ceo likes to eat at three Michelin star hotel and you enjoy your ramen and drinks but you're forced to go on the three Michelin star hotel date lol. I feel you'll act like a disciplined kid when in real you're so spoiled 🍃 and you just don't listen to anyone but you'll have to listen and follow them .that's all pile 2 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 3

Read by @winisayswhat

Okay, babes, this date is going to be mind-blowing . Like, expect some serious sparks flying, and that's just not from the table. The man or woman you're going on a date with has a provider energy. It's like a very fancy place, with a fancy setup. This person is jacked for sure. They're serious and will bring lots of stability and maturity into your life. They're the real deal, honey .The Two of Cups is all about harmony and balance. So, expect some beautiful, heartfelt connections. You'll feel fulfilled. This place feels like a rooftop restaurant with dim lights, and you're drop-dead gorgeous . You're dressed up, drop-dead gorgeous that day. Oh la la, that person is going gaga all over you! They're very chivalrous. They're going to spend all their money on you without thinking twice. You'll feel luxurious, wealthy with them This person is a provider, wild, and dressed to impress . Both of you are excited to meet each other and already know you're the "it" deal. It's like you both were meant to be together, like two puzzle pieces . You both love, value, and cherish each other. It's like you both have manifested each other. The God has led you both to each other .This person is very straightforward, and whatever they say is going to be very real. They'll be honest with you, and you'll love that about them . They're the type of person who'll have many surprises in store. If they take you out for dinner, they'll make sure there's music, a big bouquet of roses, jewelry as gifts, your favorite champagne, food, and good photos to be clicked . Oh la la, this person is also a great photographer! Your Instagram feed is sorted ! Every time this person walks into a room, people look at them and go, "Oh my God, who is that?" They drip with money and luxury 💸. This person is going to be so nurturing and caring. Expect some serious TLC from this person, honey! It's going to be wild, but guess what? This is just the beginning. The journey is much more exciting and spicy!

Pile 4

Read by @winisayswhat

This Valentine's Day date is going to be EVERYTHING and more! The energy is mutual, excited, and respectful. You both love and adore each other, and you're ready to spend quality time together.

The ambiance is romantic, probably at a favorite restaurant or spot. The air is filled with a sweet scent, and you both feel harmonious and in tune with each other. You're thinking about how lucky you are to be in this relationship!Conversation on the date is all bout goals, future plans, and excitement for what's to come. You both are magnetic, high-achieving individuals who are planning out your adrenaline-fueled life together! Eye contact is intense, and you both feel a deep sense of connection and understanding.This is a couple who will be the life of the party, so in love and into each other that they won't even notice what's going on around them! You're best friends, despite being different, and you complement each other perfectly.

Oh, and there's red velvet cake involved somehow! And maybe some red fruits or wine? Whatever it is, it's going to be a night to remember!

You'll spend the evening planning your life together, discussing kids, cars, homes, and all the adventures you'll have. And guess what? The universe is going to make it all happen!

Get ready for lots of kisses, gentle touches, and admiration from your partner. Their love language is touch, and they'll show you love and affection in the sweetest ways.

This person is going to adore you, honey! They'll be captivated by your smile, lips, eyes, and entire aura. And they'll appreciate you for the rest of your life! You will be like one of those couples from the Hollywood 90's-2000's Romcom movie aesthetic for sureeee!!!

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀 Bless you and have a nice day 🫶🏻

Loads of love , jam\gem 🩷

Exchanges : open , collabs for pacs : open

[vorchagirl]

Untouchable - chapter 17

“Are you upset, cousin?” Illario couldn't keep the smirk off his face, though he made every effort to look consolatory. “I didn't know you were interested in our little Kashandra or I would have turned her down! Though,” he looked slyly at Lucanis, “I don't know if it would have been a good match for you . I know how shy you are, and Kashandra needs someone passionate to please her! A woman like that wants to spend the night dancing and making love instead of drinking coffee and reading books. You’re too boring!”

Illario laughed and slung a friendly arm around Lucanis’ shoulder. “Still, why don't you come out with Kashandra and I tonight? I can find a friend for you so you don't feel out of place. What do you say?”

Lucanis wasn’t looking at his cousin, his eyes were on the door that she had vanished through, and his expression was pained. Illario could not have hurt him more if he’d stuck a knife in his back. Which, she supposed, is exactly what he had done - metaphorically speaking. Even back in those days he had been finding ways to make Lucanis hurt.

Bastard .

Kash clenched her teeth. Furious at the way he manipulated Lucanis so easily, making him feel out of place and unwelcome. No wonder he was so convinced that he was boring and bad at seduction, it was what Illario had been subtly telling him all his life. The sonofabitch had played them both ten years ago.

“You're a liar!” She interrupted the memory, and Illario turned to face her as the young Lucanis faded away. “You manipulated us. I never would have looked twice at you if you hadn't lied to me, and you know it!”

Illario chuckled. “Oh, Kashandra! You don't want someone like Lucanis! You're too good for him.” He winked at her playfully. “Too passionate, too beautiful, too talented to waste your time on a monster.”

(Art is by @anakliro)

[xxnashiraxx]

Don't We Make a Lovely Couple?

I literally. 💀 I commissioned this lovely set of Astarion and Ofelia in place of Dracula and Anna from Ven Helsing from @bby-bel-art !!! Bel did such a beautiful, wonderful, mind-blowing job and I haven't stopped staring at these for days 🥺❤ THANK YOU SM FRIEND 🖤

This was not only a recreation of these scenes from the movie, but of @caffeinatedmunchkin's amazing 2 part fic (which you can read here and here!) of Ofelia and Astarion and their fun adventures jumping through vampire flicks from Earth- I literally cannot describe it well enough to do it the justice it deserves, but I strongly, no DIRELY, recommend anyone read it- it's beautifully written and completely separate to the fic, that you wouldn't need to read mine at all to enjoy it- as long as you like Astarion, BG3, and creatures of the night, then you're set!!!

I'm honestly still in shock about it, and I never felt I deserved anything so wonderful and thoughtful, but I am eternally grateful and I would like everyone who can, to please shower Rose and Bel in endless love for these beautiful pieces of art. I love you guys so much and I never would have thought playing this game a year ago'd bring me such lovely, kind, beautiful people 💕 You have my heart forever 💖

[askkatiebarton]

Katie sat on the rooftop, her bow resting across her knees, the city stretching out below her. The cold night air bit at her skin, but she barely noticed. She wasn’t supposed to be out here alone—her dad would give her hell for it later.

"You're brooding," came a familiar voice.

She didn't turn. "Am not."

Natasha sat beside her, as silent as always. "You sound like your father."

Katie rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Maybe she was brooding.

Clint appeared a second later, landing with a grunt. "You know, normal kids sneak out to party. You sneak out to… what? Be dramatic on rooftops?"

Katie smirked. "You raised me."

Clint sighed, ruffling her hair before plopping down next to her. "Yeah, yeah. That one’s on me."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while. Then, Katie spoke, her voice quieter. "Do you ever wonder if you did the right thing? Being heroes?"

Natasha and Clint exchanged a glance.

"Every day," Natasha admitted.

"But we made our choice," Clint added. "And we'd do it again."

Katie traced the edge of her bow, the weight of their legacy settling on her shoulders. She wasn’t just their daughter. She was a Barton. A Romanoff. A hero.

"You don’t have to be us," Natasha said, as if reading her mind. "Be you."

Katie nodded, her grip tightening on her bow. She wasn’t sure who she was yet. But she’d figure it out.

And when she did, she knew her parents would be right there beside her.

[winisayswhat]

💗You and your future spouse's 1st valentine's day date PAC💗

Disclaimer: This is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so🕊️

This reading a collab between me and this cutie @tarotbyjam24 💗

don't forget to check her account !

Pile 1 by @tarotbyjam24

Your first valentine's day date might possibly be a 50-50 date like you couples splitting your bills or it could be like you both are always so busy so it took effort from both sides to have a valentine's day date together finally. It's gonna be a very planned and calculated date . You guys might also not show your truest self to your spouse on this date because either of you or both can have your guards up even though you're married. I also feel on this date you could also fight with eachother 😭 probably because of hiding something. I see 'hide' word is so prominent here . I wonder how you guys are so mysterious to each other . Mostly I see you guys could be trying local street foods , trying drinks here n there. Although I feel you both will be dressed perfectly for a date to bring the date date vibe . Having drinks on this could help both of you to loosen up a bit and open up to each other . This date will be a start for something new probably you could think of starting family or something else . This pile seems like both of you love eachother but also don't show it and hide it very well that you both seem to each other like enemies ✨ that's all pile 1 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 2 by @tarotbyjam24

Your first valentine's day date is gonna be amazing I swear . They'll make you feel like a prince\princess . Almost worshipping you and giving all the power . I also feel your spouse will be older than you . So ofc they gonna spoil you it's natural to them and you gonna enjoy it . They'll surely take you on various activities for this date like taking some fun classes in day , eating local foods , taking you on shopping, then dinner night at a perfect place probably by river or seaside . This date will grow more love between each other . I get the vibe of ' material girl ' from this pile and I support you for this lol . You go guys . You deserve it all . Now from another perspective if we see this than your spouse could be bit more domineering in this date like those ceo and their girlfriends where ceo likes to eat at three Michelin star hotel and you enjoy your ramen and drinks but you're forced to go on the three Michelin star hotel date lol. I feel you'll act like a disciplined kid when in real you're so spoiled 🍃 and you just don't listen to anyone but you'll have to listen and follow them .that's all pile 2 I hope you liked reading this pile happy valentine's day and bless you all 🎀💗

Pile 3

Okay, babes, this date is going to be mind-blowing . Like, expect some serious sparks flying, and that's just not from the table. The man or woman you're going on a date with has a provider energy. It's like a very fancy place, with a fancy setup. This person is jacked for sure. They're serious and will bring lots of stability and maturity into your life. They're the real deal, honey .The Two of Cups is all about harmony and balance. So, expect some beautiful, heartfelt connections. You'll feel fulfilled. This place feels like a rooftop restaurant with dim lights, and you're drop-dead gorgeous . You're dressed up, drop-dead gorgeous that day. Oh la la, that person is going gaga all over you! They're very chivalrous. They're going to spend all their money on you without thinking twice. You'll feel luxurious, wealthy with them This person is a provider, wild, and dressed to impress . Both of you are excited to meet each other and already know you're the "it" deal. It's like you both were meant to be together, like two puzzle pieces . You both love, value, and cherish each other. It's like you both have manifested each other. The God has led you both to each other .This person is very straightforward, and whatever they say is going to be very real. They'll be honest with you, and you'll love that about them . They're the type of person who'll have many surprises in store. If they take you out for dinner, they'll make sure there's music, a big bouquet of roses, jewelry as gifts, your favorite champagne, food, and good photos to be clicked . Oh la la, this person is also a great photographer! Your Instagram feed is sorted ! Every time this person walks into a room, people look at them and go, "Oh my God, who is that?" They drip with money and luxury 💸. This person is going to be so nurturing and caring. Expect some serious TLC from this person, honey! It's going to be wild, but guess what? This is just the beginning. The journey is much more exciting and spicy!

Pile 4

The ambiance is romantic, probably at a favorite restaurant or spot. The air is filled with a sweet scent, and you both feel harmonious and in tune with each other. You're thinking about how lucky you are to be in this relationship!Conversation on the date is all bout goals, future plans, and excitement for what's to come. You both are magnetic, high-achieving individuals who are planning out your adrenaline-fueled life together! Eye contact is intense, and you both feel a deep sense of connection and understanding.This is a couple who will be the life of the party, so in love and into each other that they won't even notice what's going on around them! You're best friends, despite being different, and you complement each other perfectly.

[lokisprettygirl]

Come As You Are (Eric Draven! Bill Skarsgard's Version x Female Reader) (18+) (Slight Au)

Read chapter 4 here

Chapter 5

Summary : You and Eric take turns taking care of each other. You let out a secret.

Warning: 18+, dirty sexual thoughts, smut in later chapters, Description of self harm, Eric is a past drug addict with suicidal tendencies, self harm, use of cuss words, description of claustrophobia, reader is in her early thirties, mention of sexual assault, death and murder, Consumption of alcohol and weed, periods

The next morning when Eric woke up, you were still asleep in his arms so he placed you on the bed as gently as he could before he propped himself on his elbow and looked at you. Admiring you would have been a more befitting term though. Your boobs were about to slip out of your tank top so he closed his eyes and fixed the strap before he leaned down to kiss your cheek.

Good god he could definitely get used to this.

He looked down and the lower half of your body was so completely pressed up against him, your legs tangled around his own while your thigh clung to his waist.

He was hard, so hard for you.

His cock ached and throbbed uncomfortably. You just looked so beautiful like this with your body wrapped around him, his hands itched to run between the valley of your breasts but he controlled himself, he didn't want to ruin this but he wondered how you'd look if he took you in this position, his cock pumping in and out of you slowly while you'd moan and writhe and look at him with those pretty, soft eyes of yours, chanting his name like a mantra.

The way you said his name so tenderly always got him but he couldn't even imagine how sensuous his name would sound when you're saying it amidst the throes of passion.

Before you'd wake up to witness his rock and hard embarrassment he untangled himself from you begrudgingly. He then slowly began pulling you in the center of the bed as he got up, he was afraid you'd fall down on the floor in your sleep.

“Mmmmm” you let out a cat like noise as he moved you so he stopped for a moment and just caressed your head.

“Shhhhhh shhh.. go back to sleep” he held you like that so you'd drift off again, you still had time in your shift and he didn't want your sleep disrupted because of him again.

As he got off the bed he pulled the duvet over you, wrote a small note and placed it on the side table next to the lamp so you'd not think he just upped and left after you had been so impossibly precious to him last night.

An hour later when you woke up, you woke up with a smile on your face, you had a dream about him, a naughty dream that had you dripping, you were lucky he wasn't there anymore, you probably would have touched him so inappropriately if he was next to you right now. You wanted to do more than just touch him, you wanted to lick every inch of his tatted skin if he'd let you.

“Ughhh” you groaned as the tingling sensation between your legs began to bother you.

You weren't really expecting to find a note but you were starting to pick up on the fact that he loved writing them. So old school, you weren't sure he even had a cell phone and that was something that mystified you.

'Thanks for everything. I mean it. Really. I do. Didn't want to disrupt your sleep again so I'm leaving this here as I'd be gone all day. See you at dinner tonight? Be safe out there, don't forget to take the taser. Leaving the breakfast on the kitchen counter. Waffles with extra whipped cream. Eat it before you go?

Eric :)'

You couldn't stop smiling after that, you read his little scribbled writing at least ten more times before you got out of bed to get ready for the day. He never really told you where he was going, who he was meeting, who he was beating up today or worse. He wanted to keep you out of that part of his life and you didn't want to push him again, he had been opening up to you and you were content with it.

At least for now.

Later that night when Eric returned drenched in blood again, he was excited to just shower and then knock on your door like he usually did, he was expecting to smell your delicious cooking from the elevator itself but he got none of that. As he approached his door he found a note so he picked it up immediately.

'Rain check on the dinner tonight? Cheryl got a promotion so she wants to celebrate, will be back soon.

P.s You need a phone. Eat something healthy.. see you soon <3'

He gulped as he read the note, he looked at the time and it was 9:30 at night, you were a grown woman, you had survived so far on your own but he couldn't stop worrying about your safety especially after that incident. You didn't even tell him where you were going, if he knew he would have gone there to keep a safe watch from a distance.

As he entered his apartment, he couldn't stop pacing back and forth in worry, he had that nightmare last night and now you were out at such late hours and he didn't know where you were and what if something happened to you? He'd never be able to forgive himself for this, he didn't even think he was even capable of losing you anymore, losing one more person who despite his numerous flaws wanted to be around him.

As the clock hit 11, he opened his door to go look for you, wherever you were in this big city, he was going to find you but then he heard the sound of the elevator whirring and he halted on his doorstep.

As you stepped out of the elevator you saw him, standing on his doorway, the blood splatters were all over his face and clothes, not as bad as the other times but they were there.

“Hey did you just return?” You asked him as you walked towards him but he didn't answer you, he was just staring at you, as if trying to make sure that you were perfectly safe from head to toe, that there wasn't one single scratch on your precious body, the black flowy dress you had worn made you look so gorgeous and he'd have admired it more if he wasn't so wrecked at the moment.

“Eric?” You mumbled as you walked closer, for once he didn't smell perfect, he had a long day and he had spent the past two hours sweating profusely in stress and anxiety.

“You know you could have just mentioned where you were going” he said as he crossed his arms so you nodded before you stepped closer to him and placed your hand on his forearm but he pulled away like a petulant child throwing a tantrum

“Eric-” you spoke again but he interrupted you.

“I was so..it's ..fuck .. it's 11 at night..it's not safe out there you know that, there are awful people just waiting to-”

“Eric” you interrupted his train of thoughts but he kept going..he was going to freak out, this was a sign that you had come to recognise in the past four months.

That's what started the downfall of his relationship with Melody, he was always so paranoid and afraid of her being hurt again, so much so that every time she went out without him he spent every half hour calling and texting her, making sure whether she needed him to be there for her or if she was in danger. It had gotten so bad that she broke his phone in anger once after he picked an argument over her not responding to his calls. He didn't blame her for feeling so suffocated with him, she had a bright future, big dreams and he was just holding her back.

“Did your friends even drop you home or they just left you outside somewhere-” he continued so you said his name a little louder this time.

“Eric?” You walked closer and cupped his cheeks, your fingers rubbed over the dried blood on his skin as you made him look you in the eyes.

“Look at me okay? I'm safe, I'm okay, I'm here” you mumbled, your voice gentle as you pulled him closer and embraced him, it took him a few moments before he wrapped his arms around your waist in a tight grip. You were safe, you were safe and in his arms and he could feel you and touch you.

After a while you pulled away from the hug but didn't step away completely. You knew he spent the last few hours worrying his mind over you and he must not have eaten so you really wanted to feed him.

“Take a shower, I will fix you a sandwich, okay? You want something to drink?” You asked him so he shook his head before he lowered his neck to place his head down on your shoulder. He breathed in your scent for a moment before he cupped your cheeks, his thumbs ran over your skin gently

“Don't go anywhere now okay?” He said to you so you nodded in response. The way he was being so protective of you made your heart flutter so fast you feared it would burst out of your chest. Nobody has made you feel so important before, nobody cared enough to treat you as if you were someone they needed to protect so fiercely.

“I'll be back, I smell like a sewer rat”

Well at least he was aware.

You chuckled as he turned around to go into his apartment but he kept his door open for you, you had to make that sandwich and you knew you'd find nothing in his kitchen so you entered your apartment, quickly fixed him two chicken sandwiches and then you made your way into his apartment.

When he came out of his bedroom next he seemed clean and he smelled divine like always. You tapped the spot next to you on the couch so he sat down and turned his head to look at you, he then flicked his fingers over your cheek.

“You look beautiful”

So did he you thought.

“Thank you”

As he picked up the sandwich he offered you a bite so you took it even though you were full to the brim from the dinner you had with your friends. As you placed your head down on his shoulder he turned his neck to look at you,

“Tired?”

“Mmm i just hate that i have to work tomorrow again” you groaned and he couldn't help but smile at the whiny tone of your voice.

“Take a day off”

“Mm no I'm saving it for my periods”

Well it was something men didn't have to worry about, like ever.

Once he was done eating he got up and grabbed a heavy chained metal lock before stepping out of his apartment so you followed behind him to see what he was up to, he was locking the grill door of the elevator.

When he saw you looking at him he spoke to clarify “Just for the nights, there's no security in this shitty building..you want a key?”

He asked you, even though he was hoping you'd not use the key to sneak out at nights and even if you did he hoped you'd tell him where exactly you were going. God he sounded absolutely manic as he heard his own thoughts.

“Mmm no..I'll come to you if I need it” your voice was soft, almost seductive as you said it, even though he knew you didn't know the S of Seduction.

He looked at you a bit surprised, you were going to feed into his paranoia weren't you? Instead of making him feel so fucking deranged about it you were going to massage his borderline creepy behavior with you and take pleasure in it.

As he walked past you he grabbed your arm and dragged you back into his apartment before he closed the door behind him.

“Eric, why don't you have a phone?” You asked him as you got into his bed as if it was the most natural thing to do in the world for you.

“Don't need it” he answered as he looked at you, the sight of you flailing out in his bed rushed the blood to his cock, you were in his bed, in that dress, he could just climb on top of you, kiss you and then run his hands all over you, touching you in places he desperately wanted to and he had a feeling you won't stop him either, you seemed so eager and desperate to him, he felt it, the way you touched him, the way you couldn't keep your hands off him when he was close to you, you were as eager and as desperate as he was for you.

To hide the evidence of his arousal he approached the bed and quickly laid down next to you.

“You don't need it? How do your ..ummm work folks contact you for the.. assignments you get?” you asked softly. He had no one he wanted to speak with? That saddened you to the core, not one person, no friends, no distant family members, Not even an ex or something.

“Don't need a phone for that..I'll get one tomorrow though, just for you, learned a lesson tonight”

You smiled as he said that. Well it wouldn't hurt to be able to chat with him and hear his voice whenever you wanted.

“Need to sleep?” He asked you so you turned on your side and hummed in response before your arm flung around his waist.

“Eric?”

He turned his head to look at you and hummed as you called out his name, your eyes were closed so he stared at your face as much as he wanted, you were so close to him.

“Something bad and weird happened to me a few months ago”

You mumbled and his smile faded, he knew exactly what had happened and he wasn't sure if he was ready to talk about it just yet.

He didn't want you to know he was the one to bring you back home that night.

“What happened?” He asked as he turned to his side, propping himself up on his elbow to face you so you opened your eyes.

You sighed before you told him everything that had happened that night, all from the moment when those men had cornered you to the fact that you had given up and how you were back home when you had regained consciousness.

“I don't know if that even happened or it was a dream or I made it all up, I feel crazy when I think about that night” he ran his fingers through your hair to comfort you, the way you often did for him.

He didn't want you to feel so confused about that night but he wasn't ready to tell you the truth either, he didn't want you to think he had done any sort of favour to you or perhaps you'd think he was a creep for not taking an unconscious woman to the hospital.

He went through your purse afterall which took him a while, it was a mess, he looked for id, and address and your keys before he lifted you up tarzan style and brought you home and put you down on your bed. It was just shock from fear and exhaustion so he wasn't worried about your health being in imminent danger.

He should have disappeared out of your life after that but as soon as he saw the list of vacancies for the 11th floor he couldn't help himself, he wanted to be around you and keep you safe from all the bad things in this world. He felt a rush that night he hadn't felt in years, a sense of purpose in his vacant existence so he latched onto you like a leech.

But you didn't need to know that.

“You're not crazy sweetheart, I'm just glad you're safe and I promise I'll never let anyone hurt you again alright?” he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, the gesture made your heart flutter again, god you just wanted to keep touching him when he was around you.

“Okay” your arm curled around his waist as you scooted closer to him with your nose pressed up into the crook of his neck. His scent was comforting as always, comforting and arousing at the same time.

“Eric?” you mumbled, your voice sounded muffled and it made him gulp.

“Yeah?”

“Can you unclasp my bra, I can't sleep with it on”

Now how was he supposed to do that?

“Yeah uh..sure”

He mumbled as he flung his arm around your back and pulled the zipper down a little so he could reach the clasp. You had your eyes closed so he glanced at your beautiful face for a moment, you breathed in deeply as your chest was finally released from the confinement.

“Thank you” you mumbled as you clapped his cheek lightly twice. He was starting to see how effortlessly sexy you were, so naturally sexy, you didn't have to pout or use a seductive fake voice, you just did things in your usual manner and that always stirred the arousal in the deepest pit of his stomach.

He laid down on his back and his breath hitched as you proceeded to place your thigh over his waist, right over his crotch.

Did you want him to flip you underneath him and take you? He couldn't really tell, he enjoyed the proximity and if this was all you wanted to give him he'd take it.

“Good night” you murmured softly so he hummed in response.

How was he supposed to sleep like this?

In the middle of the night you woke up suddenly as you felt that familiar churning in your stomach and slight wetness in your underwear..Eric rubbed his eyes as he looked at you.

“What's wrong?”

“Gotta go” you said as you climbed on top of him before jumping out of his bed, he was shocked for a moment but then followed you into your apartment and then your bedroom.

He watched as you grabbed something from your closet and he put two and two together.

It's been a while since he has been around a …menstruating woman. Melody often liked being alone when she had her cramps, she didn't enjoy being touched or taken care of, she just wanted him to leave her alone especially during the last few months they had spent together.

As you came out of the bathroom your face was contorted in grimacing pain.

“Hey. I'll go get it for you okay? Do you need anything else?” He asked so you shook your head.

“Do you have any ibuprofen? I ran out, i should have bought it” you asked him so he shook his head, he didn't really require any types of pills anymore. “Oh god I'm going to die” you mumbled as you crawled into your bed, he couldn't help but chuckle.

“No.. I don't want you to go at such late hours” he chuckled again at the concern. Gods you were adorable to him.

“I promise I can take care of myself..now do you need something else?” He asked you again so you sighed.

“Just pass me my hot bag please..it's in the closet..right drawer” he nodded as you said that before he reached into your closet and opened the drawer, he saw the drawing he had given you that night to apologize and it made him smile.

“I'll be back soon..use this until then” he said as he charged the bag and gave it to you as it was hot enough to offer some semblance of comfort. He truly wished he was able to take away your pain, he would trade places with you immediately but it wasn't possible.

“Well at least you don't have to work tomorrow” he said as he leaned down to kiss your temple and it made you smile even though the cramp was progressively getting worse.

Yeah well that was a positive side to having your periods.

“Thank you Eric.. love you” you mumbled under your breath but he heard you, it wasn't what you said that made him giddy but how you said it so casually..

Fifteen minutes later he was back with your pain killer, as you sat up he placed the pill in your mouth and made you drink water before he placed the glass on the side table. When he looked in your eyes they were teary so he cupped your cheeks.

“That bad huh? You'll feel better soon, okay? What else can I do? Tell me”

He thought you were tearing up because of pain? No, not right now at least, it was him that made you so emotional, you had never been treated so gently before.

“It's not the pain..I'm just happy you're here” he let out a breath as you said that, he wasn't the only one suffering from the lack of haptic communication in his life it seemed, you had no one either, no boyfriend, no best friend and you have never spoken much of your family either. Besides he was more than willing to be here with you, he just wanted to take care of you, give you something in return for all the ways you took care of him.

“You need a bigger bed sweetheart” he said as he climbed in and pulled you in his arms.

“Mmm bigger and longer since you're so long” He smiled as he caressed your back in the hope that you'd fall asleep as the medicine would kick in and you almost did as well but then you said something that kept him up all night.

“Eric?”

“Mmm”

“I have a secret” he chuckled as you said that.

“What is it?”

“Promise me you won't judge me?" You asked him.

“Never”

He didn't judge you, ofcourse not but your answer made him want to distance himself from you, not because he wanted to but because he felt as if he had to, or he'd end up ruining you completely, he feared he'd taint your pure perfect self with his ugliness.

“I'm a virgin”

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀

Taglist: @m-riaa @erebus-et-eigengrau @peachychyy @enchantresss97

[celestialcupiid]

Cosmic Love Forecast

February 9th - 15th, 2025

Greetings, starry souls!💫 Welcome to this week's Cosmic Love Forecast! The stars have a message just for you, let's dive in! As always, we look at the Moon, Venus, Mars, and Mercury to see how it influences love's energy during this week!

Moon

2/12 Full Moon in Leo

Perfect for this Valentine's Day! This week, our lovely Moon will have a Full Lunar Phase in Leo! This means that we are releasing fear of vulnerability, encouraging self-love and confidence, as well as acknowledging your needs and desires in a relationship! This also calls for big romantic gestures and passionate declarations! Plan a grand date night, rekindle a spark, or even finally confess those feelings!

Mars

Mars in Cancer Trine Saturn in Gemini

This week our cozy and tender-hearted warrior Mars in Cancer will trine our witty strategiest Saturn in Gemini! So what exactly does this mean for us? Well this week, words really do matter! Think heartfelt confessions, late-night talks, and love letters! Love built under this transit feels secure, strong, and sincere! Make sure to send your lover a heartfelt message during this time!

Mercury

2/9 Sun in Aquarius conjunction Mercury in Aquarius

This week we are starting off with our wonderful Sun and Mercury meeting up in Aquarius to create an inspirational vibe! So what does this mean for us? This transit is like texting your crush at 2am with a wild theory about the universe, and then laughing about it for hours! Give things time, Aquarius knows that space fuels attraction. Don't be afraid to let things unfold naturally!

2/10 Mercury Square Uranus

Who else hates Mondays?! This week, Mercury will square Uranus bringing the energy of, 'oops did I just say that?' Expect your filter to disappear this Monday! The energy this trine brings is bold words, impulsive texts, and the urge to say exactly what's on your mind--for better or oops, for worse. This also brings a lot of restless energy this week! So plan for spontaneous dates, playful banners, and last-minute surprises!

2/11 Mercury Trine Lilith

Our chatty and visionary Mercury in Aquarius will trine Lilith's dark and intoxicating energy this Tuesday! With this transit, words get bolder, flirtation gets spicer, and convos take a turn for the daring. Talk about turning up the heat! Expect words to be full of mystery, sass, and just the right bit of rebellion. Flirting is a breeze with this energy! Wield your voice this week like a spell! Charm, seduce, and let your voice linger just enough to have them wanting more!

2/14 Mercury Enters Pisces

Just in time for Valentine's Day! Our chatty mercury drifts into Pisces, turning our words into poetry, confessions into sonnets, and texting into straight-up telepathy! What to expect? Dreamy love messages, flirty imagination, emotional whispers. Love will be intuitive, soft-spoken, and full of dreamy and soft sighs. Trust that love is felt, not just said. 💌💖🌊

Read more about how this week will affect your sign!

⊱ ─── [ 💌 ] ─── ⊰

Aries

Bold words? Who needs them! You're flirting through vibes and stolen glances. Actions > words now!😏🔥

Taurus

Sweet talks turn into soul talks. You're craving deep, meaningful love notes. No small talk, just magic. ✨💖

Gemini

Your words flow like poetry this week! But do they mean what they say? Flirting is fun, but emotions are real. Choose wisely!💬🎭

Cancer

This is your vibe! Soft whispers, nostalgic love, and feeling things before they're said. Welcome home. 🥹💞

Leo

Love gets cinematic. Grand gestures, dreamy declarations, and heart-melting words, yes you're the main character. 🎬💘

Virgo

Logic? Gone. You're decyphering love like a secret code and maybe overanalyzing that one message. Deep breaths. 🧐💞

Libra

Romance is floating on air, and you're thriving! Soulmate convos, dreamy eye contact, and sweet nothings? Yes, please!💕🎶

Scorpio

Intuition is on fire. You're reading between the lines, sensing every emotion, and speaking straight to the soul. 🖤🔮

Sagittarius

Love feels like a mystical adventure now! Wanderlust, deep talks, and falling for someone's mind first? Yes.🚀💙

Capricorn

Romantic stability meets soft devotion. Love notes on sticky notes, quiet moments of care--Love doesn't have to be deep.💌✨

Aquarius

Your thoughts feel like dreamy downloads, and suddenly you're writing poetry without realizing it. Love gets weird but in the best way!💬💜

Pisces

Welcome to your season of love magic! Words turn into spells, intuition runs high, and romance feels like a fairytale!🦋💖✨

⊱ ─── [ 💌 ] ─── ⊰

Thank you for tuning in for this week's Cosmic Love Forecast! Share your sign and how you've been feeling this week in the comments or ask! Loved this? Make sure to check out this week's Love In The Stars post which we navigate how to work through this week's energies and how to harness them for what you want using affirmations and meditation!

Stay tuned for next week's forecast, let's see how the stars influence Valentine's Day!

Until next time, may the stars guide your heart!

-CelestialCupiid

[heleninhha]

TRAPPED IN SHADOWS | I/EN

Feels like we had matching wounds, but mine's still black and bruised and yours is perfectly fine now. The Exit, by Conan Gray

Romantic partner: Azriel (ACOTAR) Summary: After Feyre's first two tasks, she finds herself broken and depressed; Greer feels her pain constantly, but something about that night bothered her more than usual. Approximate reading time: 13min Words: 2,5k Warnings: Angst at the beginning, but with a bit of cuteness (like, I just want to hug Lucien forever), and at the end. Mentions of possible triggers. NOTE: I really believe in second chances, but I don't know if it's Sarah's writing or something else, I can't feel that with Tamlin. I'm sorry, it's just a bad feeling.

I: Hiccups at dawn Masterlist | Serieslist | Last chapter | Next chapter

Currently…

She heard the muffled cries through the walls, unshed tears and an anguished heart. As she combed her hair, she could feel the tension in the human shoulders, the sense of desperation seeping through her veins, chasing an almost imperceptible thread of hope.

Greer had hated himself for many years, so many she didn't know where to begin to explain why she was angry, but there was one being who stole all that anger for herself. The center of his disgust, the reason she couldn't just fly as far away as possible.

Amarantha. The name had a metallic taste in her mouth, like boiling blood; the plague that Tamlin had so eagerly led Feyre to believe was only a sickness in once fertile meadows. But like an eagerly orchestrated game, it wasn't just the red-haired fairy who had made her see the world as a battlefield. Yes, she had longed to strangle the blonde since her mother's death, but an idiotic agreement made her run after him like an obedient dog.

Even though the tattoo on the back of her neck burned every time she felt the need for vengeance, she couldn't ignore the empathic agony in her chest.

More screams and Greer wondered if they were just thoughts. Feyre's mind had always been delicate and innocent to her powers, but ever since she'd had the bright idea to seek her love — something the older woman would never understand — her thoughts had been screaming.

She wished she could help her, but she knew that as soon as she dared to look away from the throne, her brother would suffer the consequences.

"If you even think about lying in bed with that filthy smell of booze, I'll slit your throat."

Lucien muttered in disbelief and stepped around the object with some difficulty. He fell to the floor beside the dressing table and hit his head against the dark wall.

"I'll never drink again."

"Liar," the woman whispered, tucking the comb behind the silver jewelry box. "You're just a poor wine addict."

A hum of derision, as if to say the unclean speaking of the unclean, and a metal eye stared at her.

"You look beautiful."

"And you're drunk."

"Yeah, well…" he sobbed, putting his hand over his mouth. "Don't judge me."

Greer smiled weakly and returned the attention. As much as she wanted to yell at her friend for his lack of responsibility in getting his ass into enemy territory, Feyre's screams and the sense of desperation she radiated were exhausting her. Besides, the male didn't need another jerk trying to control his life, especially when he had come so close to losing it a few days before.

"Go take a quick shower and then we'll go to bed."

Lucien didn't answer at first, just stared at her.

"I would have missed you."

The female snorted and shifted her gaze to the rest of the room. Dark silk curtains and an old wooden headboard, a strangely comfortable bed and a small, worn wardrobe, paintings of obscure landscapes and a spacious attached bathroom; everything was contrasting and frightening, but it didn't make her want to vomit as much as the scene she had been forced to watch less than 60 hours ago.

She still remembered the sick feeling in her stomach, the headache and the racing heart; Lucien's desperate screams and an illiterate human reeking of fear and rage. If it hadn't been for Rhysand…

"I mean it."

"Don't talk nonsense." She watched him again as she got up to crouch down towards his friend. "You attract bad things."

"You and this crazy theory about attracting things… There is no such thing."

"Let's not argue, I'm exhausted."

Before the older man could open his mouth, she pulled him up, wrapped her right arm around his back and supported him. He rested his head on her shoulder, accepting the help only as the wine made him dizzy, and tried to keep up with his friend.

"If you'd just listen to me for five minutes," Greer grumbled, kicking open the bathroom door.

"Let's not argue."

"You bastard!"

Lucien had only had five seconds to laugh before he was thrown into the tub of cold water. She had swallowed him alive, and if it hadn't been for the fire in her veins, she would have died for sure. Those pesky shadows…

Was it sunset or dawn? She didn't know, she just watched as the sun filled the clouds with magenta and purple, the orange and gold rays blending together like a happy dance. An infectious rhythm, full of unmistakable passion and…

Greer fell out of bed, her eyes wide and her hands shaking. She scanned the room for any sign of that cruel trick, but all she found were the curtains swaying in the wind and Lucien's soft snoring on the other side of the mattress.

Her hands were still shaking as she stood up, the music of her childhood filling her senses and driving her through painful memories. No one knew that song, no one present on that mountain knew the origin of one of the most beautiful compositions ever created in the world, so how could they torment her?

Amarantha didn't know that Velaris existed, let alone that Rhysand was capable of such generosity to anyone but himself, and so she followed the line of reasoning; no one had the faintest idea of the true nature of the Night Court — at least the part of it that her father had chosen to benefit.

So... what did that mean?

Greer shook her head, ignoring the latent pain in her chest with a sticky feeling called longing, and sat up in bed. She was about to lie down when the music rose in pitch, as if preparing for a triumphant fall, and she snorted. After a shitty day of being forced to be some kind of sick bodyguard for the queen and her Grand Lord, she just wanted to wallow in the strangely soft sheets.

Cauldron had a dark sense of humor, and maybe the fae hated him for it, but she couldn't deny that part of her enjoying reminiscing about old times.

A memory of a field of flowers, an allergic friend, and a contemptuous, animated laugh. Shadows that looked like yours, a plate of hot food and books on the table. Cozy hugs from an older brother, with a kiss on the forehead and a warm good night.

She felt her stomach turn sour, bile rushing up her throat, but she ignored the bad feeling. Instead of running to the bathroom, she pushed back the covers at the foot of the bed, vaguely hearing Lucien's murmur as he turned the mattress over and hugged the pillow in front of her. Then Greer found herself standing at the door, her hand on the doorknob, the shaking stopped, but her heart still racing.

Anyone in their right mind would be in their tenth dream at that time of night, the dark sky dimly lit by the moon, but it seemed everyone had decided to run up and down.

She dodged a grey-haired fae, his steps hurrying as he muttered softly, a book in his arms. Behind him, three others were talking, the middle one staggering from the drink of hours before; they saw her with the door ajar, her hand still on the handle, but outside.

"Good night, Shadow." The man on the left smiled, lips closed, bowing his head in respect, and the others followed.

Greer just blinked, confused and annoyed. She hated that ridiculous nickname, even if it was as sincere as possible.

With a tired sigh, she closed the door and ran her hand over her dark satin nightgown. The soft fabric wrapped around her like a glove, and the unnecessary cleavage at the back made her want to scream. If she could, she would have taken Lucien's robe, but she didn't want another argument with Tamlin.

A painful sob echoed in her mind, a sharp pain tearing at her chest. She hoped it would pass after a few hours, that Feyre would overcome her melancholy and raise her head in the darkness, but apparently she was too broken.

Greer sometimes saw herself in her; she remembered Andras' death, how Tamlin had been possessed, but also hopeful. Days later, the human had arrived at the castle, a clear, seething rage that made the female smile in fascination. But those feelings seemed to fade, giving way to the sick love that Feyre believed to be real.

She tried to warn her several times, tried so hard to tell the girl that she was putting herself in a place where she wouldn't come back alive, but her prohibition to see her without anyone around made it difficult. Lucien helped her most of the time, sneaking through the spell of the agreement between his Grand Sire and his friend, but always ended up listening to the older man's bullshit.

Another sob, deeper this time, almost as if she was too exhausted. The fae quickened her pace, letting the music guide her through the dark corridors of the mountain. More drunken men and women, sneaking through the darkness of the night and rushing to the nearest rooms; she thought it was all just one big brothel, the smell of sex permeating every corner she dared to explore, but she couldn't stop at that moment, not when she was so curious to know who was tormenting her.

A low whisper followed by a tight feeling in her chest. Feyre was sitting on her toes, hunched over, staring at her hands as if they had plunged a knife into her stomach. She took deep breaths, trying to reach all the oxygen in the world because it never seemed to be enough, and Greer noticed that her heartbeat was racing as well.

You could call it empathy or pity, but the female crouched down in the darkness, mimicking the position of another, a few steps away from the human's cell, and hugged herself. Staring at the sickening scene before her, murmurs of Tamlin and what am I going to do? followed each other for a few minutes, loud tears fading to silence.

She dropped her head to the wall, letting the weight of her body collapse against the cold, dark stone, and followed Feyre's lost gaze to the ceiling, searching for whatever had caused her that terrible crisis.

Then the music seemed to double in volume, almost as if to greet the older woman. She smiled, holding back her own tears, finally understanding.

Shadows crept across the floor like fog, and Greer sensed the presence of a third person. He didn't need to look to know who the conspicuous essence belonged to, but he allowed himself to blink as Rhysand hid behind a beam of darkness, almost imperceptibly and in the posture he had always worn.

He didn't see her, though, too focused on the shattered human to worry about anyone else. After all, who would be crazy enough to go down there in the middle of the night?

The cold fog wrapped itself around the ankles of the others, becoming agitated and emotional, just like its owner. She wanted to run and hug him, but she knew the consequences, so she just pushed the darkness away from her brother before it didn't look like night anymore. Tightening her embrace, she sank further into that tiny peak and turned her eyes back to Feyre.

She was calmer, her breathing calmer and the whispering stopped. She seemed more melancholy than desperate, and then came the realization: there were only two days left until the last task.

An avalanche of disapproving yet hopeful thoughts flooded the eldest's mind, and she wished desperately that the human could close her mind.

Listening to the reflections of others had always been something to be proud of, but Greer knew it was complete torture to push the boundaries of someone who hadn't built a good wall. It was almost as if they pushed her into the other person's confusion, and at that moment it was Feyre.

Feyre, who had sometimes found her hiding in the library, her glasses at the end of her nose and the smell of tea filling the room, but who hadn't touched her. Feyre who looked at her strangely during the dinners she was forced to attend, but who smiled kindly at her. Feyre, who met her in the bedroom corridor at dawn, but who never judged her by the smell of Lucien on her skin.

More on impulse than anything else, the fae released the shadows again, allowing them to keep her company, and smiled with her lips closed as the mist danced around the human. She sniffed deeply, straightened up to sit with her legs crossed, and ran her hands through the strange smoke. It was icy, almost like fresh snow, but oddly comforting.

A moderately loud laugh filled the room, filling Greer's heart with an almost masculine pride. The younger woman smiled, her thoughts less desperate and melancholy, and turned her wrist, shadows engulfing her arm and the tattoo that had robbed her of her nights of sleep — and all the shit she was going through.

Rhysand frowned, leaning away from the pillar as if it were all an illusion. Then he stood up and looked around to see who else had this rare gift. Azriel was the only one he knew who had it, but this was different; it was more like the darkness being manipulated, duplicated to do the bidding of the person commanding it.

Greer left her hiding place before her brother could find her. She knew she'd be finished if she was caught, especially if he looked into her eyes, those irises she'd never been very good at hiding.

Before she knew it, she was leaning against her bedroom door, shadows disappearing through the cracks as she got rid of the evidence. She took a deep breath, her right hand over her heart, telling it to calm down.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

Ignoring Lucien, the fae remained leaning against the wood until everything was back to normal. Then she mentally counted, just as her mother had taught her to do in moments of fear.

One, two, three, four, five…

She took a last breath and locked the door before walking over to his side of the bed. The man comforted her, even though he had no idea what had happened, and ran his hand down her back.

"Thank you," she whispered, looking at Lucien with endless gratitude.

"Always." He smiled and pulled her to lie down.

Greer settled down on the mattress, forced herself to close her eyes, and hugged her friend. Grabbing him, she wrinkled the tattered shirt he wore as pajamas, and he continued the caress, always on that particular spot on his back.

You'll be free, he thought, and she sighed, knowing that the lowered wall wasn't out of laziness.

I think I'm in love with Greer… Taglist: @lenasardn @galaxystern08 

[pixiedurango]

If you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate a letter from Illario to Lucanis that is basically him wondering how the hell his awkward cousin managed to attract a hottie like Rook De Riva. (Bonus points for it being my Rook, Adava. I've posted a couple screenshot archives of her.) Thank you very much! This is such a wonderful and fun thing you're doing for the community!

Ding Dong. Another special delivery from the Antivan Postal Service.

We all know Illario is a yapper... this may be the reason why this letter is so crazy long. It's a bit more than just the one requested topic, I hope you don't mind, but I felt, that even Illario would not just kick down the door and starts asking awkward questions about his cousin's love-life. I honestly can't figure, how Lucanis would even answer this letter... Anyway, enjoy!

Transcript:

Cousin, I hope you don’t mind me, bothering you. I know the new First Talon is still saving the world and has probably not the time and even less patience to read from a despicable criminal anyway. Even (or rather because) said criminal is your blood and the closest thing to family you’ll ever have. Beside of course our dear Caterina, who naturally sends her regards (because this way she’s excused to write a letter to you herself. Which of course she would never confirm, and I would NEVER even think. Huh, who wrote that?)

I spend my time doing paperwork for the Diamond recently, since Viago could not be bothered to supervise me all day and night (which I don’t take offensive, I would not want to be my watchdog, either.) Of course no one gives me a contract anymore, maybe there are some with my name on it, but I fear, you’ll find that name in an unfamiliar spot there. No wonder, Viago is paranoid, that something might get out of hand. Which would make him fail his first ever contract from the new First Talon by losing his ward (that would be me).

Not that I wish for this to happen, but then, what is life without the roofs of Treviso in the moonlight, its markets and cafés. The canals and gondolas and the beautiful people in the streets. While I am stuck in the belly of the Diamond. Copying inventory lists.

Anyway, how’s your days? And I mean the parts we don’t get to read in the gazettes or war reports. Allow me to live a little through your new life. I want to know about hat Lighthouse you’re residing in. Living in the Fade is such a weird concept on its own – but being there stuck with a bunch of non-Antivans who are each so different and unique, but you’re still all on the same contract - that sounds like an interesting experience. And they are all so stunningly beautiful and exciting personalities.

Speaking of exciting: Send my kindest regards to that divine but harsh Tevinter detective if you don’t mind, my brother. I’d be very intrigued to get to know other Tevinter people. For a wider perspective, maybe if you want to call it that?

And no, I’m not trying to make a joke here. Or try to push a shady agenda. I just feel that my choices of people from the Imperium was not the… most educated one.

You know what? Never mind, you shouldn’t have to bother with such silly requests and why I feel to ask them from you.

Better we hold onto our words about the things past until we can exchange them in person.

But, you are aware that I simply could have made up a story to make you introduce me to her, right? Or, even better, I just could have written to your Tevinter friend right away, instead of asking you to give my regards…

Speaking of friends. Must be all new and awkward for you, cousin. I can’t remember you having any close acquaintances ever, at all, when we grew up. I would never have thought, you’d have that in you.

Of course now, this all new YOU will not have any more use for your poor cousin - who’s fallen from grace, to do all the nasty ice breaking and socializing for you. And we were such a successful double like that.

Remember that wigmaker job? Vyranthium, I guess. It got you your, moniker, right? Demon of Vyranthium. Just like a creepy foreshadowing, don’t you think? Anyway, what was I talking about? Ah!

You did all the bloody work back then, I happily give you that, but without me? Way more complicated it would have been, I dare say. And even more dangerous as it was already.

Cousin, just think about it. We could rule Antiva together. Or just retire and be the rulers of our own court, whereever that may be - and do what ever we please.

Or did you eventually make peace with being the one in charge? First Talon! So much responsibility. And so large boots to fill.

May Caterina continue to live and rule on for many many more years to come. So you don’t have to step up entirely. Letting her continue to draw strings in the shadows, while you being the representative and handsome young face of the Antivan Crows. That was a clever move from the old girl. Or was it yours? Either way. She could have all that with less drama and an even prettier face, far more willing, to put up with her and her attics. But, well, here we are.

Sorry, I fell back into ramblings about things again, that should be topic for us talking in person. Forgive me. How did I get there in the first place… I have no idea. Maybe this gives you a hint, of just HOW boring the paperwork is, I get to do here. I start yapping. In a letter.

Before I end this pointless lament, cousin, brother! I want to congratulate you. Honestly. Of course, only if it's true, what’s going round within the Diamond and probably the salons of Treviso’s nobility, too. That the new First Talon, known to be the chastest of all Crows, finally decided to seriously court someone. And not only that. It’s even reciprocated this time, as we hear.

A strategic bond with the House of the 5th Talon? I hear that not few people are taking it this way.

But I know you better, cousin. You’d never engage into such an endeavor, when it’s not playing out like in your silly romance novels. (Yes, of course I know what you always hid between your textbooks and under the mattress. Kitsch!) But well, to each their own, I guess. You the books and me the real experience. But you seem to finally getting there, as it seems. Tell me everything, brother! I’ve witnessed you yapping about coffee and kisses goodbye and smarmy stuff like that. You were really into that de Riva girl, right from the start. There goes my last hope, that Adava had, or would ever discover, a soft spot for me behind her wall of professionalism and all business. Just joking, of course, I’m happy for you both. I mean it.

Just don’t let your heart and your… midsection get into the way of a contract. Which in your case would very much unfortunate for all of Thedas. But who am I to give you advice of matters of the heart… (or the midsection) My latest choices weren’t the smartest, either.

Before I end up filling a journal here, I’ll end now. If you want, write me back, I really want to hear about your life and could use any distraction. We’re family, after all. - Illario

Find the other letters here

[things-arent-what-they-seem66]

Adam doesn't know how Lucifer did this every night, check all windows to be sure they are locked, check front and back door for being locked and then make sure the security system was working.

And if he leaves the house for any reason, do it all again. But this was only something he did at night.

Adam liked the guest room, surprised a little that Lucifer even had one but maybe it was just to fill the room. The bed was so comfortable, he practically melted into the bed.

When morning came Adam felt so good, that bed did wonders for him. Going down he nearly started to laugh a little, he's never seen Lucifer with his hair messed up sticking out at odd angles and some drool dripping down his chin.

Poor guy must have really needed the sleep. But something about him looking like that endeared him even more to Adam.

Cute.

Lucifer started to wake up, he felt so good when he opened his eyes he was confused as to why he was in the living room.

Oh yeah. Broken leg.

Not his first one but still. He's lost track of how many things he's broken......

Adam: Morning Lu!

Normally he'd panic, but seeing Adam standing there in pajamas, hair messed up and a wide grin on his face made him stay calm and his heart fluttered at the sight of him.

He stayed.

Lucifer smiled: Good morning Adam, did you sleep okay?

Adam: Best fucking sleep ever! Okay, so how do you normally start your mornings?

Lucifer: Well..... Normally I'd just, make my bed, clean myself up and then eat.

Adam: Okay sounds good!

He brought Lucifer everything he needed, he opened specific curtains to let the right amount of light into the house.

Adam made him breakfast and they ate together. It was so nice.

Lucifer got him to get a change of clothes from his room, just a pair of shorts for on the bottom just the thought of trying to put pants on with this cast would be a nightmare.

When Lucifer changed his shirt Adam couldn't help but nearly drool at how nice he looked without one. He wasn't just some small thin guy there was some muscle there too.

Lucifer: It's just very odd not getting up and doing everything myself.

And he was likely not going to do anything too much for himself for a couple months.

Adam: I'll try and make everything be as if you did it!

Lucifer: A-and you're sure I'm not keeping you from anything important?

Adam: Pfft, no. The only thing I have is work and my boss is super understanding.

Apparently his boss Sera was quite familiar with Lucifer being brought into the hospital. He used to be a frequent flyer.

Maybe Adam will have a peak at his medical record. Just to get a sense of how bad things really were.

Lucifer: I-I-I don't want to burden y-you.

Adam smiled and gently took Lucifer's hand in his: You're not a burden. As my neighbor and friend, you matter to me more than you know.

Luicfer's face warmed and his heart fluttered, he mattered? His eyes teared up a little, no one's told him that before.

Adam hugged him as he cried a little.

Lucifer: I-I'm sorry

Adam: Shhh, it's okay let your feelings out.

That made him cry more, he's never had someone validate his feelings. Always forced to keep them to himself and God forbid if he didn't.

They broke apart when he stopped crying.

Adam: I just gotta go next door and grab a few things okay? I'll be right back.

Luicfer: O-okay.

He flushed as Adam wiped his tears, he was too good to him.

-

Alastor sat out on his deck reading the morning paper with his coffee when he heard the door open.

But Adam didn't come out of his house, rather he came out of Lucifer's of all places. He gripped his mug, that charming little bastard even when he's in his fucking house all day he pulls people in.

He made a promise to Lilith that he would keep Lucifer's life Hell and it was one he intended to keep.

Trapped Heart

@beef-brisket

⚠️This deals with Agoraphobia, anxiety, depression, and mentions of domestic abuse ⚠️

-

Adam: Well that's the last of them.

He looked around his new home and smiled, this place was so much better than his last home and a third of the price too.

They were practically giving it away.

There was his lawn mower that was on the truck still.

Adam went out to put it in the garage when he noticed his neighbor, a short blonde man getting his mail from his box. He was better looking than his last neighbor.

Adam waved: Hey!

Lucifer jumped as he grasped his mail, he looked over and saw a handsome brunette standing in the driveway across the road smiling and waving.

Lucifer: O-Oh, hi!

Adam: Names Adam, I just moved in.

Lucifer: N-nice to meet you! I'm Lucifer, I hope you like it here.

He wanted to be polite and welcome his new neighbor right, but he could already feel the cold tendrils of anxiety start to slowly crawl through his skin trying to wrap around him like a vice grip.

How long has he been outside? His heart started to beat a little hard with each moment he's not back in his home. He could die! He's not safe he needs to get back!

Adam: Yeah me too.

By the looks of it he already likes what he sees.

Lucifer nodded, he could feel the tremors starting in his hands the palms getting sweaty.

He needs to go.

Lucifer: I-It was nice to meet you Adam! B-But I need to get going.

Adam: Oh okay, maybe we can hang out sometime?

Lucifer gave a tight smile: Y-yeah.

He waved again to be polite and tried not to run back to his house, his therapist said it was good for him to be out as long as he could stand it.

Pushing himself a little each day. Today him reached his limit.

Once his front door was closed and locked behind relief washed over him, he's safe now nothing can hurt him. He hugged his mail to his chest, he needed to sit down.

Lucifer went over and placed everything on the coffee table. He tried to remember his breathing exercises.

Adam seemed very nice, maybe he'll send Charlie over when she comes to give him a proper greeting.

-

Adam tilted his head as he watched his new neighbor go into his home, if he didn't know any better he would say the man was panicked. Did he do something? He knows his personality can be a little brash at times but he thought he was being polite.

A man that lived beside him came out for his mail as well.

Adam: Hi! Umm, I'm new here.

Alastor: Oh hello! I'm Alastor, I guess that makes us neighbors.

Adam chuckled: Guess so. Umm, if I may ask, is the man that lives there okay? I didn't intend to upset him.

Alastor looked over at Lucifer's home and rolled his eyes.

Alastor: Getting the mail was he? Don't worry about it that man's afraid of his own shadow. I wouldn't waste my time, he never leaves his house.

Well that sounded a little dramatic.

Adam: What?

Alastor leaned on the fence: Oh yeah, Mr. Morgenstern over there never leaves his house. Rumor has it that his wife used to beat the fuck out of him in the home but it was worse when they were in public. Apparently she'd just humiliate him and others would join in making things worse. He was never free of her but at least in the home he could be alone.

Adam was horrified to hear that: Dude, the fuck, is that true?

Alastor shrugged: Not sure. All I know that is true is she left him nearly 8 years ago and he's become some kind of hermit that never leaves the damn house. His daughter Charlie, sweet girl you'll likely meet her, comes over from time to time.

Adam looked over at Lucifer's house, that couldn't all be true right? Maybe some was and the rest is telephone gossip extras?

Him and Alastor parted ways, he had to put everything away in his house. All the while his mind kept going back to the handsome neighbor across the way.

[thechibilitwick]

bored