#how do i explain sisters to someone without a sister

[twilight-good-yall-dumb]

uh oh girls im up too late feeling absolutely sick to my stomach over Liam Payne again!

[devotioncrater]

:)

[astonmartinii]

wherever the roots may lead you | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x antonelli!reader

when one takes an ancestry test they don’t usually expect to find out that their half brother is now racing in formula one…

MASTERLIST | TIP JAR

yourusername

liked by yourbff, user1 and 1,578 others

yourusername: the whole office decided to do an ancestry test - WHY IS MY HALF BROTHER KIMI ANTONELLI???

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user1: girl i follow you for your pasta recipes why am i expected to know who this man is

user2: he’s a formula one driver?

user3: he’s A BABY

user4: the way this did not answer a single question

yourbff: bro you’re italian, there’s probably hundreds of kimi antonellis

yourusername: no one asked you to be logical about this

yourbff: let’s just not claim a random 18-year-old without verifying it

yourusername: well in the short five minutes i’ve known of his existence i have googled him and all the dates line up

youbff: not to support this delusion but you two do look freakishly similar

user5: i fear my kimi stanship has led me to dark places

user6: for real why is this girl yapping

user7: idk how i got here but they do look like they could be related …

user8: if they are it’s still probably not the weirdest thing to happen in f1 this week

user9: someone needs to study the sport and as to why it’s so fucking weird

olliebearman: who are you and why have you stolen kimi’s face

yourusername: excuse me?

olliebearman: you are excused

yourusername: what?

olliebearman: you are claiming to be related to kimi but i happen to know everything ever about him sooooooooo where have you been all this time?

yourusername: well i kind of just found out about this so i don’t have an answer for you right now?

olliebearman: i’ve got my eye on you weirdo

yourusername: okay?

kimiantonelli: wait!!! ollie how did you even find this post it’s got like 2k likes?

yourusername: omg read?

olliebearman: well it just came up on my explore page?

yourusername: no the fuck it didn’t

olliebearman: EXCUSE ME MISS, KEEP YOUR BEAK OUT OF BEARNELLI BUSINESS

yourusername: you’re doing your business in my comment section?

user10: i swear these fools are meant to be at media day

user11: nothing stops for bearnelli chaos clearly

estebanocon: @olliebearman yo? we were meant to be filming like 20 minutes ago?

olliebearman: oh? i was busy

yourusername: busy getting on my nerves

olliebearman: WHO ARE YOU?

yourusername: you’re on MY INSTAGRAM PAGE

olliebearman: i am a child WATCH HOW YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT A CHILD

olliebearman: @charles_leclerc dad stop her now

charles_leclerc: why are you pinging me during the press conference

olliebearman: this is important !!!!

charles_leclerc: @yourusername oh hi

yourusername: hello ???

kimiantonelli

liked by olliebearman, charles_leclerc and 590,300 others

tagged: yourusername

kimiantonelli: i thought getting points on my debut would be the craziest part of my week but turns out i have a half sister i never knew about ??? watch your back paddock i don’t think you can handle TWO antonellis

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user12: wait so that trainwreck the other day was REAL?

user13: smile and wave girl i have no clue what’s going on

user14: we need a weekly episode of drive to survive at this point omg

yourusername: we haven’t even met yet

yourusername: i am very excited to

kimiantonelli: OF COURSE WE SHOULD BE EXCITED

kimiantonelli: i knew you were out there i could feel you in my waters

yourusername: i’m not sure you have waters? like anatomically?

kimiantonelli: well i knew you existed before your post so explain that atheist

yourusername: i’m just going to let you have this one i think…

kimiantonelli: that is VERY wise

user15: i am losing my mind over the fact that these kids are talking for the first time in instagram comments

user16: i honestly wouldn’t expect anything less from this crop of rookies

jackdoohan: please do not lump me in with this nonsense

kimiantonelli: so our family love is nonsense to you

yourusername: jack!!!! after everything …. i can’t believe this!

jackdoohan: we’ve never spoken before?

yourusername: well in my familial research i watched the rookie round table and you ranked highly to me… but i see

jackdoohan: wOAH PAUSE

jackdoohan: my apologies

kimiantonelli: they all come crawling back …

user17: what is actually happening?

user18: so like has anyone stalked this girl? who even is she?

olliebearman: y/n y/ln is a 26-year-old marketing manager who lives in london. she runs a pasta-themed instagram account to apparently page homage to her ‘italian heritage’. she has no kids and no boyfriend or girlfriend. by most accounts she doesn’t have many friends or hobbies or money?

kimiantonelli: that’s like… kinda hot?

yourusername: you do you i guess

yourusername: also like that’s such a rude write up on me ???

olliebearman: so you don’t think i’m hot

kimiantonelli: that’s SO rude y/n

yourusername: you’re EIGHTEEN??? and also have this weird tension with my brother… idk i’m not a therapist?

olliebearman: i’ll call my dad again

yourusername: oh the one from the other post? please! i think he’s the best thing i found on my f1 stalkfest

charles_leclerc: well well well, i’m charles

olliebearman: NO?

kimiantonelli: ollie you gotta let her have something!

olliebearman: but if she falls for his dorky charms that might make us incestuous ???

kimiantonelli: i don’t know what that word means

olliebearman: my dad, dating your sister?

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc you have to disown ollie now

charles_leclerc: okay, if i do that does that mean i can take y/n on a date

yourusername: DO IT NOW PLEASE

yourusername: woah! i mean, i’ll have to check my calendar

yourbff: she’s free, the lanky one was right, she doesn’t have many friends.

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,209,457 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: lost a son and won a date. congrats on the promotion oscar!

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user19: we are moving so fucking fast

user20: well it’s on theme…

user21: well we need to go from rb19 to that fucking aston martin

yourusername: as far as first dates go … well i didn’t think we’d be babysitting a 23-year-old

charles_leclerc: he’s fragile right now

yourusername: and he needed his emotional support not-boyfriend there as well?

yourusername: and that emotional support not-boyfriend needed to bring his friend who brought his maybe-boyfriend who brought his ‘surrogate brother’ which is MY BROTHER?

charles_leclerc: i’m sorry?

yourusername: i’m starting to think attachment issues and homosexual tension is just part of the job description to work in formula one

alexalbon: i don’t think you’re wrong on that

charles_leclerc: honestly i did plan for just a romantic dinner but things came up!

oscarpiastri: well i’m kind of sorry for crashing your date but as previously stated i was in a crisis…

yourusername: you did cry… but i thought that was just to get charles to get you dessert?

oscarpiastri: you can’t prove that…

oscarpiastri: ALSO why are you just coming for me when the others crashed and without a good reason like me?

yourusername: true ….

landonorris: i was taken by oscar !!!!! not my fault

yourusername: you made me move from my seat across from charles because you didn’t ‘like the lighting’?

landonorris: well that was very kind of you

charles_leclerc: you basically sat on her until she moved

landonorris: well maybe you should have stood up for your date!

georgerussell63: considering how badly lando is digging his grave, i’ll just say sorry and that i wasn’t completely aware it was a date

yourusername: how was it not very obvious? we were at a CANDLE LIT DINNER WITH A TWO PERSON TABLE YOU DRAGGED OVER A TABLE TO SIT WITH US

alexalbon: in our defence we were only going to escort kimi there but the curiosity got too much…

yourusername: are you just attaching to kimi because i’m not going to get annoyed at him

alexalbon: …….. um no?

kimiantonelli: y/n he brought me dessert and a funky little drink - MARRY HIM

yourusername: that’s a little fast buddy

charles_leclerc: so you wouldn’t marry me?

yourusername: take me on another date, just me, and we’ll see

user22: she’s stronger than me i would’ve proposed right here right now

user23: nothing more 2025 than an instagram comment proposal

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, olliebearman and 23,091 others

tagged: kimiantonelli & charles_leclerc

yourusername: so who was going to tell me this f1 shit was this crazy?

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user24: actually thinking about it, this girl must be having such intense emotional whiplash

user25: legit because what do you mean like last week she didn’t know what f1 was but now she’s related to the best rated rookie and dating (?) charles leclerc

user26: when will these situations happen upon me

charles_leclerc: did i win you over this weekend?

yourusername: maybe?

charles_leclerc: maybe?

yourusername: okay, yeah

yourusername: but you could’ve let kimi through :/

charles_leclerc: that’s kinda not the game of the game

yourusername: but he’s my brother ?

charles_leclerc: you make a compelling point…

charles_leclerc: but, amor, i wouldn’t let my own brother overtake me

yourusername: i see…

yourusername: it was worth a try sorry kimi

kimiantonelli: fear not we can try again when he’s more in love with you

yourusername: for everyone’s information: i do genuinely like charles, this ^^ is a joke !!!!!!! i understand the sanctity of formula one and that no one would genuinely let another through based on such a situation

kimiantonelli: okay miss PR AND MARKETING

yourusername: oh buddy you should see my DMs, that was necessary

charles_leclerc: what ???

yourusername: babe your fans are great but like a good 5% of them are like genuinely insane, like 51/50 level

charles_leclerc: oh yeah… i’m sorry

yourusername: oh no worries i’d be just that crazy for you

charles_leclerc: you aren’t?

yourusername: i don’t need to be, i have you don’t i?

charles_leclerc: oh hehehehhehehehe, you do

user27: WRITE THAT DOWN WRITE THAT DOWN

user28: i’m scared of her, but i need to be her

user29: you can’t be that good at making pasta and have rizz and date charles leclerc

user30: i fear y/n might actually be sniped, she’s a triple threat

oscarpiastri: do you see why i needed emotional support?

yourusername: well yes i get that now

yourusername: but please refrain from crashing dates in the future unless you have let us know promptly

oscarpiastri: i knew i’d get you on side, the leclerc family love me

oscarpiastri: @kimiantonelli watch out, i might overtake you next

kimiantonelli: i will slash your tyres, y/n will bail me out

yourusername: will i?

kimiantonelli: so you don’t love me?

olliebearman: I TOLD YOU SHE WAS NO GOOD

yourusername: first of all, ollie - i thought i’d managed to get you on side with my offering of pasta. second, i love you the most on the grid kimi, i just do not have the disposable cash of a formula one driver

kimiantonelli: fine, you make a point

kimiantonelli: @charles_leclerc looks like it’s down to you now.

kimiantonelli: and you’d do anything for my sister, right?

charles_leclerc: ugh why are the rookies so crafty these days

yourusername: hmmmm?

charles_leclerc: YES I WOULD, FOR YOU

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, kimiantonelli and 1,894,500 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: follow wherever the roots may take you, because sometimes it might lead you to the best thing ever

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user31: i mean meeting your girlfriend through her doing an ancestry test to find out she’s related to your coworker is one hell of a meet cute i’ll give them that

user32: ‘wherever the roots may take you’ okay mr leclerc when did we become a poet

user33: let’s add it to the words of wisdom

user34: the ferrari garage WISHES they could be him

kimiantonelli: well, i am pleasantly surprised with how this all unfolded, you’re definitely the best choice on the grid

yourusername: awwwww kimi thanks !!!

charles_leclerc: thanks?

olliebearman: CHARLES IS THE BEST CHOICE ON THE GRID ????

kimiantonelli: you want to date my sister? i thought you liked another antonelli?

olliebearman: oh!

olliebearman: yes!

olliebearman: … another antonelli for sure

charles_leclerc: @yourusername do i say anything

yourusername: no i want to watch ollie suffer after he’s done nothing but come for me

charles_leclerc: okay, amor

user35: this is how all men should be

user36: AGREE WITH EVERYTHING I SAY

user37: so like… where do we find them because i fear there’s only two ferrari drivers and many of us

yourusername: well i am certainly glad i followed mine

charles_leclerc: led you right to me

yourusername: wouldn’t want to be anywhere else

charles_leclerc: hehehehehehe i guess i have that effect on people

yourusername: PEOPLE?

charles_leclerc: just you xxxxx

yourusername: that’s what i thought

charles_leclerc: speaking of you… when can you come to another race?

yourusername: i’m very sorry to say babe but i do have a job

charles_leclerc: NOOOOOOOOOOO

yourusername: i know :( i don’t dream of labour

charles_leclerc: what do you dream of?

yourusername: there’s this really sexy monegasque formula one driver who has an amazing accent and the cutest little dog. he’s super determined and sounds even sexier when he’s angry on the radio or celebrating a win. you might know him?

charles_leclerc: i might…

yourusername: well you should BACK OFF because he’s MINE

charles_leclerc: yes, yes he is

user38: so like … how do we get her on drive to survive

yourusername: oh you know netflix have been calling my phone

user39: LETS GOOOOOOO

yourusername: don’t celebrate too soon, because you won’t like me when i delete all the cute footage of charles, that’s for my eyes only

user40: i would want you dead, but also real

lewishamilton: ummmmm so when can you come back @yourusername he’s being pathetic again

yourusername: he’s always pathetic that’s what i love about him

lewishamilton: but it’s particularly bad now, he’s carrying a picture of you and leo (it’s VERY badly photoshopped)

charles_leclerc: hey! joris was busy i had to make it myself

yourusername: that’s cute bby don’t listen to him

charles_leclerc: yeah leave me alone lewis

lewishamilton: what the hell, sure

fin.

note: if you couldn't tell i'm a big kimi stan LMAO

[readwritealldayallnight]

It’s been months since Simon has been home

All he wants is to see you, his sweet girl, so much so that he loses track of what the actual date on the calendar is, in favour of counting down the days, hours, and minutes until you’re in his arms again

That’s why Simon’s surprise when he walks in to the local shops is genuine, before quickly turning into annoyance, when he notices that almost all the shelves are stocked with things for Valentine’s Day

Bright red, pink, and purple gifts covered in glitter and sparkles, sequins and jewels, all of them screaming out one word, over and over and over again for shoppers to see

Love

It’s a word Simon tries not to think about too often, in spite of it being part of his daily vocabulary

Yes, while your hunk of a man’s favourite pet name for you has always been love, it’s a word he has yet to say to you outside of being anything more than a name, a word he has yet to say he feels for you, even though his heart spells it out with ease each time he is with you

It’s hard for him because he can remember exactly the last time he told someone that three word sentence

Christmas Eve, a lifetime ago, he’d just gotten off the phone with his brother, sister-in-law, and nephew, hearing the young boy shout out into the receiver that he loved his uncle Si, a light hearted chuckle slipping past the Lieutenants lips before he’d replied back without issue that he loved him too, before he hung up and never heard his family’s voices ever again

He wants to say it to you because it’s true

He does love you more than anything, but he just can’t bring himself to say it

Those memories have become so tangled up in trauma, his mind associating darker times with those three goddamn words, the ones he knows would mean so much for you to hear he just can’t bring himself to speak aloud

He has dreams where he forces himself to say it, where he tells you a thousand times over that he loves you, whispers it in your ear, shouts it from the rooftops, writes it down everywhere for you to see and even etches it into his flesh with a needle and ink, until the dreams become nightmares and he’s yelling those words at your bloody corpse, writing it in the snow dusting your tombstone, waking up in a cold sweat, dreading the day you say those three words to him and he can’t explain why he can’t say them back

And while he can’t yet explain to you all of the demons that continue to call his skull their home, he finds himself not needing to, not with you

With you, there is no pressure to say things that cause him more pain than joy, there is no need to explain things that he struggles to fully comprehend himself, there is no need to perform or act in any way that isn’t true to him, not with you, his sweet girl who somehow understands him more than he feels he understands himself most days

Instead, with you, he gets to say things that are his own version of I love you, no matter how grand or small:

“I see you”

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever had”

“I can’t believe I get to call you mine”

“You make me so happy”

“Let me carry that for you”

“Put your seatbelt on”

“I made dinner”

“I’ll do the dishes, you go sit”

When the 14th of February eventually rolls around, you aren’t expecting anything out of the ordinary, never having acknowledged the upcoming gimmick of a holiday with Simon

Which is why you’re so surprised when you wake up to find the spot next to you in bed empty, noises in the kitchen letting you know Simon hasn’t gone far

Bare feet slowly padding towards the sounds of a grand breakfast being prepared with much frustration from a seasoned soldier who struggles to use seasoning, you can’t help the overwhelming grin that takes over you face when you see nothing more than a simple card standing up on the dining table, no bells or whistles, no flower petals thrown all over the flat, no orchestra serenading you awake, just you and Simon, all you need, all you want

Reading the card stretches your smile further than you thought possible, quickly sneaking up on your love to wrap your arms around him from behind, his own matching smile etched upon his face as he scrambles up the eggs, imagining you enjoyed the card, which reads in his scratchy handwriting:

“ I ♥️ you ”

[knaveofmogadore]

Kfkdks

[oikarma]

barista & her pastry

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: you like leaving unhinged messages on drinks for your brother...until you accidentally leave one for someone who's not him and the internet is trying to figure out who made oscar piastri's coffee

a/n: in this fic daniel ricciardo is your brother (ricciardo is his middle name) and he's still retired from f1 as of singapore 24

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yourinstagram hi aus ♡

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danielricciardo I'm so happy you're back home

yourinstagram had to see my brother, no? danielricciardo Coffee? yourinstagram no.

bffname nice coffee, barista

yourinstagram not my name, customer bffname now we fall in love yourinstagram riiiiiight (jokes ily)

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by hattiepiastri and others

oscarpiastri Back in the motherland 🇦🇺

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user1 please throw me around like a dumbell osc

user2 selfie is giving millennial

hattiepiastri could you not put the sky pic first

oscarpiastri No hattiepiastri did you not figure out how to drag and drop oscarpiastri What?

lando "thank you lando for dropping me off"

user3 they took a plane together?? 🥺 that's so cute user4 landoscar forever

user5 enjoy the break!!

user6 a man... a man...

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by yourinstagram and others

danielricciardo How I see the coffee cup v.s. how the coffee cup sees me

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user1 what are you on

danielricciardo coffee

user2 he's so unserious i love him

user3 missing dannyric hours

maxverstappen1 Did your sister write those

danielricciardo What do you think max

user4 Come back Daniel F1 isn't the same without you

yourinstagram poor coffee cup. having to see that nose every day.

danielricciardo Poor Daniel, having to see Y/N's face every day yourinstagram hey! i'm literally going to move away danielricciardo ☹️

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri Family dinners

user1 THAT COFFEE CUP IS DIABOLICAL 😭

user2 NEIGHHH user3 i need an audio for that

user4 whoever made that coffee i hope you're good queen you probably traumatized oscar for the rest of his life

user5 like "do i look like a horse?" "does she think she's a horse?" "what?" user6 be fr cool calm collected chill cat piastri would just find it funny

hattiepiastri mentioned!

oscarpiastri Yeah

user7 foodie piastri

lando neigh

oscarpiastri Stop.

user8 DANIEL LIKED THIS

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and others

yourinstagram done with life

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danielricciardo I see you switched to mugs

yourinstagram no more to go coffees for you

user1 bro how did i not know daniel had a sister

user2 idk she's been at so many of his races user3 not to mention he loves posting clips of her on his story user4 no...i thought the forehead grabs were of him

lando neigh

user5 yn's past is catching up to her oh ho yourinstagram gr. danielricciardo Stop being a furry ??? user6 what is this anymore 😭 user7 ariana what are you doing here

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by lando and others

oscarpiastri Hello, London

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user1 that is a WOMAN'S hand. OSCAR. JACK. PIASTRI. EXPLAIN YOURSELF.

user2 hear me out it's yn user3 yn, daniel's sister?? user2 @/user3 yeah, do you not know about the entire coffee shop debacle??

user4 hotel breakfast? for two?? 🤨

user5 he has no right looking that fine

user6 see you at the o2!

mclaren hello, oscar

oscarpiastri I didn't know your name was London, admin user7 did he just make a joke lando i didn't know you had humor, oscar

user8 are you with yn

user9 idts she didn't like the post

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

yourinstagram has added to their stories

This story has been deleted.

replies

user1 london??? o2?? oscar??

user2 did he send you that as a souvenir 🥺

danielricciardo can I get the big ben keychain

yourinstagram it's literally for you smartass danielricciardo !

user3 wait.

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── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

liked by mclaren and others

oscarpiastri F175

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lando me!

oscarpiastri You

user1 no yn crumbs ☹️

user2 hear me out...someone in the crowd must've taken the first pic for him user3 the delusion we all share 😔

user4 he's so pretty i can't even

mclaren op81 spotted

oscarpiastri Great job!

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

yourinstagram added to their stories ◦ saved to highlight "pastry"

[CAPTION: barista and pastry]

replies

user1 hard launch FINALLY

user2 SHE MADE A HIGHLIGHT FOR HIM

lando what a sentimental man you have

danielricciardo Why is he in your bedroom???

yourinstagram shush

user3 he's so book boyfriend coded

oscarpiastri So...you serve me?

yourinstagram i serve you. it's my job to serve food. oscarpiastri Would you say I'm a snack? Or dinner? Or lunch? Or just a dish? yourinstagram i am feeling rather hungry right now.

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝

a/n: hope you liked this!!

[a-casxandra]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐒 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐃

Zayne's pov | the other side of the story

[Part 1]

You had always been the brightest part of Zayne’s life.

Three years. Three years of quiet breakfasts before dawn shifts, sleepy forehead kisses in the locker room, walking each other home under flickering streetlights. He wasn’t a man of words, but with you, he never needed them. You understood his silences. You understood him.

He had been planning it for months now. The proposal.

The ring sat in his desk drawer at Akso Hospital, hidden beneath files of bypass patients and transplant rosters. Platinum band, simple diamond—just like you. Understated, beautiful, eternal.

He was going to ask you to marry him after he saved MC.

MC. His childhood friend. Practically a little sister.

When she came in with her worsening heart condition, he felt responsible. She had no family left, no one to stay by her side. And Zayne… he was a doctor. He was her doctor. It was his duty to be there.

That day you walked in on them, the day everything shattered—

Zayne remembered the moment in blinding clarity.

“You should eat more vegetables.” he said, setting down MC’s lunch tray. It was bland, tailored for her condition, but necessary.

“Says the doctor who hates carrots,” MC teased, reaching out and flicking his wrist. Then she paused, silent for a moment, looking at him with unreadable eyes.

“Zayne… thank you. For always being here.”

“Of course.” He smiled faintly, busy checking her IV drip.

And then, without warning, her fingers curled around his collar and pulled him down. Her lips pressed against his. It lasted barely a second before Zayne jerked back, stunned.

“MC—what are you doing?” His voice was firm, almost cold.

That’s when the door opened. And there you were.

Your eyes widened. Your face crumpled with heartbreak before you turned and fled.

“Wait—[Name], it’s not what it looks like!”

He ran after you, his chest aching with panic. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to propose to you after MC’s surgery. After everything was calm again.

In the silent hallway, he grabbed your wrist. “Please—listen to me. Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain!?” you snapped, tears filling your eyes. “Does our three years together mean nothing to you, Zayne?”

“No—no, that’s not it. Please… don’t make me choose between you two.”

Because how could he choose between his entire world—you—and the life of a girl who saw him as her last hope? MC was family. She was a little sister, a patient. Someone he swore to save.

“Why? Because you’ll choose her…?”

Your voice trembled. Shattered. And he couldn’t find the words. He reached out, but you stepped back, the distance between you widening into a chasm that he couldn’t cross.

Afterwards, he went to MC’s room.

She sat up, clutching her sheets. “I’m sorry… I just… I thought maybe… you…”

Zayne shook his head. His eyes were cold, clinical. “Don’t misunderstand. You’re like a sister to me. I’m your doctor. My only responsibility is to save you. Nothing more.”

MC’s tears fell freely, but he didn’t comfort her. Because his heart belonged to only one person.

You.

Zayne planned to fix things after her surgery. To save MC’s life, clear the misunderstanding, and finally propose to you. He imagined kneeling before you in your shared apartment, holding the ring with trembling fingers, telling you everything he never said enough.

But fate was cruel.

“Where’s [Name]?” zayne asked immediately after the operation ended. Thanks to the last-minute donor, MC was stable. Her vitals strong. Relief flooded his body, because now—now he could go to you.

But the nurses wouldn’t meet his eyes. Dr. Greyson’s expression was tight with grief.

“Greyson. Where is she?” Zayne demanded, his voice trembling for the first time in years.

Greyson swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Come with me.”

They walked down the corridor in silence, each step echoing like a funeral march. When they entered the donor room, Zayne felt his chest tighten.

On the table lay a body covered in white sheets. He approached with shaking hands, gripping the edge before Greyson slowly pulled the blanket back.

And there you were.

Still. Silent. Beautiful, even in death.

“No… no, no, no, no—” Zayne choked, falling to his knees. He clutched your cold hand, tears splashing onto your pale skin. His thumb brushed the empty spot on your finger, the spot where he planned to place your ring.

He reached into his pocket with shaking fingers, pulling out the velvet box. Opening it, he slipped the ring onto your stiff hand, pressing his forehead against it as sobs tore through his chest.

“I was supposed to propose to you… I was supposed to spend forever with you…” His voice cracked. “Why… why did you leave thinking I didn’t love you? God… [Name], I love you. I love you so much.”

But it was too late.

No surgery could fix this. No time could undo this. You were the cut that always bleeds—and now, the wound would never close.

He loved you.

Zayne only loved you.

𝗕𝘂𝘁 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗱𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗵𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗲...

Author's note : so.. I don't think i made this angsty enough...

[cosmosluckycharms]

Bug Like Angel

pt4

See you soon

hey guys warning this chapter literally has none of the batfam here its highlighting reader being insterted into itsv-atsv

It has been a year since you had gotten bitten.

You were now 14

Since then you've lost a couple of people.

Your Gwen Stacy, who was instead named [REDACTED], was killed while you were trying to stop the green goblin.

You lost an officer you were close to. He died while protecting a kid.

You lost someone you considered an uncle.

You were tired.

Since then you've been training yourself, secretly fighting crime to not be seen by your family, and getting stronger in general.

Every day was sortve the same. Wake up, get ready, go to school, come home, eat, fight crime, sleep, repeat.

It all changed one day.

You had just gotten back from patrol.

You stopped 3 muggings and saved a cat from a tree.

It was a slow day, thankfully.

You were doing your homework peacefully.

You were almost done with your algebra homework when suddenly a portal popped up right next to you.

You couldn't process anything as the portal sucked you up and took you in.

The next thing you knew, you were stuck in an alternate universe with other versions of you.

And you had to get home soon ASAP no rocky if you didn't wanna die.

And that be all fine and dandy.

Except you didn't wanna get attached to anyone.

You didn't want them to exclude you and you to follow them around like a lost puppy like you did with your family.

And guess what?

You did get attached.

Peni, a small kid who was in a tiny robot fighting, was like a little sister to you.

Peter B. Parker, ham, and Noir were all like uncles to you.

Gwen and Miles were your cool older siblings.

You loved them.

And you hated that.

Because you knew deep down, you wouldn't get to see each other again.

You all were destined to be apart, due to your separate universes.

You got attached.

You were attached to noir and how his coat smelled like cigarettes and milkshakes.

You were attached to Ham and how he always cracked jokes when things got tense and awkward.

You were attached to peter b and how he talked about his past experiences.

You got attached to Peni and how she would use stickers everywhere.

You got attached to Miles and how stupidly awkward he was with Gwen.

You got attached to Gwen and how she gave you the advice you always needed and never got.

Fuck.

You didn't wanna go back to the manor.

This is the happiest you've been in a while.

This is home.

This is what family is supposed to feel like.

You can go on patrol here without worrying that your family might see you.

You are constantly smiling and laughing with the people here.

You're always catching yourself wishing you could stay here forever.

Other than the annoyingly painful glitching, you're so happy and excited.

You never wanna leave.

You were so proud of Miles and how he got everyone home.

You cried as soon as you landed back in your room.

You sobbed into your pillow. You're gonna miss them.

No one even noticed you were gone for a week.

No one noticed how bruised up you were.

No one noticed how sad you looked.

It's been 5 months since then.

You got invited to join the Spider Society.

Miguel saw you on patrol trying to fight an anomaly and failing miserably due to you never fully getting actual training.

You were trying! It's just that you didn't want your family to see you so its sort of hard to control a whole glitching green goblin...

Miguel took you into the spider society.

You saw Peter B in Miguel's office and immediately tackled him into a hug and shed a tear or two.

You learned that due to being a mix of two multiverses (Marvel and DC) your canon events were a tiny bit messed up.

Miguel explained everything, but everything was going through one ear and out the other.

You wondered if the others were here too.

You wondered if they missed you like you missed them.

Miguel could see how spaced out you were.

"What's wrong, Mija?"

"Are the others here? Like Gwen, Miles, ham, noir, and Peni? I know Peter's here, I saw him just now, but what about the others?"

He went on to explain how they hadn't been invited yet.

Later on, you begged him to at least invite Peni.

He couldn't resist your puppy dog eyes, so he said yes.

Since being introduced into society, you've slowly started getting used to just doing everything here.

You would go into Miguel's office for hours and hours just to be around him.

He was like the father you always wanted!

He would listen to you complain about your family, and he would always lend a shoulder to cry on.

On multiple occasions, he had to carry you back to your bed in your universe because you'd fall asleep in his office on the floor.

You both have gotten close.

Miguel was your emergency contact, always there when you needed him. Despite his intimidating appearance to others, he was never scary to you.

At one point you saw Gwen again, finally!

You were so happy! one step closer to getting everyone together again!

Slowly, you saw everyone again.

..Everyone except Miles.

You didn't understand, why not Miles?

You asked Miguel and he went on a tangent that did not make sense and just made you more confused.

You did get to meet Pavitr and Hobie.

Pavitr was basically your twin! You guys had similar personalities and had twin telepathy.

You and Pavitr were always playing cupid for miles and gwen.

You both were around the same age and everything!

Hobie is SO COOL!

His peircings, his guitar, his clothes, his slang!

You were in awe!

He taught you how to play your guitar! You were finally getting a hang of it!

He was like the older brother you never had!

You wanted to be like him so bad!

Youd follow him around like a duck a lot, but unlike your brothers back home, he'd never yell at you to stop or ignore you, he'd enjoy having you around!

When he and Gwen jokingly said they wanted to start a band, you really wanted to!

A couple of months later, you saw Miles again!

It wasn't in the best circumstances.

You had just gotten back from school. You were in your room scrolling on your phone, when suddenly your spidey senses tingled.

You saw Gwen hop out of a portal in the middle of your room.

"Hey! I kinda sort of need your help."

"what's going on?" you asked, tilting your head in curiosity, putting your phone face down on the bed.

Gwen went on to explain everything you missed.

From Gwen seeing miles to Miles tagging along onto Mamhatten in Pavitr's universe, and then to Miguel's body slamming him into a train and calling everyone to chase him.

Jeez, you don't go to the society for one day and everything goes to shit.

You thought about it for a second, no one would notice you not being here for a couple of days, right?

"..Alright, I've saved the multiverse once, I can do it again."

You sat up on your bed and grabbed your suit.

You grabbed Gwen's arm as she took you to a whole other universe.

After a lot of fighting, you all managed to save Miles's dad.

Seeing their family be happy together made you tear up in happiness.

They deserved to be happy.

After a lot of apologies from all parties, everything was still pretty awkward.

You've probably apologized to Miles over a million times despite him insisting it wasn't your fault.

Sure, you didn't help the others chase him, but you still didn't tell him about society.

Hell, you should've been there to defend him.

You should've yelled at Miguel from the beginning over him not letting Miles in his stupidly exclusive clubhouse.

Instead, you were scared Miguel was gonna bring you back to the manor and disown you, even if you knew he would never do that to you.

You should've stood by miles from the start.

It's never too late to make up for everything

oml this was kinda boring but i needed filler lol

honestly i might write a oneshot of all the spiderkids together

taglist (please tell me if i forgot to tag you!):

@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla

[izadi234]

A/N: Hello! I know I KNOW I said I would post the next chapter of Forget me not BUT! My sister got me obssed with Kpop Demon Hunters, and since its release, I've been down bad for every single character from that movie ever since so here is one of my ideas!

Famous Producer! Reader (Romantic) x Kpop Demon Hunters

Bodyguard! Father! Reader (Platonic) x Kpop Demon Hunters (kind of)

This small draft is about Huntr/x and I'm planning to write one about the Saja Boys in this same storyline.

Imagine you being a famous producer. You've been working with tons of famous idols, from groups to solo idols, but the ones that were your favorite and the cherry on the top for your career were Huntr/x.

And no, you didn't meet them just because. You see, the girls need new ideas not only for songs or dances but to advertise and produce their songs at the beginning of their career and despite having the old producers from the 'Sunlight Sisters' their ideas were... old, and they didn't get the ideas that Huntr/x had in their minds.

That's when your father came in. He was a bodyguard, specifically the 'Sunlight Sisters' bodyguard and later on Huntr/x's. He saw how his girls struggled with explaining their ideas to the old producers, so he gave them your number, and after a lot of things about it, they told Bobby to schedule an appointment with you.

At first, you didn't think too much when you saw the email of this guy named Bobby and just decided to give it a shot because of the name of the group, which you found cool.

But your jaw dropped when you recognized the girls or, specifically, the girl.

Rumi. Kpop royalty. She was at your door with two of her friends. And she wanted you to produce their first song. Yeah, you.

You were a bundle of nerves, and to be honest, you made a fool of yourself in front of them. Just a bit. But they found that very cute.

"So... You're (Name), right?" Rumi asked kindly as she smiled at you

Meanwhile, you were staring at her and her friends as if you've never seen someone like them, but her voice pulled you back to earth.

"I uh... Sorry, what was the question?" You chuckled nervously

They couldn't think of you as more than a cute and a bit awkward producer but damn weren't their jaws down to the floor when you started working.

Your face changed immediately. Your eyes were focused, and your lips were in a fine line as they explained to your their song and ideas. They waited for you to interrupt them once you got confused but that never happened.

Once they finished explaining themselves, you started giving them some ideas and suggestions, leaving them completely surprised that you had understood their vision.

"We know there is a lot we are asking for, so it would be valid if you had doubts or didn't understand at all" Zoey said, a bit embarrassed, not by their ideas but the complexity and how she thought none of them could explain themselves

"Oh no. I understood," you assured her."So basically, what you want is..."

Yeah, and you proceed to explain exactly what they all wanted for their song and it's production.

Ever since that day you became their producer and friend... Well, at least that's what you call them, for them you were more than a friend.

But it wasn't only your personality or work that pulled them towards you. You had something special, something that made the moon honmoon around you react differently.

Around you, the honmoon was yellow, a very chirpy and happy yellow, but you never seemed to notice it, or if you knew it, then you never paid mind to it.

For our 3 hunters, it was fascinating and scary. Maybe you were hurting their honmoon without knowing, or maybe you knew about it but didn't know what to do about it. They were sure that you weren't doing it on purpose as they didn't feel tense around you but didn't know what to do.

That's when they went to Celine. She was impressed and excited which left the girls confused but then she explained herself.

"As you may know, yellow is one of the 5 principal colors of Korea. It represents fertility and abundance, but many years ago, it represented high status and wisdom. Ever since the first hunters appeared, there's been a few people who presented this kind of color with the honmoon. Those people had an ability that was believed given by the gods so they could help fight evil. They're gifted with powerful minds full of emotions and creativity, which later one was discovered could help the hunters write and perform their songs better and give the honmoon more strength. Not every generation was lucky enough to meet one of these 'shooting stars' as they called them, but the three of you must be the luckiest of all. Now that you're so close to seal the golden honmoon, this shooting star appears right in front of you. Let them help you, but don't tell them anything. They may get scared and don't understand our duty as hunters"

And that's how your friendship began.

Meanwhile, your father was happy that you had found some friends in those girls (even though he noticed the way the three of them looked at you or how they asked about you) and to be honest he would be more than happy to see you with them in a more romantic relationship but that was your decision to make.

"Hey F/N (Father's Name)! Have you seen (Name)? I wanted her opinion about some lyrics" Zoey said as she walked into a room where your father was resting and talking with Bobby

"Oh. They must be at their apartment" he said

"Really? Oh, well. And do they like jajangmyeon?"

"What does that have to do with checking some lyrics?" He asked her

"..."

"Zoey..."

Before anything else happened, Zoey ran away like a little child that had been caught painting the walls.

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

"Hey F/N! Bobby!" he heard Rumi's voice behind both men that were discussing the girls' schedule for the day

"Rumi" F/N greeted her with a small nod while Bobby greeted her with more energy

"I've been wondering... Is (Name) coming to our show tonight?" She asked a bit nervous

"I don't know. I guess so" he looked at herwith his eyes half open in a suspicious way

"Why?"

"I-I I was just wondering, that's all" she said nervous

"Yeah... right..." he didn't believe her

"And... are they free after the show?"

"Rumi!"

Then the girl ran off

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

"Hey F/N" Mira greeted him as he was checking the security points of a stadium where the girls were going to preform

"Yes, Mira?" He turned to look at her

"Which is (Name)'s favorite color?"

"I uh... it's f/c" he answered a bit, confused by her question

"Really? Thanks!" She turned around and ran towards backstage again

"Girls, I know her favorite color!" He heard her shout at the other two hunters

"Really? Awesome!" Some other voices could be heard from the backstage

"Wait Mira!" He called out for her

"Why do you wanna know their favorite color?! Mira!"

Yeah... Your father was a bit overprotective over you, but hey! He was your father. He had a valid reason.

But he still trusted those girls as he had seen them grown over the last years.

Everything was perfect for them. The honmoon was about to turn golden. You were by their side supporting them, oblivious about the risks they face every day and the importance of the songs you help to write and produce. F/N and Bobby were also by their sides and the fans adored them.

Nothing could go wrong, right?

Well, everything went downhill when a new boy band was forming at the Underworld.

Hello! I hope you like this small writing because I had fun writing it and I have more ideas! Still I would like to see if you had any ideas or something like that or even requests!

Anyway thank you so much and see you in the next one!

XOXO

-Izadi

[purplereina11]

Part 3

You spent your childhood drifting through foster homes, with nothing but a worn photo of two little girls and a note on the back: Your sisters, Alexia and Alba. You never imagined that at 25, after starting a new job, you'd meet them, through your boss who was your sister's girlfriend.

Word count: 9k

⚠️ This comes with a warning 🔞

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The phone rings only once before Patri picks up like she was already holding it, like maybe she still keeps you the only person set to ignore the do not disturb she always has on, even now.

Her voice is cautious but soft, immediately alert. “Y/N?”

You don’t speak at first. You try, but your throat is too tight, your voice caught somewhere between panic and exhaustion. All that comes out is a shaky breath.

That’s enough Patri’s voice lowers, gentle but steady like the ground beneath you just got a little more solid. “Hey. It’s okay. I’ve got you. What do you need?”

You still can’t explain it. Can’t bring yourself to shape it into words you don’t even know what you need, but your voice finally cracks through the pressure. “…Can you come over?”

There’s no hesitation, not even a beat. “Yeah. I’m already grabbing my keys.” You hear the clink in the background keys, door, a muttered “Vicky, I’ll be back later” then her voice returns, quieter now, but somehow more certain. “I’m on my way. Don’t worry, okay?”

You manage a whisper. “I’m scared.”

That silence holds for half a breath not because she doesn’t know what to say, but because she wants to say it right. “I know, but I’m coming. I’ve got you, cariño. Just hang on a little longer.”

She doesn’t ask for details, she doesn’t push, she doesn’t need to. She heard it in your voice something broke loose inside you and started flooding out, and all she cares about now is getting to you.

You hang up without saying goodbye, knowing she’ll be there.

And she will be, because no matter how messy or distant things have gotten, she’s always shown up when it counted and tonight, you didn’t need her to fix anything. You just needed her.

The knock comes quicker than expected sharp and urgent. You barely got the chance to sit down again after your panic call.

You call out, voice low but steady now, “It’s open.”

The door swings open with more force than necessary, and Patri storms in like she was ready to fight off an intruder keys still clenched in her hand like a makeshift weapon, eyes wild and scanning.

“Y/N?” she says quickly, stepping fully inside, breath just a little uneven. “What happened? Are you okay? Where are you?”

You step out from around the corner, a little sheepish, and point toward the ceiling near the window. “There’s a spider.”

Patri stares at you for a long, stunned second jaw slack, chest still heaving slightly from sprinting up the stairs like her life depended on it. She blinks. “A… spider.”

You nod slowly. “A big one.”

There’s a pause where you swear you can actually see the tension in her body trying to process whether to be furious, relieved, or amused. Patri exhales through her nose, visibly trying to remain composed but the twitch at the corner of her mouth gives her away, “You sounded like someone had broken in.”

“Well technically, the spider did,” you say weakly. “It certainly wasn’t invited.”

She closes her eyes for a moment, shaking her head, and when she opens them again, the panic is gone, replaced with dry amusement. “I left Vicky mid-sentence and ran four red lights.”

You bite your lip to stop the laugh bubbling up. “Sorry?”

She gives you a long look, then slowly, dramatically pulls off her jacket and tosses it on the back of a chair. “Where is it?” she asks, squinting toward where you pointed.

“Ceiling. Top right corner. It moved once.”

“I’m risking my life for this, you know.”

“You’re very brave.”

Patri grabs a magazine off your table with unnecessary determination and marches toward the window.

You stand behind her at a safe distance like the coward you are.

“You owe me so hard for this,” she mutters but she’s smiling now, and despite everything, it’s the softest she’s looked at you in days.

Even though you’ve clearly ruined her night and interrupted whatever plans she had, she handles the spider without complaint, because she always shows up even when it’s just for a spider and a scared voice on the phone.

Patri lifts the magazine gently, the spider inching along its edge like it has no idea it’s just narrowly avoided a death sentence.

You flinch instinctively, keeping a solid few feet of distance between you and her. “Kill it.”

She glances back at you, eyebrows raised. “No. I’m not killing it.” She starts toward the balcony.

“It’s just going to come back in,” you protest.

“It won’t.” Her voice is firm, like she’s the spokesperson for all spider-kind. “It’s more scared of you than you are of it.”

You scoff. “I doubt it.”

She shoots you a look over her shoulder, opening the sliding glass door. “Oh it is,” she says. “It’s seen how crazy you are.”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?”

She carefully taps the magazine so the spider drops down onto the balcony floor and scurries away. She straightens and turns to you with a smug smile. “Honestly, if I was that spider, I’d need therapy after this stunt.”

You narrow your eyes, arms crossing. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”

She shrugs, stepping back inside, letting the door slide closed. “But I did.” Then, softer, “You sounded scared.”

You pause, caught off guard again by how easily she shifts from teasing to gentle.

She sets the magazine down and walks past you toward the kitchen. “You got anything to drink that isn’t poison, I can take for the road that was such thirsty work” she reappears with one of your cold diet cokes from the fridge.

You watch her for a second, then finally exhale, the tension in your shoulders loosening as her presence settles the apartment back into something that feels like safety, even if she just called you crazy.

You follow Patri to the door, your hands fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve, nerves still humming slightly not from the spider anymore, but from her.

She moves slowly, like she’s waiting for you to say something. At the door, she turns halfway, her body angled toward you. “Thanks… for coming,” you say, voice quieter than you mean it to be. “I know it’s stupid.”

Patri shakes her head gently, her expression soft. “It wasn’t stupid. You called, I came. That’s it.”

You offer a small, lopsided smile. “Still. Thank you.”

For a second, neither of you move. The distance between you is small, but the silence makes it feel bigger. Then she meets your eyes fully, really looks at you, and something shifts.

Patri leans in slowly, giving you time to move, to stop her, but you don’t. You stay right where you are as her lips press against yours soft, steady, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. It’s not long. Just enough.

When she pulls back, you see the flicker of panic in her eyes regret, maybe, or restraint. Her brows knit slightly, and she whispers, “I’m sorry.”

You swallow, your heart beating in your throat. “It’s okay.”

She nods slowly, holding your gaze one last second before turning and stepping out the door. You watch it close behind her, the quiet settling in her absence but the feel of her kiss lingers, like a warmth on your skin you’re not ready to brush away.

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The sky is bright blue and clear when you pull up, the engine humming low as you double-check the playlist and the coffee in your cup holder. The streets are mostly empty, the city not quite awake yet a perfect quiet before three hours of Alba. You were driving Alba and yourself to Huesca for the Copa del Reina final

She appears in the doorway dragging a small suitcase and a very large iced coffee, dressed like she’s about to be snapped by paparazzi, sunglasses too big, hoodie too low, leggings and a tiny, perfectly curated frown.

You roll down the window. “Wow,” you call, grinning. “You really went full celebrity on me.”

She gives a mock bow, then gestures to the back of the car. “Pop it. I’m not lifting with one hand. This coffee is more important than life right now.”

You laugh and hit the release. She throws her suitcase in, then climbs in the passenger seat without a word.

For a minute, there’s only the sound of your playlist starting up soft, low, safe. Then, after taking a long sip of her drink, she speaks, “So… this is weird, huh?”

You smile without turning to her. “Extremely.”

“Good,” she nods. “As long as we agree.”

20 minutes in.

The tension eases the further you get from the city. Alba has her feet on your dashboard, despite your protests, and she's already made three comments about your music taste being 'worryingly moody.'

You countered by switching to a girl group ballad from 2008 that made her grimace, but she didn’t skip it.

Somewhere past Terrassa, she glances at you and says, “You nervous?”

You blink. “About what?”

“Spending this long alone with me. Talking. Potentially sharing snacks.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Oh no, I’ve emotionally prepared myself. I even packed backup snacks in case you start gatekeeping the good ones.”

She snorts, nodding slowly. “Smart. Very little sister of you.” There’s a beat. Then she adds, a little quieter, “Feels weird, doesn't it? Like… we missed the whole part where we were supposed to fight over clothes and annoy each other during puberty.”

You glance at her, then back at the road. “You say that like you’re not incredibly annoying.”

She grins but there’s something else in her voice when she adds, “I just… I’m glad we’re doing this.”

You let the silence sit for a moment before replying. “Yeah. Me too.”

An hour in.

The mood shifts again. She’s leaned her seat back, one leg tucked up beneath her, scrolling through your music and making quiet commentary.

“Patri text you yet?” she asks, eyes still on your phone screen.

You glance at her, caught off guard. “You have my phone you tell me.”

Alba nods slowly, like she knew the answer already. “Have you spoken to her at all?.”

“Little bit,” you reply, carefully, eyes on the road, "Nothings changed"

“You sure?,” she murmurs.

You shoot her a look. “Why do I get the feeling everyone’s been having secret conversations about my love life?”

She gives you a slow, too-innocent smile. “Because they have.” You groan. “But don’t worry,” she says, patting your arm. “On this trip, we talk about us. Not your tragic dating life.”

You snort. “Fine, but I’m gonna need another coffee if I’m gonna survive your version of sibling bonding.”

“Done,” she says, already pointing ahead. “Next town, we'll stop for food. You get coffee, but if you come back with fruit, I will abandon you on the side of the road.”

You grin, despite yourself and as the kilometres slip by, so does the awkwardness.

2 hours in

The sunlight’s turning gold, casting long shadows across the dashboard as you pull into a parking space just off the main road. You both have greasy paper bags of Burger King in your laps, the car filled with the comforting smell of fries and warm bread. Alba already has mayo on her hoodie and no shame about it.

You unwrap your burger slowly, watching a few birds circle lazily overhead through the windshield.

Alba takes a big bite, chews, swallows, then looks at you. “You miss her?”

You pause your fingers still holding half the bun mid-air.

She doesn’t push, just watches you with that too-serious look she gets sometimes, the one that reminds you she’s seen more than she says.

You sigh, set the burger back on the wrapper in your lap, and lean your head against the headrest. “Yeah,” you say, finally. “I do.”

Alba doesn’t say anything for a moment, just crunches on a fry and nods like she expected the answer but wanted to hear it from you.

“Is it the sex thing?” she asks casually, and you turn to glare at her. “Because Ale said—”

“Oh my God,” you groan. “Do you all have like a group chat or something? Y/Ns sex watch party 2025?”

Alba laughs, nearly choking on her drink. “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s more like Drama Monitoring Services.”

You shake your head but you’re smiling now, even as your stomach tugs at the topic. After a moment, you say, quietly, “I think she wanted me, but she didn’t know how to want me in the way I needed.”

Alba leans back, sipping her drink. “And did you ever tell her how you needed to be wanted?” You’re quiet. “Yeah,” she says, shrugging. “That’s what I thought.”

You look over at her, frowning. “What, are you a relationship expert now?”

“Nope,” she grins. “I just don’t want you to keep pretending she broke your heart when you handed it to her with the manual missing. I reckon the first chance you get, just fuck her, solves all the issues then”

You stare at her, floored by the honesty, then laugh not because it’s funny, but because it hurts in that true kind of way. You nod. “I actually miss her.”

“Then do something about it,” Alba says, brushing salt from her fingers. “Or don’t, but don’t sit in this car acting like you didn’t feel loved just because it didn’t end with fireworks and lingerie.”

You stare at the horizon for a moment. “Wow,” you murmur. “You’re kind of wise.”

“I contain layers,” she says, deadpan, then immediately drops a fry in her lap and yells “Shit!”

You both burst out laughing, "Alba the Ogre"

"huh?" she turns her head to you and the expression on her face is like you've sprouted a second head

You glance over. “Shrek.”

She frowns. “I’ve never seen that.”

You slam the brakes, figuratively, but the gasp you let out is nothing short of betrayal. “You’ve never seen Shrek?!”

Alba looks confused, even a little defensive. “No? I don’t know, it just never looked that good.”

You turn to fully face her in your seat. “Take that back. Right now.”

She raises an eyebrow. “It’s an ogre movie. With a donkey.”

“That ogre movie is a cinematic masterpiece. It has layers, like onions and parfaits, and you won't even get that reference because you haven't seen it.”

Alba laughs. “You’re actually upset.”

“I’m furious,” you say. “I don’t even know how we’re related right now. What were you doing in 2001 when the world changed forever?”

"l was four,” she says flatly.

“And failing at life, apparently.” You shake your head. “There’s romance, there’s action, there’s Eddie Murphy singing about waffles. Alba, I can’t explain Shrek to you. You have to feel it.”

She looks at you, amused. “You want to put it on in the hotel later?”

“I want to put it on right now,” you say. “This road trip is cancelled. We’re going home, you can’t be trusted.”

Alba grins, finally a little sheepish. “Fine. You can show me, but only if there’s no singing along.”

“No deal,” you say immediately. “I will be singing, loudly and you will be emotionally moved by Hallelujah when it plays, or I’m leaving you at a petrol station on the way home.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles. “You’re insane.”

“And you,” you say with great drama, “are culturally bankrupt. I was one when that movie came out and even I've seen it, you have no excuse”

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

You and Alba make your way through the crowds at Huesca stadium the Barcelona fans loud already, your matching sunglasses doing little to hide the fact you both look slightly road-weary but buzzing. Alba walks ahead of you with the practiced confidence of someone used to navigating stadiums, but you can tell even she’s excited there’s a bounce in her step that wasn’t there earlier.

You finally reach the family section, flashing your passes at security and he waves you through, you spot Eli first, seated near the front, scanning the pitch like she’s mentally coaching from the stands. She’s dressed casually, but her whole posture is alert, focused, maternal. Probably nervous.

Then she looks up and freezes, her eyes land on you and Alba together, side by side, and for a second, her mouth actually falls open in a silent, stunned kind of happiness. She stands immediately, hands over her chest like she needs to make sure she’s not imagining things. Alba grins and waves, you offer a small, awkward one of your own.

“Mi niña,” Eli breathes, moving to greet you both at the aisle. “What—what are you doing here?”

“We thought we’d surprise you and Ale,” Alba says casually, like it’s no big deal, but you can hear the warmth behind it, the meaning. She throws an arm around your shoulders and squeezes.

Eli’s eyes flicker to you, wide and glassy. “I didn’t think—”

You shrug a little, trying not to make it a big emotional moment, but your voice still comes out quieter than you expect. “Alba said she wanted company and, I wanted to see Alexia play.”

“She’s going to be so happy,” Eli murmurs, then steps in and hugs you both tightly, one arm around each daughter. “Thank you for coming.”

You sit between them once you're settled Eli to your left, fussing with her sunglasses, and Alba to your right, bouncing her knee with silent energy. The pitch below is alive, the players warming up under the late afternoon sky, and you spot Alexia easily in the distance, her ankle still taped up but dressed in full kit, talking with teammates near the bench.

“She doesn’t know either of us are here?” you ask quietly.

Eli shakes her head. “She thought it would just be me. I’m sure she’ll spot you both soon.”

You nod, feeling a little strange nervous, even, not in a bad way. Just unfamiliar, like being part of something you’ve spent your whole life picturing.

Then Alexia jogs toward the touchline, glancing up at the crowd probably looking for Eli. She finds her first, then her gaze lands on Alba and then you.

She stumbles mid-step and breaks into the widest, stupidest, most gleeful smile you’ve ever seen her wear. It’s not cool or composed at all. It’s just joy.

She waves frantically, mouthing something that’s probably ‘What the hell?’ at Alba, then pointing at you with mock offence. You smile right back.

Alba leans in and says quietly, “Worth the drive?”

You glance back at Alexia beaming like an idiot on the sideline, then over at Eli, who’s wiping her eye subtly like she isn’t. “Yeah,” you admit, voice low. “It really is.”

After warm-ups, as the players begin drifting toward the tunnel, Alexia peels off from the group and jogs over toward the family section her eyes locked on you like she's half afraid you'll disappear if she looks away.

She slows just before the barrier, cheeks still flushed from movement, her ponytail bouncing slightly as she beams up at you. She glances at Alba first, offering her a quick high five and a mouthed “hello,” before her gaze shifts back to you.

"You came," she says, almost in disbelief, eyes scanning your face like she still can’t believe it’s real. Then, softer, "You okay? You look… tired."

You swallow the lump in your throat, not from her concern but from how seen it makes you feel. Even with the chaos of the final, even with her ankle not at a hundred percent she still noticed. You force a small smile and shake your head, brushing it off. “I’m fine. It’s just the drive.”

Alexia studies you a second longer, not totally convinced, but she doesn’t press. Instead, she leans a little closer across the barrier, grinning.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she says again, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Don’t leave at halftime, yeah? I need to show off in front of you.”

You scoff gently, crossing your arms. “Focus on the final, not showing off.”

She gives you a wink, backing up. “Same thing.” Then she turns, jogs backward a few steps, and just before disappearing down the tunnel, shouts, “Save me a drink at the after party!”

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The stadium is electric drums pounding, cheers echoing from the stands, a wave of blue and red cascading over the crowd like a tide of pride. You watch from the family section as the final whistle blows, and Barça players collapse into one another, elated, exhausted, victorious.

Alba nudges you hard in the side. “They did it,” she says, grinning wide, almost like a kid.

You nod, eyes already on Alexia she’s somewhere in the middle of the huddle, half-laughing, half-crying as her teammates drape themselves over her, shouting, singing, celebrating. Her hair is stuck to her forehead with sweat, her ankle still lightly taped under her sock, but she doesn’t care.

You feel your breath catch as she steps forward. She takes the Copa de la Reina trophy in both hands, shares a moment with her teammates getting them fired up, and lifts it high into the air.

The lights hit it just right gold gleaming, confetti beginning to fall and she throws her head back and roars, primal and full of joy. You feel it deep in your chest, that pride, that strange, soft ache that says you’re part of this somehow, even from the sidelines.

Eli claps loudly beside you, tears in her eyes, and Alba is on her feet cheering, but your eyes never leave Alexia and hers even through all the noise, the lights, the photographers manage to find you.

Just for a moment it’s brief, but you see it that soft flicker of recognition, a smile not just for the crowd or the cameras, but for you.

You smile back, eyes stinging a little, your voice too full to shout but your heart is louder than any noise in that stadium.

You step down onto the field beside Eli and Alba, your pass still hanging around your neck, the noise somehow both deafening and muted as your eyes scan the sea of jubilant players and there she is, Patri.

Laughing, arms flung around a teammate’s shoulders, bouncing on the balls of her feet like the win has filled her up with helium. Her hair is wild from the match, cheeks flushed, and she looks alive. Radiant, in that unfiltered way joy makes people beautiful, she doesn���t even know she’s glowing she never does.

You freeze for a second, because your heart traitorous, familiar, honest flutters the moment you see her. She’s still in her kit, socks rolled low, mud spattered on her thighs, and she hasn’t seen you yet, but Eli nudges you forward gently.

You step forward slowly, the sounds around you going a little soft again as Patri turns, she sees you, stops mid-spin and for a second the world seems to slow. Her eyes widen just a little, like maybe she wasn’t expecting you, or maybe she didn’t let herself hope to. Her grin falters not because she’s not happy, but because she’s surprised in a way that hits deep.

Then it returns full force, bright and unguarded. You don’t even realise you’re walking toward her until your feet are already carrying you forward and she’s doing the same steps hesitant at first, then more certain with each stride until you're meeting halfway, just like muscle memory, like it’s always been this simple.

Neither of you says anything, you just fall into each other, arms wrapping tight like this is the only place either of you has exhaled in weeks. Your face tucks into the crook of her neck, and her cheek presses against yours, both of you clinging a little too hard but neither pulling away.

You feel her breathing and for a second, the noise of the stadium falls away completely. She smells like grass and sweat and whatever bubblegum she’s been chewing during the match. Her fingers grip at your back like she’s afraid if she lets go, she’ll wake up and it’ll all have been imagined.

“Watch those hands, Guijarro!” Alexia’s voice cuts through the moment, teasing, smug and loud from behind you.

Patri groans without lifting her head. “For once, Ale, can you not?”

You turn your face enough to glance back over your shoulder, where Alexia is grinning from ear to ear, leaning against the barrier with her arms crossed, ankle clearly wrapped up still, smug as hell. Eli is beside her, pretending to scold her but very obviously holding back a laugh.

“I will not be silenced,” Alexia declares, mock-offended. “My little sister is out here getting felt up by one of my oldest friends. I’m just protecting the families honour!”

You bury your face in Patri’s shoulder, muffling a laugh as she mutters, “She’s the worst.”

“She really is,” you whisper back.

Patri eases back just enough to look at you, her hands still resting on your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles through your jacket. “you doing okay?” she says, eyes searching your face,

You nod and because she’s Patri, you manage a real smile. “Yeah. Better than when you found me cowering because of a spider.”

She laughs, rolling her eyes. “I will never forget the sound you made.”

“It was a very aggressive spider,” you insist.

“So aggressive it needed a panic call and a professional footballer on emergency duty?” she teases.

“Exactly,” you say, and you both dissolve into quiet laughter.

The movement makes the medal on her chest clink softly. You reach out and straighten the ribbon, letting your fingers brush the cool metal.

“It looks good on you,” you murmur.

She raises a brow. “The medal or the sweat and grass stains?”

“Both,” you admit, cheeks warming. “But mostly the medal.”

Patri’s grin softens. “Stay proud of me for at least twenty‑four hours, okay? I’m going to be milking this.”

You tap the gold circle once, then glance toward the family section where Alexia is still lobbing snarky comments your way. “I should go over before she tries to moon‑walk on that ankle just to get attention.”

Patri nods, but catches your hand before you step away. “One condition,” she says, tone mock‑stern. “You promise we have a drink together at the after‑party.”

You arch an eyebrow. “Water counts?”

“Nope.”

You roll your eyes with exaggerated exasperation, but your fingers squeeze hers. “Fine. One drink. Maybe two if no spiders are involved.”

“Deal.” She lifts your joined hands briefly, sealing it with a gentle squeeze before letting go.

You start toward your little family, feeling her eyes follow you, and for the first time in what feels like forever the buzz in your chest isn’t panic it’s something bright, brand‑new, and almost dizzyingly hopeful.

Alba watches you approach from where she’s leaning against the barrier, her arms crossed and her eyebrows practically reaching her hairline. As soon as you’re close enough, she nudges you with her elbow, her grin slowly spreading. “Well?” she asks, eyes wide and unmistakably smug.

You glance back toward Patri, who’s still being tackled with hugs and cheers from teammates, medal swinging around her neck, then back at your sister. You raise a brow. “Well, what?”

Alba practically bounces on the balls of her feet. “Don’t do that. You just hugged her like the final scene in a romance movie. What did she say? Did you say something?”

You scoff and shove her gently with your shoulder. “Shut up.”

Alba bursts into laughter, hands raised in mock surrender. “I’m just asking! You have that weird happy face you only get when something good happens.”

You roll your eyes, cheeks warm despite yourself. “You’re worse than her.” you jerk your thumb to Alexia oblivious talking to Eli.

“Yeah, but I’m the one you’re stuck with for the drive home,” she says, winking. “And I want every detail.” You groan.

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The music thumps low and warm through the venue, the kind of bass that vibrates gently through your chest without demanding too much attention. You’re leaned casually against a high-top table, half-laughing as Cata Coll animatedly mimics her reaction to a goal-line clearance, and Claudia Pina is mid-eye roll, clearly not buying the dramatics.

You’ve found yourself oddly comfortable here, chatting with them they’d made it easy. You’d spent time with them before, back when things with Patri were simpler, lighter. They hadn’t treated you like an outsider then, and they weren’t now either, despite everything.

Cata’s halfway through a joke when your eyes lift and you see Patri weaving through the crowd toward you, a drink in each hand. She's changed out of her kit now, dressed down but still radiant with that post-win energy that clings to her like sunlight. Her eyes are already on you, there’s something unmistakable in the way she looks at you warm, focused, a touch nervous, like you’re the only person in the room that matters.

Cata notices, so does Pina, you see it happen the flash of recognition between them. Pina glances at Cata, one brow raised. Cata, with the subtle awareness that only close friends have, clears her throat softly and shifts her weight. “Well,” Cata says lightly, brushing her fingers against your arm with a grin, “We’ll go harass the DJ or something.”

“Yeah,” Pina smirks, already stepping back. “Don’t let her spill that drink on you. She’s got a history of that.”

Before you can respond, they’re already slipping into the crowd, leaving you with a quiet exhale and Patri, now standing just in front of you, holding out one of the drinks.

You take it, your fingers brushing hers. She smiles, a little crooked and uncertain around the edges. “You didn’t say what you wanted, so I guessed.”

You raise the glass. “Good guess.”

There’s a beat, the space between you hums with something unspoken but thick and alive like static before a storm. “Hey,” she says softly.

“Hey.”

Patri studies you, her expression tightening with quiet concern as her eyes trace over your features. “You okay?” she asks, voice low, nearly drowned out by the music. “You look kind of pale.”

You let out a breath, deflecting with a soft scoff as you tilt your drink. “It’s the lighting,” you murmur, glancing up at the ceiling like it’s personally responsible. “They’re trying to set a mood, I guess, dramatic shadows and poor complexions.”

Patri doesn’t look convinced, but she lets it go, smiling softly instead. “You look good, but I already knew that.”

You raise a brow, your lips twitching into a smirk despite yourself. “You flirting with me now, Guijarro?”

She shrugs, stepping just a little closer. “Maybe. Is it working?”

You pretend to consider, gaze lingering on her lips for just a second too long. “Might be.”

The smile she gives you is real, warmer now, more confident. The noise of the party fades to a dull throb around you both, like the rest of the world has respectfully stepped back.

You don’t realise how close you’ve gotten until your forehead is pressing gently against hers, your eyes slipping shut as your breath slows. The contact is soft, familiar, intimate. “I miss you,” you whisper, the words tumbling out without warning, fragile and honest. “I miss you so much.”

Patri’s breath hitches and then before you can say anything else, before your doubts can crawl back in she leans in and kisses you.

It’s not rushed or desperate. It’s steady, sure, her hand finding the side of your face like she’s afraid you might drift away again. The kiss deepens just slightly enough to taste the longing behind it, the weeks of silence, the ache of missing something that once felt like home.

When she pulls away, barely, her forehead rests against yours again. You swallow, nerves catching in your throat as you glance at her lips, then you hear Alba's voice, the first chance you get, just fuck her. You shift, your voice low and hesitant.

“Do you, uh…” You clear your throat, flicking your eyes up to meet hers. “Do you have a room of your own or…?”

Patri blinks, startled, her breath catches audibly not in a way that’s uncomfortable, but like someone hearing something they’ve been hoping for but didn’t expect to come. “I—” she starts, her voice a little higher than usual. She stops, bites her lip, recalibrates. “Yeah. I do.”

She watches you carefully now, her confidence from earlier dimmed by the sudden gravity of what you’re asking. There’s a flicker of nervousness in her eyes, but it’s softened by warmth, by care. She steps closer, almost hesitantly, like she doesn’t want to spook you.

“Are you sure?” she asks, quietly. “You don’t have to, just because of tonight, or the moment. I want you to want it… not feel like you have to give anything to restart us.”

You nod slowly, gaze steady on hers despite the pounding of your heart. “I know. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to. I’m… nervous, yeah, but it's you, you're all I want.”

Patri exhales slowly, visibly moved. She brushes a hand along your arm, fingers barely grazing your skin. “Okay,” she says, her voice almost a whisper. “Then let’s go, but only if you hold my hand the whole way, I'm nervous to.”

You offer a small, nervous laugh, and she smiles wide, taking your hand in hers like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Neither of you says anything more as you walk out hearts racing, hands locked, the moment finally, tenderly, unfolding.

The hallway to the lift feels longer than it probably is. You and Patri walk side by side, hands clasped tight but swinging gently between you, as if neither of you wants to draw attention but neither of you can let go. Your footsteps echo softly against the sleek floors of the hotel corridor.

Neither of you speaks, it’s not awkward just weighted. Like the space between words when something big is about to happen.

When you reach the elevator, Patri presses the button with her free hand. The chrome doors reflect a version of you both that somehow looks braver than you feel.

The silence in the lift is thick you feel the warmth of her hand pulsing in yours and dare a glance her way. She’s looking straight ahead, but there’s a tiny smile on her lips like she knows what you're thinking, like she’s thinking it too.

The numbers above the doors light up one by one too slow, then too fast.

She leads you gently down another corridor, her room’s near the end, a quiet corner. Her hand finally slips from yours just so she can get her key card out. The little green light flashes, and the lock clicks open.

She glances at you, just once, checking in, you nod it’s subtle, but it’s everything. Patri pushes the door open and you both step inside.

The room is warm, soft lighting. A faint trace of perfume in the air hers. It’s not overly fancy, but it’s quiet, calm. She places her key card on the dresser and turns back to you.

Patri doesn’t move quickly. She just looks at you for a long moment, her eyes flickering between yours, like she’s trying to memorise the shape of your face, the emotion behind your eyes. Then she steps closer, close enough for her hands to find your waist gently.

She hugs you first, slow, firm, grounding, her arms around you aren’t possessive, they’re comforting. Her cheek rests against your temple for a second, and you feel her exhale softly. She smells like her shampoo, something faintly citrus and clean, and you close your eyes without meaning to.

Her hands start to move, not rushed, just exploring the curve of your back, the dip of your waist. She traces careful lines like she’s learning you with her fingertips. She pulls back a little not away, just enough to see your face.

“You’re sure?” she murmurs, eyes asking more than her words ever could.

You nod once, her lips brush yours feather-light, a question.

When you don’t pull away, she kisses you again, a little deeper now, but still gentle, still measured. Her hands pause every few moments, as if to say 'This is your moment. You can stop it anytime.' She gives you all the space in the world to step back, but you don’t.

You move with her, into her and in every quiet pause she leaves, you choose to stay.

Your hands find her shoulders and you guide her gently, steadily, until she sits at the edge of the bed. Patri looks up at you with a mix of awe and curiosity, her breath catching slightly. You don’t give her much time you step between her knees, hands sliding along her jaw as you lean down and kiss her slow, purposeful, with more pressure now, more intent.

Her hands rest at your waist, hesitant at first, then holding you tighter as the kiss deepens. You move your hips, just slightly, not rushed a slow, instinctive motion that draws a soft sound from her throat.

The heat builds in the spaces between kisses, in the way her fingers spread across your back as you move to straddle her. In the way your body presses closer, seeking more of her, more of this.

You pause for a second, foreheads resting together, both breathing a little harder now. Her thumbs brush under your shirt, tracing the bare skin at your sides, a silent ask for permission, and you don't stop her.

You kiss her again this time, with no hesitation.

Patri’s arm wraps around your waist with purpose, steady and sure, and in one smooth motion, she stands, effortlessly lifting and turning you. You barely have time to react before you’re laid back on the bed, your head hitting the soft pillow as she settles gently between your legs, her body fitting perfectly against yours.

She pauses, her weight balanced carefully so as not to press too hard, her eyes searching yours in the quiet dimness. Her hand brushes your cheek, her voice soft but steady as she asks, “Lights on or off?”

There’s a flicker of hesitation in your chest not because you don’t want her, but because it’s vulnerable still, you manage a quiet, “Off.”

She nods instantly, no questions asked, no judgment in her gaze just understanding. She reaches over and turns off the lamp. The room is bathed in darkness, except for the faint light spilling in through the hotel door from the corridor.

Then she leans back down, her lips brushing yours again, softer now, slower patient. Like she knows this moment matters. Like she’s ready to show you, without a word, just how much she cares.

In the hush of the darkened room, your breaths start to sync, slow and uneven, charged with anticipation. Patri doesn’t rush, her hands move with respect, fingertips ghosting over the hem of your shirt before she gently pulls it up, pausing only when it’s lifted over your head. Her eyes adjust to the low light, and even in shadow, you feel her taking in every inch of you like you’re something sacred.

You reach for her next, fingers fumbling slightly as you tug at the edge of her top. She smiles faintly at the nerves in your touch and lifts her arms to help you, letting the fabric slip away. She looks so calm, but you catch the subtle shift in her breathing the flutter in her throat that matches your own heartbeat.

Her hands are back on you, slower now, trailing over your sides, memorising the lines of your body with soft, steady pressure. Her thumbs brush just under your ribs, pausing for the slightest moment when they pass over the faint ridges of a scar the first she found of many, but she doesn’t stop. If anything, her hands linger, almost like she’s grounding herself to you. Proving she's not repulsed by your history etched on your skin with your scars.

When she unclasps your bra, it’s with a softness that tells you she’s waited for this not just the intimacy, but the trust. You shiver as it falls away and she presses a kiss to your shoulder, then to the center of your chest, right where your heart beats, like she knows how hard it’s worked to bring you here.

You help her with the rest of her clothes, your hands firmer now, more certain, guided by want and the need to feel her fully overtaking your nerves to a distant memory. Every layer removed between you is like shedding hesitation until there's nothing left but warmth, skin, and closeness.

She leans in, her forehead resting against yours again, your bare bodies brushing in quiet tension. “Still okay?” she whispers.

You nod, breath catching. “Yeah,” you manage, voice thin but sure. “I want you.” And with that, the space between you disappears Patri’s hand moves with care, exploring your body. There’s no rush only a quiet, deep patience in the way she touches you, like she’s listening to every breath you take, every shift in your body’s rhythm.

Her fingers trail slowly down your torso following your biggest scar like a road map down to your centre, a soft path of heat following her motion. When she reaches the curve of your hip, your breath hitches, a tremble running through you that you can’t hide. She pauses, her eyes lifting to meet yours in the dim light.

“Still okay?” she asks, voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, lips parting on a shaky breath. “Yeah. Don’t stop.”

When her hand finds the most sensitive part of you and runs through your folds, the feeling is overwhelming not just the sensation, but the intimacy of it, the way she touches you with both confidence and care. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up at once. You curl closer, your hand gripping her wrist lightly, not to stop her, but to feel anchored.

You kiss her in another silent 'I'm ok', Patri watches not just your body, but your face, the way your lashes flutter and your jaw tightens as you react to her. Her expression is full of focus, awe, and something deeper, affection, even love.

She kisses your neck gently, letting her lips trail up to your ear. “You’re beautiful like this,” she murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

Patri’s touch is slow, reverent more about connection than urgency. She watches your face, learning every reaction like it’s a language only she wants to speak fluently. Her fingers move with gentle precision, exploring with a tenderness that sends waves of sensation through you.

You tense slightly at first not from discomfort, but from the vulnerability of it, but she’s patient, her other hand stroking your side in calming circles, her mouth close enough to whisper affirmations only meant for you.

“You’re incredible,” she murmurs. “I'm so hot for you right now”

When her fingers ease inside, your breath catches, and her gaze never leaves you. She moves with intention, every movement measured, listening to the subtle cues of your body. There’s nothing hurried, nothing careless only the deep, growing rhythm.

You cling to her, your body finding its own rhythm against her hand. The way she touches you firm, slow, knowing makes you feel understood in a way words could never capture. You can feel the pressure building, pleasure winding tighter inside you with every stroke and the whole time, she’s there present, grounded, entirely focused on you. You cup her face forcing her lips to yours, you kiss her with the passion you could never voice, your tongues brushing, you pull your lips back as your forced to gasp her name with the sensation she was creating deep in your stomach,

You breathe in through your mouth "Patri" you say on the exhale and Patri’s hand moves with more purpose, fingers pressing deeper, tracing firmer paths that ignite sparks along your skin. Her grip tightens just enough to make you shiver, sending heat pulsing through every nerve ending.

She’s no longer gentle as she learns you can take it, but still deliberate, her touch demanding and fierce, matching the fire building inside you. You arch off the bed slightly, each movement sending a new wave of pleasure crashing through you. As your breathing grows heavier, she shifts, lowering herself until her lips graze across your chest.

Her mouth closes around your nipple gently at first, her tongue teasing, her lips warm. Then she deepens it, the suction on your nipple sending a jolt straight through your core as her fingers don't let up. The combination of her touch and the heat of her mouth pulls a your first moan from your lips.

You're wrapped up in her the way she moves, the way she focuses on every part of you like you're something to be treasured and devoured at the same time. It's overwhelming in the best way, and you feel your body start to tremble as everything she gives builds toward the edge.

Her other hand grips your waist firmly, holding you steady as her fingers explore with raw, urgent rhythm. The tension coils tighter, pleasure and desire crashing through you like waves, relentless and fierce.

She leans in, her breath hot against your ear, voice low and rough. “You like this, don’t you?”

You can’t hold back the answer, your body craving every stronger, rougher stroke she offers, your trust in her fuelling the wildness between you. "Harder, please" you beg, "Harder, faster, 'm gonna cum"

Her fingers move with a steady, commanding rhythm, each stroke driving deeper into you, making your pulse race and your breath hitch. Patri’s eyes lock onto yours, dark and intense, as she watches every reaction, every shiver she pulls from your body.

Her touch is fierce but careful, a balance of strength and tenderness that sends you spiraling higher. The heat between you is electric, raw desire mixing with a deep trust that wraps around you both.

You reach out, tangling your fingers in her hair, pulling her closer, craving every moment, every sensation. Patri responds with a kiss, her movements gaining urgency, never letting you forget just how much she wants you how much she needs you to feel this too.

The world narrows to just the two of you, the quiet hum of the room fading away beneath the storm of sensation you’re both creating, into the late hours of the evening.

🧑‍🧑‍🧒‍🧒

The early morning light spills gently through the thin curtains, casting a soft glow over the room. It’s quiet, still except for the sound of Patri’s soft, steady breathing beside you, but your body feels wrong.

You blink slowly, your head heavy, skin hot and clammy. Sweat clings to your chest, dampening the sheets. Something tightens in your gut as a wave of panic rolls through you.

Carefully, you peel the covers back, not wanting to wake her. You spot one of Patri’s t-shirts tossed over a nearby chair and pull it over your head, the familiar scent of her comforting for just a second. Your legs feel unsteady, but you manage to stand, one hand gripping the edge of the bed for balance.

You take a step then another but the world tilts sideways, you stumble, bumping hard into the wall with a dull thud.

The noise jolts Patri awake. “Y/N?” she calls out, voice hoarse with sleep but laced with worry. She sits up quickly, blinking in confusion as she sees you slumped against the wall, pale and drenched in sweat, your chest rising in quick, shallow breaths.

She’s out of bed and in an instant beside you, her hands on your arms. “Hey, hey what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You shake your head weakly, throat tight. “I don’t… I don't feel ok. Patri I'm scared.”

Patri's eyes scan you, alarm settling on her face. Your body sags against her, drained, Patri’s grip on you tightens just as your knees buckle and then you go completely limp in her arms.

“No, no, no Y/N!” she cries out, trying to hold you up, but your body slips from her grasp and crumples to the floor.

The sound of your body hitting the ground sends Patri into full panic.

“¡Ayuda! ¡Por favor! Help! Someone!” she yells, her voice cracking as she drops to her knees beside you, cradling your face. “Wake up please wake up,” she whispers, checking your breathing with shaking fingers.

Your skin is hot to the touch, your breaths shallow, moments later, the door bursts open Cata and Pina are the first to arrive, both in sweats and half-awake but alert the second they see your body on the floor and the fear on Patri’s face.

“What happened?” Cata rushes forward, already pulling out her phone. “I’m calling emergency services.”

“She just collapsed,” Patri breathes, barely holding it together. “She was hot clammy and then just… she fainted. I don't think she's breathing!"

“I'm calling for help,” Cata says firmly, stepping back into the hallway to make the call.

Pina looks between Patri and your unconscious form, then bolts. “I’ll get Alexia.”

She sprints down the corridor, "Pina?" Mapi asks coming out her hotel room door, "What's going on?"

"Get the doctor, Patris girl has stopped breathing!" Pina gets in front of Alexia's door and bangs on it, not waiting before pushing it open. Alba is inside, sitting up already, hair a mess, clearly startled. Alexia’s rubbing sleep from her eyes, confused by the sudden intrusion.

“What’s going on?” Alexia asks, half-standing.

Pina’s tone is urgent, short of breath. “You need to come. Now. It’s Y/N.”

The look on Alexia’s face changes instantly sleep disappears. “What happened?”

“She collapsed, she's not breathing.”

Alba is already throwing on a hoodie. Alexia doesn’t even pause to grab her shoes. “Where is she?”

“Patri’s room,” Pina says, already leading them out. Alba and Alexia follow without a word, hearts hammering, fear overtaking everything.

Patri barely hears the footsteps pounding down the hall she doesn’t lift her head from where she’s knelt beside you, one hand gripping yours tightly, the other stroking damp strands of hair off your burning forehead.

Then Alexia drops to the floor beside her. “Come on you, wake up for me, Y/N,” Alexia murmurs, her voice cracking, her hand gently touching your cheek. “Hey COME ON, please.” There’s real fear in her eyes now, seeing you like this, so still, takes the air from her lungs.

Alba stands just behind them, wide-eyed, her arms crossed over her chest like she’s physically trying to hold herself together. She sees the way Patri’s face is streaked with panic and guilt, and the tension she’s been carrying all trip suddenly breaks, sharp and loud.

“What did you do?” Alba snaps, stepping closer. “What did you do to her? I trusted you with her!”

Patri’s head lifts sharply, her eyes glassy. “I didn’t, Alba, I didn’t do anything! I swear—”

“She was fine when I left her yesterday,” Alba shoots back, voice rising. “She was fine! And now I’m being woken up because she’s on the floor not breathing?”

“I didn’t know she wasn’t feeling well,” Patri pleads, barely keeping it together. “She didn’t say anything, not really. She just got up and then-”

“Don’t yell,” Alexia says firmly, turning to Alba without looking away from you. Her voice is strained but steady. “Not now. Not while she’s like this.”

Alba’s mouth opens again but then closes when she sees Alexia’s face, her jaw clenched, her hand still resting on your cheek, fingers trembling.

The room falls silent, only the distant voice of Cata on the phone in the hall filling the space.

Alexia leans closer. “Come on, hermanita,” she whispers to you, voice cracking. “Don’t scare us like this. Wake up. Mami just got you back you can't go now, not like this"

The hallway erupts in noise as the Barcelona medical team rushes in, led by the team doctor. The moment they see you on the floor pale, motionless they drop their bags and spring into action.

“Move back.. now!” one of them orders, already kneeling beside your body. Alexia and Patri are both frozen until someone physically pulls them back. Alba stumbles a few steps away, hand clamped over her mouth.

“She’s not breathing,” one doctor says quickly, pressing two fingers against your neck. “No pulse.”

“Starting compressions!”

The room explodes into urgency. "Has someone called an ambulance?"

Pina answered the only semi composed in the room, "Cata is onto them"

Patri gasps audibly, a sharp sound of shock as tears fill her eyes. Her hands tremble uncontrollably at her sides. Alexia grips the edge of the table beside her so tightly her knuckles turn white, her chest heaving with the weight of watching.

One medic is performing chest compressions, counting under his breath, while the other breathes for you.

Alba can’t look away, her knees buckle, and she grips the doorframe for balance. “Please,” she whispers. “Please no…”

They pause only briefly, two fingers coming to your neck “Still no pulse. Resume compressions!”

Patri turns away, burying her face in her hands. “No, no, no…” she whispers like a prayer.

Alexia watches, her eyes rimmed red, face pale, and her voice finally breaks through the rising panic in the room. “Y/N, please…” she chokes. “Don’t do this. Don’t go.”

[aimasup]

2025 lilo and stitch rant, super long post, mega spoilers

might make changes to this later, no beta we die like Stitch's personality

"ohana means family, family means no one gets left behind, which includes you Nani 😇" (not a direct quote from the 2025 film)

WHO?????? WHO IS LEAVING HER BEHIND?? Is it her sister fresh out the womb, apparently a burden making sure Nani never gets to be her own person?? Is it Nani herself?? Someone who was completely rewritten to have different goals for a good message in the wrong movie?? Is it the 2 childrens' dead parents?? If so then what about Lilo?? What happens when Nani is too busy to visit in her new college?? Don't talk to me about how David and his mother are also family, it's the principle of the changes in plot.

Those are sisters who have lost their father and mother. They literally only have each other. I find it hard to believe that after such a recent loss that Nani would just: "*sniff* you're right *sniff* I DO have to put myself first!!! I'm so tired!!" and already start thinking about college?? I'm not saying it's selfish of her to want it I'm saying it's, to me, a coping mechanism that the movie wants to say was her real hidden motivation all this time.

You ever have to move away from your best friend? Not a good feeling, especially when there's options in the same area you could've chosen but you can't for some reason. You can still visit, but it is a huge change. That's the best case scenario this movie decided on for Lilo and Stitch.

Original Nani literally wants the best for Lilo and understands that her little sister is different (read: likely neurodivergent). A massive strength of original Nani was that she had the maturity and ability to understand that. That's not something their parent's death made Nani have to come to terms with, that's something about Lilo that she already accepted long before.

I cannot stress this enough, they are sisters. Nani sticks her tongue back at Lilo, Nani teases Lilo (oh nooo gravity's increasing on me!!), Nani rolls her eyes at Lilo - have you considered, that these traits are not caretaker/mother Nani just playing along with her kid's games, but that Nani is naturally silly and Lilo brings out that side of her more?

There's one scene in the original where she may be 'playing along' with Lilo.

Original Nani makes Lilo feel better about her losing her job, but that vampire excuse came so naturally to Nani that I personally interpreted it as,

a.) holy shit Nani is an extremely good guardian,

but also

b.) Nani is creative enough in her own right to play off of Lilo, and

c.) Nani seems to even cheer up a bit when making up this absurd tale to Lilo. This is headcanon territory but I feel like they used to fill each others' heads with stories like this all the time, Nani may not get everything about Lilo, but she's smart and whimsical too - IDK IF IM GETTING THIS ACROSS RIGHT BUT THEY'RE SISTERS. THEYRE BESTIES. NANI NEEDS LILO AS MUCH AS LILO NEEDS HER

For what reason did she have to do this. Nani you are being such a piece of shit I love you

And then in the new movie Nani is just seems to be completely annoyed Lilo's - everything?? They added this layer of tiredness and anger to Nani for 'realism', she loses control and takes it out on Lilo for 'realism' - but she loses control and takes it out on Lilo in the original too without telling her to 'wake up and stop living in fantasy'.

There's literally a whole scene in the original showing how Nani and Lilo are not adjusting well, and Nani calls Lilo misbehaved and a pain, but she doesn't RANT AT HER. There's a difference in original and new Nani's anger. I can't explain it.

Lilo being taken to the adopt a dog wasn't just Nani listening to a request, it might have been her trying give Lilo a friend. Lilo doesn't even know Nani overhead her star wish, Nani just wants Lilo to have one friend that won't run away, something that they both know Nani, Lilo's own sister, can't be for her full-time anymore.

Then they made it so Nani couldn't even do that in the live action film so their new characters could have something to do.

It's all girlboss girlpower until the girl loves her sister so much it hurts and she's entirely fine with it

The more I think about the ending of the live action Lilo and Stitch the more it baffles me. It's like reading a bad-end fanfiction where the characters end up evil or separated except the movie's trying to say it's a good thing somehow.

Also I'd rather they not add Cobra Bubbles at all with how little he contributed here. You guys do know when you divide a character in half the characters are only half of themselves right. Right

They've watered down all the characters tbh - Lilo, Stitch, Pleakley, that tall alien leader woman (idk her name), even that mean girl in the hula class. So I wanna talk about Jumba real quick (lie)

Jumba

And how do you misunderstand Jumba so bad?? He definitely wasn't good in the original, literally says he will take Stitch apart and remake him, but he isn't totally malicious?? Original Jumba was just an antagonistic mad scientist motivated by - like many other mad scientists, science.

In the original, Stitch both aggravates and intrigues Jumba, and this dynamic is fun because of:

a.) the little blue shithead's evasion of Jumba's grasp and

b.) the little blue shithead's responses to the new environment variables.

"I'm coming to kick your ass you bitch homunculus I literally made you"

Therefore Original Jumba is literally so pissed at Stitch but so happy to observe his creation under a microscope. That indestructible monster is his pride and joy!! They're on another goddamn planet, why wouldn't Jumba play Animal Planet while trying to keep up with Stitch (before shooting him)!! That's a biologist given a free study trip!!

In the original when he's telling a sad Stitch that he has no family, he's stating a cold fact as impassively as possible, that's just who he is!! Jumba is antagonistic to Stitch' development because he is reminding Stitch of his purpose - Jumba has no reason to believe this feral terror creature can ever be domesticated.

Original Jumba didn't really see Stitch as anything but an unruly test subject (affectionately) - here's the thing though, he was willing to have this instant change of heart because Stitch is his test subject. No Victor Frankenstein is a totally sweet dad to their lab abomination children let's be real.

Basically Original Jumba adores science. Stitch is his greatest scientific creation, and when Stitch began to be more than just an experiment to him, he embraced that too because Jumba, plain and simple, was never so unlikable that the audience couldn't believe he didn't have a heart. Because Stitch, mindless monster or not, was always his beloved/beloathed child.

Also the dialogue in the whole 2025 movie is so bad. everyone feels dumber now.

Gonna stop talking about the writing now

The presentation

I don't think this movie should've been made in the first place but they should've just used puppets for the aliens, like in star wars.

Could've even used camera tricks to make Gantu enormous like those monster movies from decades ago. Have someone in a shark cop costume stomp around a tiny model of an island i dunno

And why are the colours so bad?? this is live action yet real life literally looks better than this movie lol

It goes by so fast, no suspense to leave room for interest and no pauses to let the jokes breathe. Everyone talks like they're in such a hurry like slow down!!!

Also the hologram disguises, the reasoning is so odd. If the aliens don't look convincingly human, they just don't.

'it worked in the animated version but it doesn't work in real life' NO TF IT DIDN'T. They could not have been MORE OBVIOUSLY ALIENS, even in the original animation!! I don't even think humans are that easily fooled, I think everyone's just too polite to say anything about this random couple's appearance!!! Jumba and Pleakley did not pass as humans in the original because they were animated they passed because the plot let them PLEEEEASE

'this didn't work in live action' and 'that didn't work in live action' then don't make it! The audacity!!!! To not only make this a real thing, but also be cheap about it. Like pick a struggle mate

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sanemi Shinazugawa falling hard for his polar opposite but is too subborn to confess until he does

Pairing: Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,9k

Synopsis: Sanemi was never the type of guy who falls for something stupid as love. Especially not when it comes to his polar opposite, especially not with such a kind and gentle girl like you... Right?

Warnings: this is pure fluff y'all, reader and Sanemi being innocent babies, a tiny bit enemies to lovers

Thank you soo much for that cute request @blunderland, I just knew I had to write that asap hehe. Let me know what you think <3

There you stand with your stupid perfect face and smile so gentle that you could tame a demon with it. With worried expression, you bend over the little demon girl and inspect her wounds carefully.

“Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon”, you speak out while caressing her dark hair.

What a poor girl she is. And her brother…Your eyes drift towards the boy with the beat-up face. What he had to endure is truly unfair, too much to bear for a single person. He really lost his whole family apart from that one sister who got turned into a demon.

And now he’s fighting for the demon slayer corps.

“I admire you.”

Tanjiro Kamado’s eyes widen in utter surprise.

“There’s no need to admire me. Actually, I’m the one who’s looking up to you. You’re the first person who didn’t judge my sister because she’s a demon.”

“Demons were once humans too”, you explain briefly while gracefully getting up.

“And I refuse to see them as anything else until they prove the opposite.”

“What kind of fuckery is this, (y/n)?”, an oh so familiar voice barks at you from behind.

Sanemi Shinazugawa really seems like a man with a heart made out of solid ice with his hateful orbs gleaming at Tanjiro and his sister.

“Don’t you think they proved themselves more than enough, Sanemi? If Kagaya-sama agreed on allowing Nezuko Kamado to live and her brother to continue fighting for the demon slayer corps, there is nothing to question for us hashira.”

“Don’t touch that demon brat so casually”, he hisses through gritted teeth while grabbing your wrist tightly.

Your heart skips a beat when his bare skin touches yours. How ridiculous it is that you developed feelings for him. Out of all the other hashira, it was always Sanemi Shinazugawa before everyone else. Those rare moments of tenderness he shows from time to time, the way he worries about his comrades without expressing his true feelings to the world. His closed like a treasure, so gorgeous that you can’t take your eyes off him.

“That isn’t a very nice way to talk to our guests, Sanemi”, you reply softly.

Urgh. He can’t fucking stand you with that scolding expression on your face, how your other hand still rests on top of the head of that demon brat. Why do you have to be so sickening kind to everyone you meet? Why are you even a part of the demon slayer corps with that strange attitude of yours?

“Guests? Are you talking about those intruders? If it was for me, I’d rip both of your heads off without blinking-“

“Sanemi.”

Before he’s able to react any further, he finds his own face framed by your much smaller hands and eyes focused onto his so intensely that he feels his cheeks heat up in an instant.

Why…Why is he suddenly feeling so hot? He should slap your hands away, should show you your place-

“Trust me, I understand your anger. But they are innocent until they prove themselves guilty.”

Those calm eyes who never lose their composure, the eyes he threatened to get lost in countless times already. Why do you have to be so damn gorgeous?

Gorgeous? He furrows his eyebrows, body yanking away from yours instantly. There’s nothing gorgeous about someone like you.

“If you really think that you’re a fool”, he bites back before turning on his heels and storming away.

What the hell was he even thinking? You, gorgeous…Just because your eyes seem to sparkle in the sunlight or the way your hair looks like liquid silk when a ray of light hits it perfectly. Or maybe because of the way your uniform hugs you so well, because of your strength. Or is it the way you look at him?

Sanemi shakes his head vehemently. That’s absolutely ridiculous. You’re the complete opposite of him. How could he ever like you?

“I think Shinazugawa-san likes you, (y/n)!”, Mitsuri babbles out while making her way back with you.

“Really? It definitely didn’t look that way”, you reply with low voice.

Oh, how much you’d hope that someday, the wind hashira actually likes you back. Even though both of you are polar opposites, even though you might never be on same terms. You still somehow managed to fall hard for him.

“Don’t give up hope, (y/n)! I definitely caught the way he looked at you earlier!”

You smile at the girl next to you gently, how she starts analyzing every minor detail of your confrontation earlier on. Mitsuri always swore that there is chemistry between both of you.

“And I’m never wrong when it comes to love, you can trust me (y/n)!”

“You’re a fool for treating (y/n) like trash, Shinazugawa”, Obanai comments dryly while letting his feet dangle from the tree he’s resting on.

“What are you even talking about, huh? It’s none of your business how I’m talking to her anyway.”

“(y/n) truly has a tender and kind soul. What a shame it is you hurt her like that”, Gyomei adds, tears streaming down his face in waterfalls again.

“Are you too dumb to realize she has feelings for you?”, Obanai continues.

You? Feelings for him? He huffs out loud. Absolutely ridiculous, maybe even impossible. Why would someone like you fall for someone like him? Not that he’d care for you like that anyway…

“I don’t give a shit”, Sanemi finally mutters through gritted teeth.

“Shinazugawa, it seems like you have a type”, Gyomei declares all of the sudden.

Something inside Sanemi snaps.

“Are y’all actually too dumb to realize that (y/n)’d never want me? I’m actually so far away from being her type I might be on a whole other planet! It’s like everything I am is exactly what she doesn’t want”, he finally blurts out.

Sanemi’s heavy pants hang in the air while the eyes of Obanai, Giyu and even Gyomei are set on him.

“You should really start working on your self-esteem, Shinazugawa.”

“JUST LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE Y’ALL!”

No, he can’t stand their bullshit anymore. Without listening to another word, Sanemi stomps away in the direction of his estate.

“(y/n) being in love with me? That I don’t laugh, why would I even care about that girl?”, he mumbles under his breath.

-a few days later-

Sanemi swallows heavy, orbs wandering up and down your body. You’re not wearing your usual black uniform and blooming haori. No, you look like a fucking goddess in that kimono and with those flowers braided into your hair.

“Do you think I look like too much?”, you question quietly, your own eyes wandering down your body in distress.

Maybe it was a mistake wearing that kimono for your meeting with Mitsuri. Of course, you knew she’d ask Obanai and Sanemi to accompany you. After all, it’s no secret that she adores the serpent hashira and knows too well about the feelings you hold for Sanemi. But now that you stand in front of him in something apart from your usual uniform, your confidence is blown away by the wind.

“You have to be kidding me. You look gorgeous”, Sanemi blurts out before thinking twice.

Fuck, did he really say that? You definitely think he’s a creep now. Maybe he should get going before it gets uncomfortable-

Your heart skips a beat, cheeks heating up in an instant. Did Sanemi Shinazugawa just call you gorgeous when he’s standing in front of you in that dark green kimono? How is it possible you’re never seen Sanemi in something apart from his usual uniform, that you never went out with each other?

“You look very handsome yourself. Dark green really suits you well”, you reply shyly.

Is it possible that maybe, just maybe, he might feel the same about you? No, that would be absolutely ridiculous, right?

“(y/n), actually there’s something I wanted to say you for quite some time now…” What the hell is he blabbering about? There’s absolutely nothing he has to tell you apart from how fucking annoying you are. You and your gentle voice, you and your captivating smile. You, the polar opposite of him-

“Oh, I actually wanted to tell you something as well!”, you reply a little too fast.

For a moment, you fear your knees might give in. Is this really the time to tell him about your true feelings? “Sometimes you have to be brave, (y/n), especially when it comes to true love! Confess to him!”

Mitsuri is the love hashira. She should know best, right? But what if you’ll make your relationship only worse by making him uncomfortable? What if he doesn’t even like you?

“Sanemi, I…I actually…I-“

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally blurts out.

Oh.

There you stand with your opened mouth and blank mind. Did he really just say that? Maybe he didn’t mean it that what. But what if…What if he actually means it?

“You…love me?”, you breathe out.

“I know I’m your polar opposite and that I treated you like shit and I really don’t expect you to actually like me back. I just…wanted to let you know…”, the white-haired man opposite of you mutters while scratching the back of his head.

“But I actually do like you back…”

Sanemi’s eyes dart towards you immediately, his very own cheeks discolored bright pink.

“You…what?”

“I guess I was just never brave enough to let you know since I was sure you hate me…”, you mutter in response.

“Me, hating you?”

All of the sudden, you find his strong arms wrapped around your waist and his face only inches away from yours. You fail to breathe, your whole body refusing to function properly. That force of a man who never really seemed to care about you while your feelings for him were all over the place…He holds you so tight that your wobbly legs don’t have to carry your weight anymore, his usual so distressed orbs now looking down at you so passionately that your heart skips a beat.

“Do I look like I hate you?”, he challenges while pulling you even closer.

You expected a lot of things that could have happened today. Sanemi Shinazugawa declining Mitsuri’s invitation in the first place. Sanemi Shinazugawa keeping his safe distance to you. Sanemi Shinazugawa barking at you for being a blowhard. Sanemi Shinazugawa criticizing each and every little thing you do. But Sanemi Shinazugawa admitting his love for you, Sanemi Shinazugawa holding you tightly in his arms?

Not in a million years.

“I love you too”, you finally speak out.

“I actually did for quite some time. But I always thought you’d never like me back.“

“Well, here I am liking you back, idiot”, Sanemi mutters.

Is that a smile on his face? Why does it suddenly feel like his lips are moving closer? Oh, you thought about kissing that man countless times. Each and every night, you imagined what the privilege of feeling his soft lips pressed against yours might feel like. Is he rough, gentle? Did the wind hashira already share a kiss or two? Out of instinct, you close your eyes, allow yourself to get lost in his arms.

“Look what we have here. Seems like the two of you finally managed to admit your feelings”, Obanai’s dry voice jeers at you from behind.

Your eyes dart open immediately.

“No Iguro-san! You’re interrupting them!”, Mitsuri hisses.

“Are you too dumb to see we’re in the middle of something? Get lost, you fools!”

“I KNEW IT (Y/N)! I KNEW HE LOVED YOU!”

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls (your fic will be next) @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine

[reidmarieprentiss]

Lost & Found

Summary: You suffer memory loss after an accident, only remembering your sister, Emily, and not your boyfriend, Spencer.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: car accident, depressive thoughts, fighting, crying, memory loss, struggling with memory loss, showering together, suggestive content (16+), use of Y/N

Word count: 19.6k

a/n: this reminds me of the vow lol my bad but i already wrote it sooo

main masterlist

The sun had just begun to rise over Washington, D.C., casting long shadows across the bustling streets. You were driving to work, your thoughts on the day ahead, when the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, a semi-truck barreled down the road, its brakes screaming in protest, unable to halt its deadly path. There was no time to react. The world slowed as the massive vehicle collided with the driver’s side of your car, the sound of metal crunching filling the air like a thunderclap.

—

Spencer Reid sat in a sterile conference room, surrounded by maps and case files in a small town in Missouri. He was miles away from home, yet his mind kept drifting back to you. It had been a little over two years since you and Spencer began dating, and in that time, he had come to rely on your comforting presence. Even though he was away, the two of you made it a point to call each other whenever possible, exchanging stories about your days and sharing a few jokes. Today, he hadn’t heard from you yet, and a nagging feeling tugged at the back of his mind.  

The shrill ring of his phone jolted Spencer out of his thoughts. Hotch was in mid-sentence when Spencer abruptly stood up, excusing himself from the meeting as he glanced down at the caller ID and recognized your best friend’s name. 

“Hey, Spencer! Sorry for calling so early, I just wanted to ask if you knew what Y/N would like for her birthday dinner!” they chirped, their voice a bit muffled from what sounded like some activity in the background. “She’s so picky, you know! Maybe we could make a surprise for her?”

“I...I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to her yet today,” Spencer admitted, his voice nearly shaking. “But she loves Italian food, maybe pasta?” 

“Oh, of course! I’ll start with that, then. Thanks, Spencer!” they replied before hanging up, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

The call left Spencer feeling hollow, a growing sense of dread gnawing at him. He sank back into his chair, his mind reeling. Moments later, his phone rang again, and he picked it up without even glancing at the screen. This time, the voice on the other end was urgent and frantic, and Spencer’s heart sank as he listened. 

"Hello?" he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the room was still buzzing around him.

“Spencer Reid?” a calm, authoritative voice inquired on the other end.

“Yes, this is he,” Spencer replied, straightening up slightly as he recognized the tone of someone delivering important information.

“This is St. Agnes Hospital in Washington, D.C.," the voice continued. "I’m calling about Y/N L/N.”

Spencer's heart skipped a beat. The mention of your name brought everything else to a halt, and he felt a wave of apprehension wash over him.

“She has been in an accident,” the voice said, and Spencer could hear the weight behind those words. “You are listed as her emergency contact, how soon can you get here?”

He froze, unable to process the words as they echoed in his mind. “An accident?” he finally managed, his voice barely above a whisper. "What happened?"

“There was a collision with a semi-truck,” the hospital staffer explained, their voice professional yet tinged with compassion. “Y/N was seriously injured. She’s currently in surgery, but it’s critical.”

Spencer's mind raced, each word like a punch to his gut. “Is she—” he started, his voice breaking. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’re doing everything we can, Dr. Reid,” the worker reassured him gently. “But you should get here as soon as you can.”

He nodded, though the person on the other end couldn't see him, trying to gather his thoughts through the haze of shock. The room around him felt surreal, the voices of his colleagues fading into the background.

“Thank you,” Spencer managed to say, his voice shaky with barely restrained panic. “I’m on my way from Missouri, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

As he ended the call, Spencer abruptly returned, shoes pounding against the floor. His teammates noticed the sudden change in his demeanor, their conversations pausing as they turned to him with concern.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, noticing the ashen look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Y/N,” Spencer said, his voice tight with urgency. “There’s been an accident. I need to get home.”

Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his things, already planning his route to the nearest airport in his head. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing the urgency to be by your side, to hold your hand, to be there when you needed him most.

“We’ll cover things here,” Hotch assured him, stepping forward. “Go.”

“Thanks,” Spencer replied, his voice holding gratitude and desperation. He turned to leave, his thoughts solely focused on getting back to you, hoping with every fiber of his being that he wouldn’t be too late.

—

Spencer couldn’t remember the flight home. The moments blurred together as his mind replayed the words over and over: life support, coma, severe accident. They echoed in his head, refusing to let him think of anything else. His team had rallied around him, offering words of support and handling the details to get him back as quickly as possible. 

As the plane touched down in Washington, Spencer felt the full weight of the situation crashing down on him. His legs trembled as he stood, a numbness spreading through his body as he made his way through the terminal. 

The hospital was a short drive away, and yet it felt like an eternity. He barely registered the buildings and streets flashing by as he sat in the back seat of a cab, his heart pounding with each passing moment. 

Finally, he arrived at the hospital, a large, imposing building that now seemed more like a fortress. Spencer rushed through the doors, barely acknowledging the bustling activity around him as he focused solely on reaching you. He navigated the maze of hallways with a determination that surprised even him, eventually finding his way to the ICU. 

Your room was sterile and filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines, each sound a stark reminder of your fragile condition. Spencer stopped short at the sight of you lying in the hospital bed, tubes and wires snaking across your body. His heart wrenched at the sight, a profound ache settling in his chest as he slowly approached. 

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion. 

He took a shaky breath, feeling the enormity of the situation press down on him. He felt helpless, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest with the assistance of the ventilator, knowing there was nothing he could do to change what had happened. 

Spencer reached out, his hand trembling as he gently took yours. The warmth of your skin was a small comfort, a reminder that you were still there, still fighting. 

“I’m here,” he said softly, his voice breaking as he spoke. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Please, Y/N... please come back to me.” 

The room was silent except for the steady hum of the machines, and Spencer felt a tear slide down his cheek. He brushed it away, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. 

—

The hours that followed were a blur. Spencer sat by your side, his hand never leaving yours as he kept a silent vigil. The nurses and doctors came and went, their words and actions a distant murmur as Spencer focused solely on you. He remembered snippets of conversations, assurances that you were receiving the best care possible, and updates on your condition that offered little comfort. 

In those moments, Spencer clung to hope. He recalled all the times you had smiled at him, the way your eyes lit up when you were excited or passionate about something. He remembered the quiet moments you shared, the laughter and love that had blossomed between you over the past years. 

—

Three Days Later

Spencer hadn’t left the hospital since he arrived. The team had been by his side, offering support and keeping him company, but he barely registered their presence. All that mattered was you, and the hope that you would wake up and return to him. 

On the third day, the doctor came in with a more hopeful expression than before. He checked the monitors, made some notes, and then turned to Spencer with a small smile. 

“There’s been some improvement,” he said gently. “It’s a good sign. We’re going to try reducing the sedation and see how she responds.”

Spencer felt a flicker of hope at the words, his heart clenching with a mix of anticipation and fear. He nodded, unable to trust his voice as he watched the doctor adjust the IV line. They assured him they would keep him informed as soon as your surgery was complete and directed him to the waiting area, where he could collect himself while waiting for more information.

Spencer made his way to the waiting room, his thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. Memories of you together flooded his mind: the quiet evenings spent curled up on the couch, the laughter shared over inside jokes, and the whispered promises of a future together. He sat down, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on him, wondering what the next few hours would bring.

—

The hours stretched on interminably, each tick of the clock echoing loudly in Spencer's ears as he waited in the sterile waiting room. He couldn't bring himself to focus on anything other than the thought of you, lying in surgery, fighting for your life. The antiseptic smell of the hospital, the murmur of other patients and visitors, all faded into the background as he replayed every memory he had of you in his mind, trying to cling to the hope that you would pull through.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, a doctor approached Spencer with a solemn expression. "Dr. Reid?" the doctor asked, and Spencer quickly stood, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yes, that's me," Spencer replied, his voice fullof hope and anxiety.

"The surgery was successful," the doctor said, offering a small, reassuring smile. "We were able to stabilize her, and she's currently in the ICU under observation."

Spencer felt a rush of relief wash over him, though the gravity of the situation was still heavy on his shoulders. "Thank you," he said sincerely, his voice trembling with emotion. "Thank you so much."

The doctor nodded, understanding the depth of Spencer's gratitude. "She's not out of the woods yet," the doctor continued, "but she's made it through the worst part. However, I need to prepare you for the possibility that there may be complications. We won't know the full extent until she regains consciousness."

Spencer nodded, taking in the doctor's words with a mix of relief and apprehension. He felt his breath catch in his throat, knowing that there was still a long road ahead, but grateful for the chance to be by your side as you began to recover.

—

You pulled through, but it wasn't without its challenges. When you finally awoke, the room was filled with the soft beeping of monitors and the faint hum of medical equipment. Everything felt disorienting as you blinked against the harsh fluorescent lights, trying to make sense of where you were and what had happened.

Spencer was at your side, his eyes filled with relief and worry as he watched you stir. He reached out to take your hand, squeezing it gently in reassurance. "Y/N," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "You're awake."

You turned your head slightly, trying to focus on the man before you. He looked somewhat familiar, yet your mind struggled to place him. The last thing you remembered was being 18, living with your sister Emily, and yet here you were, in a hospital bed, with a stranger by your side.

"Who are you?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of uncertainty.

Spencer felt his heart drop at your words, a painful realization settling in. He had hoped that when you woke up, everything would be back to normal, that you would go back to the life you had built together. But the look of confusion and fear in your eyes told him everything he needed to know.

"I'm Spencer," he said gently, trying to keep his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "I'm your boyfriend. We've been together for over two years. You live with me."

You shook your head slowly, trying to wrap your mind around his words. It felt like a dream, a reality you couldn't quite grasp. "No," you said, your voice breaking with frustration and fear. "I live with my sister, Emily. I don't know you."

Spencer felt a wave of sadness wash over him, but he forced himself to stay strong for you. He knew this was a possibility, that the trauma of the accident could have affected your memory, but hearing it from you was a different reality altogether. He took a deep breath, his heart aching with every word he prepared to say.

“Um, no. I—I don’t know how to tell you this, but, uh…” Spencer tried to speak through the tears coming on, his voice trembling. “You are 25 years old, Emily is 38,  and you work as a liaison for the Sex Crimes Unit in the FBI. Emily and I work together in the Behavioral Analysis Unit. We met through Emily, and now you live with me. You were in a severe car accident three days ago, and you may be suffering from amnesia.”

His words hung in the air like a cloud, heavy and dense, as you struggled to process what he was telling you. The hospital room felt colder, the sterile smell more pronounced, as your mind tried to catch up with the information being presented to you. Everything he said felt distant and unfamiliar, like a story someone else was telling, not your own life.

“Amnesia?” you repeated, the word foreign on your tongue. You could feel panic beginning to rise in your chest, the fear of the unknown pressing down on you. “How is this possible? I—I don’t remember any of this.”

Spencer’s heart broke at the fear in your eyes, and he longed to reach out and comfort you. But he knew that, to you, he was a stranger, someone who claimed to know you but didn’t feel real. He had to tread carefully, to give you space to process the situation at your own pace.

“It’s okay,” Spencer said softly, his eyes filled with compassion. “I know this is a lot to take in. You’ve been through so much, and I’m here for you. We can take this one step at a time. Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”

You looked at him, studying his face for any sign of deception or recognition, but all you saw was sincerity. It was both comforting and unsettling. Here was a man who seemed to care deeply for you, yet you couldn’t find a single memory to support his claims. It was like standing at the edge of a vast, unknown ocean, unsure whether to step forward or retreat.

“I just... I don’t understand how I got here,” you said, your voice small and uncertain, the edges of panic sharpening your words. Your eyes filled with tears as you grappled with the enormity of your situation. “Where’s Emily? I want to see Emily,” you added, the tears now spilling over, and you could feel your chest tighten with fear and helplessness. 

Spencer felt a painful twist in his heart as he watched you cry, the sight of your distress cutting through him like a knife. He knew how much you relied on Emily before, but he had been your rock these past years. To not be able to comfort you in your time of need tore him apart. Despite the situation, he felt a glimmer of relief that you still remembered your sister, a familiar anchor in a sea of unfamiliar faces and places.

“She’s at home sleeping. I’ll give her a call,” Spencer assured you, reaching for his phone with a steady hand, though inside he felt anything but calm. He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you and tell you that everything would be okay, but he understood that right now, Emily was the person you needed most. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. You wiped at your tears, feeling both grateful and overwhelmed by the kindness of this man who seemed so determined to help you, even though you couldn’t remember him.

Spencer stepped out into the hallway to make the call, wanting to give you a moment of privacy. The hospital corridor was quiet, save for the distant murmur of medical staff and the occasional beep of machinery. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself before dialing Emily’s number. 

“Spencer?” Emily’s voice was groggy but instantly alert as she answered the call, concern evident in her tone. “Is everything okay? How’s Y/N?”

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Emily, she’s awake,” he said, his voice tight with emotion. “But she doesn’t remember anything from the past seven years. She thinks she’s still living with you.”

“Oh my God,” Emily breathed, the shock clear in her voice. “Is she okay? What did the doctors say?”

“They think it’s retrograde amnesia caused by the trauma of the accident,” Spencer explained, running a hand through his hair as he spoke. “She’s asking for you, Emily. She’s really scared.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” Emily promised, already moving to get dressed. “Tell her I’m on my way, okay? And Spencer... thank you for being there with her. I know this must be incredibly hard for you.”

Spencer nodded, even though Emily couldn’t see him. “I’ll tell her. Drive safely.”

After ending the call, Spencer returned to your room, his heart heavy with the knowledge of how disorienting this must be for you. He found you sitting up slightly, your eyes still red from crying but showing a flicker of hope at the mention of your sister.

“Emily’s on her way,” Spencer said gently, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “She should be here soon.”

You nodded, the knowledge that Emily was coming bringing you a semblance of comfort. But still, questions swirled in your mind, the uncertainty of your situation looming large.

"Thank you, um, what was your name again?" you asked softly, your voice hesitant and tinged with the confusion that clouded your mind. 

Spencer’s heart ached at the question, a painful reminder of the gap that now existed between you. But he managed a gentle smile, determined to be patient and understanding. 

“Spencer,” he said quietly, meeting your gaze with a steady warmth. “My name is Spencer.”

You nodded slowly, trying to commit his name to memory, even though it felt like grasping at straws. There was something comforting about the way he looked at you, a sense of safety that you couldn’t quite explain.

“Thank you, Spencer,” you repeated, hoping that saying his name would help anchor you in this unfamiliar reality. Despite the overwhelming uncertainty, you felt a small sense of reassurance knowing he was there, a steady presence in the storm of your fractured memories.

—

Emily arrived at the hospital within the hour, her eyes filled with concern and determination as she made her way to your room. When she saw you, relief flooded her features, and she rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you in a warm, reassuring embrace.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Emily murmured, holding you tightly as she stroked your hair. “I’m here, Y/N. We’ll figure this out together.”

You clung to her, the familiar comfort of her presence grounding you in the midst of the chaos. For the first time since waking up, you felt a sense of safety, a reminder of the life you remembered.

Spencer watched the reunion, his heart aching with a mixture of emotions. He was grateful that Emily was there for you, knowing how much you needed her support right now. But there was also a longing, a deep-seated hope that one day, you would remember the life you had built with him, the love that had grown between you.

As you leaned into Emily's embrace, you whispered, “Can you stay with me, please?” Your voice was soft, almost childlike in its vulnerability, and Spencer’s heart clenched at the sound of it.

Emily smiled gently, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face as she nodded. “Of course, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” she said, guilt tinging her words. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“It’s okay,” you replied, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Peter is really nice.”

The misstep in Spencer's name hit him like a physical blow, and yet he understood. You were trying your best to piece things together, to make sense of the world around you, and that meant trying to fit him into a picture that didn’t quite match the reality you remembered. 

Emily glanced at Spencer, a flicker of understanding in her eyes as she gave him a supportive nod. She knew how hard this must be for him, watching you struggle to recall the love and life you shared. 

Spencer swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing himself to return Emily’s nod with a small, grateful smile. He knew that rebuilding the bridge to your past wouldn’t be easy, but he was willing to do whatever it took to help you find your way back. 

He remained quiet, a gentle presence in the background as Emily continued to comfort you, knowing that while he might not be the one you remembered now, he would do everything in his power to be the one you’d remember in the future.

—

Spencer eventually went home, the weight of the last few days pressing heavily on his shoulders. The hospital had become a second home in the wake of the accident, but now, as he drove through the familiar streets of Quantico, he felt the exhaustion finally catch up with him. 

The apartment was quiet when he arrived, the silence amplifying the absence of your presence. He dropped his bag by the door and stood in the entryway for a moment, looking around the space that had been your shared sanctuary. Everything about it—the framed photos, the little touches that marked your shared life—felt like an echo of the past he was desperate to help you remember.

He made his way to the bathroom, shedding his clothes and stepping into the shower. The hot water cascaded over him, washing away the grime and fatigue, but doing little to ease the turmoil inside. As the steam filled the room, Spencer closed his eyes, allowing the water to drown out the noise in his head for just a moment. 

He thought about you, lying in that hospital bed, trying to piece together a life you couldn’t remember. The thought of your struggle weighed heavily on him, and he wished more than anything that he could simply take away the burden of your amnesia. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and it frustrated him deeply.

Stepping out of the shower, Spencer wrapped a towel around his waist and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face staring back at him was etched with worry and sleepless nights. He knew he needed to rest, to recharge so he could be strong for you, but his mind was already racing with possibilities, with ways to help you find your way back to the life you had known.

Reluctantly, he made his way to the bedroom and sank into the mattress, pulling the covers over himself. 

—

When Spencer awoke, the morning light was filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. He stretched, feeling the knots in his muscles protest at the movement, but he pushed through, determined to make the most of the day ahead.

His mind immediately returned to you and the questions that had haunted him since the accident. He needed answers, a plan, something tangible he could use to help you. Rising from the bed, he quickly dressed and made his way to the library, his thoughts already churning with possibilities.

The library was quiet, a haven of knowledge waiting to be tapped into. Spencer made his way through the aisles, pulling books from the shelves with practiced ease. He found volumes on neurology, psychology, and memory restoration, stacking them on the table as he prepared to dive deep into his research.

Sitting down, Spencer opened the first book, his fingers flipping through the pages with the kind of fervor only a man on a mission possessed. He absorbed every word, every study and theory on amnesia and retrograde amnesia, searching for anything that might provide a glimmer of hope.

He read about the mechanisms of memory, the ways trauma could affect the brain's ability to store and retrieve information. He learned about the potential for memory recovery, the techniques that could aid in jogging the mind back to the present, and the importance of emotional connections in bridging the gaps.

As the hours passed, Spencer lost himself in the sea of information, each new piece of knowledge building upon the last. He scribbled notes in the margins, cross-referencing studies and compiling a mental list of strategies he could employ to help you.

It was a daunting task, but Spencer felt a sense of purpose in the research, a way to channel his love for you into something tangible. He was determined to do everything he could to help you regain your memory, to guide you back to the life you had shared together. 

For Spencer, this was more than just a quest for answers—it was a testament to the bond that had grown between you, a bond he was unwilling to let go of. He was ready to fight for your future, to be there for you in whatever capacity you needed, until the day your eyes lit up with recognition and the memories flooded back. 

With renewed resolve, Spencer closed the book he was reading, his mind buzzing with ideas and possibilities. He gathered his notes, feeling a sense of determination settle over him. He would be there for you, no matter how long it took, until you found your way back to him.

—

Spencer called Emily, feeling a slight tremor in his fingers as he punched in her number. He knew how delicate your situation was, and he didn’t want to risk upsetting you with his presence if it would cause more harm than good. As the phone rang, he took a deep breath, hoping that Emily would have some insight into how you were doing and whether it would be okay for him to visit.

“Hello?” Emily’s voice came through the line, sounding calm but tinged with exhaustion.

“Emily, it’s Spencer,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady despite the nervousness fluttering in his chest. “I wanted to check in and see how Y/N is doing... and if it would be alright for me to come back to the hospital. I don’t want to overwhelm her, but I think I might have found some helpful information on memory restoration tactics.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, and Spencer could hear the soft murmur of the hospital in the background, the distant beeps of monitors and the hushed conversations of medical staff. Emily sighed softly, and he could picture her leaning against the wall outside your room, her hand running through her hair as she considered his request.

“Spencer, she’s been asking about you,” Emily finally said, her voice gentle and reassuring. “I think she wants to start trying to piece things together a little, and having you here might actually help.”

The fragments of your past felt like pieces of a puzzle scattered across the table, and you were trying to fit them together. The memory of just having graduated college and moving in with Emily in Europe while she worked for Interpol was clear in your mind, yet the reality you were living in contradicted that memory in every way. You obviously went to college, got an important job, met someone, and fell in love. That would be nice to remember.

The thought of your life now—a life filled with achievements, meaningful relationships, and moments of joy—was enticing. You felt a sense of longing to reconnect with those parts of yourself, to remember the paths that led you to where you were today. The idea of having accomplished so much, of having people in your life who cared deeply for you, filled you with both curiosity and determination.

You sat in the hospital bed, the beeping of the monitors a constant reminder of the present, and tried to reconcile the gap between what you knew and what was real. There was a sense of urgency within you, a desire to reclaim the life that had slipped through your fingers due to the accident.

As you contemplated this, Spencer arrived, a reassuring presence amidst the confusion. He had a folder in hand, filled with information he’d painstakingly gathered to aid in your recovery. His expression was one of quiet resolve, a testament to his commitment to helping you find your way back.

“Hey, Y/N,” Spencer greeted softly, taking a seat beside your bed. His eyes were warm and encouraging, and you couldn’t help but feel comforted by his presence. “I know this is a lot to take in, but I’ve found some information that might help you remember.”

You nodded, eager to hear what he had discovered. The prospect of understanding more about your life, your achievements, and the connection you shared with Spencer filled you with hope.

Spencer opened the folder, revealing a collection of notes, articles, and studies on memory restoration and retrograde amnesia. “I’ve been looking into different techniques and therapies that could aid in restoring your memories,” he explained, his voice steady and full of purpose.

He began to outline the various strategies he had found, discussing everything from cognitive therapy and memory exercises to more experimental approaches. As he spoke, you listened intently, absorbing the possibilities and feeling a flicker of determination ignite within you.

“I believe that with the right approach and support, we can hopefully help you piece together your memories,” Spencer said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering sincerity. “I’m here to support you in whatever way you need. We can do this together, one step at a time.”

His words resonated with you, and you found yourself nodding along, feeling a renewed sense of hope. The idea of reclaiming your memories, of rediscovering the life you had built, felt like a light at the end of a long tunnel. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” you said softly, your voice filled with gratitude. “I want to remember.”

—

The hospital released you into Emily’s care. While the medical staff had done everything they could, the journey to regaining your memory would continue outside the hospital walls.

The decision to stay with Emily instead of Spencer hurt him, but it felt like the right choice for now. As much as Spencer wanted to be there for you, he understood the need for you to be in an environment that felt familiar and safe. The last thing he wanted was to push you further away by overwhelming you with too much, too soon.

“It’s okay,” Spencer assured you as you prepared to leave the hospital. His voice was steady, but the flicker of pain in his eyes was unmistakable. “I understand. Emily will take good care of you, and I’m just a phone call away if you need anything.”

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. A part of you felt guilty for not choosing to stay with him, especially considering how kind and supportive he had been. But the gaps in your memory left you feeling adrift, and being with Emily was like holding onto a piece of your past that still made sense. Besides, he was still technically a stranger.

—

The drive to yours and Spencer’s apartment was quiet, Emily navigating the streets with the ease of someone who knew them well. You sat in the passenger seat, watching the city pass by, anticipation and apprehension swirling within you. This was a chance to see the life you had built, to find clues that might help bridge the chasm between the past you remembered and the present you couldn’t grasp.

Arriving at the apartment building, you felt a sense of déjà vu, as if you had been here countless times before, but it was all shrouded in fog. Emily led you up to the front door, her presence reassuring and calm as she unlocked it and gestured for you to step inside.

The apartment was warm and inviting, filled with little touches that spoke of a life shared between two people. You took a tentative step inside, your eyes scanning the space as you tried to grasp any spark of recognition. The furniture, the décor, the scent of your favorite candle burning on the coffee table—everything felt just out of reach.

But it was the photographs that caught your attention, lining the walls and filling the shelves with captured moments of happiness and love. You walked over to a series of framed photos, your heart aching at the sight of the images. There you were, smiling and laughing with Spencer, your faces filled with joy.

There was a picture of the two of you on a hiking trip, arms around each other as you gazed at the camera, the sun setting behind you. Another of you dancing together at what appeared to be a wedding, Spencer’s hand on the small of your back, your face lit with laughter.

And then there was the one that brought tears to your eyes—an image of you and Spencer sharing a tender kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gently holding your waist while the other stretched out to hold the camera. The love captured in that single moment was undeniable, and yet it was a memory you couldn’t access, a chapter of your life that felt painfully distant.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as the weight of what you had lost settled over you. You turned away from the photos, covering your face with your hands as sobs wracked your body. The sadness was overwhelming, a deep, unbearable grief for the beautiful life you couldn’t remember.

Emily was at your side in an instant, her arm wrapping around you as she whispered soothing words, trying to calm the storm of emotions that had taken hold.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice breaking with the depth of your sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I wish I could remember. I wish I could—”

Spencer’s expression was filled with compassion and understanding, though his heart ached at the sight of your distress. He longed to reach out and hold you, to reassure you that it was okay, that you would find your way back to him in time. But he knew that the memories were something you had to reclaim on your own.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Spencer said gently, his voice soft and comforting. “It’s not your fault. None of this is your fault.”

Despite his reassuring words, the pain of not being able to remember was too much to bear. You were inconsolable, and Emily could see that you needed space to process everything, away from the emotional overload of the apartment.

“Let’s go home, Y/N,” Emily suggested softly, guiding you toward the door with a gentle touch. “We can come back another time when you’re ready.”

You nodded, allowing her to lead you away, the tears still streaming down your face. Spencer watched as Emily escorted you out, his heart heavy with sadness. 

—

The following Monday, the next step in your recovery journey was to visit your workplace, a place where you had spent countless hours building a career you could no longer remember. The decision to bring you back into the office was made with the hope that it might jog some of your lost memories, and while it felt daunting, you were determined to face it head-on.

Emily drove you to the FBI headquarters, the massive building both imposing and familiar as you approached. You had been nervous about this visit, unsure of how it would make you feel or what it might stir within you. Your unit chief had been extremely understanding about your situation, assuring you that you had all the time you needed to recover and that your job would be waiting for you if and when you were ready to return. The possibility of never coming back loomed large, but today was about exploring what felt right.

As you walked through the corridors, passing colleagues who greeted you with warm smiles and words of encouragement, you felt a mixture of anxiety and curiosity. The familiarity of the surroundings tugged at the edges of your mind, teasing you with whispers of recognition that were just out of reach.

When you finally reached your desk, something shifted within you. A small sense of familiarity washed over you, grounding you in a way that you hadn't expected. The space was uniquely yours, decorated with personal touches that reflected your personality and interests. The colorful keyboard and mouse pad, the photos adorning your workspace, all felt like pieces of yourself that you were slowly rediscovering.

Emily stood beside you, watching as you took it all in. Her presence was reassuring, a steady hand on your shoulder as you navigated the myriad of emotions swirling within you.

"This is your desk," Emily said gently, gesturing to the array of decorations and mementos that made it uniquely yours. 

You ran your fingers over the keyboard, tracing the familiar keys, and then turned your attention to the photos. There were images of you and Emily from your first apartment together in D.C., snapshots of a time when life felt full of possibility and adventure. Your eyes lingered on the photos of you and Spencer, capturing moments of joy and love that you desperately wished to remember.

One photo, in particular, caught your eye. It was of you and another person, both of you with wide smiles, arms wrapped tightly around each other, faces pressed together in a display of friendship and affection. The bond between you was evident, even in a still image, and you felt a pang of longing to recall the memories associated with it.

“Who are all of these people?” you asked, your voice tinged with curiosity and a hint of sadness.

Emily leaned in, pointing to the photo of you and the person who seemed to be a close friend. “That is your best friend, Noah,” she explained. Her smile was warm, the fondness for your friendship evident in her tone. “You two have been inseparable for years. They’ve been by your side through thick and thin.”

You studied the photo, trying to summon any fragment of memory, but the connection eluded you. Still, it was comforting to know that you had someone like Noah in your life, a constant presence of support and friendship.

Emily then pointed to another photo, this one featuring a large group of people gathered in a spacious kitchen that looked to be part of a grand mansion. The scene was lively and filled with laughter, the closeness between everyone palpable even in a photograph.

“And that,” Emily said, gesturing to the group photo, “is my team. The Behavioral Analysis Unit, at David Rossi’s house for pasta and wine. It’s a tradition of ours to get together and unwind after a long week. You’ve become a part of that tradition too.”

The photo brought a sense of warmth and belonging that tugged at your heartstrings. Though you couldn’t remember the specifics of the event, the image conveyed a sense of community and acceptance, a reminder that you were surrounded by people who cared for you deeply.

You nodded, feeling a mix of emotions—gratefulness for the connections you had forged, sadness for the memories that remained out of reach, and determination to piece it all together. As overwhelming as it was, the visit to your workplace had sparked something within you, a desire to reclaim the life you had lost and reconnect with the people who meant so much to you.

“Thank you for bringing me here, Emily,” you said softly, turning to your sister with gratitude in your eyes.

Emily smiled, her hand squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “You’re doing great, Y/N.”

—

After spending some time familiarizing yourself with your desk and the environment, you felt a little more grounded. Emily suggested taking a break, and the two of you made your way to the break room for some coffee. The small talk and casual atmosphere provided a sense of normalcy, and you found yourself relaxing into the environment, even if it still felt like you were seeing it all for the first time.

As you sipped your coffee, Emily shared stories about the team, painting vivid pictures of the friendships that had developed over the years. Her words were filled with warmth, and you could sense the deep bond that connected everyone in the unit.

“–and then you and Penelope performed as much of the Rent musical as you could while Spencer took you home from girls' night.”

You laughed, a joyous feeling after all the sadness and confusion you’d been wearing like a cloud. It felt good to feel lighthearted again, if only for a moment, and the image of yourself belting out show tunes with Penelope at the top of your lungs was both hilarious and comforting.

“Was he mad?” you asked, picturing the scene in your mind.

“Quite the opposite,” Emily said, her eyes twinkling with amusement at the memory. “He asked you out the next week at work.”

“That’s so sweet,” you said, a warm glow spreading through you at the thought of Spencer’s patience and kindness. 

“He really loves you,” Emily added, her voice gentle and full of sincerity. 

You looked down at your coffee cup, a mix of emotions swirling within you. “I just can’t believe I’m loved so much by someone I don’t remember,” you said softly, your words carrying the weight of your current reality. 

Spencer hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but as he was walking to the break room, your voice reached his ears, and he froze just outside the door. The sound of your laughter was like music to him, a familiar melody he had sorely missed since the accident. It felt normal to hear you in the building, like it had been before, a sense of déjà vu that was both comforting and bittersweet.

But hearing that last snippet of conversation—that you couldn’t believe you were loved by someone you didn’t remember—was like a punch to the gut. It was a reminder of how much had been lost, how fragile the threads of your connection had become in the wake of your amnesia.

Spencer’s heart clenched with longing and sadness. He wanted to be there with you, to share in the laughter and help rebuild the life you had once shared. Yet, he also knew that the path to healing was not a straight line and that you needed time to find your footing.

With a heavy heart, Spencer decided against going into the break room. He felt it would be too much to face you right then, knowing that he was part of the gap in your memory. He turned on his heel, heading back to his desk with a resolve to give you the space you needed while still being there for you in whatever way he could.

Back in his office, Spencer tried to focus on his work, but his mind kept drifting back to you and the conversation he had overheard. He wished he could do more, be more, to help you remember. The thought of the love you had shared, a love you now couldn’t recall, weighed heavily on him.

—

Over the next few weeks, life became a series of ups and downs, filled with moments of both clarity and confusion. Living with Emily had its comforting moments—her presence a soothing balm to the chaos in your mind. You cherished the time you spent with her, grateful for the bond that had been rekindled. You missed Emily deeply during high school, and living with her felt like a second chance to reconnect and make up for lost time. 

But the reason for your reunion weighed heavily on you. You were so happy to be living with Emily again, until you remembered why. Some nights, the memories—or lack thereof—were overwhelming, and you’d find yourself crying silently into your pillow, grieving for the life you learned about but couldn’t recall. You mourned for the person you once were, the experiences you’d lost, and the love you had built with Spencer, a man who was now a stranger in your life.

In those darker moments, a part of you wondered if a second accident could somehow reverse the damage, though you knew deep down that it wouldn’t work. The thought was fleeting, a desperate whisper in your mind, quickly silenced by the knowledge that the path to healing lay elsewhere.

You wanted to love Spencer, you really did. Everything you’d learned about him painted a picture of a man who was kind, intelligent, and deeply devoted to you. But every time you looked at him, all you felt was a sense of apathy and resentment. It was an unfair burden, one you didn’t want to carry but couldn’t seem to shake. He knew you, but you didn’t know him. He had gotten to know the you that you couldn’t remember, had built a life with a version of yourself that no longer existed. 

Safe to say, you hadn’t spoken to anyone but Emily since that day at Spencer’s apartment. Despite Emily’s best efforts to coax you out of your shell, to encourage you to re-engage with the world, you found solace only in her presence. She would suggest small outings, opportunities to reintroduce you to the life you’d lived—a coffee date with Penelope, a lunch with Noah, a casual dinner with the BAU team—but you declined each invitation with a sense of dread.

—

Emily understood your reluctance, though she worried about the isolation you were imposing on yourself. She was patient, never pushing too hard, but she tried her best to gently encourage you to take those first steps toward reconnecting with your life.

"Y/N," she said one afternoon as you both sat in the living room, the afternoon sun streaming through the windows. "I know it’s hard, but you have so many people who care about you. They’re all here, ready to support you whenever you’re ready."

You nodded, your eyes fixed on the floor. “I know,” you replied softly, your voice tinged with frustration and sadness. “I just... I don’t know how to face them, Emily. It’s like they’re expecting me to be someone I’m not.”

Emily reached over, taking your hand in hers, her grip reassuring. “They’re not expecting anything,” she said gently. “They just want to be there for you, to help you find your way back. And you don’t have to do it alone. I’ll be with you.”

Despite her words, the idea of facing Spencer or any of your friends felt daunting. It wasn’t just about remembering; it was about rebuilding a sense of self that had been shattered by the accident. You felt like a puzzle with missing pieces, unsure of how to fit back into the picture of your own life.

—

One night, as you lay in bed, the weight of it all pressed heavily on your chest. You stared at the ceiling, the darkness a mirror to the emptiness you felt inside. The person you were before the accident seemed like a ghost, haunting the edges of your consciousness, taunting you with glimpses of a life you couldn’t quite grasp.

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks as you grieved for the life you’d lost, for the love that was now a distant memory. It felt like an insurmountable chasm between the past and present, a gap you couldn’t bridge no matter how hard you tried.

You curled up under the covers, wishing for relief from the emotional storm, longing for a sense of belonging that remained elusive. But as much as you yearned for the past, you knew the journey to healing had to start from where you were now—from this moment, with its uncertainties and challenges.

Emily found you the next morning, the traces of tears still visible on your face. She didn’t say anything, simply pulled you into a hug, offering her silent support. You leaned into her embrace, grateful for the unconditional love and understanding she provided.

“I’m here, Y/N,” Emily murmured, her voice steady and reassuring. “Whenever you’re ready to take that next step, I’m here.”

—

On a random Tuesday morning, you regained a glimpse of yourself. It was an ordinary day, the sun barely peeking over the horizon as you padded into the kitchen, the scent of freshly brewed coffee filling the air. Emily was already there, pouring herself a cup and offering you a warm smile as you entered.

"Good morning," she said, her voice carrying the comforting tone you had come to rely on over the past few weeks.

“Did I bring any files home?” you asked, the question slipping out naturally as if it were the most normal thing in the world. “I want to review the Cooper case.”

Emily whipped around so fast she thought she might get whiplash, her eyes wide with shock and a glimmer of hope. “What did you just say?” she asked, her voice almost trembling with anticipation.

“The Cooper case?” you repeated, frowning slightly as you tried to grasp the memory that felt just within reach. “Oh, I wanted to review the evidence for the upcoming trial. I want to make sure that son of a bitch gets locked away.”

Emily’s face lit up with astonishment and disbelief, a slow grin spreading across her features. “Y/N… how do you remember that?” she asked, her voice tinged with awe.

“What?” you blinked, the realization dawning on you like a gentle wave, the fog lifting ever so slightly. “Oh…” you murmured, the pieces clicking into place.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! I remember!” you exclaimed, your heart pounding with excitement and relief.

“Do you remember anything else?” Emily asked eagerly, stepping closer as if to catch every word.

“My, um, my unit chief… her name is, uh, Sarah Freeman!” you said, a smile breaking across your face as more fragments of memory bubbled to the surface. It was like pulling on a thread and watching a tapestry unfold before your eyes.

“That’s amazing! You’re amazing!” Emily cheered, her eyes shining with pride and joy. She grabbed your hands, squeezing them tightly as if to anchor this precious moment in reality. “I’m going to call your doctor! Keep thinking!”

You nodded, your mind racing with possibilities. There was a thrill in the air, a sense of rediscovery that felt like sunlight streaming into a darkened room. 

—

As the days and weeks passed, your world gradually came into sharper focus. You began to remember more and more, and your doctors believed that your brain was finally healing from the trauma of the accident, allowing you to access information that had been temporarily locked away. It was as if the fog that had settled over your mind was beginning to lift, and the memories of your life were emerging from the shadows.

With each passing day, you started seeing people more. The familiarity of their faces and the warmth of their presence became less overwhelming and more comforting. You remembered small bits of Noah, moving in with Emily, a few girls’ nights, and coffee dates with Penelope. Each memory was like a small gift, a piece of the puzzle that was slowly coming together.

Whenever you shared a memory with someone, it was met with tears of joy and hugs of relief. They were all so patient and understanding, celebrating every little moment of rediscovery with you. It was a testament to the love and support that surrounded you, a constant reminder that you were not alone on this journey.

—

With your birthday approaching, the excitement in the air was palpable. Everyone was thrilled that they would at least get to celebrate with you, even if the memories of past birthdays were still hazy. The anticipation of the party, the chance to be surrounded by the people who meant so much to you, filled you with a sense of hope and gratitude.

The only person you couldn’t seem to remember, however, was Spencer. Despite the progress you were making with others, there was an inexplicable block when it came to him. It was as if the memories you shared were trapped behind a door that refused to open, no matter how hard you tried. 

Spencer felt the weight of this exclusion acutely. While everyone else reveled in your regained memories, he remained on the outside, watching as you reconnected with the life you’d once shared. At first, he tried to be patient, understanding that recovery was a complex and unpredictable process. But as time went on and the memories continued to elude you, Spencer began to feel a growing frustration, a simmering resentment that he struggled to contain.

—

The night of your birthday party arrived, and Emily had invited everyone important to you: the BAU team, Noah, your unit chief, and colleagues. The apartment was filled with laughter and music, the air buzzing with the joy of celebration. You moved through the crowd, receiving hugs and well-wishes, feeling more like yourself than you had in months.

The party was a joyful affair, filled with the warmth of friends and loved ones, each of them eager to share in the celebration of your continued recovery. You spent time with everyone, enjoying the opportunity to catch up and reconnect. 

You found yourself talking to Derek Morgan, recounting a small memory that had surfaced earlier in the day—a humorous moment from a case your units had worked on together. Derek’s laughter echoed through the room, a rich, joyful sound that drew the attention of others nearby. 

Spencer overheard your conversation with Derek and felt the frustration within him build past his boiling point. It was like a dam breaking, all the emotions he had tried to keep in check spilling over into an overwhelming wave. The exclusion, the constant reminder that you remembered everyone but him, finally pushed him to the edge.

Unable to contain his feelings any longer, Spencer stormed past you, his shoulder bumping into yours as he made his way toward the front door. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, the usually sweet and gentle Spencer now a storm of emotions.

“Spencer?” you called after him, confused by the abruptness of his departure. You quickly excused yourself from Derek and followed Spencer, determined to understand what had upset him.

You found Spencer in the hallway of the building, his back turned to you as he tried to compose himself. But when he turned around, you saw the angry tears in his eyes, the hurt etched across his features. It was a side of Spencer you hadn’t seen before, and it unsettled you.

“Spencer, what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice gentle but firm, wanting to understand the source of his pain.

He took a deep breath, his emotions churning within him. The question felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustration and hurt he had been holding onto for so long. And then, finally, he exploded, the words tumbling out in a torrent of anger and anguish.

“Why, Y/N?” Spencer’s voice was raw, filled with desperation and resentment. “Why do you remember everyone but me? Do you secretly remember me but don’t know how to break it off, so you keep pretending you don’t know me?”

His accusation hung in the air, sharp and cutting. It was a blow that took your breath away, the depth of his pain evident in every word. Spencer’s eyes bore into yours, searching for answers, for some explanation that could make sense of the exclusion he felt so deeply.

“I’m not pretending, Spencer,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, the shock of his words settling over you like a heavy fog. “I wish I could remember. I want to remember you more than anything.”

Spencer’s expression shifted, hurt and frustration warring within him. He turned away, running a hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts. “It just feels like... like I’m the only one left out,” he said, his voice cracking with emotion. “I watch you remember all these moments, all these people, and I keep hoping that one day you’ll look at me and just... know.”

His words hung in the air, each syllable a reminder of the distance that had grown between you—a distance neither of you wanted, but couldn’t seem to bridge. It was like standing on opposite sides of a vast chasm, reaching for one another but never quite able to touch.

“You think this is easy for me?” you shot back, your voice rising with each word. “Do you think I wanted to get hit by a semi and lose my memories? No! I want it all back, I want my life back.” You took a step closer, the intensity of your emotions propelling you forward. “Do you know how much it kills me that you know a version of me that I don’t? You want her back, and so do I, but Jesus Christ, Spencer! I’m not her, I can’t just be her, I’m fucking trying, okay?”

The hallway seemed to close in around you as you stood there, the weight of your words hanging heavy between you. Spencer’s eyes widened in surprise at the raw honesty in your voice, the depth of your struggle laid bare before him.

“I know you’re trying,” Spencer said, his voice softening even as his frustration simmered beneath the surface. “But it’s so hard to watch you remember everyone else and not me. It feels like I’m losing you all over again, every single day.”

"I’m losing myself too!” you replied, your voice breaking with emotion. “Every time I remember something, it’s like I’m meeting a stranger who’s supposed to be me. It’s terrifying, and I don’t know how to make it better. And it doesn’t help when I’m constantly reminded that you’re disappointed in me too.”

Spencer ran a hand over his face, his own anger and hurt warring with the compassion he still felt for you. He wanted to say the right thing, but his emotions were tangled, pulling him in different directions. The frustration that had built up over the weeks finally met the compassion he still felt for you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the fight leaving his voice as he took a step back, trying to regain control. His eyes softened as he looked at you, the anger giving way to vulnerability. “I know it’s not fair to put this on you. God, I’m not disappointed in you, I’m just... I’m scared, Y/N. I’m scared that I’ll never get you back.”

The vulnerability in his words pierced through your own defenses, the rawness of his confession echoing the fears that had plagued you both. It was as if the anger that had fueled the argument had stripped away the layers, leaving only the truth of your shared fears and insecurities.

You sighed, your own anger giving way to a wave of exhaustion and sadness. The argument had drained you both, leaving behind a hollow ache that you couldn’t ignore. “I’m scared too,” you admitted, your voice trembling as you spoke. “I’m scared that I’ll never be able to remember the love we had, that I’ll never be able to be the person you fell in love with.”

Spencer's eyes met yours, and you could see the struggle within him—the longing to reach out and bridge the gap between you, the desire to hold onto the love that had once been so strong and certain. “You’re still the person I fell in love with,” he said softly, his voice tinged with desperation. “I know it’s hard to see right now, but you are. And I don’t want to lose you, even if it means starting over.”

His words hung in the air, a lifeline thrown across the chasm that had opened between you. You took a deep breath, the weight of his words. 

“Can I ask you something?” Spencer spoke up, his voice laced with vulnerability. His eyes held yours, searching for an answer he seemed afraid to hear but needed to know nonetheless.

“Of course,” you replied, curious about what was weighing so heavily on him. You wanted to reassure him, to offer some comfort amid the storm of emotions that had engulfed you both.

“Do you find me attractive?” Spencer’s question was simple, yet it held a complexity of emotions—self-doubt, insecurity, a desire for reassurance.

“Spencer… what?” you asked, taken aback by the suddenness of his inquiry. You hadn’t expected that question, and yet, as you looked at him, you realized how important your answer would be.

He shifted his weight, his gaze dropping for a moment before returning to yours, the raw honesty in his expression clear as day. “Do you think that I am attractive? Even now, that you don’t remember me?”

You considered his question carefully. Spencer was undeniably an attractive person—his features were striking, with a gentle kindness in his eyes and a quiet strength in his posture. There was an undeniable allure to him, a magnetic pull that you felt even in your current state of confusion. 

You imagined seeing him in a bar or a crowded room, where his presence would stand out, where you would undoubtedly look twice. His intelligence, the way he carried himself with quiet confidence, and the kindness in his eyes were all qualities that would draw you in.

“Yes,” you replied honestly, your voice steady and sincere. “Yes, Spencer, I find you attractive.”

Spencer let out a small breath he seemed to have been holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he absorbed your answer. There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, a subtle shift that spoke volumes about how much your opinion mattered to him.

“Thank you,” he said softly, his voice a blend of gratitude and something deeper, something that felt like hope.

You took a step closer, wanting to close the distance between you. “Spencer, it’s not just about looks,” you added, wanting to make him understand. “I may not remember everything, but I can see the person you are. The way you care, the way you’ve been so patient with me… that’s what makes you truly attractive.”

His lips curved into a tentative smile, the tension in his features easing as your words reached him. It was a smile that held the promise of new beginnings, a shared understanding that even in the absence of memory, there was a foundation upon which you could rebuild.

Spencer nodded, a small chuckle escaping him as he rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture you found endearing. “I guess I just needed to hear it,” he admitted, his vulnerability laid bare in that moment.

You nodded, reaching out to take his hand in yours. “We’ll figure it out,” you said, your voice filled with determination.

Spencer's fingers intertwined with yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. The simple act of holding hands felt like a small victory, a step toward rebuilding the connection that had been so abruptly severed.

“You couldn’t possibly remember this,” Spencer said with a wry smile, “but I don’t usually touch people’s hands. It’s actually safer to kiss; fewer germs are spread that way.”

You let out a laugh, the tension between you dissolving into a moment of lightness. It was the first genuine laugh you'd shared since the accident, and it felt like a breath of fresh air. 

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or not,” you replied, raising an eyebrow with a teasing grin. “But if that’s a line, it’s not working.”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “It’s not a line, I promise,” he said, a hint of mischief in his tone. “Just one of those strange facts about me you’ll probably hear more about as you get to know me again.”

“Good to know,” you said, your smile softening into something more sincere. “But for now, hand-holding is just fine.”

—

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and joy, a celebration not just of your birthday but of the progress you had made and the hope that lay ahead. Surrounded by friends and loved ones, you felt a sense of belonging, a reminder that even in the midst of adversity, there was a community that held you close.

As the night drew to a close, you and Spencer stood together on the balcony, the city lights twinkling in the distance like stars. It was a moment of quiet reflection, a chance to breathe and appreciate the small victories that had brought you to this point.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Spencer said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that resonated deep within you. 

You turned to him, your heart full of gratitude and the promise of what was to come. “Thank you, Spencer,” you replied, your words laced with sincerity.

—

“Y/N! Spencer is here for you!” Emily called out from the living room, her voice carrying through the apartment with an excited lilt that made you smile.

You were in your bedroom, putting the finishing touches on your outfit, excitement and nervousness fluttering in your stomach. Today marked your fifth date with Spencer, a milestone that felt both exhilarating and significant as the two of you continued to rebuild your relationship from the ground up.

The past few weeks had been a journey of rediscovery. You and Spencer had taken it slow, giving each other the space and time needed to navigate the complexities of your situation. Each date had been a new beginning, a chance to learn about each other all over again, and it had been going well—better than you had dared to hope.

You’d spent hours talking about everything and nothing, sharing stories and memories that both filled in the gaps and created new ones. There were still moments of hesitation and uncertainty, but they were gradually being replaced by laughter and warmth, a growing sense of familiarity that felt like home.

Taking one last look in the mirror, you adjusted your necklace and took a deep breath, feeling a thrill of anticipation for the evening ahead. You made your way to the living room, where Emily was chatting with Spencer, her eyes lighting up with the kind of mischief only a big sister could muster.

“Hey, Spencer,” you greeted him with a smile, feeling the familiar flutter in your chest that had become a welcome sensation. “Ready to go?”

Spencer turned toward you, his face breaking into a warm smile that made your heart skip a beat. He looked dapper in a casual blazer and slacks, an outfit that struck the perfect balance between relaxed and stylish.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with admiration as he took in your appearance. "If I had known you were going to look this stunning, I would have worn my best suit."

You laughed, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. "Oh, please, you look great," you replied, meeting his gaze with a teasing grin. “Besides, I think we match perfectly. You know, two fashion icons taking on the city."

Emily watched the exchange with a satisfied smile, clearly pleased to see the chemistry between you and Spencer reigniting. She gave you a playful nudge, her eyes sparkling with encouragement. “Have fun, you two,” she said, ushering you toward the door. “And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at Emily’s antics, before turning back to Spencer. “Shall we?” you asked, extending your hand toward him.

Spencer took your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze that sent a reassuring pulse of connection between you. “We shall,” he replied with a grin, leading you out the door and into the evening that awaited.

—

The drive was filled with easy conversation, the kind that flowed naturally and effortlessly between you. You chatted about everything from work to your favorite TV shows, reveling in the comfort of each other’s company.

“So, where are we going tonight?” you asked, curious about the plans Spencer had made for your date.

“It’s a surprise,” he said cryptically, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “But I think you’re going to love it.”

“Really?” you said, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “Are you sure it’s not just another one of your ploys to impress me?”

Spencer chuckled, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “Would it be working if it was?”

“You’ll have to wait and see,” you teased, giving him a flirtatious glance as the car continued through the city.

Eventually, you arrived at a charming little restaurant tucked away in a quiet corner of the city. It was the kind of place that exuded warmth and intimacy, the cozy ambiance inviting you in as soon as you stepped through the door.

“Wow, this place is lovely,” you said, taking in the dim lighting, the soft music playing in the background, and the delicious aroma of Italian cuisine wafting through the air.

Spencer smiled, clearly pleased with your reaction. “I thought it might be a nice spot for us to relax and enjoy some good food,” he said, leading you to a table by the window that offered a view of the city lights twinkling in the distance.

“So, any more memories come back recently?” Spencer asked gently, his tone curious yet considerate, as if he knew the subject was still delicate.

You nodded, feeling a flicker of excitement as you recounted some of the fragments that had returned. “I remembered a trip I took with Emily last year to the beach. We ended up getting caught in a rainstorm and had to take cover in this little café, where we spent the afternoon playing board games. It was such a fun day.”

Spencer listened intently, a smile tugging at his lips as you spoke. “That sounds amazing,” he said, his eyes filled with warmth and understanding. “You know, we had a similar rainy day adventure once. It involved an umbrella, a very wet cat, and an impromptu rendition of Singin’ in the Rain in a park.”

“Did we now?” you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes. “Are you sure you weren’t just trying to get me to fall for your charming rendition of a classic?”

“Guilty as charged,” Spencer admitted with a laugh, his gaze meeting yours with a sincerity that made your heart flutter.

“Tell me, though, did we kiss in the rain?” you asked, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively.

Spencer blushed, a charming pink spreading across his cheeks. “We might have…”

“How scandalous!” you replied, feigning shock, but the playful glint in your eyes gave you away.

“You were the one who initiated it!” Spencer shot back, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Oh yeah, am I just supposed to believe you?” you teased, leaning back in your chair with a smirk. “You could be making it all up just to impress me.”

“Well,” Spencer said, a hint of mischief in his voice, “it is supposed to rain later. We could test out the theory.”

“Spencer Reid, you dog!” you exclaimed, laughing at the thought of dancing in the rain with him.

You shared a laugh, the sound mingling with the gentle hum of the restaurant around you. It felt like the world had faded away, leaving just the two of you in your little bubble of happiness.

—

After dinner, you and Spencer strolled through a scenic path in the park, hand in hand. The night was pleasantly cool, and the stars dotted the sky like scattered jewels. The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, a blend of teasing and genuine connection that made the evening feel special.

“I thought it was supposed to rain?” you mused aloud, glancing up at the sky.

“Are you disappointed it’s not?” Spencer asked, a playful edge in his voice as he followed your gaze.

“Are you going to kiss me anyway?” you replied with a teasing smile, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Spencer froze up for a moment, caught off guard by the boldness of your question. A myriad of thoughts raced through his mind, each one tangling with the next. 

He had been nervous to make any moves on you ever since you’d started dating again. What if you didn’t like how he kissed anymore? Or his scent, or taste? What if you two didn't have rhythm anymore? The fear of these possibilities had kept him in check, cautious and tentative.

“What’s going on in that big brain?” you asked, your voice gentle and full of curiosity. You squeezed his hand, bringing him back to the present. Your touch was reassuring, a reminder that the connection between you was as strong as ever.

Spencer shook his head slightly, chuckling at himself. “Just... overthinking, as usual,” he admitted, meeting your eyes with a sheepish grin. “I’ve just been worried that maybe things aren’t the same between us.”

You tilted your head, regarding him with a soft smile. “Spencer, nothing about you could ever disappoint me. We might be rebuilding things, but I think that’s what makes it exciting. We get to discover everything all over again.”

He nodded, his apprehension slowly melting away as your words resonated with him. The sincerity in your voice was like a balm, soothing the insecurities that had plagued him.

“And besides,” you added with a playful twinkle in your eye, “I think we both know we’ve still got that spark.”

Spencer laughed, his tension finally breaking as he took a step closer. The warmth of your presence enveloped him, and he realized how much he had missed these moments with you—the teasing, the laughter, and the unspoken bond that seemed to transcend the gap of memory.

“You’re right,” Spencer said, his voice softening as he gazed into your eyes. “I’d be more than happy to kiss you, rain or no rain.”

You smiled up at him, your heart fluttering with anticipation. As he leaned in, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you beneath the starlit sky.

When Spencer’s lips met yours, it was like coming home. The kiss was gentle at first, a tentative exploration of the familiar territory that quickly blossomed into something deeper. His lips were soft and warm, and the familiar scent of his skin surrounded you like a comforting embrace. 

All the previous worries melted away as you found your rhythm together, the familiarity and connection more than you could have hoped for. Spencer’s kiss was tender but charged with an intensity that made your heart race, a reminder of the passion and warmth that had always been at the core of your relationship.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, feeling the subtle tension in his muscles beneath your fingertips. Spencer responded in kind, his hands finding their place on your face, drawing you into him as if he was afraid to let go. 

The kiss deepened, and it was as if time had stopped, the world around you fading away until only the two of you remained. Lips slotted together perfectly, tongues gliding in a slow, sensual dance that sent shivers down your spine. 

You felt Spencer’s teeth gently nipping at your bottom lip, a playful gesture that made you gasp softly against his mouth. The small sound seemed to spur him on, and you could feel the gentle pressure of his hands pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you. 

In that moment, everything felt right—the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth of his touch, and the gentle thrum of your heartbeat syncing with his. It was a moment of pure connection, a dance of lips and breath and emotion that left you both feeling dizzy and alive. 

You could feel the tension and uncertainty of the past few weeks melting away, replaced by a deep sense of belonging and peace. As you finally pulled back, you looked into Spencer’s eyes, seeing your own emotions reflected back at you—the warmth, the longing, the hope that you both shared.

When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless but smiling, the shared moment leaving a lingering warmth that seemed to wrap around you both.

“Wow,” you murmured, gazing up at Spencer with a soft, genuine smile. “That was... perfect.”

Spencer chuckled, relief and joy evident in his eyes. “I’d say it was pretty amazing,” he agreed, still holding you close.

You both lingered there for a while, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment, the cool breeze whispering through the trees, the world feeling just a little bit brighter.

—

As you continued your stroll through the park, the clouds did open up, and the rain did come, soaking both you and Spencer. The unexpected shower was a sudden thrill, droplets of water cascading down your hair and cheeks, drenching your clothes in moments. The rain brought a fresh, invigorating scent to the air, wrapping around you like a cool embrace as you and Spencer burst into laughter.

“You said you wanted rain,” Spencer quipped, looking at you with a playful glint in his eye, water droplets clinging to his hair and eyelashes.

“I did, didn’t I?” you giggled, brushing a lock of wet hair out of your face. You both sprinted toward his car, shoes splashing through puddles, the sound of your laughter mingling with the rhythm of the rain.

You reached the car, breathless and exhilarated, climbing inside and closing the door behind you. The heated air enveloped you both in a welcome warmth, and you shivered slightly, feeling the chill of your soaked clothes. 

Spencer turned on the car’s heater, and soon the air filled with warmth, contrasting the rain still pelting the car roof outside. You shared a look of amusement, the shared adventure bringing a delightful sense of connection.

“I don’t want to go home, but I’m uncomfortable,” you admitted, glancing down at your soaked clothes with a bemused smile. 

“We could… go back to our—my apartment and change. Maybe watch a movie?” Spencer suggested, his voice soft and inviting, a hint of hesitation in his words as if worried you might say no.

You met his eyes, the warmth in them offering reassurance. “I’d love that,” you replied, your heart fluttering with the anticipation of spending more time with him.

—

Spencer drove you both back to the apartment, the windshield wipers swishing rhythmically as the rain continued its steady drumming against the car. It was your first time returning to the apartment since the night you’d cried there, overwhelmed by the weight of memories you couldn’t quite grasp. But now, the thought of revisiting felt different, less daunting and more like a step forward.

As you entered the apartment, you paused to take it all in again—the familiar scent, the little touches that made the space feel like home. Spencer watched you with a gentle smile, allowing you to explore at your own pace, offering silent support as you reacquainted yourself with the surroundings.

“Do you want to take a shower?” Spencer asked, breaking the comfortable silence. “All of your stuff is still in there.”

“Um, sure. Thank you,” you replied, grateful for the chance to shake off the chill of the rain.

You made your way to the bathroom, feeling a sense of nostalgia as you stepped inside and closed the door behind you. The shower was just as you remembered it, a familiar haven of warmth and comfort.

The water was soothing as it cascaded over you, washing away the rain and the lingering remnants of the day’s adventure. You felt a sense of relaxation settling in, a quiet moment of peace as you let the warmth envelop you.

But then, as you turned too quickly, your foot slipped, and you fell onto your tailbone with a startled yelp. 

“Ow!” you exclaimed, wincing at the sudden jolt of pain.

“Y/N?? Are you okay?” Spencer’s voice called out from the other side of the door, filled with concern.

“Yeah! I just fell,” you called back, trying to keep your tone light despite the embarrassment.

“I’m coming in,” Spencer announced, the worry evident in his voice.

“Wait, Spencer, no—” you began, but he was already in the bathroom, eyes wide as he took in the scene.

He saw your naked form on the ground of the tub through the clear glass, his expression filled with worry and, perhaps, just a touch of awkwardness.

“Spencer!” you exclaimed, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and amusement.

“What happened? Are you hurt? Did you hit your head?” he asked, his concern overriding any sense of propriety.

“I’m fine, I’m naked!” you replied, laughing at the absurdity of the situation even as you tried to cover yourself.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Spencer said, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “I forget. I’ve seen you naked many times.”

“That is so weird,” you teased, rolling your eyes playfully.

Spencer laughed lightly, his eyes twinkling with warmth. “I don’t think so,” he said, his voice softening into something more tender.

“Can I see you then? Even it out?” you asked, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“What?” Spencer’s eyes widened slightly, his cheeks flushing a delightful shade of pink.

“I’ve seen you naked before, right?” you continued, your playful tone belying the genuine affection in your gaze.

“Well, yes, but it’s different,” Spencer stammered, trying to maintain his composure.

“So it’s okay for you to see me, but not for me to see you?” you challenged, a teasing lilt in your voice. “Come get in the shower and help me up.”

Spencer hesitated for a moment, then his expression softened into a smile, affection and delight playing across his features. “Alright,” he said, his voice filled with laughter. “Just this once.”

He quickly shed his clothes and joined you in the shower, his presence a comforting warmth amid the steam and water. With a gentle touch, he helped you up, his hands steady and reassuring as he held you close.

“Thank you,” you said softly, meeting his eyes with a smile. 

Spencer’s gaze was warm and tender, his hands lingering on your waist as he smiled back at you. “Anytime,” he replied, his voice a gentle promise. 

Your eyes couldn’t help themselves as they wandered downward, taking in the sight of him. The realization that you were both standing there, unashamedly bare, brought a new kind of awareness that was both amusing and endearing.

“Y/N!” Spencer laughed. “Eyes up here.”

“I'm sorry,” you said with a playful smirk, your eyes darting back up to meet his. “It’s human nature, after all.”

“I know,” Spencer replied, shaking his head with a chuckle. “But at least pretend to be subtle.”

“You’re quite large,” you teased, unable to resist the opportunity to keep the mood light. “Are you a grower still? Or always a shower?”

Spencer’s cheeks flushed a deep red, his hands instinctively moving to cover himself as he groaned, “Oh my godddd.”

“Answer the question, and I’ll shut up,” you promised, a sweet smile playing on your lips as you looked at him with mock innocence.

With a sigh of resignation, Spencer removed his hands, his expression a mix of bashfulness and humor. “Still a grower,” he admitted, rolling his eyes good-naturedly.

“Lucky me!” you exclaimed, your tone full of playful triumph.

Spencer shook his head, his laughter infectious as he declared, “Not anymore, this was great. Goodbye!” He made a half-hearted attempt to step out of the shower, clearly feigning an exaggerated exit.

“Not so fast!” you interjected, grabbing his arm and pulling him back gently, your own laughter bubbling up as you did so.

His eyes met yours again, and the playful banter settled into something softer, a mutual understanding that transcended words. The silliness of the moment gave way to a quiet intimacy, the kind that came from truly seeing one another and finding joy in simply being together.

As the water continued to rain down, you and Spencer stood there, wrapped in each other’s presence, feeling a sense of comfort and safety that went beyond the physical. 

You both eventually turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, towels wrapped snugly around you. The steam-filled bathroom felt like a private world where the rest of the day’s worries faded away.

—

Once dried and dressed in cozy clothes, you settled into the living room, the aroma of freshly brewed tea wafting through the air as you curled up on the couch together. The rain had stopped outside, leaving a soft patter of droplets against the windows, the perfect backdrop for a cozy movie night.

Spencer draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer. “So, what’s our viewing pleasure tonight?” he asked, his voice filled with a relaxed contentment.

“I was thinking something classic,” you suggested, snuggling into his side. “Maybe a bit of Casablanca?”

“Casablanca, it is,” Spencer agreed, reaching for the remote with a smile.

As the movie played, you found yourself not only immersed in the storyline but also in the warmth of Spencer’s presence beside you. The shared laughter, the gentle teasing, the comfortable silence—it all felt like home.

—

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake up, you find yourself nestled in the bed, no longer on the couch. The room is softly lit with the early morning sun filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything. Spencer is still sound asleep next to you, his arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace. His breathing is steady and calm, and you watch him for a moment, feeling a rush of affection for this man who has been so patient and kind through everything.

Wanting to do something kind for him, you slowly and carefully extricate yourself from his embrace, trying not to wake him. You slip out of bed, pulling on his robe as you head to the kitchen to make some coffee, a small gesture of appreciation for the many times he’s been there for you.

As you move about the kitchen, the familiar routine of making coffee brings a sense of comfort. You smile to yourself as you measure out the coffee grounds and water, the rich aroma filling the air. It feels good to be doing something for him, even if it’s just a small gesture.

When Spencer finally wakes up, the smell of freshly brewed coffee lures him from the cocoon of blankets. In his sleep-delirious haze, he doesn’t realize anything has changed, and he instinctively walks into the kitchen, still half-asleep, and wraps his arms around you from behind.

“Morning, Spence,” you say softly, feeling the warmth of his embrace as you continue to stir the coffee.

“Mmm, good morning, baby,” he mumbles into your hair, his voice thick with sleep.

“I made your coffee, just how you like it,” you say with a smile, feeling a sense of satisfaction at the little surprise you’ve prepared for him.

“Black, seven teaspoons of sugar?” he asks, his voice carrying a note of playful suspicion.

“Precisely,” you reply, leaning back to kiss his head where it’s nestled against your neck. You love the way his hair feels soft and slightly tousled from sleep, the familiarity of the moment wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

Spencer hums contentedly, the combination of your affection and the promise of coffee stirring him more fully awake. You hand him a steaming mug, and he takes a grateful sip, savoring the sweet warmth.

“Thought we could call Diana today, check in on her progress,” you suggest casually, remembering the conversations you’ve had about keeping in touch with his mom.

Spencer’s mind is still catching up to the morning, the mention of his mother registering slowly. “Okay, that’s a good id–wait… what?” His eyes widen as he pulls back slightly, looking at you with surprise and hope.

“Diana, babe? Your mom? I haven’t talked to her in a while, and I wanted to see how she was doing,” you say, turning to face him, your own excitement bubbling beneath the surface.

“Y/N, are you messing with me?” Spencer asks, his voice a blend of disbelief and anticipation, as if he’s afraid to hope too much.

“No… Are you okay, Spence?” you ask gently, reaching up to touch his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over his skin. 

“Spence? My coffee preference? My mom?” Spencer’s eyes search yours, an array of emotions flickering across his face. “What are you not telling me?”

You smile, unable to contain your excitement any longer. “Oh, I woke up this morning with a few memories of our time together.”

Spencer’s eyes widen, his expression shifting from confusion to pure joy. “You remember?” he asks, voice filled with a hopeful wonder that sends a warm thrill through you.

“Bits and pieces,” you admit, nodding as you set your own coffee down on the counter. “It’s like little snapshots coming back, but they’re there. And you were in them.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile, the kind that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and sends warmth flooding through you. “That’s amazing, Y/N,” he says, pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms enveloping you completely.

You melt into his hug, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek. It’s a moment of connection and triumph, a small victory in the long journey of reclaiming the life you once shared.

“I’m so happy,” Spencer murmurs, his voice muffled by your hair but no less filled with emotion. “I’ve missed you—every version of you.”

You pull back slightly, meeting his gaze with a smile that mirrors his own. “I’ve missed you too, Spence. I can’t wait to see what else comes back.”

Spencer leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. His touch was a gentle reassurance that you were exactly where you were meant to be, a soothing balm to the uncertainty that had lingered since the accident. The warmth of his lips against your skin sent a wave of comfort through you, a reminder that love was a constant, waiting patiently to be remembered.

“I love you,” Spencer murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with sincerity and a gentle vulnerability. “Can I say that now? Is that okay?”

His eyes searched yours, seeking not just permission but a confirmation that the love you once shared was finding its way back, stronger and more resilient than before.

“Only if it’s okay for me to say I love you too,” you replied, your voice soft but filled with the depth of emotion that had grown in your heart. 

The words were a quiet declaration, an acknowledgment of the bond that had endured through the haze of forgotten memories and the challenges of the past. It was a promise of the future you were eager to explore together, a future built on the foundation of love and understanding.

Spencer’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with a joy that mirrored your own. “Then it’s more than okay,” he said, his voice warm and full of affection.

You both stood there for a moment, wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the morning, the aroma of coffee mingling with the soft light filtering through the kitchen. It was a simple moment, yet it held the weight of everything you had been through together, a testament to the resilience of love and the power of memory.

“Come here,” Spencer said, pulling you into another embrace, his arms wrapping around you with a tenderness that spoke volumes.

You leaned into him, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a comforting reminder of the life you were rediscovering together. In that embrace, you found not just comfort but a sense of belonging that had been waiting for you to come home to.

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

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite

[wolfiesmoon]

The greatest gift

it's the most wonderful time of the year as they like to say so how about you recieve the best gift from santa on top of that 😈

this is suggestive perhaps??

Characters featured: mikey, hanma, baji, mitsuya

₊˚⊹♡ Mikey

You were joking when you asked for "Mikey" for christmas. You thought Hina and Emma knew you were joking.

So why the hell was Mikey currently tied up with a christmas ribbon and sitting under the christmas tree in your house, staring back at you with a slight smile?

"Merry christmas."

"I- HUH?!" you quickly covered your mouth, not wanting to be too loud at midnight. "Mikey, why are you in my house?" you whisper yelled.

"Emma and Hina jumped me." was his comically simple response. Well, it would be comically simple if Mikey didn't scare the living crap out of you just a few moments ago.

"That- That doesn't explain anything!" at this point, you've given up with trying to be quiet.

"I can't tell you anything more. I have no idea what's happening either."

"How are you so calm about this anyways?" you walked closer to him, inspecting the tag on the ribbon that said "Merry christmas from Emma and Hina".

"Now that I think of it, it is pretty weird to be kidnapped by your sister."

You're not even going to ask how they managed to get him in here without the keys.

"Well, uhhh... how about I unwrap you...?" you offered awkwardly after a small silence.

"Are you sure you want to do that? You'll unleash the true present by doing that." something... strange flashed behind his dark eyes.

"...What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, nothing. ♡"

₊˚⊹♡ Hanma

"Merry christmas. ♡" you froze at the sound of his voice.

You were woken up by some weird noise downstairs, quietly walking down to investigate the source. You even took a knife from the kitchen just in case.

But instead of a robber or kidnapper, what you found was Hanma Shuji tied up in a big red ribbon. Smiling at you.

"Don't you merry christmas me." you didn't know what to say or do. You were scared out of your mind just now and that combined with the strange sight in front of you made you at a loss of... anything, really.

"Woah, that's a big knife... What were you going to do with that?˜" he sounded more amused than anything.

"You little... I don't... What is even happening?" you dropped the knife on the ground.

"Someone told me that you want 'Hanma Shuji' for christmas."

"Well, you know what I thought I was going to get for christmas? Kidnapped, that's what!" you yelled, not even caring about how loud you are right now.

"Hahahah, how amusing!" he laughed, seeming very satisfied.

"You won't be saying that after the things I will do to you. You know you can't escape when you're tied up, right?" a smirk crossed your face suddenly. A sense of boldness overtook you.

"Oooh, aren't you bold. ♡" his smile only widened.

₊˚⊹♡ Baji

"No way." you had to do a double take when you saw what you thought you saw.

Turns out this christmas is more interesting than you thought it would be. A present from Toman ended up being Baji Keisuke in the flesh.

"Mmmf!" he's probably telling you to free him right now, which admittedly, is hard to do when your mouth is gagged.

"Wow, this is like, the best present I ever got. I gotta thank the boys later." you walked closer to him, kneeling down and inspecting him in all his tied up glory.

Baji looked half angry half embarrased, and honestly that just made you want to tease him more. You kissed his cheek, smiling cheekily.

"Hmmf..." you laughed a little at his face.

"Mmmf! Hmmm!"

"Okay, okay, I get it, I'll let you out. But that doesn't mean that I'm done with you just yet." you smiled, taking the bow of the ribbon into your hands to untie it.

"Mmm..?!"

₊˚⊹♡ Mitsuya

"Me and Mana have a surprise for you." Luna ran up to you all of a sudden.

"What is it?" you placed your hands on your knees to get closer to Luna's height.

"Wait till christmas." that was Luna's only response before running off to continue playing with Mana.

"Hmmm..." you hummed, a bit confused.

.

"Was this... Luna and Mana's gift?" you looked at the comically large christmas present under the tree. What in the world did those two give you?

You carefully removed the lid of the box, worried about the contents. Only to find Mitsuya inside.

"I- What the hell?" Luna and Mana sure are some evil children.

"I don't know either. Hakkai approached me just now and said "sorry" before wrapping me up and putting me in this box with no further explanation." his eyes never left yours.

"I think I know who's idea this was..." you stepped inside the box, sitting directly across from him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Your little sisters told me something about a surprise for christmas..."

"Oh my god. That explains... a lot." he looked as if he just made a big realisation. You couldn't help but laugh a little at the sight.

You pecked his lips all of a sudden, making him jump slightly. "Tell them thank you later."

"Shouldn't you be thanking them?" he smiled.

"No, I'm sure you'll be the one thanking them tommorow." His eyes widened at your mischevious smirk.

an early christmas present for my mikey, hanma, baji and mitsuya babes 💕

i want to make sure yall are well fed with that christmas dinner this year

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the ‘Wife at First Sight Series’)

For the first time in a long time, Simon feels as if he’s walking on eggshells

He’s 6’4”, easily over 200 pounds of bulking muscle, strikes fear into the heart of each and every enemy he comes across (should they live to tell the tale that is), and yet he feels as though he’s tiptoeing, practically dancing around the issue he refuses to address

Yet you make him feel this way

It’s been months now, of this dance you still haven’t realized you’re apart of, shining on centre stage under the constant spotlight of Simon Riley’s attention, rather than one of the background performers as you seem to believe

He feels as though he’s done everything he can to get the point across to you, other than literally getting down on one knee and asking you those four special words he can’t seem to get himself to speak out loud

As easy as it is to pretend you two truly are husband and wife ‘til death do you part, he’s instead having to watch you leave base in exchange for your lonely flat each night, reminded of the fact that he’s not ballsy enough to just come out and say it to you

You make the Lieutenant nervous for fucks sake, something he hasn’t truly felt in so long he’s grasping for straws, searching for a life raft in these uncharted waters to help him stay afloat

That’s part of why he’s so confused when Gaz finally joins him and Soap in the gun range, landing a friendly smack across the taller man’s broad shoulders, saying something about how he’s ‘really happy for you LT, finally properly asked her, aye?’

“What are you goin’ on about?” Ghost practically grunts out, readjusting the weapon against his shoulder as he glances through the scope of his gun, only partly interested in what the Sergeants answer is, that is until he hears him mention your name

“Just saw her at her desk, talkin’ about how she has a wedding this weekend-” Gaz has barely finished his sentence before Ghost is whipping his skull clad head around, shoving his weapon into Soap’s arms, and beelining out of the armoury towards you, leaving a pair of chuckling Sergeants behind him

They’ve never seen their Lieutenant so whipped before. And the fact that you don’t even know you have this beast of a man wrapped around your dainty little finger makes it all the more entertaining for them

They totally haven’t taken bets on how long it takes for him to break and finally confess his feelings, and Price definitely didn’t put money down on it either

Ghost may as well float into the room on a cloud he’s feeling so overjoyed at the idea of finding you sat at your desk all pretty, chit chatting away with colleagues about the wedding you’ve finally realized he intends to give you, taking all the pressure off of him

Instead, he rounds the corner and overhears the last tidbits of your conversation, pretending as though his stomach doesn’t drop out of him and onto the floor when he realizes you’re telling your desk mate about your sisters wedding this weekend

He should’ve know better, it wouldn’t be that easy

“-not that I’m embarrassed to go without someone. That I don’t care so much about.” He hears you explain, failing to have noticed him behind you quite yet. “God knows it’s been ages since I’ve gone on an actual date anyways. But this is the first time I’m a bridesmaid, and my sister keeps saying I’m apparently the only bridesmaid without a date-”

“Well aren’t you going to bring your husband?” Your colleague asks, cutting you off. Just like everyone else on base, she knows thinks you are in fact Mrs Riley, for all intents and purposes. You open your mouth to correct her and tell her you don’t have a husband, when a deep voice comes up behind you and speaks first.

“‘Course she is.” Ghost replies for you, coming to stand behind you in your chair, sneaking a gloved hand onto your shoulder to offer a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. You lean your head back to glance up at him, offering a soft smile that melts his heart more and more each time he’s lucky enough to see it, to be the reason for it. Sensing she’s now the odd one out, your coworker quietly excuses herself and goes to find someone else to talk water cooler gossip with.

“Oh Ghost! Hi!” You say, reaching your own hand up to squeeze his in return, smile widening when you notice the crinkles next to his eyes that you hope mean he’s smiling as well under the mask. “Oh, you really don’t have to. I mean- I wouldn’t want you to waste a day off just to sit through a stranger’s wedding for who knows how many hours. I barely want to go.”

You try to joke about it, but this really has been causing you unnecessary stress. Your sister apparently doesn’t have enough wedding planning on her plate as it is, seeing as she has enough time to constantly pester you about whether you’ve secured a date yet or not, despite your answer always being no. She knows it’s been forever since you’ve dated anyone seriously, and that finding a date will be more of a chore than showing up without one and enduring your relative comments and questions.

Each time you told her no though, your mind wandered to the tall, dark, muscular man who liked to call himself your husband, imagining the looks on your family’s face if you were to show up with Ghost on your arm. But you never bothered to ask him, not wanting to force him into extending his kindness and charade of a happily married couple outside of work hours.

“I’d be with you for those ‘who knows how many hours?’” Ghost asks, quoting you, watching as you offer him a simple nod in return. “Then that’s the farthest thing from a waste o’ time in my books, love.”

As simple as that, the plan was set. Ghost would be your date to the wedding that weekend.

Now, Ghost was used to not having very much to look forward to in life. He could look forward to a hot shower occasionally, look forward to good pub food instead of mess hall dinners, look forward to a chance to sleep in a little later, simpler things of the sort.

But when you came into his life, he was suddenly looking forward to equally simple, but different things. He looked forward to reading your cute replies to his good morning and good night texts (he still never misses a single one, all these months later), looked forward to seeing your sweet smile greeting him when you arrived to work, looked forward to hearing your pleased hum when you took your first sip of whatever drink he prepared you that day. Essentially, he looked forward to seeing you.

Now though, he feels as if this weekend cannot come soon enough, finding himself practically giddy he’s looking forward to spending more time with you off base so much, feeling like a kid who’s itching to get their hands on their new Christmas gifts.

When he arrives at your flat almost a half hour too early (he just couldn’t wait anymore lovie, you can’t blame the poor man), and you open the door to greet him, he doesn’t think it’s fair to compare this to a gift under the Christmas tree.

No. It’s more like he’s won the goddamn lottery.

Standing before him, is the most beautiful, breathtaking vision he’s ever laid eyes upon in all his years. He half wonders if his knees are legitimately beginning to wobble where he stands, he feels so weak in the knees as he gazes upon you in your doorway. It’s still just you, the same woman he’s been seeing every day and dreaming of each night.

But you don’t look like you have every day these past months. Your hair is styled differently, your make up is a little more done up, and the thing that’s really got his mind reeling, is that instead of your regular work attire, you’re wearing a dress so stunning he half wonders whether or not you are the bride this evening. There’s no possible way someone so beautiful is expected to stand on the sidelines tonight, expected to be anyone apart from the star of the show, the centre of his the world.

You don’t take much notice of the way Ghost fails to greet you properly, standing outside your door and practically gawking at you, seeing as you’re preoccupied doing the same to him. His usual fatigues and black everything have been swapped out for black dress pants, a white button up shirt (your eyes definitely do not linger on the top three buttons being left undone, nope, not at all) and a black blazer, matching black surgical mask in exchange for the typical skeleton mask.

You two blushing, bumbling idiots in secret love manage to pull yourselves together enough to make the drive up to the venue, the car ride filled with laughter, stories, and too many stolen glances to count, each of you wishing you could pull the car over somewhere and jump each others bones instead.

At the venue, you go through the obligatory introductions with your family, simply so they couldn’t say you didn’t say hello at least once throughout the busy night, only partially intent on ignoring them later on. They’re left understandably stunned at the mention that the man beside you is your husband, and when your family members begin unloading question after question, the two of you manage to find a quick excuse each time to dash off, giggling and holding onto the other as you weave the growing crowd of guests, all too proud of your little inside joke.

You regretfully tell him that you’ll have to leave him to sit alone throughout the ceremony, though he insists you shouldn’t worry about it, lifting your spirits momentarily when he jokes that you should focus more on not tripping during your walk down the aisle, before the both of you are left bright red in the face at hearing him talking about you walking down an aisle, as if you don’t pretend to be married every day to begin with.

He truly doesn’t mind having to sit on the tiny foldable chairs that make up the seating for the ceremony, it’s only a small portion of the evening after all. And besides, his eyes certainly aren’t on the couple reciting their vows up at the altar. No, his gaze is on one person and one person only. From the moment the music kicked in and pairs of bridesmaids and groomsmen stepped out to walk the aisle in their matching attire and matching smiles, his eyes have been locked on you, just as yours have been locked on his.

His size certainly helped you pick him out of the crowd with more ease, finding him amongst the familiar and unfamiliar faces instantly, as though gravity was pulling your gaze in his direction alone. Later on, neither of you could even correctly point out amongst the groomsmen whose arm you were holding on to as you walked, attention only focused on each other.

Even as you stood up front, listening to your sister and new brother in law profess their love for the other, you tried your best to appear as though you were paying them your full attention, considering you were standing up at the front and all. But it was as though you could literally feel Ghost’s eyes on you the entire ceremony, unable to stop your eyes from straying towards him more times than was surely appropriate, feeling the heat of a blush creep over your cheeks every time you saw how devastatingly handsome he was today.

By the time the newlyweds are marching back down the aisle past their cheering loved ones, wedding party in tow, your eyes are no longer pretending to look anywhere other than at him. And Simon is looking back at you, but his mind is growing preoccupied, thinking of how he can finally ensure you’ll let him walk you down the aisle now.

Because in the glove compartment of the very car he drove you up here in, only inches away from your knees the entire drive, he’s tucked away a small little box, containing the exact ring you chose from the jeweller all those weeks ago. He carries it with him everywhere, eager for the moment, the opportunity to be lucky enough to truly call himself your husband and slip the band over your finger as his wife.

And he’s decided that tonight is the night he tells you.

The night he tells you this has never been a joke to him, never been anything apart from what he really wants to be true from the moment he saw you.

To call you his wife.

[kotoku]

Could I request Dr Ratio, Aven, and Sunday (separately) with a partner who calls them edible as a weird form of compliment? Like “awww you look so cute and edible!”

And maybe they sometimes bite him, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to be uncomfortable

Please and thank ya!

ꜱᴜɴᴅᴀʏ, ᴀᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀɪɴᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀ ʀᴀᴛɪᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀɴ ꜱ/ᴏ ᴡʜᴏ ᴄᴀʟʟꜱ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ᴇᴅɪʙʟᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟɪᴍᴇɴᴛ

pairings - sunday x reader / aventurine x reader / dr ratio x reader

content - reader is gender-neutral/ established relationship/ reader has their own way of expressing their affection lol

warnings - none

⋘ ʟᴏᴀᴅɪɴɢ... ⋙

“Aww you look so cute and edible!”

“Edible? Is this in reference to my wings being called chicken wings?” 

↻ Sunday has literally no idea what you are talking about but he appreciates the compliment

↻ Whenever you call him ‘edible’ he just gives you a smile and says thank you, continuing on with his business

↻ At one point he would probably ask his sister what it means to be called ‘edible’, getting a laugh and a not so helpful description in response

↺ He’d probably ask the Trailblazer about it since they seem on par with your slang (boomer Sunday lol)

↻ Sometimes you’ll randomly bite him, especially on his wings which always get a extreme reaction from him 

↺ He can’t tell whether he likes it or is uncomfortable with it, nonetheless he politely advises you to bite anywhere else besides his wings (he might experiment on that later in private)

↻ Like your ‘edible’ comment, he’ll find your biting a little weird but dismisses it as your way of showing that you adore him (maybe it’s some sort of mating ritual? who knows)

↻ If you call him ‘edible’ or bite him in public, he freezes– how is he going to explain this!? 

↺ He probably has numerous of bite marks on his skin from you, not like you bit too hard for it to hurt but it was definitely hard enough to leave a mark (he gets flustered everytime he looks at them, desperately trying to cover them up before leaving the house)

↺ If someone says something about it, he’ll shrug it off and say that’s how you show your affection for him, giving them a look that urges them to not talk about it any longer

“I’m cute and edible? Thanks, you’re cute and edible too, _____.”

↻ Aventurine partially understands what you mean

↻ He’ll call you ‘edible’ as well as a little joke, giving you a playful smile

↻ Honestly, Aventurine would take the ‘edible’ compliment as something suggestive, calling you ‘edible’ with a knowing look in his eyes as you burn up underneath his gaze

“Not in that way, Aven!”

↻ Aventurine lets you call him whatever you want as long as it’s nothing too extreme, especially if it’s in a public setting

↺ However, being called ‘edible’ isn’t inherently a bad thing to be called so he just shrugs and lets you call him that

↻ I can imagine him buying some sort of pastry/cake of himself to live up to that compliment of yours

“See ____, I’m literally edible now.”

↻ If you bit Aventurine as a way of showing your affection, he’d do the same to you without any shame

↺ The fucker would do it in public too, right in front of his subordinates or coworkers

↻ You’d mainly bite his forearm, cheek, or neck (right on his tattoo), which always elicits a reaction out of him

↺ Sometimes it would leave marks and he wouldn’t even bother covering them up, in fact, he’d display it with pride

“Oh this? My partner gave it to me, that’s how they show their affection.”

↻ He couldn’t give two shits about what anyone has to say about them

↻ The bites you give him are a not that uncomfortable, he’d probably like the feeling a lot (masochist -_-)

“Edible? _____, you can't eat me. That would be known as cannibalism, which is frowned upon in most places.”

↻ Veritas has no clue what the fuck you are talking about.

↻ Edible? What do you mean he’s edible?? Are you planning on eating him???

↻ He just stares at you to see if you’re joking, but you’re not, so he massages his temples as he gives you a disappointed sigh

“Out of all the compliments you could’ve given me, you chose to call me ‘edible’.”

↻ He respects your effort and appreciates the compliment though, never giving it a second thought if you call him that again

↻ Honestly, Veritas would probably do some research on what it means, taking it a tad bit far

↺ Is it something the people on your planet did? Was it a courting thing? 

↺ You’d have to reassure him that it’s just a compliment you came up with and that it just means you love him a lot (spoiler alert: he doesn’t believe you for a second and thinks there’s a hidden meaning behind it)

↻ Watching him invest his time into this compliment is something that both intrigues and worries you, but you let him go until it gets too far

↻ If you bit him as a way of showing your affection, he’d probably go down a whole ‘nother rabbit hole about its meaning

↻ If your biting left some marks on him, he’d cover them up to the best of his ability

↺ If someone noticed them, he would immediately glare at them, effectively preventing them from talking about it

“Not a word.”

↻ You probably like biting his biceps lol

↻ If you bit hard enough to where it was uncomfortable, he’d probably politely tell you to stop and that if you’re going to perform your weird mating ritual, you need to bite softer

⋘ ᴄᴏᴍᴘʟᴇᴛᴇ! ⋙