#i don't even remember how i felt at the time

[rin-may-1103]

The Eyes of Death.

This story is mostly inspired by Jaybirbie's prompt | Master post | Next?

"Hey, sweetheart?" Danny called, quickly jotting down the last sentence for his paper. He'd have to remember to go back and reread it and make sure he didn't trail off into another tangent. He swears he wasn't this bad at managing his ADHD back in Amity...

"Yes, Danny?" Damian asked, turning back from the door to face him as he scrolled further down the story he was reading. The familiar font of Gotham City's gazette blurred as a picture of Mr. Freeze and Penguin finally loaded. So that's what was going on. Danny should have known; the bats already dealt with the other usual rouges, and these two were next on the list.

"Can you walk with me? I just know Nancy and her boyfriend are out there, waiting. I really don't want to deal with them again... We could spend more time at my place? Tucker sent me another movie, and I'm unsure if I should watch it alone after last time." Danny pleaded, quickly shoving all of his papers into his bag. He'd deal with straightening them out later, it wasn't like his professors weren't used to his wrinkled essays at this point.

However, he should probably redo the blueprints for Workshop. Mr. Anthlow was a hardass, but nothing could compare to his anger when a student handed in wrinkled blueprints; he claimed he wasn't going to have another 'Tanner' incident on his watch, whatever the heck that meant.

He was not looking forward to whatever Nancy wanted to talk to him about, she looked excited. Which could only mean bad things for him; considering the last time she was excited, he ended up spending time with Bane of all people. And there was no way her boyfriend was just going to let Danny get away again.

Damian grimaces, finally looking up and away from his phone. "I'm sorry beloved..." he held up the device just in time to show an incoming text from his Father, "I promised Father I'd be home a while ago. And with what's happening down on-"

"It's ok, I'll just head out the back door," Danny cut in, seeing the start of guilt on his boyfriend's face. He knew how much Danny hated having to deal with those two, and the fact Damian hasn't been able to even introduce himself to them hasn't helped. With a smile, Danny scooped up his textbooks and made his way to stand in front of Damian, "They can't bother me if they don't see me!"

Unsurprisingly, Danny could feel the guilt grow and start to float around Damian as the boy glanced at his phone, the message tone sounding out again in warning.

Danny only met Damian's father once; it was just a simple shake of hands and sharing names before the man ran off, but it did leave an impression. The man felt tired and paranoid; like, to the point Danny kind of wanted to drag Jazz over and lock the two of them in a room, paranoid. (Danny wants to say he's never seen someone that paranoid, but he'd be lying. He looks in the mirror after all.)

The point is; Danny's only met the man once, but that was enough for him to know that the man would tear down the world if he thought for even a second that one of his kids was in danger. This meant, that if Damian didn't go and reassure his father that he was alive and safe within the next sixty or so seconds, then there was a possibility that there wouldn't be another date for at least another week.

And considering this "study date" was supposed to make up for the last one Damian had missed because of his Father? Yeah, Danny wasn't going to be happy if Damian got grounded or dragged into another 'surprise' family road trip because his father was convinced his children would be dead before the 'yearly' planned get-together in November.

They had a trip to the zoo planned for tomorrow, and Delilah was supposed to be allowed out with her kids. This would be Delilah's first public outing since her kids' birth. There's no way Danny was going to allow Damian to miss that. (he swears to the ancients, if there was a rouge attack he was going to kill someone, Dark Dan's future be damned.)

Lifting his heels off the ground so he could stand on his tiptoes, Danny snagged Damian's arm and pulled him down so he could kiss his cheek. "I'll get home safe, just focus on keeping your dad from going insane. We've got a date at the zoo tomorrow and we're not missing it even if your father becomes the next city rogue."

Damian wrapped his arms around Danny, trapping him in a hug as he sighed in fond frustration. "I promise I won't miss it, ok? I'll be there."

Danny rolled his eyes and pushed Damian back, dropping back to stand on the ground, "You better, 'cause hell hath no fury like a gorilla denied the chance to meet her human best friend's boyfriend."

Damian snorted, before looking away and pretending to cough. Danny moved his textbooks to rest more securely in one of his arms, so he could point at his boyfriend. "I'm not kidding, if I show up tomorrow and tell her all about my life and you're not there, she will break out and track you down. I won't stop her either, you'd deserve whatever she does to you."

"Alright, alright. I get it, and I already promised I'd be there didn't I?" Damian chuckled, raising his hands up in surrender. Which would have been cute if it wasn't for the fact that his phone went off again, this time in an insistent buzzing. His eldest brother's ringtone; which meant Damian was going to be busy for a while.

Cursing, Damian turned and answered, "I'm in the middle of something, this better be important Grayson," glancing back at Danny, he mouthed for him to wait a moment as his brother started talking.

Smiling, Danny shook his head, snatched Damian's jacket, and started making his way out the door. There was no way Damian would finish this phone call any time soon. Danny's learned not to wait after the last four times this happened. Damian turned back with betrayed eyes, but the urgent voice of his brother buzzing even louder held him back. Waving goodbye with a smile, Danny shut the door and started making his way down the hall.

He'd have to ask Damian what happened tomorrow, Grayson didn't usually call him, especially when he knew Damian was spending time with Danny. He said it had something to do with how it was sacrilege to interrupt time spent with a significant other. Danny had wanted to ask him more about it but hadn't gotten the chance when The Riddler crashed their spontaneous meeting.

Speaking of The Riddler, Danny's social science paper wasn't looking too hot right now. He'd have to block out a time for him to work on that at some point this week. He wasn't doing anything on Friday, well, besides his early morning classes. That should work...

"Hey, Danny!" someone called, pulling him out of his musing. Glancing up, Danny internally groaned when he noticed Nancy waving at him in sheer delight. Giving her a half-hearted wave, Danny sped up and continued making his way to the back of the library. If he was quick enough maybe he could-

To his dismay, Nancy's boyfriend stepped out from behind one of the shelves and latched onto his arm. Tightly.

Just great, this is exactly what he wanted to avoid. Curse his inability to pay attention when he got lost in thought. Damn ADHD. Blasted non-existent spatial awareness. This was what he got for relying on his ghost sense, he just knows it.

"She said hi, kind of rude of you to just keep walking, Kid." Wyatt huffed, roughly dragging Danny back and towards his girlfriend. Nancy smiled brightly as Wyatt let him go, allowing Nancy to weave her arm with Danny's and practically drag him toward the front of the building.

"There's this big party going on tonight, some Jr invited us. He said it was going to be a night to remember! You should totally come with us, Danny! My friend Shela said she was bringing her nerdy freshmen too! I just know you'd fit right in with them!" Nancy squealed excitedly, shaking Danny as they finally made it to the front doors.

One of the desk attendants rolled their eyes at them as Danny glanced over, hoping that Barbara might intervene. No such luck, she was nowhere in sight, probably off somewhere shelving books. So much for that plan.

"uh, thanks, but I already-" Danny tried, stopping when Nancy scoffed and yanked him out the door and into the frosty night. "Damn, it's cold!" Wyatt cursed, taking his jacket off and quickly handing it over to Nancy. She let go of Danny and pulled it on, then stared at Danny for a moment, "Put your coat on Danny, no way in hell am I letting my kid catch a cold!"

Rolling his eyes, Danny wrapped Damian's coat over his shoulders. He was too lazy to actually put it on, not when that meant handing his textbooks over. The last time he did that, Nancy got bored and started doodling all over them. (how she had managed to do that in the little time it took to put a hoodie on, Danny wasn't sure.)

"I just want to go home, Nancy. I'm not really a party person." Danny sighed, allowing Nancy to drag him down the dark streets. His apartment was in this general direction anyway. Nancy turned to her boyfriend with a huff, "Wyatt! make him come with us!"

"Let the nerd do what he wants, it's not like it affects us if he kicks the bucket all alone," Wyatt grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Ouch, but true. Please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen to your grumpy boyfriend, please listen-

"But Shela said she was bringing Carly!" Nancy turned back to Danny, a pout clear on her face, "You two would be so cute together! she's nerdy just like you! And she's totally into all those murder mystery shows you watch!"

Damn it. Not this crap again.

"That's nice, Nancy, but I'm not interested. I already told you guys, I have a boyfriend," Danny sighed, trying to gently extract his arm from hers; for a human, Nancy sure had one heck of a grip.

"Yeah, right," Wyatt snorted, patting Danny's back, completely ignoring the fact that Danny was literally wearing someone else's jacket. "We'll believe you when you introduce us, until then. You're a virgin loser."

And there we go, people; the reason Danny wanted to crawl into the sewer and die whenever he saw these two. They were nice, don't get him wrong, but they were also stubborn idiots.

"Being a virgin has nothing to do with my relationship status, Wyatt. I'm ace. you've known this since the first time we talked." Danny grumbled, allowing Nancy to drag him down another street. He wasn't sure exactly where they were going now, but he was too tired to care at this point.

If these self-claimed 'Parents' of his wanted to drag him to this stupid party, then fine. Whatever. It's not like Danny had any other plans tonight anyway.

"Asexuality isn't a thing man," Wyatt huffed, speeding up so he could guide them in the right direction now that they were heading into a rougher patch of buildings. Danny could see the man was shivering, though trying to act tough in front of Nancy. Smirking, Danny sent a cold breeze his way. The man scowled up at the sky, cursing quietly.

"Yeah!" Nancy agreed, smiling brightly down at Danny without a care in the world. Like they didn't have this conversation every other week. "You just haven't met the right person yet, Danny! And I know how awkward it is to admit that you're staying celibate until marriage, but you don't have to hide it behind being ace."

Taking a deep breath, Danny closed his eyes and focused on not shouting out of frustration. The celibate comment was new, the acephobia, not so much. "Ok, first of all; Asexuality is a thing, which many people ARE. Literally, 1% of the world is ace. That's over 70 million people. Second of all, I'm not celibate, and I'm not sure if you even know what that means, considering you know I was raised Atheist."

"What does being an Atheist have to do with celibacy?" Nancy asked, tilting her head to look at him. Danny groaned, smacking his forehead against his textbooks. He was NOT going to explain this to them tonight.

"You know what, Nancy? It doesn't matter." Danny huffed, trying again to gently pry her hands off. He wanted to go home. He wanted to cuddle with his boyfriend. He wanted to go back to Amity. Maybe go to the realms and play with Cujo. He did NOT want to deal with these idiots.

Wyatt stopped walking and turned to face them, rolling his eyes as Nancy pouted at Danny. "Come on babe, let the loser go. He obviously doesn't appreciate your efforts."

"but who else is going to convince him to live a little? He's just going to go back to his apartment and sulk by himself!" Nancy cried, tightening her grip again.

"Who cares what the kid does, Nancy? let the dude die a virgin loser. Now let's go, we're already late as is."

"But I really want him to-," Nancy tried, cutting herself off, as both she and Danny spotted a cloaked person appear out of the shadows behind Wyatt.

Wyatt lifted his brow before slowly turning to see what the two of them were staring at. The cloaked figure suddenly whacked him over the head with a metal pole before he could fully turn around. Wyatt's body dropped to the ground with a heavy thump, making Nancy scream, "Wyatt!"

Shit, Danny stepped back, trying to pull Nancy with him as the cloak dude tossed the metal pole to the side with a loud clank. Which was confusing, why would he through away his weapon?

"Shut her up!" the cloak dude cried, bending down to grab Wyatt's arms. He better not be telling Danny to do that, because that would just be stupid and- Suddenly, a dozen more cloaked people flooded out of the darkness and surrounded them. That answered Danny's questions at least.

Danny tensed up as a couple of the people tried to grab onto him. Quickly pulling Nancy back, successfully this time, Danny glanced around to try and find an exit. He couldn't do anything crazy right now, not unless he wanted to give away his secret, but some self-defense should be fine.

Nancy suddenly let go of his arm and smacked one of the cloaked people in the face, "Don't you fucking dare touch me! Wyatt! Kid, get out of here!"

Danny turned to her in alarm, eyes wide in horror as she quickly disappeared into the cloaked crowd. Another cloaked person managed to latch onto Danny's shoulder, reminding him to focus on his situation. Quickly stepping back, he slammed into the man grabbing him, knocking his grip loose. Ducking under another attempt, Danny swung out his leg and tripped the dude into two others.

Twisting to try and make his way over to where he figured Nancy was, Danny dropped his textbooks and punched someone in the face. Damian's jacket was yanked off his shoulders, making him turn with a growl. Punching another person in the face, Danny lunged at the group.

"Hurry! before the bats find us!" the supposed leader cried, making even more cloaked people surround Danny. There was no way a normal civilian would be able to fight their way out of this, so Danny would have to allow himself to be caught soon. Only after biting and scratching the fuck out of them though. Just because he had to let them catch him, doesn't mean he has to make it easy.

~30 min later

Danny stared at the leader as the man droned on and on about needing the right sacrifice for the ritual to work. Nancy and Wyatt grumbled behind him, agreements from the other kidnapped victims filling Danny's ears like bees.

"The sacrifice shall be the one who treads the veil between life and death, the one who's beloved by the spirits as their own! He shall be pale as a corpse, his body kissed by death many times throughout his life. His hair as black as the sky on a moonless night, cradled by the moon since birth." Mr. totally-read-one-fake-ritual-book-when-he-was-a-teen-and-now-has-to-make-it-everyone's-problem droned on dramatically, reverently dragging his finger down the old dusty tome's page,

"so Mr. Wayne?" Nancy huffed, pressing her back into Danny's side. Wyatt chuckled, shoving his foot into Danny's knee, "No, it's totally Mr. Drake he's talking about. Have you seen that dude's eyebags? they make him look like a ghost."

One of the strangers leaned over, rolling their eyes, "No, it's got to be Mr. Dent. The dude's literally half living half not."

"No, Two-Face is half insane, half burnt chicken. Ain't nothing about him going to please ghosts. He was a fucking lawyer, for Christ shake." another guy added.

"the dude said 'he' which crossed out half of y'all," Danny added, glancing at the group around him. The women blinked and then rolled their eyes; only in Gotham would they get kidnapped and not actually be needed.

"Assholes," Nancy huffed, she glanced over her shoulder and down at him, her face set into a frown, "You good, kid? you're like freezing cold."

"I'm fine," Danny huffed, focusing back on the leader. He could just feel the old magic rolling off the book; this was something dangerous, especially in this dipshit's hands. Ancients, he was going to have to do everything he could to keep the man from actually doing the ritual or mess it up if the bats didn't get here in time.

One of the cloaked people suddenly dragged a camera out from a side room, grumbling about networks and livestreams being shit. Huh, well that would definitely help provide their location to the bats. They must be really inexperienced cultists then...

"The sacrifice shall fall into our hands by fate's design. The sacrifice is here and waiting for what his whole life was meant for. Now-"

"Elder!" one of the other cloaked figures cried, waving their phone in the air in excitement. Dread quickly filled Danny's stomach.

"All the bats and birds are busy dealing with those scoundrels they call rouges! If we hurry, we can complete the ritual before they can interfere!"

"Perfect!" Mr. 'Elder', cheered, slamming the tome closed and handing it off to one of the others. "So?" Mr. Elder started, turning to face them with a sharp grin, "Who's it going to be?"

Danny glanced at the group behind him, all of them having gone silent as the cloaked group started pulling out their ritual things, one of which was a very blood-stained knife.

Mr. Elder started circling them, humming and hawing as he studied each one of them. He stopped next to Wyatt, studying him intently.

Quickly weighing his options, Danny straightened up and glared at the man, "I'll be your sacrifice."

Immediately Nancy leaned away from him with a gasp, Wyatt's foot dropping to the floor with a thud. "Danny, no!" Nancy hissed, turning her body so she could face him. Danny didn't glance at her, just continued glaring at the cultist. The cult leader laughed, "Well then. So it shall be! You heard the sacrifice, tie him to the chair!"

With everyone watching, all Danny could do was tense as four of the followers walked over and pulled him up. "No!" Nancy shouted, leaning over and grabbing onto him. Wyatt reached out to Nancy, wanting to pull her back. The men tensed up, ready to interfere. Quickly pulling back, Danny frowned at Nancy and Wyatt, "I'll be ok, just don't do anything stupid!"

They harshly pulled him up and away again, before Nancy could reply. And because he was already pissed off, he made it as difficult for them as possible as they dragged him to the wooden chair. The camera person focused the lens on them, recording it as they shoved him down to sit and wrapped a bloody rope around his limbs.

So much for thinking they were inexperienced... They've done this before, he knows now. How many times? He wasn't sure, but if he had any say in it after tonight, they'd never do it again.

Once he was securely tied to the chair and gagged, because Danny couldn't help himself but insult them, the cultist started preparing the ritual. Why they hadn't done so beforehand, Danny wasn't sure; that is until one of them sliced a deep gash into his right arm and collected his blood into a bowl.

With a grimace, Danny watched as they mixed his blood with black paint and started drawing a circle around him. The camera dude stepped closer and practically shoved the camera into his face. leaning back, Danny glanced between the camera and the people drawing with his blood.

Suddenly, his arm tingled with ectoplasm, making him panic for a second. he can't heal the wound! not with all the people around him and being recorded! Shit, what had Vlad done last time?? Uh, right! core smothering. He could just smother his core to stop his body from healing. Man, acting like a civilian was a pain in the ass.

Glaring up at the camera now that he wasn't as panicked, Danny watched as the dude stepped back, pulled out a paper, and started reading out loud. "GOTHAM! tonight you shall join us as we summon the most powerful being in the world!"

Did he seriously need the paper just to remember that?

The leader stepped forward when the circle was complete, "Now!" His voice echoed around the silent warehouse, startling the other kidnapped victims. The cameraman turned and focused on him, stepping out of the circle altogether. Danny watched the kidnapped people out of the corner of his eye, wanting to make sure they weren't hurt during this whole fiasco.

"Let us begin!" the leader cheered, suddenly gripping Danny's shoulders tightly. "Join me as we summon our lord and savior! The great tyrant of the dead! The embodiment of war and bloodshed! The one named PARIAH DARK! THE HORRIFIC GHOST KING!!!!"

Immediately, Danny was both completely terrified and amused. He had been worried that they were going to try and summon some great evil demon, not the fucking old tyrant. He could fight Pariah any day of the week.

No, what terrified him was the fact that because Danny won the right to the crown by defeating Pariah the first time, he had no idea what this summoning was going to do. Was it going to work like they wanted and summon Pariah? cool, great even. He can deal with that, might have to reveal his ghost powers if the fight got dirty, but nothing too bad.

or was it going to summon him because he was the king, and if so? how? Would that even work considering he's the sacrifice? would he just disappear and reappear? This could lead to a lot of questions Danny was NOT ready to answer. Gaslighting everyone here into believing he could fight Pariah as a 'meta' human would be easy, convincing everyone that he's not the ghost king or a ghost AFTER getting summoned; not so easy.

The leader released Danny from his grip as he walked over and snatched the tome from one of his followers. Snapping the book open, the man started chanting without warning, pointing at random people to notify them when it was their turn to start.

It was like watching a school play; all the student's doing as they were taught as their teacher directed from the side. Cultist A slammed the bowl of leftover blood on the ground, splattering the black remnants all over Danny and the circle. Which was gross, Danny was going to have to burn this shirt, because there was no way he was going to get this stain out. Cultist B tossed salt at Danny a few minutes later, smacking him in the face with the small white crystals. Shaking his head, Danny glared at him. Cultist B threw the salt again.

The leader's smile grew as he continued chanting.

Seven other cultists joined in the chanting, waving their hands up and down as their voices echoed around them. Danny glanced nervously around the warehouse, hoping he'd spot one of the bats. This was being broadcast, they should be on their way at the very least.

After another minute of looking, Danny glanced back at the other kidnapped victims. Nancy was balling her eyes out, burying herself into her boyfriend's chest. Wyatt was staring at him with wide eyes, clearly unsure about what to do. Probably feeling guilty because they both knew the leader was going to choose him. A few others were looking away, clearly fearing for his life. The rest watched on, trying to show him through their actions that they were there with him till the end. (whether he 'died' or not)

It was weird, but Danny had to give it to them; Gothmites were badass. He doubted anyone in Amity besides his friends would have been brave enough to watch what was happening. Even if they didn't know if he would live or not.

His core crackled, making him choke a little as he finally felt the pull of the summoning. Well, that's just great. Shaking his head, Danny tried to clear his throat. The summoning was making him feel weird and he did not appreciate it.

The chanting got louder as one of the people walked up to him, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grasp. Danny eyed it wearily, glancing between it and the rafters above. Where the hell were the bats when he needed them???

The cultist kneeled before him and raised the blade, slamming it down into his chest right as the leader stopped chanting; Danny gasped, more out of surprise than pain as he stared at the knife. The dude gave him no warning that he was going to stab him. Usually, cultists slit people's throats, right? What the fuck was up with stabbing him???

His blood slowly bubbled up and around the knife, slowly staining his shirt red. Yeah, there was no way in the realms he was going to be able to save this shirt now. Man, he had liked this one too.

He could hear Nancy's sobs turn to wails as the cultist yanked out the knife and handed it to the leader, who Danny just now noticed had joined them in the circle. His blood started gushing down his chest with every beat of his heart, again he held back his core. (what does he do now??? faint? scream? how do normal people react to getting stabbed?????)

"Take this lowly sacrifice as a sign of our eternal loyalty, and grace us with your presence! Your humble servants plead that your godly ears hear our prayers! Join us in this mortal realm and bequeath us your power and name to rectify the sins of our brethren!"

Ok, first of all Danny was no where near lowly you piece of fuck-

Danny's core pulsed, sending out nauseating pain up and down his spine. Gasping, Danny leaned as far forward as he could, trying in vain to grasp at his chest without using his powers. His core crackled, striking a blinding flash through his brain. The echoes of his death crawled up his left arm, waking the old dead nerves into firing signals at his brain.

Danny couldn't help himself, he screamed as the pain grew worse and worse. His thoughts turned hazy, his body cold as his core pulsed again. His heart stuttered and then froze, his core flooding his body with freezing ecto not a moment later. Absently, he could feel the wash of ectoplasm crawl over his body, changing his body minutely. He didn't transform, but he definitely looked more ghostly than human.

All the pain disappeared a moment later, allowing Danny to slump forward, his head hanging low and blocking his face from view. His chest did not rise in ragged breaths, nor did his fingers twitch with life. His mind was still sluggish and clouded with something, making it nearly impossible to think. Squeezing his eyes shut, Danny tried to focus.

"Your Highness?" someone asked, their voice too loud as it rang in Danny's ears. His core pulsed, another flood of ectoplasm flooding his body. His eyes slid open again, allowing him to see the green glow lighting up his chest and lap as he stared down at them.

Slowly, Danny lifted his head, his bright green gaze locking with the man in front of him.

Next?

[reidmarieprentiss]

Say Don't Go

Summary: You are given the opportunity of a lifetime, Spencer urges you to take it. Even if it means leaving him behind.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff, angst

Warnings/Includes: time jumps, typical BAU crime, mentions of drugging/kidnapping/robbery, brief alcohol consumption by reader and friends, clubs, break up(?), talks of marriage, forced choices/decisions, happy ending !

Word count: 15k

a/n: so what if this pulls inspiration from the train scene in glee... SO WHAT ... and so what if i named a character after kurt

main masterlist

December 2008 – Present

"You’ve been with so many women you don’t remember their names?" Spencer asked, laughing at Derek.

"Are you surprised?" Emily snorted, raising an eyebrow.

"This has never happened to me before," Derek defended, sounding genuinely incredulous.

"It’s never happened to me before either," Spencer chimed in, grinning as he started toward the conference room.

"It can’t happen to you—you have an eidetic memory," Emily teased, her smirk unmistakable.

"Plus, you only have one name to remember," Derek added with a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Ha ha," Spencer replied, forcing a laugh, though the words cut deeper than he let on. Derek wasn’t wrong.  

He only had one name to remember. One that mattered above all the others.  

But Spencer had messed it up. He had let you get on that train. He had let you walk away.

Spencer's regrets weren't always loud or obvious; they often whispered to him in the quiet moments of his everyday life, weaving their way into his thoughts like unwelcome visitors he couldn’t shake.

It was in the mornings, when he brewed a pot of coffee in his lonely apartment, and his hand hovered over the second mug he used to pour for you. He’d catch himself mid-motion, the pang of realization that you weren’t there cutting through him like a knife. He’d take his coffee black, staring at the empty chair across from him, and wonder if you were having your morning cup too—if you still took it with two sugars and a splash of cream.

At work, it was the little things that brought you to mind. A joke Derek would make, or the way Emily tilted her head while teasing him, reminded Spencer of how you used to laugh with him, soft and genuine. He could still hear your voice in the back of his mind, offering your take on a case or pointing out something he’d missed. Those moments were the hardest—because they reminded him of how much better everything had been when you were there to share it with him.

And then there were the books. Spencer couldn’t walk into his favorite bookstore without being overwhelmed by the memory of browsing the aisles with you, debating over which novel to pick for your next "couples read." Now, those shelves felt empty, even when they were fully stocked. He’d run his fingers over the spines, pausing at titles he knew you would’ve loved, but he never brought himself to buy them. What was the point if you weren’t there to read them with him?

Evenings were the worst. After a long day at the BAU, when he returned to his dim apartment, the silence was deafening. He’d sit at his desk, pulling out old case files to distract himself, but his eyes would always drift to the small keepsake box he kept on the shelf. Inside were the remnants of your time together—a movie ticket stub, a pressed flower from a date, a Polaroid of you laughing at something he’d said. He’d told himself he’d put it away to move on, but instead, it became a shrine to his mistakes, one he visited more often than he’d like to admit.

And then there were the nights when the ache became unbearable, when he’d lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling, haunted by the image of you boarding that train. He could still hear the sound of the wheels on the tracks, still see the tear-streaked expression on your face when you looked at him through the window. Those nights, he’d wonder what he’d say to you if he had another chance—what he’d do differently if he could go back. 

The regret wasn’t just a feeling; it was a constant presence in his life. It was the realization that, in trying to give you what he thought you needed, he’d taken away the one thing he needed most: you.

—

June 2008

“Spencer?” you asked cautiously, looking over at your boyfriend as his car came to a stop in front of the train station.  

You could see him take a deep, trembling breath, the shakiness audible even as he tried to steady himself.  

When he turned to face you, his eyes were already brimming with tears, spilling over before he could even speak.  

“You said we were going to dinner,” you reminded him, your throat tightening as dread began to settle in your chest. You were trying desperately to ignore the sinking feeling you couldn’t shake, clinging to the hope that you were wrong.  

Spencer cleared his throat, but it didn’t stop his voice from breaking as he said, “No.” He shook his head, and the weight of his next words seemed to crush him as he continued, “You’re going to New York.”  

“What?” Your voice shot up as you stared at him in disbelief, as if he had grown another head. “What do you mean? I turned Aubrey down.”  

“I know,” Spencer sighed, his gaze dropping to his hands on the steering wheel as if he couldn’t bear to look at you. “I can’t let you throw your dreams away for me.”  

“My dreams?” you repeated, your voice rising in anger and heartbreak. “Spencer, you are my dream. I love you!”  

“I love you too,” he choked out through his tears, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “That’s why I’m letting you go.”  

“But—” you tried, your hands reaching for his as if grounding him could change his mind.  

“No, Y/N.” His voice was firmer now, though the pain in it was unmistakable. “I—I called Aubrey. She still wants you. I told her you accepted the position. That you’re coming.”  

“Why?” you cried, the single word breaking into a sob. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you searched his face, desperate for an answer that would make this make sense.  

Spencer’s lips quivered, and he looked away, unable to face the devastation in your eyes. "Because you deserve to have everything you’ve ever wanted," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the lump in his throat.  

"But I already have everything I want!" you shouted, your hands gripping the sides of his face, forcing him to look at you. "You’re all I need, Spencer. You’re it for me!"  

He let out a shuddering breath, his tears falling freely now as his hands reached up to cover yours. For a moment, you thought he might give in, that he might change his mind. But then he shook his head again, his expression resolute despite the anguish etched into every line of his face.  

"You’ll resent me one day," he said, his voice cracking. "You’ll look back and wonder what you could’ve done, what you could’ve been if you hadn’t stayed for me. I can’t live with that. I can’t live knowing I held you back."  

"That’s not fair!" you cried, your voice breaking under the weight of your sobs. "You don’t get to decide what’s best for me! I chose you, Spencer. I chose us!"  

"I know," he whispered, his hands tightening over yours as if trying to memorize the feeling. "And that’s why I have to do this. Because I love you too much to let you give up your future for me."  

"My future is with you!" you insisted, but he was already pulling your hands away from his face, gently but firmly.  

"I called Aubrey," he repeated, his voice hollow. "She’ll be waiting for you at the station in New York. Your ticket is already bought. Your bags… they’re in the trunk."  

You froze, staring at him in disbelief. "You… you packed my things?"  

Spencer nodded, his expression breaking entirely under the weight of your hurt. "I knew you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t."  

"You had no right!" you shouted, shoving at his chest. "No right, Spencer!"  

He took it, letting you pound against him until your strength gave out, until your sobs consumed you, leaving you trembling and broken in his arms. "I’m sorry," he murmured over and over, pressing his lips to your hair. "I’m so sorry."  

But he wasn’t sorry enough to stop you from going.  

As the train whistle sounded in the distance, Spencer gently pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. "You have to go," he said softly, his voice thick with tears. "The train won’t wait."  

"I hate you," you whispered, the words cutting him deeper than anything else ever could.  

"I know," he said, his voice barely audible as he let his hands drop to his lap. "But one day… I hope you’ll understand."  

He opened the car door for you, but you didn’t move. You just sat there, staring at him with tears streaming down your face, your chest heaving with the weight of everything unsaid.  

Finally, you whispered, "Goodbye, Spencer," your voice trembling as you stepped out of the car.  

He didn’t respond, didn’t say anything as he watched you walk away, each step feeling like a dagger to his heart.  

And when the train finally began to pull out of the station, Spencer felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach. The reality of what he’d done crashed into him like a freight train. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. 

Before he even realized what he was doing, his legs were moving, carrying him toward the train. "No," he whispered to himself, his voice shaky and panicked. "What have I done?"  

His feet pounded against the pavement as he ran alongside the train, desperate, tears streaming down his face. He called your name, his voice breaking, though he wasn’t sure if you could even hear him through the thick glass and the noise of the train.  

Inside the train car, you were curled into the seat, staring blankly out the window, your face streaked with tears. You weren’t expecting to see him. But then, there he was—running alongside the train, his expression frantic, his lips forming words you couldn’t quite hear.  

Your heart shattered all over again. The sight of him, so desperate, so raw, made it even harder to leave. Your hand instinctively pressed against the cold glass, a futile attempt to reach for him.  

Spencer’s legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, the distance between him and the train growing with every passing second. His vision blurred from the tears, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t.  

But you… you couldn’t bear to watch. Your tears fell harder as you pulled your hand away from the window and turned your head, unable to keep looking at him. You had to look away, even though it felt like it was tearing you apart from the inside.  

Spencer stumbled, slowing as the train picked up speed, his legs finally giving out beneath him. He collapsed onto the pavement, gasping for air, watching helplessly as the train—and you—disappeared into the horizon.  

He buried his face in his hands, his body shaking with sobs. "What have I done?" he whispered to no one, the words echoing into the empty night.  

You were gone. And Spencer knew, deep down, that he’d just made the worst mistake of his life.  

—

September 2008

You loved your new life. How could you not? You had everything you had once dreamed of—your new position as second in command to the CEO of your favorite designer brand was everything you’d worked so hard for. The thrill of overseeing campaigns, approving designs, and brushing shoulders with some of the biggest names in the industry was exhilarating.  

You’d settled into your new routine as well as anyone could when starting fresh in a bustling city like New York. Moving in with Aubrey Wilkes, the CEO herself, was daunting at first, but she made it easier. Her mentorship was invaluable, and her sharp wit and genuine kindness turned her into a friend as much as a boss.  

Your days were filled with meetings in glass-walled boardrooms, late nights spent poring over designs and strategies, and the occasional glamorous event that kept your calendar full. You had the life you always said you wanted.  

And yet...  

Every single day, Spencer found his way into your thoughts.  

It wasn’t always obvious at first. Maybe it was a book you saw in a shop window that reminded you of one of his recommendations, or a classical piece playing softly in a café that you knew he loved. Sometimes it was the sound of someone’s laugh that carried the same rhythm as his, or the sight of a man at the train station holding a bouquet of daisies like the ones he used to bring you.  

Other times, it was the silence that brought him back. At the end of a long day, when you’d kick off your heels and collapse onto your couch, you’d find yourself wishing you could tell him about your wins and your struggles. You’d wonder how he’d react to the stories you had to tell, imagining his soft smile or the way his hands would flutter nervously when he was excited for you.  

There were nights when it hit harder—when the city lights felt too bright and the penthouse apartment too cold. On those nights, you’d curl up in bed and stare out at the skyline, wondering if Spencer ever thought about you, too. If he regretted what he’d done. If he missed you as much as you missed him.

Because no matter how perfect your new life seemed on paper, a part of you still felt like it was missing. And that part had a name. Spencer Reid.

—

February 2007

It was a crisp evening as the warm glow of the restaurant's candles reflected off the polished surfaces, casting a cozy light over the two of you. Spencer had chosen this place because it was where you first met, a sentimental touch to the holiday of love that made your heart swell. The quiet buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses provided a soothing backdrop as you both enjoyed your meal, the comfort of each other's presence making the night feel perfect.

You were mid-laugh at something Spencer had said when a woman approached your table, her eyes wide with admiration. "I’m so sorry to bother you," she began, her voice apologetic but earnest. "But that is the most fabulous dress I have ever seen. Can I ask where you got it?"  

Caught off guard, you felt heat rush to your cheeks as you glanced down at the material that clung to your body in all the right places. You smoothed your hand over the fabric, feeling both flattered and shy under the woman’s praise.  

Spencer, noticing your blush, smirked proudly from across the table. His hand reached out instinctively, wrapping around yours and giving it a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch grounded you, reminding you that he was there, always your biggest supporter.  

"I–um," you stammered, your voice soft as you tried to find the words. "I made it."  

The woman’s face lit up with genuine astonishment. "You made it?" she repeated, her tone filled with awe. "That’s incredible. You have such talent."  

Spencer’s smirk deepened into a full-blown grin as he interjected, his voice laced with pride. "She’s amazing, isn’t she? I keep telling her she could make a career out of this, but she’s too modest to listen."  

"Spencer," you mumbled, playfully rolling your eyes at him as your blush deepened.  

The woman smiled warmly at the exchange, clearly charmed by the both of you. "Well, if you ever decide to give your talents to the world, give me a call." With a quick admiring glance at your dress one last time, she handed you a business card before turning to rejoin her party, leaving you and Spencer alone once again.  

You stared at the card in your hand, the golden lettering catching the soft glow of the restaurant’s lights. Your heart nearly stopped as you read the name printed at the top—Aubrey Wilkes.  

Your favorite designer.  

The logo you’d admired countless times on magazine covers and in shop windows felt surreal in your grasp. For a moment, you couldn’t breathe, the weight of the opportunity this might represent sinking in.  

Spencer noticed the stunned look on your face and tilted his head, his curiosity piqued. "What’s wrong?" he asked, his tone soft yet concerned.  

You slowly turned the card toward him, your hand trembling slightly. "It’s… her," you whispered, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer leaned closer, his eyes scanning the card before widening in recognition. His lips curled into a delighted smile, the kind that lit up his whole face. "Aubrey Wilkes?" he exclaimed, excitement evident in his tone. "Y/N, do you know what this means?"  

"I…" you began, but words failed you. It felt too big, too unexpected to process.  

"It means you’re amazing," Spencer continued, his voice steady as he reached across the table to take your free hand. "And now someone else sees it too."  

You looked back at Spencer, who was still holding your hand, his thumb now tracing gentle circles over your knuckles. "I told you people would notice," he said, his voice soft but insistent. "You’re incredible, and you should let the world see it."  

Your eyes softened as you gazed at him, a small, grateful smile tugging at your lips. "Thank you, Spencer," you whispered.  

"Always," he replied, his expression filled with a quiet devotion that made your heart flutter.  

The moment lingered between you, the restaurant and its patrons fading into the background as the two of you shared a look that said more than words ever could.

—

April 2007

"Spencer, I’m not going," you sighed, the weight of the conversation pressing heavily on your chest as you leaned back in your chair. His persistence, while well-meaning, was starting to wear on you.  

"Y/N," he began, his tone both patient and pleading, "this isn’t just some casual opportunity. This is Aubrey Wilkes. She gave you her card. She wants to see what you can do. Do you even know how rare that is?"  

You folded your arms across your chest, avoiding his gaze. "I know exactly how rare it is, Spencer. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going to New York."  

Spencer leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped tightly as if physically holding himself back from pressing harder. "Why not?" he asked softly, his voice tinged with frustration but also genuine concern. "Is it fear? Because I know you, Y/N. You can do this. You’re more than talented enough."  

"It’s not fear," you shot back, though your voice faltered just enough for him to notice. You stared at the floor, your fingers gripping the edge of your chair. "It’s… it’s everything else. I have a life here. I have a job. I have you."  

Spencer’s heart clenched at your words. He reached out, his hand brushing against yours. "I know, and I love our life together," he said earnestly. "But I don’t want you to look back in ten years and wonder ‘what if.’ I don’t want you to resent me for holding you back from something you were meant to do."  

You flinched at his words, your head snapping up to meet his eyes. "You think I’d ever resent you? Spencer, you’re the best thing in my life. You’re the one who’s always supported me, encouraged me to believe in myself when no one else did."  

"And I’m still doing that," he countered gently. "That’s why I’m pushing this. I can’t stand the thought of you letting this slip away because you’re scared to leave me behind."  

"It’s not just that," you admitted, your voice breaking as tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t want to lose us. What if I go, and everything falls apart?"  

Spencer reached for your hands, cradling them between his. His thumbs traced soothing circles over your knuckles as he looked at you with all the tenderness in the world. "You won’t lose me, Y/N," he promised, his voice steady but thick with emotion. "I’ll be here, cheering you on, no matter where you are. I’d rather see you chasing your dreams, even if it’s from a distance, than staying here and giving up on them for me."  

Your tears spilled over, and you shook your head, torn between love for him and the fear of what leaving might mean. "I just don’t know, Spencer," you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  

"I do," he said softly, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. "I know how much you’re capable of, and I know you’ll regret it if you don’t at least try. And I love you too much to let that happen."  

His words hung heavy in the air, the weight of them settling between you like an immovable wall. You shook your head, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill again. “I’m just—I’m not going. Leave it alone,” you said firmly, your voice quieter than you intended but laced with finality.  

Spencer hesitated, his hand still outstretched as if reaching for you might close the growing distance between you. “Y/N,” he murmured softly, his tone a mix of frustration and desperation.  

“Can we be done with this, please?” you interrupted, your voice trembling but resolute. You didn’t want to cry again, didn’t want to feel like you were fighting with the one person who always understood you.  

Spencer stared at you for a long moment, his brow furrowed, his lips parting as if he wanted to argue further. But then he closed his mouth, his shoulders slumping as he dropped his hand. “Okay,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

The word hung between you, filled with unspoken emotions—disappointment, worry, and love all tangled together. Spencer looked down at the table, fiddling with his napkin as if it held answers he couldn’t find in your eyes.  

You turned your gaze away, your chest tightening as silence settled over the room. It wasn’t the kind of silence that came with comfort—it was heavy, suffocating, filled with everything neither of you was saying.  

And though you had put an end to the conversation, it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like a crack in something you weren’t sure how to fix.  

—

August 2007

"Who was that?" Spencer asked as you walked back inside from the patio, his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. He had noticed the look on your face as you ended the call—something between apprehension and surprise.  

You glanced down at your phone, the screen still lit with the call log. "Aubrey," you said hesitantly, tucking the device into your pocket.  

Spencer tilted his head, his interest piqued. "Aubrey Wilkes?"  

"Yeah," you admitted, your tone cautious as you avoided his gaze. "She… uh, she got my number. I don’t know how, but she did." You let out a nervous laugh, brushing a stray piece of hair behind your ear.  

Spencer’s expression shifted to one of intrigue and concern. "And?" he prompted, sensing there was more to the story.  

You took a deep breath, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. "She asked me to consider coming. Said there’s a spot opening next year—her number two is supposed to leave for another job in Milan."  

Spencer’s lips parted slightly, his eyes searching your face as he processed the news. "That’s… huge," he said slowly, his voice laced with both excitement and hesitation.  

"I know," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "It’s… it’s everything I dreamed about. She said she’d hold the spot for me if I wanted it."  

Spencer stepped closer, his gaze softening as he tried to read the emotions flickering across your face. "What did you say?"  

"I didn’t say anything," you admitted, looking up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "I told her I needed time to think about it."  

He nodded, his hands slipping into his pockets as he took a moment to respond. "And… are you thinking about it?"  

You hesitated, your eyes dropping to the floor. "I don’t know," you said quietly. "I told you I wasn’t going. But now… it’s like she’s dangling everything I’ve ever wanted right in front of me, and I don’t know if I can ignore it anymore."  

Spencer’s heart ached at your words, but he forced a gentle smile as he said, “You shouldn’t ignore it.”  

You sighed heavily, the weight of the decision pressing down on you like a storm cloud. "It’s just too much to think about right now," you murmured, walking over to where he sat. Without hesitation, you nestled into his side, your head resting on his shoulder as his arm wrapped protectively around you. The warmth of his embrace was like a balm, soothing the whirlwind of thoughts in your mind.  

"Will you read to me?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with exhaustion.  

“Of course, my love,” he replied without hesitation, his tone tender. He reached for the book he had been reading earlier, adjusting slightly so you could be more comfortable.  

As his calm, steady voice filled the room, weaving through the story’s narrative, you felt your nerves begin to settle. The cadence of his words acted like a lullaby, each one wrapping around you like a warm blanket. Spencer kept reading, even when he noticed your body growing heavier against his, your breathing slowing to a steady rhythm as you drifted off to sleep.  

He paused mid-sentence, tilting his head slightly to glance down at you. You were wearing a sweater you had designed and crafted yourself, the intricate stitching a testament to your talent and creativity. In your peaceful state, with your lips slightly parted and your lashes resting against your cheeks, you looked serene.  

Spencer’s chest tightened as he watched you, a flood of emotions washing over him. He felt an overwhelming admiration for you—for your strength, your brilliance, your passion. But beneath that admiration was a deep-seated fear.  

He didn’t want you to give up this massive opportunity, the one you had dreamed of for so long, the one that could change your life. And yet, he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt that maybe he was the reason you were hesitating.  

The thought that he might be holding you back, even unintentionally, was almost unbearable. He wanted to be the one who supported you, who cheered you on, who encouraged you to take risks and chase your dreams. But as he held you in his arms, he wondered if his love for you was making it harder for you to leave.  

Spencer pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there as he whispered into the quiet room, “I just want you to be happy.”  

He knew that when the time came, he would have to push you, no matter how much it hurt. Because loving you meant wanting the best for you—even if it meant letting you go.  

—

March 2008

You and Spencer were strolling through the mall, casually browsing the stores as you searched for the perfect gift for your grandmother’s upcoming birthday. The two of you laughed together as you passed by store windows, debating what she might like—a scarf, a brooch, maybe a fancy tea set.  

But then your steps slowed, your attention caught by something glinting behind a clear glass case. It was almost subconscious, your feet carrying you toward it before you even realized what had drawn you in.  

"Rings?" Spencer asked, his voice soft and amused as he came to stand beside you. His eyes flicked to the sparkling display before landing on your face, a tender smile curling on his lips.  

"Do you ever think about getting married?" you asked suddenly, your gaze still fixed on the rings, their polished surfaces reflecting the light.  

The question caught Spencer off guard. He blinked, his smile faltering for just a second before it returned, gentler this time. "Of course," he said softly, the vulnerability in his tone unmistakable. "Do… do you?"  

You finally tore your eyes away from the display, turning to face him with a grin. Your heart swelled at the look on his face—so earnest, so full of quiet hope.  

"Yes," you admitted, your smile widening as you decided to tease him just a little. "Preferably to a tall, nerdy doctor. But, you know, beggars can’t be choosers."  

Spencer’s cheeks flushed, his lips pulling into a bashful smile as he looked down at you. "I think you might be in luck," he said, his voice laced with warmth and a hint of playful humor.  

"Oh?" you asked, tilting your head and feigning surprise.  

"Yeah," he murmured, his eyes glimmering with affection. "I hear there’s one who’s absolutely crazy about you."  

Your laughter bubbled up, filling the air between you as you leaned into his side. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively, pulling you closer as you both stood there, the sparkling rings forgotten as you focused entirely on each other.  

In that moment, with his arm around you and the warmth of his love so evident, you couldn’t help but imagine a future where one of those rings might be yours—and that future felt a lot closer than you’d ever thought possible.  

—

May 2008  

“Aubrey,” you sighed into the phone, keeping your voice low as you closed the bedroom door behind you. Spencer had finally fallen asleep after hours of tossing and turning, his fever making rest nearly impossible. The last thing you wanted was to wake him now. “I told you I can’t.”  

Unbeknownst to you, the sound of the door clicking shut had stirred Spencer. His eyes fluttered open, confusion washing over him as he realized you weren’t lying beside him anymore. He sat up slightly, his head still heavy with fatigue, and strained to hear your voice coming from somewhere outside the room.  

He didn’t mean to eavesdrop. At least, that’s what he told himself. But the moment he heard Aubrey’s name fall from your lips, his chest tightened, and his focus sharpened.  

“No… no… it’s not that…” Your voice wavered, and Spencer could picture you chewing your thumb nervously—something you always did when you were stressed. “I can’t leave. My whole life is in Virginia… well, no… he told me to go… yes, I know—”  

Spencer’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at your words.  

“I love him, I love my life with him,” you continued, and Spencer felt his chest ache in equal parts relief and guilt. “Obviously… I’m sure it would work, but—” You sighed deeply, the sound heavy with frustration and longing. “My answer is still no. I’m sorry.”  

Spencer’s mind raced as he processed what he’d just heard. He could feel the weight of your words pressing against his chest, a reminder of the sacrifice you were making. He knew he was the reason you were staying. You were giving up your dream for him, and as much as he loved you for it, he couldn’t let it happen.  

Hearing your footsteps approaching, Spencer quickly laid back down, shutting his eyes tight like a child pretending to sleep past their bedtime. He tried to even out his breathing, though his heart raced beneath the covers.  

You slipped back into the bedroom quietly, the dim light from the hallway casting a soft glow as you moved toward the bed. Sliding under the covers, you nestled into his side, resting your head on his chest. Your lips pressed a tender kiss over his heart, and you whispered, “I love you so much, Spencer Reid.”  

Spencer’s chest swelled at your words, his arms instinctively wrapping around you as he fought back the wave of emotions threatening to overcome him.  

As your breathing steadied and you drifted off to sleep, Spencer lay awake, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t shake the echo of your words—“I love him… he told me to go.”  

By the time sleep finally claimed him, his mind was filled with plans. He had to get you to New York. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much it scared him, he had to make sure you followed your dreams—even if it meant losing you in the process.  

—

December 2008 – Present

"Reid, are you paying attention?" Hotch’s firm yet concerned tone cut through the fog in Spencer’s mind, snapping him out of his reverie. ��

Spencer’s head jerked up, his eyes meeting Hotch’s piercing gaze. "Yes, sir," he replied quickly, his voice steady though his heart wasn’t.  

"Good. Let’s keep it that way," Hotch grumbled, clearly not in the mood for distractions.  

The team was seated around the conference table in the BAU’s jet, discussing the details of their latest case. They were headed to New York, where several women had been drugged and abducted from exclusive nightclubs in the Upper East Side. The unsub’s profile was slowly taking shape, but for Spencer, focusing on the details was harder than usual.  

Even hearing the name New York was like a dagger twisting in his side. It brought with it a flood of memories he had tried and failed to suppress—memories of you.  

He could picture the night you had finally told Aubrey no, the way your voice trembled with conviction when you said you were staying in Virginia. And yet, here he was, sitting on a jet bound for the very city where you were supposed to be building your dream.  

Spencer clenched his jaw, trying to push the thoughts away. This is my job. Focus on the case. He repeated the mantra in his mind, forcing himself to look at the crime scene photos spread across the table.  

But as the jet began its descent into the city, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting to the window. The glittering skyline of New York City came into view, and his chest tightened. He wondered, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like now. Would you be walking those streets right now, thriving in a world that had always been meant for you?  

"Reid, thoughts?" JJ’s voice broke through his spiral, and Spencer quickly blinked, realizing the team was looking at him expectantly.  

"Uh…" He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "The unsub likely uses a combination of charm and familiarity to gain the victims’ trust. Based on the timeline, he’s calculated and methodical, which suggests he’s not working impulsively. He might be using the same clubs regularly to scope out his targets."  

JJ nodded, taking notes as Morgan chimed in with his own observations. Hotch seemed satisfied that Spencer was back on track, but Spencer could still feel the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him.  

As the jet landed and the team prepared to disembark, Spencer grabbed his bag and fell into step behind the others. He reminded himself that the job came first, that the women out there needed them to be focused and sharp.  

But as they exited the airport and the cold New York air hit his face, Spencer couldn’t help but feel the ghost of what could have been following close behind.  

As the team settled into the precinct, the familiar buzz of activity filled the air—phones ringing, officers shuffling papers, and the hum of conversation about the case. Spencer sat at a desk, his eyes scanning over a map as he worked on the geographical profile. On the surface, he looked focused, but internally, he was at war with himself.  

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get you out of his head. The sharp lines on the map blurred as his thoughts drifted.  

Which building do you live in? The question looped through his mind like a broken record. He knew you had moved to the Upper East Side with Aubrey when you first came to New York. But that had been months ago—almost a year, actually. Maybe you didn’t live with her anymore. Maybe you had your own place now.  

And then, more troubling thoughts crept in. Are you being safe? His chest tightened at the idea of you walking these streets, the same streets where women were being drugged and taken.  

Spencer’s eyes darted back to the photos of the nightclubs spread across the desk. He knew it was unlikely you frequented places like these. You’d never been one for the nightlife, always shying away from loud music and crowded spaces. He remembered how you used to fidget at gatherings, instinctively seeking out quieter corners where you could breathe.  

But the thought of you even being near these places, of someone seeing you, targeting you—it made his stomach churn.  

God, I hope you’re safe, Spencer thought, clenching his jaw as he tried to shake the image of you from his mind.  

“Reid, you okay?” Morgan’s voice broke through his spiraling thoughts, pulling him back to the present.  

Spencer blinked, his hands tightening around the edges of the map. “Yeah,” he said quickly, his voice a little too sharp. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to sound calmer. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to piece together the unsub’s movements.”  

Morgan studied him for a moment, clearly unconvinced but deciding to let it slide. “Alright, well, let me know if you need a second pair of eyes.”  

Spencer nodded, returning his gaze to the map. But even as he tried to refocus, his mind kept drifting back to you. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t heard your voice, hadn’t even been able to convince himself to reach out.  

And yet, here he was, in your city, wondering if you were okay, if you were happy, if you were thinking about him too.  

After spending the day checking out the crime scenes and canvasing the surrounding areas, the team returned to the precinct to deliver their initial profile to the local police. Spencer sat near the back of the room, his hands clasped tightly in front of him as he tried to keep his focus on the case.  

Emily stood at the front, presenting the profile with her usual confidence. "We believe the unsub is targeting wealthy women," she explained, her tone even but firm. "Women who appear successful and independent—CEO’s, CFO’s, designers, singers, dancers, actors, chefs, etcetera. He sees them as trophies, not just victims. He uses their wealth and status to justify robbing them, taking their IDs, and eventually breaking into their homes after he’s done with them. This is about control and power, and his choice of victims reflects that."  

Spencer’s stomach churned as he listened, each word cutting deeper into his already frayed nerves. His mind was no longer on the women they were profiling; it was back on you.  

Every victim they described could have been you. Successful, talented, determined—everything about you fit the profile. You had climbed to the top of your field, a name that carried weight and admiration. You were exactly the kind of woman this unsub sought to dominate, to tear down.  

Spencer swallowed hard, his gaze flickering to the board where photos of the victims were pinned. Each face reminded him of you in some way—the confident smiles, the elegant postures, the undeniable strength that radiated from their pictures.  

He tried to push the thoughts away, to remind himself that you were likely far from this mess, probably tucked away in a luxurious apartment or a designer studio, far removed from the chaos he was immersed in.  

But the fear gnawed at him anyway. What if you weren’t safe? What if you were walking these streets late at night, lost in thought or distracted, completely unaware of the danger lurking nearby?  

Morgan’s voice pulled him back to the moment, but Spencer barely registered what was being said. He felt frozen, paralyzed by the weight of his thoughts and the eerie similarities between you and the women they were trying to protect.  

The briefing ended, and the room began to clear out, officers heading back to their tasks. Spencer stayed seated, staring blankly at the photos on the board. His chest felt tight, his mind racing with all the possibilities he didn’t want to consider.  

"Reid?" JJ’s voice broke through the haze, her expression soft as she approached him. "What’s up with you? Is something wrong?”

He blinked, forcing himself to shake his head. "No," he lied, his voice flat. "Everything is fine."  

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close. Every instinct in him screamed to find you, to check on you, to make sure you were okay. Because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought that this case wasn’t just about catching an unsub—it was about protecting you from a danger he couldn’t control.  

—

You were getting ready with Aubrey and the rest of your group, the energy in the room buzzing with excitement. It was Blake’s 27th birthday, and they had chosen to celebrate with a night out at the clubs.  

The leopard-print dress you wore hugged your frame perfectly, its bold design a gift from Aubrey herself. As you zipped up your deep burgundy leather boots, the rich color catching the light, you couldn’t help but glance at your reflection. The outfit was striking—you felt sexy and confident.  

“Shots!” Kurt’s voice boomed from the living room, drawing laughter and cheers from the group. You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you finished adjusting your boots.  

“You ready to go, superstar?” Aubrey teased, leaning in the doorway with a knowing smile. She looked impeccable, as always, her outfit radiating confidence and style.  

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied with a grin, standing and smoothing out your dress.  

“Good,” Aubrey said, linking her arm with yours. “Because tonight, we’re leaving all the stress and work drama behind. It’s Blake’s night, and you, my dear, are going to have fun.”  

You laughed, letting her guide you toward the rest of the group. As the music played loudly in the background and someone handed you a shot glass, you tried to push away the unease creeping in. This wasn’t your scene, but for Blake—and with your friends by your side—you’d make the best of it.  

What’s the harm of one night out on the town?

Aubrey, with her effortless charm and impressive connections, had managed to get your group into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city. As you approached the entrance, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement as you passed the long line of people waiting to get in.  

The bouncer gave your group a once-over before glancing at his clipboard, where your names were already on the list. He nodded to the hostess, who gestured for you to follow her inside. You exchanged amused glances with Aubrey, her confident smirk making it clear she was in her element.  

The energy of the club hit you immediately—a pulsing rhythm of music, vibrant lights reflecting off chandeliers and mirrored disco balls, and the faint scent of expensive perfume mingling with the coolness of the air-conditioned space.  

You were quickly led to a private VIP lounge area, tucked away yet with a perfect view of the dance floor. The sleek leather seating, soft glow of ambient lighting, and low table with a bottle of premium alcohol chilling on ice made it clear this was luxury at its finest.  

As you settled in with the group, Aubrey leaned over with a grin. "Not bad, huh?"  

"Not bad at all," you admitted, finally starting to feel the buzz of excitement that the rest of the group had radiated all night.  

Kurt popped the cork on the bottle with a celebratory cheer, pouring out drinks as Blake laughed and raised their glass. "To the best birthday ever!" Blake called out, their joy infectious as everyone clinked their glasses together.  

You took a sip, letting the fizzy warmth spread through you, and glanced out at the dance floor, watching the kaleidoscope of lights play over the crowd. For the first time in a long while, you let yourself relax, leaning into the moment. Tonight wasn’t about anything else—it was about celebrating Blake, being with friends, and maybe, just maybe, finding some joy in the chaos.  

It wasn’t until later in the evening, as the excitement of the night wore on, that you noticed something was wrong. Analise hadn’t returned from the bathroom in a very long time. At first, you didn’t think much of it—maybe she’d gotten caught up chatting with someone or had taken a phone call. But as the minutes stretched into an hour, unease began to settle in.  

You mentioned it to Aubrey, and soon, the rest of your group was involved, searching the crowded club for her. You checked every possible place she could be—the bathroom, the dance floor, the bar. You even tried calling her phone, but it went straight to voicemail.  

A sinking feeling twisted in your gut as you decided to check with door security. Maybe she’d decided to leave early and hadn’t told anyone. But when you explained the situation, the response you got made your heart drop.  

“She left about 40 minutes ago,” the bouncer informed you, his tone matter-of-fact. “She was with a man.”  

Your blood ran cold. Analise was a married lesbian woman with children. There was no way she would leave with a man.  

“That’s impossible,” you said, your voice shaking. “She wouldn’t… she would never do that.”  

The bouncer frowned, his expression darkening as he realized the weight of your words. Aubrey, ever composed, stepped forward, her voice sharp and commanding. “We need to check the security footage. Now.”  

The staff moved quickly, pulling up the tapes as your group crowded around, watching with bated breath. And there it was—clear as day. Analise stumbling out of the bathroom, visibly dazed, as a man wrapped an arm around her, guiding her toward the exit. You could see her trying to resist, her movements sluggish and uncoordinated, but she was no match for him.  

Your stomach churned as the man led her out of the club. It was clear she’d been drugged and coerced.  

“We’re calling the police,” one of the security staff said, already reaching for his radio.  

The next thirty minutes passed in a blur. The authorities arrived swiftly, questioning the staff and reviewing the footage. Your group, shaken and worried sick, was told to wait outside. When the police finally addressed you, it was to inform you that they needed to take statements from everyone who had been with Analise that night.  

Before you knew it, you were sitting in the back of a police car, the flashing lights reflecting off the club’s exterior as it faded into the distance. Aubrey sat beside you, her normally composed demeanor fractured by worry. The rest of your group was being transported in other cars, but you all shared the same fear: What if it’s too late?  

As the car sped toward the station, you stared out the window, your mind racing with a million thoughts. Analise’s face, her laugh, her stories about her wife and kids—it all played in your mind like a reel you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was your fault, that somehow you should have noticed sooner, should have done something.  

Aubrey reached over, squeezing your hand tightly. “We’ll find her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered.  

You nodded, but the knot in your stomach didn’t loosen. All you could do now was hope the authorities could act quickly enough. Analise’s life could depend on it.  

Your group was led into a quiet room, far from the noise and chaos of the precinct. The space felt sterile and impersonal, and the tension in the air was palpable as you waited, all of you exchanging worried glances. One by one, your friends were called out by law enforcement to give their accounts of the night’s events.  

You tried to steady your breathing, but your heart sank when one of the officers mentioned that the Behavioral Analysis Unit was on the case. The BAU, you thought, your stomach twisting into knots. That could only mean one thing—Spencer.  

Your mind raced. Please, let him be out in the field. Let him be anywhere but here, you silently begged. The idea of seeing him again, especially under these circumstances, felt overwhelming.  

But then a petite, pretty blonde woman entered the room, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to your spiraling nerves. She scanned the list in her hands before looking up and saying your name with a polite smile.  

You hesitated but stood up, smoothing your dress as you followed her down the hallway. She led you to a small interrogation room, where the walls seemed to close in just a little too tightly.  

“Have a seat,” the woman said gently, gesturing to the chair across from her. She handed you a steaming cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room.  

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, clutching the cup between your hands as if it were a lifeline.  

The woman gave you a reassuring smile, her blue eyes warm and steady. “My name is Jennifer Jareau,” she said, her voice calm and professional. “I’m an agent with the BAU, and I just have a few questions for you. You’re not in any trouble; we’re just trying to get a clear picture of what happened tonight.”  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Okay.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her posture open and non-threatening. “I know tonight was difficult, but anything you can tell us might help us find your friend and bring her home safely.”  

You took a deep breath, letting her words settle over you. As much as you were afraid of what this moment represented, you knew you had to focus on Analise. You began recounting the evening, walking her through everything you could remember—how Analise had gone to the bathroom, how long she’d been gone, and how your group had discovered she had left the club with a man.  

JJ listened intently, taking notes but never breaking eye contact. Her steady presence made it easier to keep talking, even as your voice faltered at times.  

When you finished, she nodded thoughtfully. “You’ve been really helpful. Thank you for being so detailed—it makes a big difference.”  

You offered a small, shaky smile. “I just want her to be okay.”  

“We’re going to do everything we can,” JJ said firmly, her voice filled with quiet determination.  

You nodded again, but as she stood to leave, a new wave of anxiety washed over you. What if Spencer really is here? What if he walks through that door next? You weren’t sure you were ready for that moment. Not now. Not like this.  

—

When the call came in about a new abduction, Spencer held his breath, his stomach tightening as a familiar sense of dread crept in. For a brief, harrowing moment, he waited to hear your name. But it wasn’t.  

“Analise Bordeaux,” Penelope said over the phone, her tone efficient but tinged with urgency. “She’s a top-rated journalist for the New York Times. Married, with two kids. Her wife also reported her missing earlier tonight after she didn’t return home at a previously agreed time.”  

Spencer let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, but the relief was fleeting. Another brilliant, accomplished woman was in danger, and the unsub’s pattern was becoming even clearer.  

“Morgan, Reid,” Hotch’s voice cut through the tense moment, bringing everyone back to focus. “I want the two of you to head to the club. Talk to the staff, review the footage, and see if anyone remembers anything unusual.”  

“Got it,” Morgan replied, already grabbing his jacket.  

Spencer nodded, silently falling into step with his partner. The ride to the club was quiet, the weight of the case settling heavily between them. Spencer’s mind wandered, as it often did in moments like this, and despite his best efforts, his thoughts drifted to you. Were you okay? Were you being safe in this massive, chaotic city? The idea of something happening to you gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t shake.  

When they arrived at the club, the music still pulsed faintly in the background as staff cleaned up after the night’s events. The bouncer and several employees were waiting for them, and Derek immediately took the lead, flashing his badge and asking for access to the security footage.  

Spencer scanned the room as they worked, his sharp eyes noting every detail. The club was upscale, the kind of place that catered to high-profile clients, which fit the unsub’s victimology perfectly. He and Derek pored over the footage, watching as Analise stumbled out of the bathroom, her movements sluggish and disoriented. The man who had escorted her out didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, but Spencer’s mind was already analyzing every subtle detail—the way he scanned the room, the calculated calmness in his movements.  

“This guy fits in with the crowd,” Derek muttered, narrowing his eyes at the screen.  

Spencer nodded. “He knows exactly how to stay under the radar. He’s blending in, using the chaos of the club to his advantage.”  

After questioning staff and gathering everything they could from the scene, the two men left the club and headed back to the precinct. The weight of what they’d seen hung heavily in the air between them, but Spencer was unusually quiet.  

“You good, pretty boy?” Derek finally asked, glancing over at him.  

“Yeah,” Spencer lied, his voice quieter than usual. “Just… thinking.”  

Derek didn’t push, but Spencer could feel his partner’s eyes on him. 

When Derek and Spencer arrived back at the precinct, they headed straight to the makeshift conference area where the rest of the team was gathered. The atmosphere was tense but focused, with everyone comparing notes and piecing together the puzzle of Analise’s abduction.  

JJ was finishing up her report on the interviews she had conducted with Analise’s friends. She held a notepad in her hand, skimming through her findings as she updated the team.  

“We have a list of people Analise spent the evening with,” JJ said, holding up the notepad. “Her coworkers and a few close friends all confirmed she wasn’t acting like herself before she went to the bathroom. Said she was dazed, disoriented in the footage—classic signs of being drugged. One of them even mentioned they tried calling her, but her phone’s off now.”  

As JJ spoke, Spencer’s gaze landed on the notepad in her hand. Something about it nagged at him—a sense of urgency he couldn’t quite place.  

“Can I see that?” he asked, pointing to the list of names.  

JJ didn’t hesitate, handing the notepad over with a slight frown of curiosity. “Sure,” she said. “What are you thinking?”  

Spencer didn’t answer immediately. His eyes scanned the list quickly, his brain processing each name at lightning speed. And then he saw it.  

Your name.  

It hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, the room seemed to tilt. His breath caught in his throat, and his grip on the notepad tightened as if he needed to steady himself.  

You’re here.  

“What is it, Reid?” JJ asked, her voice breaking through the sudden rush of emotions.  

Spencer forced himself to look up, his expression carefully neutral. “Um,” he muttered, his voice tight. “I just… wanted to see if anyone stood out.”  

He handed the notepad back to JJ, his hand trembling slightly. He hoped she didn’t notice, but Morgan, standing nearby, narrowed his eyes at him.  

Spencer’s mind raced. He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t spoken to you since the night he let you go. And now, here you were, tangled up in a case involving dangerous predators and a missing woman. He clenched his jaw, trying to suppress the panic rising in his chest.  

“You recognize anyone?” JJ asked, her tone casual as she flipped back through the list.  

“No,” Spencer lied once more, his voice steadier this time.  

But inside, he felt like he was falling apart. Because no matter how much he tried to focus on the case, on the unsub, on finding Analise, one thought overpowered everything else: You were here.  

“What do you think, Hotch?” Rossi started, leaning back slightly in his chair. “Should we let them go?” He gestured vaguely, referring to your group still waiting in the designated room.  

“No,” Spencer said quickly, speaking up out of turn. His voice was firmer than he’d intended, and everyone turned to look at him with raised brows.  

“They’re safer here,” Spencer continued, his tone more measured now. “The unsub might have seen them. If they were with Analise all night, they could’ve been noticed, even targeted.”  

“Reid’s right,” Hotch said, nodding as he turned back to Rossi. “We’ll keep them here until we have more information. JJ, did any of them mention recognizing the unsub from the footage? Or if Analise recently changed anything in her routine that might have drawn attention?”  

JJ gently took her notepad back from Spencer, giving him another curious glance before flipping through her notes. “Uh… yes,” she said, stopping on a specific page. “One of them—Y/N Y/L—mentioned that Analise had just gotten a promotion at work. They went out to celebrate at a new restaurant last Thursday.”  

Spencer stiffened at the mention of your name, doing his best to keep his expression neutral.  

“Alright,” Hotch said decisively. “Let’s bring Y/N back into the interrogation room. She might have seen this man at the restaurant and didn’t realize it.”  

“I’ll go get her,” JJ offered, already rising from her seat and heading toward the door.  

“I’ll come too,” Spencer blurted out before he could stop himself.  

Everyone turned to look at him again, surprise flashing across their faces.  

“May—maybe a second set of ears,” Spencer stammered, quickly trying to justify his outburst. “Um, a new perspective might help.”  

Hotch studied him for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to read Spencer’s motives. Then, with a curt nod, he said, “Fine. Go with her.”  

JJ gave Spencer a questioning look but said nothing, motioning for him to follow her. As they walked down the hallway toward the room where you and your friends were waiting, Spencer felt his chest tighten with every step.  

He hadn’t seen you in so long, hadn’t prepared himself for this moment. And now, he was seconds away from coming face-to-face with the person he’d never stopped thinking about.  

—

You were just starting to lose your patience, shifting in your seat and glancing at the clock for the hundredth time, when the door opened again. The same woman from before, Jennifer, stepped inside with her calm and professional demeanor.  

“Y/N?” she said with a polite smile. “Can we see you again?”  

Your friends exchanged questioning glances, murmuring words of encouragement as you stood. “Good luck,” one of them whispered as you followed JJ out of the room and down the hallway.  

You tried to steady yourself, reminding yourself this was all routine. Just more questions. Nothing out of the ordinary. But as you stepped into the cold interrogation room again, the air felt different—charged, heavy.  

And then you saw him.  

Sitting in the chair across from the table, Spencer.  

Your breath caught in your throat, and the room that had felt icy before now felt like it was a thousand degrees hotter. You froze for a moment, your mind racing to make sense of the sight in front of you. He looked the same, yet different. His hair was slightly longer, his face a little more tired, but those eyes—the same deep, thoughtful eyes you’d once adored—were unmistakable.  

Spencer’s head snapped up as you entered, and for a second, he looked just as startled as you felt. His mouth parted slightly, but no words came out.  

“Y/N,” JJ said gently, breaking the heavy silence. She gestured toward the chair across from Spencer. “Have a seat.”  

You nodded stiffly, forcing your legs to move as you crossed the room and sat down. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you couldn’t tell if it was from nerves, shock, or something else entirely.  

Spencer cleared his throat, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap. “Hi,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You blinked, your throat dry as you nodded again. “Hello, agent,” you replied, equally quiet.  

JJ glanced between the two of you, her brows furrowing slightly in confusion, but she quickly masked it. “Y/N, we just have a few follow-up questions,” she said, sitting down beside Spencer and pulling out her notepad.  

But it didn’t matter what she said. The only thing you could focus on was Spencer, sitting right there in front of you, as if the years between you had suddenly disappeared.  

The questions started simply enough—where had you and your group gone to dinner? How many people were there? Did anyone stand out or seem to take special interest in you?  

“There was one person,” you said after a moment of thought, tilting your head slightly as you tried to recall the details. “He was a busboy, I believe. But he kept coming by our table to check on us.”  

Spencer, who had been taking notes alongside JJ, immediately perked up at that. “He wasn’t your server?” he asked, his voice calm but focused.  

You shook your head, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “No, our server was a woman. She was very attentive, but this guy—he kept showing up. At first, we thought he was just really good at his job, but it started to feel… I don’t know, a little strange.”  

JJ leaned forward slightly, her pen poised over her notepad. “Strange how? Did he say anything to you, or was it more about his behavior?”  

“It was mostly his behavior,” you replied, frowning as you tried to piece together the memory. “He’d clear away plates that didn’t really need to be cleared yet, or refill water glasses that were barely half-empty. And every time he came by, he’d linger for just a second too long. It was subtle, but… noticeable.”  

Spencer exchanged a quick glance with JJ before asking, “Can you describe him? Anything about his appearance that stood out?”  

You nodded, your eyes narrowing slightly as you focused on the image in your mind. “He was average height, maybe a little shorter than you,” you glanced at Spencer. “Dark hair, clean-shaven. He had this kind of… intense way of looking at people, like he was trying to figure them out.”  

Spencer scribbled furiously in his notebook, his pen moving so fast it almost blurred. “Do you remember if he wore anything unusual? Jewelry, a watch, anything like that?”  

You paused, biting your lip as you thought. “I… I think he had a tattoo on his wrist,” you said finally. “It was hard to see because of the uniform, but when he reached over to clear a plate, I noticed it. It looked like… a triangle, or something geometric.”  

“That’s good,” JJ said with a nod, giving you an encouraging smile. “That’s really helpful, Y/N.”  

But your gaze shifted to Spencer, who was still scribbling notes with an intensity you hadn’t seen from him before. When he finally looked up, his eyes met yours, and for a brief moment, the weight of everything unsaid passed between you.  

“Anything else you remember, no matter how small?” he asked softly, his voice steady but carrying an edge of something deeper—something that felt almost personal.  

You shook your head slightly. “No, I think that’s it. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now…” You trailed off, a shiver running down your spine at the realization of how close your group may have been to danger.  

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable as he set his pen down. “Thank you,” he said quietly.  

JJ stood, glancing at her notes before giving you another reassuring smile. “We’ll follow up with the restaurant and see if anyone knows him. You’ve been really helpful, Y/N.”  

You nodded, rising from your chair, but your eyes lingered on Spencer for just a moment longer before you turned to leave the room. And as you walked back to your friends, you couldn’t help but feel like this encounter had stirred up more than just memories of the night—it had brought something long-buried between you and Spencer back to the surface.  

Before you could reach the room where your friends were waiting, you felt a gentle hand on your arm. The unexpected touch made you stop, turning instinctively.  

There he was—Spencer, standing just behind you, his face filled with an urgency that took your breath away. He looked like he was holding back a storm, his words spilling out before he could second-guess himself.  

“Can I see you before I leave?” he asked, his voice low but rushed, as if afraid you might say no.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, your mind scrambling to process the request. And before you even realized it, you nodded. “Okay,” you said softly, the word leaving your lips almost automatically.  

Relief flashed across Spencer’s face, but he didn’t linger. He simply gave you a small, grateful nod before turning back toward the team. You stood there for a second, trying to collect yourself, before heading back into the room with your friends.  

As soon as you sat down next to Aubrey, she leaned in, her sharp eyes scanning your face. “Was that Spencer?” she asked in a hushed whisper, her voice filled with curiosity and concern.  

You nodded again, unable to bring yourself to speak.  

“Are you okay?” Aubrey pressed, her hand resting lightly on your arm.  

This time, you shook your head. The motion was small, but it felt monumental, like admitting the weight of everything that had just happened. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip, the sharp pressure a weak attempt to distract yourself from the knot of emotions tightening in your chest.  

Aubrey frowned, her expression softening as she studied you. “Do you want to talk about it?”  

You shook your head again, swallowing hard as you tried to push the overwhelming feelings down. “Not yet,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.  

Aubrey nodded, giving your arm a gentle squeeze. “Alright. But I’m here when you’re ready.”  

You gave her a faint smile, grateful for her understanding. But as you sat there, surrounded by your friends and the low hum of their conversations, your mind was elsewhere—focused on Spencer, and the inevitable conversation that now loomed on the horizon.  

—

Luckily, your information turned out to be exactly what the team needed. With Penelope’s tech skills and the restaurant staff’s confirmation, they were able to identify the unsub and locate Analise.  

The relief was almost overwhelming when the news came in: Analise was found unharmed, aside from the lingering effects of the drugs and the red marks on her wrists where she’d been bound. The man hadn’t had the chance to carry out his full plan—robbing her or doing worse—thanks to the swift intervention of the police and FBI.  

By the time everything was resolved, the authorities had cleared you and your friends to leave that same night. The long hours of tension melted away as you gathered your things, and your group began heading toward the precinct exit.  

You stuck close to Aubrey, practically glued to her side as you wrapped an arm around her waist. Her presence grounded you, the warmth and familiarity of her reassuring after everything you’d been through.  

“Finally,” Aubrey murmured as the two of you reached the doors, her tone light but laced with exhaustion.  

You nodded, tightening your hold on her as you pushed through the glass doors into the cool night air. But as you stepped outside, your eyes darted around instinctively, searching for a glimpse of Spencer.  

And there he was, standing just a short distance away, speaking with Morgan and Hotch. His back was to you, but even from where you stood, you could feel the weight of the moment.  

You immediately turned your head, your arm tightening around Aubrey as you kept moving. You didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to risk Spencer catching sight of you—or worse, calling out to you.  

Aubrey glanced down at you as the two of you walked quickly toward the car. “You okay?” she asked softly, her voice steady despite her own obvious fatigue.  

“Yeah,” you whispered, though your grip on her waist betrayed your nerves.  

As you slid into the car, your heart still raced. The thought of seeing Spencer again—even after everything—left you feeling exposed, vulnerable. And yet, there was a tiny, nagging part of you that wondered what would’ve happened if you’d let yourself stop.  

But for now, you were content to let an officer drive you home, the city lights blurring outside the window as you leaned against the seat, trying to process the night’s events—and the man who still had the power to shake you to your core.  

The incessant ringing of your phone jolted you awake, the sound cutting through the fog of your restless sleep. You groaned, squinting against the morning light as you reached for your phone on the nightstand.  

Your heart skipped a beat when you glanced at the screen. No name was displayed, just a number. But it was a number you could never forget, no matter how hard you’d tried.  

You had deleted Spencer’s contact months ago, telling yourself it was for the best, a necessary step in moving on. But his number was burned into your memory, a string of digits that you could recite as easily as your own name.  

For a moment, you just stared at the screen, your thumb hovering over the answer button. The ringtone seemed louder, more insistent, as if demanding a decision.  

Your chest tightened, and a million thoughts ran through your mind. Why is he calling? What does he want? Can I even handle hearing his voice right now?  

But before you could overthink it any further, your thumb moved almost of its own accord, pressing the button and bringing the phone to your ear.  

“Hello?” you said softly, your voice still heavy with sleep.  

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough to make your heart race, and then you heard it—a voice you hadn’t heard in what felt like a lifetime.  

“Y/N,” Spencer said, his tone cautious, almost tentative. “I… I’m sorry to call so early. I wasn’t sure if you’d pick up.”  

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “What’s going on, Spencer?” you asked, your tone carefully neutral.  

He hesitated, and you could practically hear him piecing his words together. “I just… I couldn’t leave New York without talking to you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Not after last night. Not after seeing you again.”  

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his words, but you didn’t respond right away, unsure of what to say. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken emotions.  

“I know this isn’t fair,” Spencer continued, his words tumbling out now, “but… can we talk? Just the two of us? Please?”  

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the headboard as you exhaled slowly. You didn’t know what to say—didn’t know if you were ready to reopen wounds you’d worked so hard to heal. But the sound of his voice, the raw emotion in it, made it impossible to say no.  

“Okay,” you said quietly. “When?”  

“Now?” he asked, his voice tinged with hope and hesitation. “I can come to you, or we can meet somewhere—whatever you’re comfortable with.”  

You glanced at the clock on your bedside table, your mind still racing. “There’s a café a couple of blocks from me,” you said finally, giving him the address. “I’ll meet you there in an hour.”  

“Thank you,” he said, relief evident in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.”  

As the call ended, you sat there for a moment, staring at the phone in your hand. Part of you wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend none of this was happening. But another part—the part that had never really let Spencer go—knew this was a conversation that was long overdue.  

—

November 2004

“Excuse me, miss?” a voice spoke from behind you, polite but a little unsure.  

You turned around, confused, to find a lanky man with slicked-back hair and glasses standing there, looking at you expectantly. He wore an awkward smile, his hands fidgeting slightly as he shifted on his feet.  

“Yes?” you asked, tilting your head, trying to place him.  

“If it’s no bother, we would really appreciate the check. We were just called into work,” he explained sheepishly, gesturing to a man sitting at the table behind him, who was watching the interaction with an amused grin.  

For a moment, you just stared at him, unsure of how to respond. “Um,” you started, your tone hesitant, “I’m sorry, but I don’t work here.”  

The man sitting across from him burst into laughter, shaking his head. “Nice going, Reid.”  

The one who had spoken—Reid, apparently—turned bright red, stumbling over his words as he tried to apologize. “I—I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to assume, I just—your outfit—it looks just like the uniforms the waitstaff are wearing!”  

You frowned, glancing down at your clothes—a crisp white blouse tucked into sleek black slacks. Then it clicked, and a laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. “Oh, wow,” you said, grinning at him. “That’s… actually kind of funny. I designed the uniforms, so I guess I subconsciously dressed accordingly.”  

Reid blinked, his eyes widening behind his glasses. “You designed them?” he asked, his embarrassment giving way to genuine curiosity.  

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug, glancing around the restaurant. “I work for the owner—well, freelance. They hired me to design uniforms that were professional but stylish.”  

“That’s… really impressive,” Reid said, his tone sincere as he adjusted his glasses. “They’re—um, they’re very nice. Clearly convincing,” he added, his cheeks still pink.  

The man at his table laughed again, shaking his head. “You’re lucky she’s nice, kid. That could’ve gone way worse.”  

You smiled, brushing off the comment. “No harm done,” you said, waving a hand. Then, looking back at Reid, you added, “Just maybe double-check next time before you assume.”  

“Noted,” he said, offering a sheepish smile. “And again, I’m really sorry.”  

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself, shaking your head at the interaction. Little did you know, it was the beginning of something much bigger than a misunderstanding over a uniform.  

—

December 2008 – Present  

You sat at the small table in the café, nervously fidgeting with the edge of the tablecloth with one hand while biting your thumb with the other. The café was quiet, the gentle hum of conversation and the hiss of the espresso machine creating a soothing background. Still, your nerves were anything but calm.  

You hadn’t seen Spencer yet, but you felt his presence looming, the anticipation making your chest feel tight. Your mind raced with a million thoughts—what he would say, what you should say, how this meeting would go after all the time that had passed.  

“Excuse me, miss,” a familiar voice interrupted, laced with a soft, teasing tone. “You don’t happen to work here, do you?”  

Your head snapped up, and your lips parted in surprise, only for the tension in your chest to loosen when you saw him. Spencer stood there, looking both nervous and amused, his hands tucked awkwardly into his coat pockets. His hair was slightly tousled from the cold, and his glasses caught the soft glow of the café lights.  

You couldn’t help it—amusement took over as you remembered the very first time he had said those words to you. “Seriously?” you said, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re going to lead with that?”  

Spencer shrugged, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. “I figured it worked the first time,” he said, his voice soft as his eyes flickered to yours.  

Your heart stuttered at the look he gave you, and for a moment, it felt like you were back in 2005, standing in that restaurant, completely oblivious to what the future held.  

You shook your head, gesturing to the seat across from you. “Sit down, Reid,” you said, your tone light, though your voice still carried the weight of everything unsaid.  

Spencer moved carefully, as if afraid to disrupt the fragile moment between you. He slid into the chair, his hands resting on the table, fidgeting slightly with the edge of his sleeve.  

“You remembered,” you said after a beat, unable to stop yourself.  

“Of course I did,” he said softly, his eyes meeting yours. “I remember everything about you.”  

The weight of his words settled between you, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

“Well,” you said, breaking the silence, “I guess we have a lot to talk about.”  

Spencer nodded, his expression serious but filled with something you couldn’t quite place—hope, maybe? “Yeah,” he said. “We do.”  

And just like that, the conversation you’d both been avoiding for years finally began.  

Spencer folded his hands on the table, his long fingers twitching slightly as though unsure of where to begin. He glanced down at the tablecloth before looking back up at you, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came out right away.  

You tilted your head, studying him. “You’ve never been one to struggle for words,” you teased lightly, trying to ease the tension that hung thick in the air.  

He let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” His voice was soft, almost tentative.  

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was heavy—weighted with years of unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and all the things neither of you had said when you had the chance.  

Spencer finally spoke, his voice low and earnest. “I shouldn’t have forced you to go.”  

Your heart clenched at his words, the directness of them catching you off guard. You opened your mouth to respond, but he pressed on, his words tumbling out in a rush, as though he’d been holding them back for too long.  

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said, his gaze locked on yours. “I thought I was giving you the chance to live the life you deserved, to follow your dreams without me holding you back. But all I did was hurt you. And…” He hesitated, his voice dropping even lower. “I hurt myself too.”  

You blinked, stunned by the raw honesty in his tone. You hadn’t expected him to dive in so quickly, to say the things you’d spent so long wondering if he even felt.  

“Spencer,” you began, your voice wavering slightly, “you didn’t just hurt me. You made a decision for both of us without even asking how I felt. You thought you were protecting me, but you didn’t give me a choice.”  

He flinched slightly at your words, but he didn’t look away. “I know,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I know I handled it all wrong. I’ve replayed that night a thousand times in my head, and every time, I wish I’d done it differently. I wish I’d just… trusted you.”  

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in his words stirring something deep within you. “You think I didn’t want to go? That I didn’t think about what it could’ve meant for my career? I stayed because I loved you, Spencer. You were my dream. Not New York. Not Aubrey. You.”  

Spencer’s hands tightened on the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white. “And I threw it away,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.  

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. “You didn’t throw it away. You made a choice. We both did. And we have to live with that.”  

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. For a moment, you thought that might be the end of it—that he would drop it and let you both walk away again.  

But then he looked up, and his eyes were filled with something fierce, something determined. “I don’t want to live with it,” he said firmly. “Not anymore. Not if there’s even the smallest chance I can fix this—fix us.”  

Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as his words hung between you. You wanted to say something, to respond, but you weren’t sure if you could trust yourself to speak.  

So instead, you just stared at him, waiting for him to keep going. And in that moment, Spencer Reid, the man who rarely hesitated to explain every detail, every fact, every statistic, did something unexpected.  

He waited too.  

The weight of his words hung heavily in the air between you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hope, for any clue as to how you might respond. You could see the vulnerability etched into every line of his face, the desperation for you to believe him, to give him a chance.

“Spencer,” you began softly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the storm of emotions swirling within you. “Fix us? There is no us anymore. You made that abundantly clear when you kicked me out of my home.”

Your words were sharp, cutting through the fragile hope that had been lingering in the air. Spencer flinched as if you’d physically struck him, his face falling with the weight of your statement. He opened his mouth to respond but stopped, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to find the right words.

“I didn’t—” he started, but then stopped himself, shaking his head. “I didn’t kick you out, Y/N. I thought—”  

“You thought you knew what was best for me,” you interrupted, your tone more firm now as the hurt you’d buried for so long began to surface. “You didn’t even ask me how I felt. You made a decision for both of us and expected me to just accept it. And when I didn’t? When I tried to fight for us? You pushed me away like I didn’t matter.”

“You mattered,” Spencer said quickly, his voice cracking. “You still matter. I—I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was protecting you.”  

“Protecting me?” you repeated, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “You weren’t protecting me, Spencer. You were protecting yourself. You were afraid I’d resent you, so instead, you pushed me out of your life completely. And guess what? It hurt just as much—maybe even more.”  

His shoulders slumped, and he ran a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it made your chest ache. “You’re right,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I was afraid. I was terrified. Not just of you resenting me, but of… of failing you. Of not being enough. I convinced myself that letting you go was the selfless thing to do, but all I did was hurt you. And myself.”

You looked at him, his confession hanging heavily in the air between you. Part of you wanted to lash out, to make him feel a fraction of the pain you’d carried for so long. But another part of you—a part you didn’t want to admit existed—still ached for him, still felt the pull of the man you’d once loved so deeply.  

“You can’t just come back now and expect to fix everything,” you said, your voice softer but no less firm. “It’s not that simple.”  

“I know,” he said quickly, his eyes pleading. “I know it’s not. But I had to try. I couldn’t leave New York without telling you how I feel, without letting you know that I’m sorry—for everything.”  

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you tried to steady yourself. “And what happens after this, Spencer? What are you expecting? That I’ll just forget everything and we’ll go back to how things were?”  

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t expect that. I don’t expect anything from you, Y/N. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking as he added, “I just needed you to know that I never stopped loving you. Not for a second.”  

Your breath caught in your throat, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. The sincerity in his voice, the pain in his eyes—it was all too much.  

But so was the weight of everything that had happened, the scars that hadn’t fully healed.  

“I never stopped loving you either,” you said finally, your voice trembling again. The admission felt heavy, like a weight you had been carrying for far too long, now released.  

“Really?” Spencer asked, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he was afraid to believe it.  

You nodded, swallowing hard. “Well, it’s only been half a year, Spencer. I thought I was going to marry you. That doesn’t just go away.”  

“No,” he agreed, shaking his head slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “No, it doesn’t.”  

For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the quiet of the café wrapping around you like a fragile cocoon. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the raw, unspoken emotions lingering between you.  

Then, Spencer shifted in his seat, his hands fumbling around in his bag as if he were searching for something. You watched him curiously, your heart pounding in your chest as he finally pulled out a small box.  

“What is that?” you choked out, your voice barely audible.  

Spencer held the box in his hand, staring at it for a moment before looking back up at you. “I bought this the day we went to the mall,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “When you asked me if I ever thought about marriage.” He paused, his fingers brushing over the edges of the box as if grounding himself. “When you went into the lingerie store, I went back and bought the ring you were staring at.”  

Your breath hitched, your mind racing. “How did you know?” you whispered, the words barely escaping your lips.  

“I’m a profiler,” he said with a small, almost shy smile. “I know—knew you so well. It wasn’t hard to see which one caught your eye.”  

“It’s—the ring is in there right now?” you asked, your voice trembling.  

Spencer nodded, his expression cautious but hopeful. “Do you want to see it?” he asked tentatively, his fingers tightening slightly around the box.  

You hesitated, your heart pounding in your chest. Then, slowly, you nodded, unable to find the words to say anything else.  

Spencer opened the box, turning it toward you, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe.  

The ring was simple yet elegant—exactly the kind of style you’d always admired. A delicate band of platinum, with a perfectly cut diamond set in the center, surrounded by smaller stones that sparkled as if they held their own light.  

“Yes,” you whispered, barely audible, your eyes never leaving the ring.  

Spencer’s head snapped up, his brows knitting together in confusion. “What?” he rushed out, his voice filled with a mixture of disbelief and hope.  

“Yes,” you said again, louder this time, your gaze shifting from the ring to meet his wide, questioning eyes.  

“Yes… what?” Spencer asked, his voice trembling, as if he couldn’t allow himself to believe what he thought he was hearing.  

You took a shaky breath, your emotions swelling and threatening to overflow. “I’ll marry you,” you said firmly, the words filling the space between you like a beacon.  

Spencer froze, his lips parting slightly as he processed what you’d just said. For a moment, he looked like he might cry, his eyes glistening with unshed tears as his hand tightened around the small box.  

“You will?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, full of awe and disbelief.  

“Yes,” you said again, nodding for emphasis. “I love you, Spencer. I never stopped. And I don’t want to waste any more time pretending like I don’t.”  

Spencer’s hands trembled as he reached for yours, his grip warm and steady despite his obvious emotion. “I—I don’t even know what to say,” he admitted, a nervous, breathless laugh escaping him.  

“You don’t have to say anything,” you replied, your voice soft but certain. “Just… ask me.”  

Spencer blinked, his lips curving into the smallest, most genuine smile you’d seen in years. Taking a deep, steadying breath, he slid out of his chair and knelt on one knee, still holding the box open.  

“Y/N,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I’ll love you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?”  

You nodded, tears streaming down your cheeks as you whispered, “Yes.”  

Spencer slid the ring onto your finger, his hands shaking as he did so, and when he stood, you launched yourself into his arms. He caught you easily, holding you tightly as you both laughed and cried, the weight of years of pain and longing finally lifting.  

In that small café, with the world around you fading into the background, the two of you found your way back to each other—against all odds, against all fears. And for the first time in what felt like forever, everything felt right.  

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

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[sage-nebula]

I've been suicidal many times in my life, and while I could talk about those experiences, given what this post is about, I'd rather talk about something else.

My boss at my previous job was not just my boss. He was my friend, my mentor. I'd met him as a student employee; I still remember the day I went in for my interview, and I asked to speak with "Mr [name]," and the other student employee who answered the door made a face and said, "Hey, Mr [Name], this girl is here to see you" when he let me in because my boss never wanted us to be so formal with him. We were on a first-name basis with him, always. I was nineteen, and super nervous interviewing for my first job that wasn't retail or food service, but he cracked jokes and made me feel welcome. He treated all of us like that.

He was just a really good man. He always stood up for us, every time the university tried to do something that would make our lives harder or less safe. I made a Facebook status once about how I was harassed by a gas station employee near the university, and he commented telling me he'd bring his bat if I needed it. When one of the supervisors ended up overstepping boundaries in a big way with us student employees, he worked overtime to make sure that we would all be safe. When I got promoted to a supervisor position after graduation, and took it upon myself to oversea the yearly Secret Santa tradition for the students (meaning I didn't participate because otherwise I would know who my Secret Santa was), he decided he wasn't letting me go without a present and got me one anyway, despite my insistence that it wasn't necessary.

Unfortunately, he had his own demons to fight. He was going through difficult stuff in his personal life. He told me a lot about it; I was a confidant for him, and at one point he told me I was the only person he could speak to about any of it. More unfortunately still, as much as I wanted to be there for him, I was also struggling to keep my own mental health on track. It was around this time that I was looking into starting antidepressants / anti-anxiety medication for the first time because of how much I was struggling, and I was really focused on getting all of that sorted so that I could stop being tempted by the trains I heard pass by my home every night. Because of this, I didn't check in on him regularly. And so, when his boss called me one morning before my shift was supposed to start and told me that he had taken his own life, I was consumed by more than just shock and grief; I was crushed by guilt.

You see, I blamed myself. Largely because he had told me I was the only one who could confide in, I couldn't help but think that if I had checked in on him more regularly, if I had been there, this wouldn't have happened. I could have prevented it. I could have saved him. He wouldn't have taken his own life, and it wouldn't have been one of his young daughters who found him like that. Not only had I lost a friend of nine years, but I felt like I failed him.

I know now that isn't the case. There were many factors involved, not the least of which being it turns out I wasn't the only one he confided in after all. But it took me a long time to reach that point—a long time until I could honestly say that I didn't feel like it was my fault.

In the midst of depression and suicidal ideation, it can be incredibly hard to see the importance that you have in other people's lives—the place that you have there, that no one else can fill. I know this intimately, because it is something that I struggle with regularly. But even if you can't see it, you have to hold in the forefront of your mind that the importance is there. The impact will be felt. Not only do people care about you, but those closest to you will hold the weight of responsibility for your life on their shoulders for a long time. If nothing else, you don't want that for the people you care about, do you? You don't want to do that to them, do you?

You are not the only one harmed by your suicide. In fact, you're the one who will feel the impact the least. Death doesn't hurt the deceased; it only wounds the living. That's why we have funerals: it's for the sake of those left behind. But no amount of funerals or celebrations of life can assuage the pain left by a suicide. It doesn't help. Notes don't either.

If you're in a place where you're ideating, reconsider. Reach out to someone close to you. Tell them where you are, mentally, and have them come be with you. Believe me when I say that they would much rather sit awake with you all night, than wake up the next morning to a message that you're gone.

Give us the chance to be there for you. It's all we ask.

periodic reminder that your death by your own hand will wreak more havoc on the lives of those you know than you are ever capable of imagining and if you need a sign not to kill yourself this is it. people care more than you know & i am one of them

[felassan]

David Gaider on Kieran, under a cut for length:

"CHARACTERS - DAY TWO: Kieran (Technically this is an addendum to yesterday, but I make the rules here so nyah!) Heading into DAI, I had a bite-sized problem on my hands. I knew Morrigan would feature. I also knew we were importing previous choices. So now I had to contend with: the Old God Baby. Here's the thing about honouring previous game choices, from a design perspective: it's a sucker's game. What many fans picture, when you mention it, is divergent *plot* -- the story changes path based on those major choices. How exciting! But you will never be able to deliver divergent plot. You can deliver flavour differences (usually in the form of divergent dialogue), character swaps (character X appears instead of Y), and extra content (such as a side quest) -- but plot branching, particularly the critical path? It's a question of resources, and there's never enough to go around. "Here Lies the Abyss" in DAI was about as good as it gets, and even that was a far cry from how I originally pictured it (hello last-minute insert of Stroud when a DAO Warden import got cut). The Old God Baby was one of the main choices from DAO -- Morrigan has a baby? With the Archdemon's soul?! Most DAO players who flagged that choice surely expected *monumental* consequences. World-shaking consequences! And we talked about it. We did. There were, like, three different designs of the DAI ending where OGB Kieran could cause complete divergence: new path, cutscenes, the whole nine yards. But it wasn't going to happen. It was a decision from *two games ago* that only a small minority (hello telemetry) would even choose. To the rest, they probably neither knew about it nor cared... so how many resources could you invest? To do what? Set up an even bigger divergence for the NEXT game? The other writers acknowledged my anxiety with a grim nod every time it came up, but they had no solutions. Finally, I realized there WAS a solution, and that was changing how I thought about the choice: don't make it about Kieran. The players don't know him, never have. Make it about Morrigan. Thus began a feverish three days where I wrote probably the most complicated scene of my career: Morrigan's reckoning with Flemeth in DAI and the fallout after. Three different versions (OGB Kieran, non-OGB Kieran, and no Kieran), each with branching for other choices (like the Well of Sorrows). I did it all at once. There was no other way to wrap my head around the complexity of it. It was also a tough sell to the team, considering the amount of cinematics work, but they agreed we had to do *something*. And still it felt... underwhelming, insofar as divergence goes. But it was also good. I remember when I first spoke with Claudia, about how this was Morrigan's story. This was about how motherhood had changed her, how she'd grown up. Claudia got a bit teary-eyed. It was a journey she was familiar with, she said. Her first son, Odin, had been born in 2005 not long after DAO came out. And, man, she killed with that performance! Kate, too, but I'll get to her later. Claudia dug down, and that scene where Morrigan tells Flemeth she'll never be the mother Flemeth was to her? That came from someplace very raw. It was devastating to witness in the booth. There were tears all around. Not long after, Claudia called and asked if maybe - just maybe - Odin could play Kieran? He was a bit young (not yet 5, then), but it felt... right? We agreed. Claudia was in the booth, gently coaching him through his lines, and I think that was the first moment I felt I'd done the right thing."

[source thread]

User: "Do you find it an odd choice that Kieran hasn’t been mentioned at all in Veilguard?" David Gaider: "If there’s less reactivity in DATV, I’m unsurprised. Continuing choice from up to 3 games earlier is… unsupportable. Yet DA established the expectation they would so… damned if you do, damned if you don’t?" [source]

User: "EA is one of the biggest game companies ever. I don't think more complex diverging plots are impossible." David Gaider: "Well, if only more writing was all it took. Sadly, it's also cinematics. Art time for all those reappearing characters you probably want to look *just* right. And let's not forget we have to test all those permutations! So I don't disagree with you in spirit, but I don't think it's the answer here." [source]

User: "is there a possibility of future kieran appearances in a book or something similar outside of the games?" David Gaider: "I'd have no way of knowing that." [source]

User: "I’m actually shocked so little people chose the dark ritual. That was basically the main reason Flemeth sent Morrigan with the wardens, no?" David Gaider: "The impression you get of what "most" players do - in almost any game, not just DA - is very different if you're online a lot. Consider here that it's not just the % of DAO players who chose the Dark Ritual, it's the % of DAI players WHO PLAYED DAO and cared to import that choice 5 years later." [source]

User: "Is there anything you wish you had done differently, in hindsight?" David Gaider: "Probably just to not ever do importing choices between games in the first place." [source]

User: "Kieran only existed in my DAI state b/c Morrigan as a mother really appealed to me. I wasn't expecting to be devastated by those scenes 😭 I guess when we complain about lack of consequences from prev choices in DAV we must also ask how MUCH are we willing to pay for those branches to exist?" David Gaider: "That's indeed it. Content directed towards reactivity would have to come from somewhere else. So essentially a shorter game overall for the sake of those hardcore fans who'd import - who would, I imagine, REALLY enjoy that... but it's a tough cost/benefit analysis to make." [source]

User: "mr gaider im gonna keep it real with you if i had to choose between my hof and hawke i would've simply passed away" David Gaider: "Right? That was the ENTIRE idea! I was very excited, and for a while it seemed possible." [source]

User: "This has been a very interesting read but I have to ask why they decided to use Stroud instead of the HoF" David Gaider: "1) Complexity of providing means for a player to build a Warden (which they did in DATV for the Inquisitor). Also spoiled the surprise. 2) We’d have needed to give the Warden a voice. Add these to the cost and it was deemed not worth it." [source]

User: "Genuine question, not a critique - but what made the OGB decision one that couldn't be handwaved as canon no matter what was or wasn't chosen? Leliana and Flemeth being around no matter what come to mind. Was OGB simultaneously too major and too minor of a decision?" David Gaider: "Flemeth and Leliana being alive were easily explainable, and we knew we were doing it even back then. Circumventing the Dark Ritual… that would be too cheap. We did talk about it, but it just felt too dishonest. Too high a price for what we’d get in return." [source]

David Gaider: "If I’d known the Well of Sorrows would only see reactivity in the confrontation with Flemeth, I’d probably have made a much bigger deal of it." [source]

David Gaider: "We could maybe have gotten past the need to "reconstruct" the Warden, much like the Inquisitor was reconstructed in DATV (so I understand), but the need to give the Warden a voice was the final nail. Too potentially disappointing for the very people who'd be excited about it, aside from the cost." [source]

[giannaln4]

Sorry Won't Fix This

lando norris x fem reader

summary: Lando makes the biggest mistake of his life, bigger than any apology, and you both hoped there was a way to fix it. Unfortunately, you both wished it at different times. (5.5k words)

warnings: angst, cheating, mentions of sex, manipulation, mede up characters, use of Y/N

a/n: I FINALLY WROTE MORE ANGST! This is a long one and I held nothing back. I really did try to make it as hurtful and dramatic as possible and ngl I was inspired by 'Don't worry darling' for a tiny part of this (you'll know when you read it) but anyway, this one does NOT have a happy ending so please let me know what you think!

Check out the original request here!

↺ back to navigation — send me a request!

You had a terrible feeling, but you were too scared to look into it, terrified you would be right. 

Truth is, you started feeling like that just a few weeks ago, when you went back to Lando’s apartment to surprise him with lunch and found an empty room and the bed unmade from somebody sleeping on it. Any other day that would’ve been completely normal, but you had stayed with him the night before and made the bed as soon as you both got up to get ready for your separate plans for the day, leaving a perfectly made bed to come back to. 

Before that day, you would’ve never in a million years thought that Lando would cheat on you. He had always been so loving and caring, even before you started dating, and once you officially became a thing, he would constantly remind you how much he loved you, and on special days he was the most romantic person ever, and you always thought that you would spend the rest of your life with him, but now... you didn’t want to think about it, but you couldn’t bury the thought of him with someone else after it crossed your mind briefly while looking at the messy bed.

Later that night you asked him about it, trying hard not to sound like you were accusing him of something, but his excuse just made you feel worse, your suspicions growing.

“What do you mean?” He asked as he inspected his bed, unsure of what was wrong with it. 

“Well, you know, I made the bed this morning before we left, remember?”

“Oh, uh- yeah, I came back to- to take a nap,” he stuttered, not even looking at you. 

But it kept happening, a few more times.

Things started to change after that; he cancelled the plans you made for when he came back home, he suddenly was too busy every day and your presence might be a distraction for all the things he had to get done for the next race, he was so tired at night he didn’t have the energy for anything, and he even asked you to go back to sleep in your own apartment, claiming he just needed to sleep on his own to be comfortable, even though you were used to sleeping together.

Long story short, he was distant; he was never around anymore, and even when he was, you felt like you were missing him. He was just... different, and you were beating herself up wondering what had changed.

He, on the other hand, didn’t miss you, seeing he didn’t make an effort anymore and he could go days without answering a text or returning a call, ​​and it was not because you took a long time to reply; you would always respond in a heartbeat if it was him. If it weren’t for all the times you visited him at his apartment when a news outlet brought up that he was back in Monaco to make sure he was doing okay, you wouldn’t talk to each other at all.

But today you were feeling hopeful. It was your anniversary, and you had a date night planned — a date he didn’t cancel, so you took the entire afternoon to do your nails, your hair, and pick a beautiful dress to wear, his favourite dress. Your makeup took a while, but you still managed to be ready on time for the wonderful night you had ahead, so you made your way to him, your palms sweating when you knocked on the door.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Was the first thing he asked, wiping her smile off of her face.

“I thought we would go out tonight,” you replied, looking down at your hands to hide your clear disappointment.

“Oh- I guess I forgot to tell you but I remembered I have an important meeting tomorrow morning, so I’m not gonna make it." The door was barely open, and he was standing where the crack was, blocking his apartment as he held the door with a strong grip.

“Okay,” your voice was so faint you barely heard it yourself. “Do you need anything? I could stay here for a couple of hours.”

“No, don’t worry about it. I think it’s better if you leave.”

Tears pricked your eyes, swallowing the small lump forming in your throat. “Why?”

“Well, I’m busy with a few things. You know, I have a really early day tomorrow, and you can’t really help me with a McLaren meeting, can you?”

You shook your head slowly “I guess I’m leaving then.”

The tears you had been holding started to fall as soon as you turned around; you could feel your mascara clumping on your eyelashes and forming black streaks down your cheeks, ruining the contour and highlight you applied in hopes of impressing your boyfriend. You ran back to your car and let it all out once you closed the door. You really thought things would be different tonight, but you were wrong.

You started driving to your best friend’s house, desperate to vent about how terrible your relationship was going since you had been keeping a secret from everyone; the last thing you needed was the media to get in the middle of this. 

“Oh my god, Y/N. Are you okay?” Mia asked you when she saw the mascara tears.

You shook your head as you stepped inside, small whimpers leaving your lips as you tried to stop the crying.

“What happened?” She took your hand and guided you to the couch.

“Lando.” 

“What about Lando?”

“I think he’s cheating on me." You had never said that out loud, and saying it broke your heart even more. “I wish I was crazy, but the signs... I know he is.”

“I’m not trying to defend him or anything, but what makes you think that?”

“Everything, Mia. He has been acting so... distant. Ever since-” You stopped yourself. You never told anyone your relationship with Lando wasn’t doing so well, making up excuses to cover his. You just wanted to hold on to everyone else’s idea of you two, thinking you were the perfect couple.

“What? Have you guys been fighting?”

You took a deep breath before saying, “Remember the last time I stayed over at his apartment?” She nodded in response, “Well, later that day I went back to surprise him with lunch, but he wasn’t there and the bed was a complete mess, and you know I always make the bed when I wake up. He said he went back to take a nap, but he was supposed to be with Carlos all morning, and it didn’t make sense he had time to come back, take a nap, and then leave again, so I asked Carlos, and they didn’t meet at all that day. Is that insane?”

"No, Y/N, of course not.” Mia didn’t know what to say; she wanted to comfort you but she didn’t know how. “And he’s been acting weird since then?”

You nodded, wiping your tears away. “Yeah, he’s been pushing me away since that day. Telling me he doesn’t have time because he’s so busy with the season, which I understand, but not even answering a couple of texts? And cancelling every date we had planned?”

“Is that what happened today? I thought it was your anniversary.”

“It is.” You were nibbling on your lip profusely, looking up so tears would stop falling. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

“Have you told him how you feel?” You shook your head again; you hated confrontation, and you were hoping you didn’t have to do that. “I think you should go talk to him.”

“Right now?”

“If not now, then when? You say you’ve been feeling like something’s off for a while, but you haven’t said anything to him.”

“I don’t know Mia-”

“If he is cheating on you then you need to break up with him, you don’t deserve to be in that situation, and you deserve to know the truth.”

You inhaled as you considered what Mia just said. She was right, but to be completely honest, you weren’t ready yet. “I really want to know, but I can't.”

“Why not?”

“Because what if he is?” Tears started rolling down your face again, Mia hugging you tight as soon as it happened. “I love him, and... I just want things to go back to normal.”

“I know you do, but believe me, it’s better if you know.”

You stayed there for a while, but ultimately decided to go talk to him, but you needed to put yourself back together before confronting him. Mia helped you to wash your face and fix your hair, comforting you and offering to stay with you once the two of you were done talking. You accepted; you didn’t want to be alone, and Anne, your flatmate, had been going out of town a lot recently, so your apartment was empty, and you knew it’d be a long night.

Once you felt better and ready to talk to him, Mia drove you to his place as you repeated in your head everything you wanted to tell him. You knocked loudly and didn’t stop until he opened. He looked annoyed, and you stormed inside as soon as he opened the door.

“What are you doing?”

“We need to talk.”

“About what?” 

You blinked at him twice. Did he not think you needed to talk? “About us, Lando. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Okay, now you were mad. “Lando, you have been ignoring me for days, and I understand if you’re busy, but it doesn’t explain you pushing me away at all times.”

“I’m sorry if you feel that way.”

There was a moment of silence, both of you staring at each other as you tried to remember the questions you were supposed to ask, but none of them seemed to make sense now that you were standing in front of him “That’s all you’re gonna say?”

“What do you want me to say?” 

“How about you tell me exactly what’s going on?”

You were both raising your voices, but Lando especially. “I told you already, I’ve been busy with the season-”

“I could’ve stayed here with you or gone with you to races if that meant spending more time together, like we have done before.”

“But why would you want to do that?”

“To keep you company, maybe?” 

“But all you do is stand around while I do my job.”

“Lando, do you know how many weeks I’ve spent away from home just so we can be together? And you don’t even care anymore, you didn’t even care to say thank you.”

“I never asked you to come,” he mumbled.

You scoffed before shaking your head. “I wanted to, you know I worry about you when you stress yourself out about a race, you tend to overwork yourself-”

“I. Never. Asked. You. To. Come." He interrupted you, his tone punctuated with each word. “I would’ve been fine without you, I don’t need you in my hair at all times." His eyes hardened, his mouth opening to speak again. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“I just- I’m your girlfriend, I guess I thought you liked to be with me.”

“I do, but you don’t have to be so clingy all the time.”

You didn’t say anything, hoping you heard it wrong or that he’d apologise, but he didn't. “What?”

“You know, we do everything together and-”

“No, we used to do things together, not everything." You corrected him.

He took a deep breath, as if he was done dealing with you. “Right. Look, I’m tired, we can talk tomorrow.”

You nodded, holding back the tears as you walked towards the door. “Happy anniversary,” you said before slamming it closed and running back to Mia’s car.

Lando sat on his couch with his head between his hands for a moment. How could he forget? He took a deep breath as he got up, looking for a ribbon and a gift he bought for you who knows how long ago.

He made his way to Mia’s flat; he assumed you would be there, and your car parked outside confirmed his suspicions, so he knocked on the door a couple of times before saying, “Baby, I’m sorry. I was caught up in all the things I have to do before leaving, and I didn’t realise what day it was." But he got no response. “Y/N please, I know you’re here. Will you please talk to me?”

“Go away, Lando.” Mia was the one to yell, making Lando realise he would not be able to fix it, not tonight anyway. 

“Okay, I’m leaving this here. I- I love you.”

You called in sick for your job the next day, your sore eyes and pounding headache being the only things you could think about. Well, that and Lando.

You were staring at the gift he bought for your one-year anniversary — what you were supposed to celebrate the day before. It was beautiful, and you couldn’t believe he remembered you mentioning it on one of your first dates ever, but it was the letter inside that broke your heart. It looked... unfinished, like he didn’t even care enough to give it a proper ending, so you were wondering how long ago he stopped working on it.

The days after that were rough, long nights of wondering what you could have possibly done wrong, but even then you didn’t talk to him. He tried to, a couple of times, but you needed a little bit of time.

A couple of weeks went by, and you found yourself alone at your apartment, catching up on the work you missed for calling in sick so many times.

It was your birthday, and Mia insisted a million times you go out and celebrate, clear your head, and forget about Lando once in for all, but somehow it felt wrong; you had made plans with Lando a few months back to bring your family to a race so they could finally meet him, but obviously that wasn’t happening anymore, so what was the point of celebrating? You just needed to focus and get things done anyway.

You were thankful that Mia had been for you through it all; you really were, but sometimes crying alone did more for you than having someone tell you ‘everything's gonna be okay.' You were tired of hearing that.

Hours later, you found yourself with a cup of coffee to finally catch up on the last project. It wasn’t really that much of a workload, and you didn’t need to stay up all night to do that, but you were going to anyway. Perhaps you just wanted to be productive, or maybe that was you trying to occupy your mind from the possibility of your boyfriend cheating on you.

You looked at the clock; it was 11:30 PM. You sighed, typing away whatever you were supposed to on your laptop, your eyes sore from staring at it for too long, when a text message interrupted you.

Unknown [Attachment: 1 photo]

Unknown: I heard they have been at it for a while.

That text message induced such a great shock on your tired, worn-out body, tears falling down your face as soon as you read it. You didn’t want to open it as you were sure of what this was about, but your curiosity got the best of you.

Tapping on the notification, you prepared yourself mentally to confirm your terrible suspicions. And they were confirmed.

Your vision was blurry from the tears, but you were able to see Lando standing next to his new Ferrari, and he was with someone else, except you couldn’t see who it was, the big jacket and a beanie protecting her identity. He was smiling down at her, eyes full of... love? Those green eyes you thought he reserved for you only, but clearly you were wrong. His big hands were around her waist as hers went around his neck, and his lips were stained with lipstick.

You broke down crying, curled up on your bed as you wore one of Lando’s hoodies that still smelt like him. You now knew what the truth was, but you didn’t want to accept it. What happened to you two? When did he stop loving you?

It was like your heart was ripped from your chest; all that time you spent together down the drain like it was nothing, like it all meant nothing to him.

You didn’t know for how long you cried the night before, but it was now 1 PM and you were just waking up, so you probably cried for hours. There was nothing left you could do to save your relationship, so you made up your mind to break up with him as soon as he came back from the American triple header.

Y/N: We need to talk, just let me know when you’re here.

The message was left unanswered, as usual. You rolled your eyes and put your phone down, returning to your video call with Mia.

“Do you know who that is?”

“No, sorry.” 

You sighed as you sipped your hot coffee “What about the number? Do you know who sent the picture?”

“What’s the number? Maybe I can ask around to see if any of my friends know.”

You sent her the phone number, along with the picture of Lando and the other girl. “Thanks. Don’t show anyone that picture thought. I’m already embarrassed as it is.”

“Embarrassed? Y/N, he should be the embarrassed one, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Maybe I did-”

“No, stop doing that to yourself. We both know it’s not your fault.”

You nodded. “I can’t help it. I just don’t understand.”

“Understand what?”

“Was I not enough? Why did he need to find someone else?”

Mia hated to see you going through that, how you felt like you were not enough or that it all ended because of you, and she hated Lando for causing all of that. “I know it’s hard right now, but I promise you’ll understand that none of this is your fault. Y/N you’re amazing, and he’s an idiot for not realising.”

Talking to her made you feel better, but all those terrible emotions came back whenever you looked at the picture again, a million questions invading your mind. How long has he been doing this? Who is she? Does he still love you? What did you do wrong?

A couple of days later, Lando finally replied to your text.

Lando: Just got back. I’m in my apartment

Your heart sank at the notification; you didn’t want to talk to him; you didn’t want things to be over. There was still a part of you that hoped everything was just a misunderstanding, hoping he wasn’t cheating on you and she was just a friend. But deep down you knew the truth, and the possibility of it being a mix-up was down to zero, and after he made it clear that he didn’t want to be in a relationship with you anymore, you decided to fulfil his wishes.

It was a long drive to his home; it felt longer than usual, but maybe you were just dreading the conversation you knew was about to happen.

You took a deep breath before knocking on the door, Lando opening it almost right away.

"Hey,” he said faintly, worried he got caught.

“Hi.” You entered the apartment you once thought you would move into and looked around. You had been there a million times, and so many of those times were special little moments you shared together, but right now it felt like you were disconnected from the space. “How was the triple header?”

“Not great- I don’t know. It was messy, I guess." He tried to give you a smile but stopped himself when he noticed your stare full of fury. “What did you want to talk about?”

Seriously? “I’m breaking up with you." Your voice was weak, but you did not dare let a tear slip past your waterline; he didn’t deserve to see you cry. 

“What?” The shock in his eyes looked so real that you almost believed him “Why?”

“Did you really just ask that?”

“So that’s it? We’re over?”

“Lando, come on, we’ve been over for a while." You stepped closer to him, pain and anger written all over your face as the tears struggled to stay on your eyes. “We didn’t even feel like a couple anymore. Lando, you forgot our anniversary, and that day you made it clear you wanted nothing to do with me. And to think I planned a beautiful night for us and bought you a great gift. Do you have any idea how stupid I felt?” 

“I didn’t know you were feeling like that.”

“Of course not, when have you ever listened to me anyway?”

Lando rolled his eyes “Okay, I understand, but we don’t have to break up, I already explained what happened that day, I was busy and completely lost track of time.”

“And I guess she doesn’t have anything to do with this?” You showed him the picture, his demeanour changing immediately.

“Y/N, I- I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry." His eyes and his voice softened as he tried to reach for you, but you turned around and wiped the tears that managed to leave your eyes, a million questions flooding your mind again.

“So it’s true." You were just confirming to yourself what you already knew. Anger and pain washed over your body. Why her? Why her when you’ve been nothing but perfect to the man you loved the most?

“Baby, I can explain.” 

You turned around to face him again “Who is she?” He shook his head, his eyes begging you not to make him say it while yours watered, “Who is she?” You repeated.

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Why? Cause I might find out you’re cheating?”

A few tears started to roll down his face, his hands desperate to hold yours. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Cause you’re gonna hate me even more." You stared at him, even more tears falling as you tried to think who the girl could be. 

“Did you two- did you sleep with her?” His nod was barely perceptible; if you didn’t already know the answer, you would’ve missed it. Maybe he was right; maybe it’d be better if you didn’t know. 

“I’m sorry, baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Stop it.”

“I know I fucked up, but she doesn’t mean anything to me, I swear.”

“Shut up, Lando. I just… I don’t understand.”

“Let me explain-”

“And I don’t care how many times you apologise, how do you expect me to forgive you?” You took a couple of steps back, trying to figure out what caused him to do such a thing. “Even if we stayed together and got married and started a family, how can I ever look at you and not think about that?”

"Baby, I want all of that, I want the rest of my life with you, like we talked.”

“That was before you ruined everything.”

“I know what i did is wrong-”

“Wrong?”

“But we can work this out.”

“What? No, Lando, stop.”

“Just give me another chance, please.”

“Is that why you've been so distant, huh? Was she here on our anniversary?” Lando didn’t say anything, and the flashes from Lnado’s knuckles turning white from holding the door closed that night creeped your mind. Your heart ached so much that every time you breathed deeply, it was scorching you to the core “How could you do that?”

“I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologising.”

“You know I didn’t mean it.”

“Just stop… god.”

“Y/N just hear me out, I swear it only happened once.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I know that’s not true. Do you know how many times I came to an unmade bed? And how many excuses you made?” He stayed silent. “I don’t care how many times it happened, you still did it and nothing is gonna change that.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been hurt before, right? What if I was the one cheating? Would you just forget it ever happened and come back to me?” Once again, he didn’t say anything. “No. Of course you wouldn’t. Lando, how could I ever forget what you did? Or everything you said to me when we were fighting, and the fact that you lied and- and cheated-”

“But you came all the way here.”

“Because I care, and you... you never cared, you never tried-”

“I care, I care so much. Baby, please, you have to believe me." He tried to reach out to you, but you pushed his hand away.

"No, you don’t, and if I’m here, it’s because I know after this we’ll never see each other again, we’ll never talk again and this just has to end.”

“But I don’t want it to end.”

“Well, you ended it when you cheated on me.”

He stared at you for a moment before continuing. “But… I want you, she didn’t mean anything to  me." He approached you again, his hope growing a little when you didn’t stop him. He put a strand of hair behind your ear, softly brushing your cheek. “I know I fucked up but I can’t go on without you, I just can't.”

“Well you have, countless times while I was left in the dark wondering if I had done something wrong, crying myself to sleep when I couldn’t get a hold of you, Lando, and in the meantime you were with her.”

“I’m sorry-”

“And you have the nerve to say all that shit to me, acting like I was suffocating you when in reality I was trying to save us!” You pushed him away.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Y/N, I’m sorry, please let’s talk about it.”

“Fine, let’s talk about it. Was she worth it?” He shook his head, ready to leave his pride behind as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed one of your hands. “What are you doing? Stop.”

“I promise it was an accident, it won’t happen again.”

“An accident? Lando, are you hearing yourself right now?”

“Please, don’t let me go." The grip on your hand tightened, pulling you closer to him.

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone else, I want you, Y/N”

“You don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“But everything I said... I meant it, I love you Y/N and every second we’ve been together has meant everything to me. Baby, you have to understand.”

“Liar.”

“I’m not lying, you know I’m not." You pushed his hand away, rolling your eyes when another tear rolled down his face. “I know I don’t deserve it but please... just one more chance and I can fix this.”

“Give you a chance? I gave you a chance when I believed your excuses, when I forgave you for cancelling every date we had planned, when I tried to understand why you locked me out, and when I almost forgave you for forgetting our anniversary, I gave you so many fucking chances!”

“But I swear it wasn’t like that, she meant nothing.”

“You’re unbelievable… god, what are you saying?”

“Just think about how great we are together,” he said, trying to hold your torso, but once again you stopped him. 

“Lando, stop that.”

“We’re a great team, aren’t we? We understand each other so well, we know each other better than anyone else, god, I’ll do anything, I swear.”

“No, it’s not gonna work.”

“Yes it will, and I’ll make sure of that.”

“No.” You were having a hard time blocking out how much love you still had for him, but you weren’t forgiving him; there was no way.

“I swear I don’t want anyone else." He held your hands and started kissing them, his lips giving you a sense of home that you missed. "Y/N, please, I love you.” 

You nodded weakly as you started crying again.

“You know I love you and I would do anything for you." He continued kissing you, a few tears falling on your hands. “Do you still love me?”

“I love you... Lan-” You released one of your hands from his grip, squeezing your eyes shut and covering your face.

“See? It will work, we will make it work." You shook your head; you were feeling stupid for almost falling for that. "Baby, look at me, it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

A moment of silence fell into the room as you collected your thoughts again, and he just looked at you hopeful that he could get you back. “Who is she?” You dared to repeat the question as you looked at him again.

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds, his voice barely above a whisper when he finally answered. "Annie.”

Annie, your flatmate Annie. She had never met Lando before you, and she wasn’t interested in who he was when you first told her you started dating him, so you were the reason they knew each other for all those times he picked you up from your place, and even then you never considered them to be friends; they barely exchanged any words when they ran into each other. You felt betrayed on a whole new level, not only by Lando but by her too. You had lived with her for so long, literally since the day you moved to Monaco, so you thought of her as one of your closest friends; how could she do that? And these past weeks, when she had been mourning your relationship with Lando, she was there the whole time, and she knew exactly what was happening.

“How long?”

You were getting annoyed at how long it was taking him to answer your simple questions. “The day we went to meet my parents... I drove to your apartment to pick you up, but you weren’t there yet.”

“So you did it at my place?” It wasn’t really a question, and you felt even more disgusted at the thought of them in your own home.

“It was one moment of weakness.”

“One moment of weakness?” He nodded, his hands now holding on to your hips. “But it didn't stop there, did it?”

“I’m sorry.”

You swiped the tears away as you prepared to ask the question you had been asking yourself for weeks. “What does she give you that I can't?”

Lando shook his head quickly. “Nothing, you’re everything I could ever ask for.”

“Then why did you do that?”

He didn’t have an answer; he didn’t really know how it happened or why it kept going, but he couldn’t deny he was enjoying it before he got caught. “I don’t know." He whispered.

“Do you love her?”

“No, of course not. I love you." He was holding you tighter, convinced that if he held you long enough, you would want to stay.

“Oh my god, I’m so stupid.”

“You know it didn’t mean anything, it was a mistake-”

“Get your hands off me, I’m leaving,” you said as you tried to free yourself.

“Baby, please don’t leave, you have to hear me out.”

“Lando, let go. I don’t wanna be here." Your words struggled to come out from how much you were crying. 

“Please don’t, I don’t wanna let you go." He looked up at you, his eyes begging for forgiveness. “Let’s just talk about it, yeah? Let me explain.”

“Save it, Lando, it’s over.” 

“I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. This is obviously my fault, so I’ll do whatever it takes to get you to stay, just please, one more chance is all I’m asking for.” You finally freed yourself, and your only goal was to go back to your apartment and cry all your pain away. You turned around and headed to the door; his hand tried to come to stop you, but you flinched away. You couldn’t bear to hear another word from him. "Baby, please, I love you.”

You turned around to face him one last time, spotting Lando still on his knees in the middle of his living room. “So you’ve said, but how can you hurt someone you claim to love so much?” He was about to say something, but you didn’t wanna hear it. “There’s nothing you can do to get me to stay, you threw everything away.”

“I know, my love, but-”

“I’m gonna leave and you’re gonna stay here, just… leave me alone, I don’t ever wanna see you again.”

You exited the room, leaving Lando alone and a complete mess. He regretted what he did, and he wanted to think that if you would just give him a chance to explain himself, you’d forgive him. But he knew that would never be the case and that his mistake was bigger than any apology; you were right to leave him.

He stared at the door for too long, taking in every emotion he was feeling: remorse, anger, pain, agony... he just felt like life was being sucked out of his body because he ruined the most important part of it, and there’s no one to blame but himself.

[chleem]

Rest of my life

One shot: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: babysitting drew’s niece leads to the realization that you’re the one for him.  

Genre: established relationship, fluff

Warnings: so sweet u get cavities

⋆.˚ please dont copy my work, if inspired please tag me

⋆.˚ this is entirely fictional, if uncomfortable then don't read

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“Which girl did you knock up?” 

Is the first thing you say upon entering Drew’s apartment, your eyes landing on Drew, who has a baby securely strapped against his stomach in a white carrier, the baby looking over at you with doe eyes. 

Drew freezes for a second, then shakes his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he sets a large bag down on the kitchen table. "Oh, y’know, some girl I met on set."

There’s a reason why you and Drew are perfect for each other; the playful banter comes so naturally between you two that it feels like breathing, like there’s no awkwardness in this situation; finding Drew with a baby you’ve never seen before. 

Although, this baby looks oddly familiar. 

“Remember Lils?” Drew asks, as you walk over to him, setting your own bag on the table as well. 

Your eyes light up at the name, recalling the times Drew would show you pictures of his niece. “Oh hi,” you immediately pitch your voice higher, making it soft and playful. The baby, with her big, curious eyes, reaches out her tiny hand, and before you even know it, she’s grabbing onto your finger. 

Her little grip is surprisingly strong, and you can’t help but smile at how adorable she is. “She grew so big,” you comment, looking up at Drew. 

He’s got a soft smile on his lips. “I’know, and I got her for the whole day.”

Your raise an eyebrow playfully at him, “I thought we’re going to the beach today.”

“Yeah, we are,” he emphasizes on that word, his eyes bouncing back between him and Lil. 

Lil lets go of your hand, so you cross your arms at Drew. You roll your eyes, yet the grin on your face gives away your amusement. “Fine. I won’t rob you of your uncle-niece time.”

A chuckle escapes Drew’s lips, and he brings you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist. “Lil says it’s okay for you to be there,” his voice, low and playful, as he plants a kiss on your jaw. “Third wheel, you okay with that?”

“Delightful,” you try to sound annoyed at that idea, but really, you looked forward to it. 

Originally, it was a beach date with Drew, but his sister must’ve had some emergency, leading to the sudden babysit. You had no idea that it was going to turn out like this, but you don’t mind. 

Besides, it gives you a chance to see what uncle Drew is like. 

“Aww, don’t be jealous,” he teases, rubbing your elbow, a habit he’s grown into since knowing you. 

“I could never compete with this girl,” you smile down at Lil, whose lips slowly forms an O. You coo at her, playing with her little adorable fingers.

Drew glances down at his watch, snapping you out of the little world you’ve absorbed yourself with Lil in only a few seconds. “Hotdog stand might close. Let’s go.”

“I’m trying the taco one!” You happily chirp, remembering how the last time you went there, a long argument between the two of you resulted in you getting the pizza flavored hot dog. 

“Alright, alright,” Drew assures, taking both of the bags off the table. 

You make an attempt to grab at least one bag from him, but he declines, carrying it all the way to the car himself. 

——

Unknowingly, the whole day at the beach has passed. 

Drew had been so focused on spending time with his niece, he didn’t even notice the way the sky changed. One moment, they were splashing in the shallow waves, building sandcastles, the next, the sun was dipping low.

He walks back to the beach with hotdogs in his hands; buying the snacks now since the crowd has disappeared. 

He replays scenes of today in his mind, thinking about how easy it’s been today. How effortless it felt, spending time with you and Lil. He’d watched you interact with his niece all afternoon—how you encouraged her to explore the sand, showing her the little crabs skittering along the shoreline etc. 

And now, as he makes his way back, he can’t shake the image of you laughing with Lil, your face lighting up when the baby made a funny sound or reached out for you.

He reaches the blanket that the two of you had spread out earlier on the sand, and he glances over your shoulder, expecting to see you playing with Lil. 

Instead, he freezes. 

There you are, holding his niece in your arms. Lil’s fast asleep, her little body relaxed against your chest. 

Drew’s first thought is how cute his niece is. 

His eyes then drift over to you; And that’s when it hits him.

The realization of this moment, the quiet way you’re holding his baby niece, strikes him. His heart skips a beat as he watches you, a quiet warmth flooding his chest. 

The sight of you with her, so natural, so right, feels more profound than anything he expected.

What is this feeling? He thinks.

He tries to shake it off. It’s not just about Lil. It’s about you, the way you make everything feel so simple, so easy. He never expected to see you like this, to see you so gentle, so present.

Is this what love feels like? He doesn’t know. But in that moment, staring at the two of you, something in him clicks. He doesn’t have a name for it yet, but it’s there—this pull, this feeling that maybe, just maybe, everything he thought he wanted was right here in front of him.

“Drew?” 

Your voice is gentle and soft as you call out for him, afraid to wake the baby up. 

Your gaze meets his, and for a second, the world feels smaller. His heart skips again, mind racing around as he scrambles for words in his mind. 

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out, sitting down beside you. He’s careful with his movements, even when handing you your hotdog to your free hand. His lips curl into a soft smile,  almost shy, “she’s out cold, huh?”

He watches as you completely ignore his words, biting down on the hotdog you’ve been waiting for for the whole day. His smile grows; his mind reminded of how easy it is to be around you. It’s not that you’ve said much or done anything extraordinary—just the way you seem to savor the simple things, like food, time spent together—it draws him in every time.

“Good?” Drew asks, teasing hinted in his voice, yet his eyes soften as he waits for your answer. 

“Strange. The pizza flavor’s better,” you comment through chews. 

Laughter erupts in his chest, making you look confusingly at him. You swallow, looking at him with doe eyes. “Let me take her,” he says, his hands reaching for his niece. 

You let him, mainly because of how hungry you are. The exchange is smooth; he now holds Lil in his arms, and you hold onto the two hotdogs, eating away one of them. 

“Y/n?”

You quickly finish the bite, humming at Drew continue talking. He’s looking at you with a soft gaze, almost smitten. He calls for your name, but doesn’t say anything. 

“You want a bite?” You ask, filling in the silence. 

Drew chuckles, and with his free hand, he pulls you by the back of your neck closer to him. He kisses you, slow and soft. You relax under his touch, letting the warm and bubbly feeling flow through you. 

You eventually pull away, needing to catch your breath. Drew’s lips are apart as he stares at you; the look in his eyes making it hard to steady your heartbeat. 

For seconds that felt like minutes, silence lingers between you two, eyes locked into each others’ as if any move, would disturb the calmness of this moment. 

Well, the moment is disturbed, because the smell of poop enters the air, as well as the sound of crying. 

Lil's awake, and in a stinky emergency.

You’re the first to pull away, chuckling as you glance down at Lil. “Shit.”

“Yup,” he purses his lips. You get ready to put the hotdogs down, wanting to help change her diapers, when Drew stops you. “I’ll do it.”

“Do I even have the appetite anymore?” You joke, the smile reappearing on Drew’s lips after hearing that. 

“When do you not?” He comments, setting Lil down and reaching for the diaper bag. 

You hit his arm playfully again, laughter coming out of you. You turn and look out onto the ocean waves, putting the hotdogs down to the side.

This moment right here? You want to remember it always. Remember this beach, this adorable little baby, this hotdog (just important as everything else), and this man, that you’ve found yourself to rely on more than you should. 

You hope Drew feels the same way too; that this moment right now, will forever be engraved in your heart. 

Little did you know; it's already engraved in his, as the moment he fell in love with you. 

The moment he realized, that you’re who he wants for the rest of his life. 

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

word count: 1.5k

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: my first time writing something of pure fluff...hope you enjoyed reading! i was in the mode for something sweet, craving a bf real bad T_T

and yes, im a creep that stalked his sister's ig to find the name of his niece. im sorry im sorry im sorry

[seiwas]

hihi sel!! for your blurb game... hawks + nose + slow burn

thanks for sending this prompt bitti!! 💗

hawks + nose + slow burn

contains: non-canon au, commercial model!hawks, childhood best friends to lovers, pining, hawks gets drunk, reader dates a guy at some point, kinda cliche but i am a sucker for that

keigo's nose twitches when he lies.

it's a tell you've known well all your life.

when he was 5, he used to climb up a tree to practice how to "fly". it was really just him trying to parachute down using his bedsheets, but you watched every attempt―cheered him on whether it was a success or failure.

and when his mother's voice echoed down the park, you watched as he answered, "no," when she asked if he was trying to launch himself up to the sky.

you first noticed it then, the delayed reaction a few seconds after he had just covered up the truth: his nose twitched twice, a quick crinkling of his nose bridge. you didn't think much of it until it happened the second, third, and fourth time.

at first, you'd felt betrayed, being pulled by your ankles down into the swimming pool when he promised you he wouldn't. at 10 years old, you held these things like an oath―

"i promise! won't even go near you. see?" he swims away from the ledge you remain hesitant of approaching, hands raised up in surrender as he laughs.

―compelling; believable. trustworthy. water weighs down his otherwise bird's nest hair, taming it slack against his forehead. with his eyes forming into crescents when he smiles, he looks like the very image of a good kid down the block.

you get better at spotting it as you grow up together, and soon enough, you realize, it suits keigo to be a liar. he's charming above all, drips down sweet words like honey to anyone gullible enough to believe it. they're empty promises most of the time, but a lot of people fall for it, you notice. you included.

"i’m not interested anyway," he tells you at 18, right after graduation. one of the girls in your class was brave enough to confess to him and you’re curious how he feels about it, if anything.

being keigo's longest and arguably even best friend means that you know him better than anyone else. you were there when he was ugly, puberty catching up to him slowly. you’ve witnessed him just woken up, groggy from a full night of studying, because despite the nonchalance he often displays, he does care about his grades more than he lets on.

you know when he’s happy, when he talks about his dreams; the excitement he felt when he was scouted as a commercial model for a prestigious agency. you know his heart, beneath all his playfulness, how he keeps the people he values close to his chest and cares about them more than anything.

(you remember every single time keigo has lied on your behalf, nose twitch after nose twitch—that time you spilled grape juice all over your carpet and keigo told your mother that it was all his fault; when you forgot a book for one of your classes and keigo gave you his, taking the consequence of detention in your stead.)

you know keigo well because you love all the parts of him.

so when his nose twitches after he tells you he doesn't care much for relationships, your heart breaks just a little bit. you begin to wonder if keigo has a type, and if that girl fits right into it.

.

getting over keigo while still being his best friend is a herculean, if not impossible, task.

his career skyrockets and you go to university; your schedules are always in conflict but he still happens to be everywhere you look―ads on your instagram feed, wallpapers on your classmates' phones. there are shorts of his interviews constantly recommended on your youtube homepage and the feeling is both weird and comforting watching someone you know so well be so accessible yet difficult to meet.

you could reach out, sure, but you know he's busy enough as is. you don't think it's his priority to―

"come over soon," he texts you one thursday night.

your heart hammers against your chest, fingers numbing as you nearly drop your phone. it's embarrassing how quickly you type out, "when?"

but keigo is a fast texter, somehow always beating you to your replies first.

"this sat?" he double messages.

and you're about to reply "down" when he chats again, his words leaving an ache in your chest that you can't help but feel guilty for.

"haven't seen u in ages i think i'm starting to hallucinate hearing ur voice or smth."

.

spending more weekends together makes it harder for you to get over him, sitting on his couch as you both eat takeout; earlier today, you'd stumbled upon some stupid tiktok gossiping about all the dating scandals he's been embroiled in this past year.

you stuff chow mein down your throat, swallow it in big gulps as you glance at your best friend across you; he remains lax and unbothered as his legs cross in front of him, eyes on the the movie you're currently watching. it's a slow and painful process trying to get yourself to be just as uncaring about the entire thing, but with how often keigo lies, you find it hard to distinguish whether his "playboy" image is real or just for marketing.

curiosity gets the better of you when the question slips out, awkward and clearly fabricated.

"one of my friends is asking if i can introduce you."

you avoid eye contact in fear that he'll be able to tell you're making it up. no one from university knows you're keigo's best friend; he's kept you a secret just as much as you've kept him one.

"tell them sorry, too busy to date," he shoves a handful of popcorn straight into his mouth, chewing exaggeratedly to conceal the fact that his nose is twitching. his arm is slung over the back of the couch as you nestle yourself on the other end of it.

the topic is sensitive for the both of you; keigo always shoots down any opportunity to talk about his love life and you're always conscious of the fact that you might seem too eager to want to know what the real score is between him and the girl at the bar, at the photoshoot, at the gala, at the―

"am sure uni doesn't give you much time either, right?"

he changes the subject.

.

keigo is linked to a lot of people in the industry; it's a consequence of the job, as they say. rumors are neither confirmed nor denied and you're just as clueless as the public is despite the fact that you've known him your whole life and spend your weekends eating greasy takeout on his expensive couch.

you should move on, you tell yourself.

it doesn't mean anything that the throw blanket on his bed is the one you crocheted for him when he turned 21. the picture that sits on his entryway isn't anything more than a memento of youth with his best friend. sure, he makes time for you despite his busy schedule, but that's what all good friends do.

.

so, you start seeing someone. and when you tell keigo, things change.

it only makes sense that you hang out with him less, but he changes more than the circumstances do and you don't think that's fair at all.

he's started replying to you late, which has never happened before. and he's begun cancelling plans with you at the last minute, only for you to find leaked pictures of him at some bar with a bunch of people hanging by his arms.

keigo hangs around alcohol, but he rarely ever indulges, so having him call you shit-faced drunk right after he cancelled hanging out on the same weekend is definitely something new.

you’re in rare form driving his car to pick him up, hoisting him onto the passenger seat as he passes out to sleep. it’s only when you get to his apartment that he groggily wakes.

the elevator ride has him clinging to the side railings, his groans filling the tiny space. an empty plastic bag is ready in your hand in case he needs to hurl—which he doesn’t, thankfully—but he crashes on the couch as soon as he walks in the door.

you ready a glass of water and painkillers on the coffee table in front of him before grabbing the throw blanket from his bedroom. when you return, he's tucked into himself like a baby, knees curled up and arms crossed around torso in an embrace.

it both endears you and aches; you'd hug him if you could. if only your feelings could handle being closer to him than you should be.

instead, you settle for tucking him in, draping the crochet blanket over him as he snuggles into it.

admittedly, you're still kind of pissed; he did flake on your plans after all. but when he mumbles your name in his sleep, you find all of that anger flushed down the drain immediately.

.

the first time keigo meets the guy you've been seeing, you don't expect the hostility.

your best friend is your best friend for a reason—he's the warmest, friendliest person you know. even the media portrays him that way: charming and a little too flirty for his own good.

"quit it," you tell him when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend goes to the restroom. you're pretty sure keigo's the reason he needed to go in the first place.

keigo sips his tea, doing a complete switch-up when he smiles at you and asks, "quit what?"

you roll your eyes, "i'm pretty sure he pissed himself because of you."

he snorts, shrugging his shoulders, "not my fault."

it is completely his fault.

from the moment your not-yet-boyfriend shook keigo's hand, your best friend has done nothing but stare him down―a piercing glare like that of hawk’s hunting its prey. you'd liken his grip to talons digging into skin if you could.

"you're such an asshole," you shake your head resignedly, chuckling. the horrible thing about this is that you kind of liked seeing keigo make him squirm.

"it's my job," he lifts his cup up to cheers.

(you find out later on that this is when your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend realized it would never work out.)

.

you're not crying when you tell keigo about the kind-of-break-up. you don't even think you feel that sad about it.

"sorry things had to end that way..." keigo says beside you, legs crossed under half of the crocheted blanket on his couch.

you give him a side-eye and notice his nose twitch. you'd know that fake sad tone anywhere.

"i was starting to warm up to him, you know..."

another nose twitch. you kick his shin under the blanket, the half on top of you rustling on top of your lap, "yeah right, nose-twitcher."

"ouch, that burned," he pretends to be hurt for the theatrics and you roll your eyes, chuckling in return.

everything about this moment is everything it should not be―it's too comfortable, too familiar, too easy. your relationship with keigo is everything you want but can't have and times like this remind you especially of that fact.

he's your best friend―

"why'd he break up with you anyway?"

―and is the reason why you can't seem to make it work with anyone else.

"i don't want to get in the way," your kind-of-ex started. you looked at him, confused.

"you have feelings for him," he further explained, "and it looks like he feels the same."

your kind-of-not-yet boyfriend said he'd caught that moment at the coffee shop as soon as he got out of the restroom―you and keigo laughing as you clinked cups.

you blink away the memory, shrugging, "don't know, just said it wasn't working out or something."

keigo hums, a beat of silence passing between the two of you before he speaks up again.

"well, it's his loss."

you turn to look at him and find sincerity; you're sure he means it, just not in the way you want him to, an awkward "thanks" mumbled under your breath.

.

things with keigo go back to the way things were, but not exactly.

his schedule miraculously clears up on the weekdays too, and he begins visiting your apartment to take you out for brunch whenever he finds the time.

he also stops going to bars and a whole year passes for him without any dating scandal, except for when he attended your graduation.

you try not to feel too happy about it, but when he's asked about the nature of your relationship, he says that you're important to him. the answer is still vague, but it's infinitely better than the way he used to evade all the previous ones.

"i'm rebranding," he tells you when you mention something about how you haven't seen any gossip tiktoks about him lately.

you push down the hope that fizzes in your chest, even when the biggest change of all is the fact that you think he's gotten clingy.

"wanna stay over again?" he asks you on a tuesday night as you're having dinner, on the table this time. you've already been here for the past two days.

you eye him suspiciously, "are you scared of your apartment or something?"

"no."

"so why?" you take a sip of water.

"no reason," he copies you, bringing his cup up higher to hide his nose; it twitches before you can catch a look.

"well, i have an early day at work tomorrow," you check your phone, "so you have to give me a better reason."

you stare at each other for a while, the silence suddenly turning a touch heavy, like suspense building up to an important scene.

he blinks. you blink.

you watch him intently, see every thought that crosses behind golden irises. he juts his lips out slightly, as if contemplating what he should say next, if he even should. it's unlike any expression you've seen on his face before, and you'd say he almost looks nervous if you only had a reference of how that emotion translates on him.

then he takes a small breath, closing his eyes half a second longer than a blink before opening them again, directing his gaze at you.

"it's better when you're around."

oh.

you don't exactly know how to respond to that; you know you shouldn't read into it too much, but then he continues―

"and i miss you when you're gone."

your breath is on hold, a measly "oh," drawn from you. time feels suspended at this dinner table, your brain finding words to say.

keigo doesn't let go of his gaze and his nose has not twitched.

you try to push it further.

"i'm," you start, already stuttering, "i'm sure you'll survive a day without your best friend."

the chuckle that escapes you gives him an option to downplay this entire thing—to turn it into a joke and make it clear once and for all that you stand no chance feeling the way you do.

except, he doesn't return your laugh. his gaze softens as he holds his stare, the corners of his lips curling into a small smile.

"and if you're more to me than just my best friend?"

you search for any sign that this is some cruel trick keigo's playing on you, that he's lying to get some kind of reaction again. but there's nothing—his nose completely still as he awaits your answer.

a/n: mostly unedited, this is so long help. at some point i started envisioning gojo ngl 😭 anyway this is my first time writing hawks! i'm not so sure if i got his character right because he's complicated but!! i enjoyed writing this (clearly with how long it is 😭😭). he knows that his nose twitch is his tell (reader told him at some point), that's why he tries to hide it sometimes! also he never truly dated anyone haha man is unfortunately very non-committal 🥹 i think getting to this point with reader is a big step! he had feelings for reader early on too but i think he's very careful with it (which is also why it took him this long to do something about it!)

hope you like this bitti! 💗

[idkyetxoxo]

Aegon Targaryen - A King, Kneeling

Summary - Atop the Iron Throne, the King and Queen surrender to their desires, intertwining passion with the weight of power. As their reckless love ignites in public, the boundaries of duty and devotion blur, revealing the tantalizing thrill of both conquest and intimacy.

Pairing - Aegon Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!), strong language

Word count - 2731

Masterlist for Aegon • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

The king adored his queen.

It wasn't just whispered gossip or idle courtly chatter—it was a truth so palpable that even those who lived on intrigue couldn't ignore it. But they did try. 

They preferred to pretend, to look away from the rare sight that defied their expectations. After all, kings weren't supposed to love their queens with the kind of devotion Aegon had for me.

But he did. Oh, how he did. Fiercely. Brazenly.

"Aegon," I warned, trying to sound firm, but my voice quivered under the weight of his attention. His arm stretched out, beckoning me closer with an unspoken command, the kind only a king could give. 

I hesitated, my eyes narrowing in suspicion, but the slow curl of a smirk tugging at his lips was enough to break my resistance.

"What are you up to?" I asked, a mix of curiosity and caution in my voice, as I took a step toward him.

"Come here," he murmured again, his tone low and dripping with mischief.

I barely had time to blink before he seized me, pulling me onto his lap with an effortless motion. 

His hands were on me instantly, seeking the familiar warmth of my skin as if they had every right to it—because in his mind, they did.

"Aegon!" I scolded, but the heat in my cheeks betrayed the effect his touch had on me. I glanced around the grand hall, the Iron Throne looming under us. 

The Kingsguard were at their posts, their eyes dutifully trained on the stone walls, but I knew better. They weren't blind, though they pretended to be. 

How could they not see their king lavishing such affection on his queen in the open like this?

His fingers trailed down my spine, his grin growing as he felt me shiver under his touch.

"What?" he asked, voice dripping with false innocence as though he had no idea what he was doing.

I turned to face him fully, a sharp retort on my lips, but his gaze—smouldering and full of playful hunger—caught me off, guard. 

"Don't play coy with me, Aegon," I muttered, though the breathless hitch in my voice betrayed my intent.

"I missed my wife," he said, so simply, like it was the most obvious thing in the world, as though his absence was unbearable even when we were in the same room.

I rolled my eyes, though a reluctant smile tugged at my lips. "You can miss her in our chambers, Aegon. Privately. You're sitting on the Iron Throne, for the gods' sake."

He tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness, before leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "I want to miss her right here." 

His breath sent a ripple of heat through me, and before I could protest, he shifted, positioning me so that I was now sitting atop the throne, while he knelt before me—a king, kneeling.

My heart pounded in my chest. "Aegon, stop!" I hissed, but my words fell soft as his hands crept higher, tangling in the folds of my skirts. 

The sensation of the metal throne behind me, cold and rigid, contrasted with the warmth of his touch, driving me mad.

"Why would I stop?" he teased, his voice full of wicked amusement, eyes dark with intent. 

He tugged my skirts higher, his fingers inching dangerously close to places they shouldn't be, not here. Not now.

I shot a panicked glance toward the room, my heart racing. The guards stood within view, pretending to be statues, but I could feel their presence like a heavy weight. 

"Aegon, not in front of them," I whispered, my voice trembling, urgent.

He paused, his fingers stilling just enough for his eyes to meet mine, mock surprise written across his face as though he'd just now remembered they existed.

Then, with a sudden change, he stood, his voice rising, all command, all king. "Everyone. Out."

The guards exchanged nervous glances, armour clinking as they hesitated, unsure if they had heard him correctly. 

Aegon's gaze sharpened, his voice carrying the authority of a ruler unchallenged. "Now!"

They moved quickly, their footsteps echoing in the vast hall as they shuffled out, casting anxious looks over their shoulders.

The room was empty now—silent, save for the distant echo of armour clanking as the last of the Kingsguard left. 

My heart hammered in my chest, every beat echoing in the sudden stillness. The heavy door closed with a resounding thud, sealing us in the throne room. 

Just Aegon, me, and the Iron Throne.

Aegon turned back to me, his devilish grin wider than before, his eyes full of sinful promise. 

"Now," Aegon breathed, his voice dipping into a dark, husky tone that sent shivers down my spine. His eyes gleamed with that wickedness I knew all too well, and yet, each time, it caught me off guard. 

"It's just you, me, and the throne," he whispered, his hands roaming, fingers trailing slowly, deliberately, up my thighs beneath the fabric of my skirts.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice wavering between warning and longing. 

My back pressed harder into the cold, jagged metal of the throne, a sharp reminder of where we were—what this symbolized. I tried to stay grounded, to keep my senses, but his hands... gods, his hands had a way of making me forget.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing the sensitive skin of my inner thigh, just a ghost of a touch, but enough to make my breath catch. 

He looked up at me from beneath those dark lashes, a devilish glint in his eyes, as he slowly knelt before me once more.

A king, kneeling.

I tried to push him back, hands on his shoulders, but the moment I made contact with his skin, the heat between us flared. His hands gripped my hips, pulling me forward with a gentle insistence, and I melted into the sensation, the fight leaving me in a sigh.

"Stop it," I whispered, though it came out more like a plea than a command. "Not here, Aegon, we can't—"

But before I could finish, his lips were against me, his mouth tracing a line of fire over my skin. 

My protests died on my tongue, replaced by a sharp gasp. His hands were firm but tender, spreading my legs as he settled between them, his fingers curling into the soft flesh of my thighs, holding me open for him as though the throne itself were a bed built for this very moment.

"You deserve to be worshipped," he murmured, his voice sending vibrations through me. "And I intend to do just that."

The cool bite of the Iron Throne's metal was a contrast to the heat building inside me, the jagged edges digging into my back, but I barely noticed. 

All I could feel was him—his mouth, his tongue, the deliberate, tantalizing way he took his time as if savouring every taste, every sound he drew from me.

"Aegon..." I moaned, his name slipping past my lips, a breathless prayer. 

My hands gripped the throne, knuckles white as I tried to anchor myself to something, anything, but he was relentless. 

His tongue swirled, teasing, flicking against me in just the right way, and my body responded helplessly to his touch, every nerve alight with pleasure.

The throne room, the court, the world—all of it faded away. There was only Aegon, his mouth working its magic, his hands guiding me toward the edge. 

His every move was deliberate, calculated—he knew me too well, knew exactly how to drive me to madness.

"Do you know how beautiful you look?" he whispered against me, his breath hot, making my skin tingle. "Up here, on the Iron Throne, all mine."

His words sent a jolt of electricity through me, the weight of them mingling with the sensation of his tongue. 

I squirmed, trying to muffle the sounds escaping me, but he growled in response, the vibration reverberating through my body.

"Don't hide from me," he commanded, lifting his head just enough to lock eyes with me, his lips glistening with the evidence of my desire. "I want to hear you."

I swallowed hard, trembling under the intensity of his gaze. 

My hands tangled in his hair, pulling him back to me, needing him to continue, to finish what he started. He obliged, his tongue diving deeper, stroking me with a renewed fervour that sent waves of heat crashing through me.

The room spun, and I bit my lip hard, trying to keep control, but he wasn't having it. 

Aegon's hands gripped me tighter, pulling me closer to his mouth as he pushed me closer to the brink, his tongue working me with an almost agonizing skill.

And then, just when I thought I couldn't take it anymore, he pressed his lips to the most sensitive part of me and sucked.

The world shattered. Pleasure tore through me, violent and uncontrollable, and I cried out, my hands clutching at him, nails digging into his shoulders as I tumbled over the edge. 

Aegon didn't let up, drawing out every last tremor until I was left breathless, limp, slumped against the throne, the cold metal biting into my skin in sharp contrast to the molten heat still pulsing through my body.

He rose slowly, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk as he loomed over me, his eyes dark with triumph. "Still want to send me to our chambers?" he teased, voice thick with amusement.

I could barely find my voice, my body still trembling from the aftershocks of his attention. "You're impossible," I whispered, my heart racing, my body both sated and longing for more.

His grin widened, predatory. "Only for you, my queen."

My breath came in shallow, ragged gasps, but Aegon—he was far from finished.

His eyes locked onto mine, dark with hunger, satisfaction gleaming in them like firelight. His mouth, still glistening from the sinful worship he'd lavished on me, curved into a wicked grin. 

The power in that gaze sent another jolt of heat coursing through me, even as my body ached from the intensity of what he'd already done.

"Impossible," I muttered again, my voice weak but defiant. A flicker of a smile tugged at my lips, even though my body was still recovering from the waves of pleasure he'd brought me.

Aegon leaned in close, one hand gripping the arm of the throne beside my head, the other trailing down my body, claiming me like I was his throne—his alone to possess. 

"I haven't even begun, my queen," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

Before I could respond, his lips were on mine, and this kiss—gods, this kiss—wasn't sweet or soft. It was urgent, devouring. 

He kissed me like a man starved like he was tasting his favorite sin and couldn't get enough. 

I could taste myself on him, and it only fueled the fire burning between us.

I groaned against his mouth, my hands instinctively gripping the folds of his tunic, pulling him closer. His body pressed into mine, his hard length straining against the fabric of his breeches, leaving no doubt about what he wanted next.

"Aegon," I gasped as he broke the kiss, his lips moving to my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. 

My hands roamed his back, pulling him closer, desperate to feel him—all of him.

His mouth worked lower, biting, sucking at the sensitive skin just beneath my ear, making me shiver. 

"You're my queen," he murmured, the words a low growl against my neck, "and I intend to make sure you feel it."

Without warning, he pulled me up with him, his hands tugging at my skirts, yanking them up over my hips, exposing me fully. 

The cold air of the throne room hit my bare skin, making me gasp, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from him. 

He pulled me to him, and I could feel the hardness of his arousal pressing against me through his clothes, a tantalizing promise of what was to come.

I barely had time to react before his hands were at his waist, unfastening his belt, his movements swift and practised. 

In one smooth motion, he freed himself, and my breath hitched at the sight of him—ready, eager, and gloriously bare in the soft light of the throne room.

"Aegon," I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation, my body already aching for him.

He met my gaze, his eyes smouldering with a mixture of love and raw lust. 

"I want to take you right here," he said, his voice low, a dangerous promise laced within it. "I want to fuck you on the Iron Throne, where you belong."

My breath caught in my throat, the thrill of his words sending a rush of heat through me. 

The audacity of it—the sheer madness of what we were about to do—made my pulse race, and yet, I couldn't stop the surge of desire that overtook me.

I glanced at the throne beneath me, the cold metal, the jagged edges. 

It was a symbol of power, a symbol of rule, but tonight... tonight, it was going to be the stage for something far more primal.

Without waiting for my answer, Aegon lifted me effortlessly, his hands gripping my thighs as he positioned me over him. 

My legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, and I felt the head of his cock press against my entrance, teasing, taunting.

"Look at me," he ordered, his voice husky, commanding, and when my eyes met his, the raw desire in them nearly undid me. 

"I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne."

Before I could respond, he thrust into me, filling me in one deep, powerful stroke. I gasped, my hands clutching at his shoulders as my back arched, pressing me harder into the cold spikes of the Iron Throne behind me. 

The contrast of the cold metal against my heated skin only intensified the sensation, and I let out a low moan as he began to move.

Aegon's hands gripped my hips, holding me steady as he set a relentless pace, each thrust driving me harder against the throne. 

The room spun around me, the world narrowing to just the two of us—his cock buried deep inside me, his breath hot against my neck, his grunts of pleasure mixing with my own ragged moans.

I tried to find my voice, to say something—anything—but all I could do was cling to him, my nails digging into his back as he drove me closer to the edge. 

"Aegon... gods..." I whimpered, my head falling back as he angled his hips just right, hitting a spot that made stars explode behind my eyes.

"That's it," he growled, his grip on me tightening as he pounded into me harder, faster. "Take it. Take all of me."

The throne pressed into my back, the jagged edges digging into my skin, but I barely noticed the pain—it only heightened the intensity of what was happening, grounding me in the reality of it all. 

We were fucking on the Iron Throne, claiming each other in the most reckless, forbidden way imaginable, and gods, it felt incredible.

I could feel myself unravelling, the pleasure building to an unbearable peak. My body tightened around him, and he groaned, his rhythm faltering as he felt it too.

"Cum for me," he demanded, his voice raw, desperate. "Cum for your king."

His words sent me spiralling over the edge. I cried out, my body shuddering around him as I came, the pleasure crashing through me in violent waves. 

Aegon followed me into oblivion, his thrusts becoming erratic as he spilt into me with a low, guttural moan, his forehead resting against mine as we rode out the aftershocks together.

For a moment, we stayed like that, our bodies intertwined, breath mingling in the heavy air of the throne room. The world was silent around us, save for the sound of our laboured breathing.

Finally, Aegon pulled back, his eyes still dark with satisfaction as he gazed down at me. His lips curved into a lazy, contented grin, and he brushed a stray lock of hair from my face. 

"You're mine," he whispered, his voice soft but filled with certainty. "Here, on the throne, in our chambers—everywhere. You're mine."

I smiled, my body still trembling, my heart full of both love and lust. "And you," I murmured, my fingers tracing the strong line of his jaw, "are mine."

He chuckled, the sound low and rich, before kissing me again—this time slow, sweet, a promise of everything yet to come. "Always."

A/n - 'I want to watch you fall apart on my cock, right here, on my throne'... anyways one wrong move and you're speared xx

[ellecdc]

Hi Elle! I'm here to hibernate, and I was thinking maybe a poly!rosekiller (you've got me hooked on Barty and Evan) or whatever pairing you think works best, love all our boys, with either:

“they’ve slept for like twelve straight hours. should i be worried?"

Or

“hey, i think it’s time to go to bed.”

Because I am both. Chronically.

If you don't respond it's totally cool, you're such an amazing writer and so many people love your stuff I totally understand not being able to respond, lovely girl!

P.S remember to drink water :)

thanks so much for the prompt, doll!! and thanks for being here with me; I'm happy to be celebrating with you <3

the winter games

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who's asleep and Barty's afraid of [702 words]

CW: immature boyfriends, muggle/modern au, Barty hit someone with his car but it was chill and also not pictured, mentions of dicks but not described

Evan swore his eyes were beginning to cross when his paperwork was interrupted by the sound of a hastily whispered “Rosie!” 

Evan looked up to see Barty standing in the doorway to his office. Well, it was more like to see Barty’s shoulders and head floating about halfway up the door frame as he leaned around it without actually stepping in. 

“What is it, bee?” He drawled as he turned back towards his work.

“I need help.”

“With what?” 

“Hiding a body.” Barty deadpanned. 

Evan let out a tired sigh and looked up at him. “Again, Barty?” 

“With Y/N, Rosie! And for the last time, that cyclist I hit was fine; he bounced right back up and smacked the hood of my car. He certainly wasn’t too hurt to cuss at me.” 

“What’s wrong with your Treasure?” Evan asked - diverting yet another grumbling at how inconvenient hitting another man with his car was for Barty - as he organized his sheets into a neat stack. He may have called you Barty’s Treasure, but you were his sugar, and Barty seemed to think you needed his help so Evan was inclined to help you. 

“She’s asleep.” Barty said simply - troublesome cyclists forgotten - causing Evan to pause.

“I hardly see what the problem with that is, Barty.”

Barty stomped his foot and rolled his eyes as if it were Evan who was being rather meddlesome and vague. “She’s asleep in the kitchen.”

Oh…that was the problem. 

Sure enough, covered in an array of flour, sprinkles, and icing, you were resting your head on one folded arm with a piping bag sitting dejectedly in your opposite hand; a small stream of red icing pooling out the bottom. Sound asleep. 

You’d refused Barty’s help earlier in the evening, stating that he wouldn’t do as good a job and you wanted your holiday cookies to be perfect. Evan didn’t particularly blame you for that, but he did feel rather guilty that you couldn’t trust your boyfriend to not pipe dicks on all of your sugar cookies when your back was turned. 

“You didn’t want to wake her up?” Evan surmised as he gently took the piping bag from your hand. 

“Listen, I love her with my entire being, but I’m kind of afraid of her.”

Evan couldn’t help but huff a laugh at that. “Fine, can you clean this up then?” He asked, gesturing vaguely to the state of the kitchen as he came up behind you and leaned over your frame. 

“Sugar.” He murmured as he gently rubbed at your shoulders. “Come on, doll.”

An incoherent sound of discontent escaped your lips as you tried to rise; Evan’s weight above you kept you from sitting up too quickly. 

“Hey, I think it’s time for bed.”

“But, th’cookies-”

“Will be here in the morning.” Evan argued as he allowed you to sit up slowly. “Barty’ll even help you with them.”

“No he can’t, Ev. He’ll ruin them.”

“He will not because whilst he’s helping you, I will be supervising Barty.”

He felt something warm in his chest as he watched you struggle to wake up; brain working overtime to make sense of your surroundings and to make sense of what Evan was trying to tell you. 

“We’ll get it done in the morning, yeah? Together.” He offered gently.

“Yeah…” You let out with a sigh after a beat, Barty letting out a sigh of relief of his own from behind him. 

“Go get in your pyjamas, pretty girl.” Evan instructed as he helped you stand, pressing a kiss to your hair and patting your hip in dismissal before watching you plod off in the direction of the bedroom.

“Ev, can’t I just-”

“No.”

“Just one.”

“I said no, Bee.” Evan pressed more forcefully. 

“I hardly see what the issue with one festive dick is.” Barty grumbled as the two of them followed you towards the bedroom. “What if I save that one and then we give it to Reg?” 

That gave Evan pause. 

“One.”

“Thank you!”

“What’s happening?” Your voice sounded from somewhere in the washroom, causing both boys to freeze outside of it.

“Nothing.” They chorused; one of them in the form of a question and the other in the form of a delighted cheer.

[cicadabooks]

aaaaa finally i feel justified for reluctantly finishing the first Monk and Robot book with a :/ face, and then feeling even more :/ :/ :/ about reading the 2nd book. Which I did not read, and it looks like this was the correct choice, for me.

"Underbaked" is a decent summary of the first book - people (....often white people I feel like....) would recommend the book and how they loved it, and when I finally read it, I was just like.... This author is over-reaching and floundering around in areas she doesn't know much about. (And also this book felt very White Person writing world building to me.) Even the final pep talk by Mosscap rubbed me the wrong way. It was obvs just Not the Book For Me. (Also winning a Hugo.... It's not the worst book, but...? I think people are being bamboozled a bit.)

I remember the author's approach to nature was weird. I remember thinking "people live in nature, we're part of nature, and to just have the two drastically split is disturbing. Also I don't think this author has ever actually walked through the woods, or at least not more than three times."

OP's line above ("The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature.") is making me specifically remember what I didn't like. :( wtf. Are indigenous people and their land stewardship a joke to you. Where were you when the Dakota Access Pipeline protests were happening last decade. That was a large amount of news. At this point, this is a you problem, Becky Chambers.

Also shoutout to "also tbh I think Becky chambers has also just never gone fishing in her life and was not curious enough about her own concept to research how you're supposed to kill a fish" in the comments section from OP -

Because, as I mentioned earlier, I had the same reaction even in book one!? About doubting if the author actually spent time in nature, or considered nature a lot, or knew much about nature (for a book that... spends time in nature...). Neither the first book's vibes, or this wretched fish thing, are the vibes of people I know who spend time in the wild (as a hobby or professionally).

(Also, I think those people I know, and me, and many other humans, would be miserable being cut off from wild nature. Some things are just in the blood. I was always yearning for the ocean growing up, and I swear it was handed down to me by blood from my mother who grew up on an island. When I finally lived in a place near the ocean and got to be in ocean waters a lot more, I was like YES I AM HOME and happy in my bones. Every time I get too sad it's because I have spent too much time away from ocean and some proper wilderness.)

(and we're not even getting into how much human culture, esp indigenous cultures, have cultural transmissions tied in with nature.)

(Like I know OP's essay was more examining passivity and the implications at large in these books.... Whereas looking back, I think I got stuck on "Humans aren't allowed to go into nature" in book one and I was horrified by this and I never got past this part. This book was a dystopia for me.)

Anyway OP thank you for summarizing the 2nd book, yikes and also that was fun to read.

Also this is all ironic/sad because I actually liked the author's first book! When I read it years ago. (A Long Way to a Small Angry Planet) It was fun! I love me a motley crew of people in space ships becoming friends and having adventures. I had issues with the handling of sex/gender stuff, but at the time I gave it a pass. The rest of the books in that series didn't stand out to me, but I picked up whatever the author wrote anyway. I was disappointed when I picked up these monk robot books more recently. We're not even having, like... having that much fun here :( There's apparently fish dying in bizarre ways.

ykw i am having so much fan watching you be a hater, that i’ve decided to ask for more. PLEASE give us a rant about a book you hated.

Haha aw I'm honored. And uh I hope you don't have any particular attachment to Becky Chambers. Sorry in advance.

But A Psalm for the Wild-Built won a Hugo and I do not get the love. Book 1 was nice enough, yeah. Book 2 had me tearing my hair out.

Sibling Dex is a restless Tea Monk who serves the God of Small comforts on the science-fantasy planet of Panga. I genuinely love the idea of a tea monk - part therapist, part confessor, travels around to the different towns, mixes tea blends for people, lets them talk about their worries and fears and stresses, and gives them, if not advice, then sympathy and a listening ear and some calming tea. This is meaningful work but they're unhappy. After doing this for a while they're still unsatisfied with their life, so they go into the woods searching for self-actualization, and meet a robot named Mosscap, a wild robot that lives in the woods. See, hundreds of years ago, all the robots "woke up" and became sentient one day, then they staged a quiet rebellion against humanity's greed and industrialization by walking into the woods and never coming back. Now, the continent is split in half: humans stay on the Human Side, and robots stay on the Robot Side. The Robot Side is kept wild and humans are discouraged from going in there because humans can't be trusted not to ruin Nature. The rpbots are welcome to come to the Human Side, they just never have. Dex is the first person in a While to venture into the woods of the Robot Side, and the first human since the great walkout to see a robot. Mosscap gives Dex a lot of philosophical pep talks about not pushing themself so hard, about allowing themself to just rest and appreciate the world without feeling like they need to be Providing A Service to justify their existence. It's a nice theme. Underbaked, imo, but nice. Relateable.

Book 2 was a goddamn mess.

Book 1 mostly takes place in the wilderness of the woods, so it's okay if the nice utopian human community Dex comes from was sketchily-built. It Just Works, and everyone Is Just Nice, this is a science-fantasy parable. There were some issues I had with it - like the strict ideological and physical divide between Nature and Humans, and the fact that Dex's religion seems to be the Only Religion In The World, and it's vaguely secular-humanist with the gods being not "really" gods but names given to primordial forces and philosophical concepts, and the religion not really making any demands of its adherents in any way except to become their best selves and devote themselves to what they like... it's potentially interesting, but overall kinda lazy. It felt like Becky Chambers was aware of the idea that having an enlightened-atheist sci-fi utopia is Problematic, so she made there be a central religion, but she also didn't want it to have any of the ~icky~ things religions have, like belief in anything supernatural, or dietary restrictions, or creeds, or codes of behavior, or expectations to make any kind of sacrifice in any way. All the gods "ask" is that humans observe and appreciate the world. But whatever.

In book 2, Dex and Mosscap return to Dex's society, and the book seems to want to explain how the world works, and oh my GOD is Chambers not prepared to do this.

"Observe and appreciate" is all anyone is asked to do. Book 2, A Prayer for the Crown-Shy, is an ode to ultimate virtue of Doing Nothing. There's this attitude I see in a LOT of utopian fiction, where the author is bluntly just not a good enough author to imagine a utopian society where people act like people, so in the world of Panga, utopian society is achieved through 1) homogeneity 2) no one giving a crap about anything.

As far as I can tell, there is the one religion. Most people are Fine with this. Most people are Fine with anything. There are no characters with distinct personalities. There's no money, except there is, except it's not real money and no one will deny you anything if your balance is in the red, even though your balance is available to be seen by anyone - this does not cause any kind of shame or pride or competition in any way, and Dex doesn't understand why it might. There are no hierarchies or governing bodies, people just volunteer to step up when things need doing (this is portrayed as great and not deeply concerning). There are different communities, but in them, everyone is uniformly nice, friendly, and helpful at all times. There are some parts of nature, like the seashore, where people are not allowed to go because they'll ruin the environment, and this is accepted as correct and necessary. Most people live in hippie, pro-recycling, high-tech, end-of-history green communities; there's one group they visit, however, that doesn't trust technology, and lives in a vaguely sci-fi-Amish way. You might think, Dex travelling around with a robot, this might cause conflict! It does not. The people from this community calmly explain their anti-technology position, Dex calmly explains their pro-technology position, and they politely respect each other. "Not bothered either way" is a phrase that turns up in various permutations a lot and is held up as the good, mature, responsible way to be.

There's a scene where they catch a fish for dinner, and instead of killing it, the scifi-Amish guy says "We let the air do that for us, and they let the fish slowly suffocate to death in the air while they all look on solemnly and sadly. This is portrayed as a deep, beautiful moment of them witnessing and honoring the final moments of a living being's life. And not. y'know. them torturing a living being to death so they can keep their own hands clean.

This is what I mean about the valorization of passivity: observing is all you are ever obligated to do. Letting a fish die in the air is better than killing it quickly and humanely, because doing things gets your hands dirty, while letting things simply happen is the Correct way to do it.

At the end, Mosscap and Dex blow off all their promises and appointments and just hang out at the beach chilling out instead, because do what you want forever, you don't have to do shit. This is the happy affirming ending. Mosscap you fucking said you'd meet with the city leaders as the robot ambassador to the humans, did you tell them you were blowing off this commitment because you didn't feel like doing that anymore??? Did you even let them know??????

It is SUCH a baffling book. The theme wants to be "you are more than your job, you deserve to just Be" and ends up feeling like "you don't have to do anything ever, and no one can make you do anything you don't want to do if you don't feel like it, and you don't owe anyone anything and searching for a purpose in your life is just making you stressed out so chill at the beach instead."

The thing that drives me crazy is like. Mosscap cheerfully tells Dex about robots that spend twenty years in a cave watching stalactites form because they think it's beautiful, and those robots are just as much a valued part of society as anyone else. Appreciating beauty and wonder is good enough, you don't need to be productive. And I'm just. fuckin. like. Humans are not robots! Robots don't need to eat or sleep! Humans need food, and clothes, and shelter, and medical care, and if we don't have SOMEONE working to provide that, we Die! Nice as it would be, we CAN'T just all do nothing forever until we feel like it! We can't do that!

And at the same time, the book bizarrely treats wanting a purpose in life as like... almost disordered. If you are seeking a purpose in life it's because you just haven't let go of your guilt and relaxed enough. It's bizarre. Valorization of passivity. Humans aren't meant to be in nature so we just Shouldn't. Doing nothing and having no strong opinions is the most self-affirmed you can possibly be. Letting a fish suffocate is more moral than quickly breaking its neck or spiking its brain. Someone else will do it. Who, if we're all supposed to be resting and only doing what we feel like? Don't worry about it.

"The heart of this book is comfort [...] There is nothing in it that can hurt you." YOU LIAR BECKY CHAMBERS THE FISH SCENE STILL DISTURBS AND UPSETS ME TO THIS DAY

[hellfire--cult]

Edit of Eddie: pitifulbaby

Chapters: Masterlist (Go here to see list of chapters, plotline and general warnings.)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Tropes: Enemies to Lovers, Non-Traditional Omegaverse, Slow burn, Modern!AU, Mechanic!Eddie

⚠️18+: sexual tension, slight drinking, pining, jealousy, reader being childish, smacking, smut

wc: 16.3K

A/N: It's been a while, but it is here and it's steamy as fuck boys.

Anyways, Enjoy! ❤️ And don't forget to always support me by hitting the reblog button or leave a comment!

Taglist is closed

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CHAPTER 18

“I’m not going to forget you mom.”

Your mother was looking at you with tear filled eyes as you packed your last bag into the trunk of your car. Leaving your hometown was not part of your plan of the year at all. You figured you would be cradling your baby in your arms by now, having your husband at your side lending you a hand and messing up while changing diapers, laughing at both of your clumsiness even if you had prepared yourselves for it with books.

“It’s just, you’re moving far away from me. I won’t be able to visit you at all… Why don’t you reconsider–”

“I have to leave! I can’t stay here mom. It’s too–” You slammed the trunk shut as your hands went towards your eyes, covering them as a sob tried to rip out from your chest. You felt your mother’s arms wrap around you and pull you towards her chest. Her hand went to the back of your head as she made soft shushing noises to calm the turmoil of emotions that started to unravel inside of you.

“I know… I know baby girl. It’s painful…” Your tears started to wet the palms of your hands as you felt yourself lean on her shoulder. Her left hand went to your back to rub you in soothing circles, letting you cry one last time. This really was not in your plans at all. After a minute she pulled away from you and you lowered your hands to show her a pouty lip and tear stained cheeks. “I’m a phone call away, you know that.”

“Yeah, I know.” You sniffled as she took a deep breath in, a small smile appearing on her lips.

“But I repeat, don’t forget about me when you start dating.” You rolled your eyes with a sigh at that, shaking your head.

“I’m done with that. I don’t think I’ll date for a while.” Was your response, making your mother sigh with a smile.

“Whatever you say, my little dove.”

“Ngh…”

You whimpered as you started gaining consciousness, hearing the birds chirp, and– You felt like you were ran over by a fucking truck. Everything hurts. Every limb and joint hurts, even your jaw feels tense and hard to move, but there is still a sense of relief. Satisfaction.

Oh you were comfortable, like flying on clouds even if everything hurts. The pain was nothing compared to how accomplished you felt, or how satiated your body, even if spent, felt. You could lay here all day, on this soft mattress, with these sheets that were warm around you, with the fluffy pillow underneath your head, with the arm that was wrapped around your waist–

Hang on.

Your eyes snapped open and your first view of the day was Eddie Munson’s sleeping face.

He was laying on his side, facing you, while you were facing him. Your heart started beating rapidly as the memories of last night began flipping in your head like a scrapbook, and the more you remembered, the more flustered you got. 

You cannot even recognize who you were last night. You were completely feral, animalistic, not caring about anyone or anything but Eddie and the pleasure that he could bring you. Pleasure that you haven’t felt in a while, or maybe ever. You remembered him rising you from the floor, eating you out like it was his sole purpose in life. How his cock filled you, and how good he was in fucking you disrespectfully.

Your embarrassment caught up with you as you remembered how you moaned his name, how you teared up from the pleasure, from how good he was making you feel and then how he talked dirty to you. Your face was in flames, and your belly turned with nervousness as the kisses started flashing in your mind. So many kisses and whispers–

“You take me so well Peach…” 

You cringed slightly, but not out of disgust or second hand embarrassment, but because it flustered you. It was making you feel things you didn’t want to feel right now, like butterflies for example. You wanted to shoot those bastards down, because Eddie was just a friend, and you two were only curious about one another, that’s all. 

You licked your lips as you started to wiggle out of his embrace, moving backwards on the bed towards the edge. He groaned in his slip as his arm flopped to the bed once you got out of his reach. You stared at him for a while as you inspected his sleeping figure. He looked so peaceful like this, pretty even. His lashes were perfect, his stubble was neatly done, his hair was untied and–

You have to stop. You can’t keep looking at him with intentions of staying. What makes you think he wants you here when he wakes up? It was just a quick fuck the remaining hatred out kind of thing, that’s all it was for crying outloud. You bit your bottom lip as you got out of the sheets and turned to finally sit on the edge and pull yourself off the bed and–

“SHIT–” Your legs gave up on you, making you fall back down on the bed, ass hitting the mattress, making it bounce and of course, Eddie was shaken awake.

“Wha– What–?” He was sleepy, his voice raspy and it made your body shiver with its tone. You panicked as you realized you were completely naked, top to bottom, growing way too self-conscious about your situation. You grabbed onto a very thin polar fleece black blanket that had pooled at both your feet, and you put it all over the front but your back was still bare to him.

Your breathing was quick as you felt the bed move, and you closed your eyes while your heart wanted to kill you at the moment from how fast it was beating, threatening to explode. What is gonna happen now? What is going to become of the two of you? Did you two just fuck up your entire friendship? Your relationship? You have to say something, you can’t be shocked all day, sooner or later you’ll have to face him and talk, better that be now.

You turned your head around to look at him, and your breath simply cut off at the sight of him. He sat on the bed, the sheet covering his bottom half, his entire chest on display, his hair down as he rubbed one of his eyes. Your gaze went downwards towards his happy trail that went below the sheet, covering the trail you still wanted to follow. You didn’t notice his eyes were already open and looking at you, and a lazy smirk displayed on his lips.

“Wow, don’t make yourself too obvious, Peach.” You snapped out of your thoughts, your eyes going back towards his face. Embarrassment took over you and you whipped your head around again, trying to calm your breathing. It was already pathetic to be like this when he was this calm in front of you.

But unbeknownst to you, he wasn’t in the slightest. He was good at hiding his emotions, afraid people could know or read him as easily as he could with others… just like he knows you are completely losing your shit right now. 

“Um… I, uh… I fell.” What the fuck are you saying? Stupidity, that’s what. You heard a rough chuckle from behind you and you didn’t know how his eyes were looking at your naked back. He wanted to reach out and rub his hand all over it, and he clenched his jaw as he felt his dick twitch underneath the sheet. He can only imagine looking down at your back as he rails into you and– he needs to stop.

“I could feel that. Too rough for you?” There was mocking behind his tone, which sparked a bit of anger inside you. You stood up from the bed, and his breath hitched when seeing your bare ass for just a second. He bit the inside of his cheek as you turned around and damn you looked so good right now. Your makeup was all smeared, your hair a mess, and his blanket draped over your front as you clung it close to your chest with both hands. You looked fucked, literally fucked.

“Oh? As far as I remember, someone got a bit pussy drunk yesterday.” He threw his head back with a loud laugh, seeing his adam’s apple bobbing up and down at the motion, making your legs tremble more than what they are now thanks to the soreness. Shit, you are not sure if you can do more than two steps without tumbling over.

“Excuse me? I’m pretty sure Gareth who lives three blocks away heard you moaning my name Peach.” Your face grew fifty times hotter, your cheeks burning entirely as he looked at you once again. You were gripping onto the blanket against you as if your life depended on it. Your belly was turning in nervousness as you looked for the following words.

“You moaned my name too, you aren’t all that innocent either!”

“I know I did. You think I’m ashamed of that? It was good.” His eyes were looking at you with an intensity you haven’t felt in a while, just like when Bil– You shook your head from that thought and cleared your throat.

“It was and– and uhm–” You didn’t know what you wanted. It was– He was the best you ever had, there was no lie in that. Better than those boys from school before Henry, better than Henry, better than your hookups and better than Billy… But– he was also part of the friend group. You two were in the same group of people and if something were to happen between the two of you– things like jealousy or one being mad at the other and then it’s just going to be back as it was a year ago.

You didn’t want to go back to that place. You didn’t want to lose Eddie again.

And Eddie noticed it as you looked down at the floor. The thoughts, the doubt, and he could not believe you were thinking about this. You two spent one of the greatest nights, and he knows you enjoyed as much as he did. He knows you’ve never experienced what you have with him, just as he experienced something completely new with you and his fists were clenching the sheets underneath him, feeling anger rising in his chest.

Your mind was trying to come up with the words but if you said you didn’t want to do this ever again, you would be lying. If you said you didn’t want to feel him again it would also be a lie. If you said you didn’t want to feel him inside of you, it would be a terrible horrible lie, the worst of them all because you never felt like that in your life.

But you wouldn’t lie if you said you are afraid of what this might do to your friendship if it were to keep going. What might do to all the improvement you two did the past six months. What might happen in between the entire group of friends you have if it were to all fall apart. What if they took sides? What if you two broke the entire group apart, even between eachother, because of some fun?

“I swear to god, Peach–” He began, already knowing you had come to a resolve. An answer that only angers him terribly knowing you felt as great as he did the night before. That you enjoyed doing to him the things you did just as much as he enjoyed eating you out like he never did before to any other woman in his life.

“We really shouldn’t…” You began, not daring to look at him. You wanted to stop talking, to jump on the bed and into his arms, kiss him again, fuck him, ride him like last night already even if you were sore all over, muscles in pain, but he just–

“Are you serious? After how we went at eachother last night? You’re telling me you don’t want to do this again?” His eyebrows were meeting in the middle, not even hiding the anger behind them. Your cheeks burnt once more as you cleared your throat, your eyes finding his again, your stomach flipping at the intensity of his gaze.

“I just– What happens if something goes… wrong? I mean–” You bit your bottom lip, looking for the right words as you looked at him. “-- I don’t want us to go back to where we were a year ago.”

He realized now with what you were conflicted about, and in all honesty, he never thought of it that way. He had thought of the consequences of fucking you and what could happen if you two fall apart because of it. With the two of you and with the group… But after last night, there is no way in fucking hell he cares for all of that now. 

“Why would something go wrong? What do you exactly mean by ‘wrong’?” He was still looking at your entire figure, and it was rendering you stupid again. Your breathing quickened at how much you felt him burn you with his gaze. Scanning you like a predator, waiting to pounce at any given opportunity.

“I–” It was embarrassing. What if he thought you had feelings for him? Like, romantic feelings. More than simple attraction… maybe– “-- What if one becomes possessive of the other? Like, it can happen. What if you see me with another person and you don’t like that? It would just–” 

And his fists clenched against the sheets as you mentioned that part. He knew where you were going with it, and he wasn’t very keen on the idea of sharing you, but it wasn’t unbearable. If sharing you was his only way of having you, then he would take it. He wondered though–

“And what about you seeing me with another woman?” He raised an eyebrow at you, and you looked at him with a dumbfounded face.

“Huh?”

“As far as I remember you were absolutely jealous last night.” You scoffed at his words, anger boiling as denial settled in your gut. You? What? Your arms left your chest in fury as you burnt all over.

“Jealous!? Me!? I wasn’t!” And you saw how his eyes traveled downwards, his head cocking to the side as he scanned you. You squinted at him, opening your mouth ready to cuss at him, wondering what the hell this man was looking at you, only to feel a breeze brush on your–

Your eyes widened as you snapped your head to look down and you gasped, yelping loudly as you bent down to grab the blanket again. You let it fall and he saw your naked body, in the full-on daylight that was coming through the curtains. Are you dumb!? Your hands grabbed onto the fabric and you stood up quickly, covering yourself only to look up to see a pair of eyes staring down at you.

And you didn’t know how fast he had been, because he was towering over you, standing.

He had quickly crawled to the edge of the bed and stood up before you the moment you picked up the blanket from the floor. Your eyes were wide, staring up at him with bewilderment in them, your heartbeat banging in your ears, threatening to pop your eardrum off. His eyes were hungry, his jaw was clenched, and– You didn’t dare to look down at him. You didn’t dare to look at the thing that had filled you to the brim the night before because if you did, you didn’t know what you would do.

“Then, what is your final answer Peach? We done here? One time thing, that’s it?” You didn’t know what you expected, but not this. He was asking if this was the last time, not really convincing you to say otherwise. Did you want to be convinced to let this continue? What were you expecting from him?

“I–” Your mouth went dry, not knowing what to respond, but your mind knew exactly what it needed to be said. This, even if your body craves it once more, you cannot allow it. He shouldn’t either. You had to tell him that it was done but your eyes drifted to his lips at the same time he did to yours. 

Will you be able to hold back from kissing him, knowing just how good it felt to do so? Will you be able to not look at him the way you have been doing for the past month? Will you be able to not think about how he fucked you speechless on those lonely nights of yours? You don’t know… You don’t want to know but–

“I’ll respect it. I’ll back off.” No. You don’t want him to back off. You don’t want him to stop, you don’t want to stop this, but you can’t let it happen. The group could be involved, the relationship you so craved of him would be destroyed if something were to happen. You closed your eyes as you swallowed harshly, to then look up at his eyes once more.

“It was just this one time… We were curious, and it’s– it’s done.”

You two stared one another down for a few seconds, and it was as if the both of you were expecting someone to break first. For one of you to grab the other’s face and kiss them stupid. You could feel his hot breath all over your face, even if he wasn’t that close. That’s just how hard he was breathing.

His jaw clenched once and then you saw him take a step away from you, turning and grabbing his boxers from the floor. You wanted to look. You really did but you couldn’t. You fucking couldn’t, so you turned your head the other way as you clutched the blanket to your chest. He put his boxers on and then stretched his back, looking at you once more.

“Well, then there’s that Peach. We’ll go back to how we were before all this… or well, try.” You were puzzled by those words, looking at him as you felt your heart clench in your chest.

“Try?” 

“Well yes. Give me a little bit of time to forget about your tits and pussy, hard to look at your face when I have that in my head.” He was so fucking bold for saying this, making your face just flare up, and you looked away for him not to notice. You swallowed a lump of, you don’t even know what, as you stared at his dresser to keep your mind occupied.

“I see.” You didn’t know what to say. He wants to forget about last night and that’s what you wanted right? So why does it hurt your fucking ego? Why does it make your heart clench? It shouldn’t.

“Right. Okay. Well, I’ll let you put your clothes back on and you can go home.” And you snapped your head to look at him only to see him walking out after grabbing his shirt and pants, closing the door behind him. Your mouth fell open in disbelief and you slowly sat down on the bed once again.

What was that? Why did he agree so easily? But you wanted that? What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you feel like this? Why do you feel like you lost? Like you are making the wrong decision? It was just sex for fuck sake! There’s probably someone out there with Eddie’s same– same damn cock size! And– someone who can fuck you the way he did… someone who ate you out the way he did–

“Asshole.” You muttered through your teeth, not noticing you were showing them towards the door, a glare in your eyes. Fine, he wants to forget that night. He wants to forget you and your body. Perfectly fine, you’ll do the same. You’ll do the exact same, because this is how it should be. You made the right decision.

You did.

You’re enraged.

He really did not talk to you for the whole fucking week. You were basically back to how you two were a year ago, and you were hating it. You've gotten so used to talking to him everyday, sending funny memes to eachother, and just having fun, and now, it’s nonexistent.

But you sort of understood now what he meant about trying to forget… that. You understood because you can hardly stop thinking about it. You can hardly stop doubting yourself if your decision was the right one, debating the pros and cons about the situation. Of course the cons always won, it had to do with your friendship with him and the group, while the pros were… the pro was you could fuck him whenever you wanted.

You wanted to message him many times, but your dignity always won over as well as your respect for him to move away from you a bit to gather his thoughts once again. But fuck, you tried masturbating last night with the dildo you owned and– it just doesn’t satisfy you the way his cock did. You were enraged because Eddie Munson had ruined you for everyone else, or at least until you found someone that matches him in size and performance.

Robin doesn’t know and she will never know, and you hoped Eddie didn’t tell Steve. That was the last conversation you two had when you left his house, to keep this a secret. You couldn’t even accept his offer of him driving you home, preferring to just order a car to take you. You were awkward and nervous and you probably looked completely stupid, but can you be blamed?

You fucked your friend! You fucked someone you never thought you would fuck in your entire life! And you liked it– No, loved it and you wanted to do it again and again and again, but it just cannot be. You were also mad at yourself for wanting to do this again, despite knowing it was wrong. You hated that your body was already craving him desperately, wanting to feel him against you again, kiss you, fill you up and just turn you into a mess.

You wondered if Robin would kill you for it. She would probably be surprised and ask for details. You really need to stop thinking of him because tonight would be the first night you see him after literally riding him into oblivion and you have to pretend nothing ever happened between the two of you so your friends wouldn’t suspect anything at all.

How the fuck were you supposed to act normal?

Your doorbell rang and you looked at yourself in your full sized mirror again. A black simple strap dress with a black leather jacket on top. Hair done, makeup done, and some low heels. It was good enough and the air was starting to become warmer so, you were absolutely fine with a dress. 

You took a deep breath in and walked towards the door, opening it to reveal Steve, Robin and Jonathan holding their drinks up. You smiled, feeling the nerves invade your belly knowing he could come at any minute. The group decided to go out this saturday for Argyle’s birthday. He didn’t want to celebrate his birthday but you all invited Eden this time so he gratefully said yes. 

He decided on the club all of you were gonna go, and you could already guess it was going to be something different from the usual. Your eyes followed Steve as he entered the house with his boyfriend and roommate and you bit your bottom lip as your heart hammered in your chest. What if Eddie did tell him? Would he tell everyone?

You closed the door and you waited but no questions were asked and you didn’t notice Steve looking at you differently in any way. Same with Jonathan and thankfully Robin as well. He didn’t talk, which was good. 

“So…” Robin began and your blood went cold. Jonathan and Steve smirked at one another and– fuck, did they know? Did Eddie talk? You’re gonna kill him, you’re gonna fucking murder him. “You were glowing this week at work.”

“Huh?” You asked, trying to act innocent, trying to act like your blood didn’t just run cold in your veins just now.

“Robin told me you looked refreshed. What happened when we left Eddie’s house, hmm?” Steve asked and you felt like your breathing was cutting off. You had to lie, you had to make up a lie, anything.

“Nothing happened?” You busied yourself as you all stood in the kitchen, opening up the six packs of beer and putting them inside your fridge. Jonathan leaned on the wall next to it, arms crossed as he looked at you.

“Oh, something did happen.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Lie, you have to lie.

“Okay, fine… Something– happened.” You mumbled and you heard Robin gasp, and you turned around to see Robin covering her mouth and then Steve’s eyes were about to bulge out of its sockets.

“With Eddie?” His voice seemed strained, almost angry through the shock. You winced and frowned, shaking your head.

“What? No! He hooked me up with– with his friend Jeff!” 

Silence in the room. You gulped slowly as you looked at them, and then locked eyes with Robin. She was tilting her head in complete confusion as she stared at you. Her gaze fell on Steve who looked back at her and then you saw him sigh in relief.

Your shoulders fell down as you realized that it was indeed the right decision not to continue being friends with benefits with Eddie. By the looks of your friends, and especially Steve, you could see the fear behind the eyes. There was no happiness about it, or overall excitement for the two of you, just plain worry. Yeah, it was the better choice after all.

“You never told me you liked Jeff?” Robin looked at you once again and you shrugged, opening a beer for yourself.

“He looked nice that night and when you guys left he picked me up from Eddie’s and we went to a motel because he lives with Gareth.” You hoped they were buying your story because you would die if they didn’t.

“And?” Jonathan asked, holding onto your shoulder with a smirk on his face and you cleared your throat, took a sip of your beer and opened your mouth only for the doorbell to ring again and your heart stopped.

“I’ll get it! I want details so don’t start without me!” Robin yelled as she walked out of the kitchen and your blood drained your face. No, you cannot be this unlucky. You gulped as you took a bigger sip of your can and Steve was next to you, and if you squinted you could almost see a tail wag behind him.

“You never said anything! Like if it were someone random I don’t care, but Jeff? We know Jeff!” You rolled your eyes at him as you shook your head, feeling the nerves in your belly grow tenfold as you heard the door opening. You had to get out of this situation and fast.

“I would prefer to keep it to myself, I mean, like you said, it is someone you guys know–” And Jonathan rolled his eyes at you grabbing the rum and coke to start preparing his drink on your kitchen island.

“Oh please, just tell us if he was good and all that stuff.” You should have mentioned someone random from the party, someone they didn’t know. That’s why they’re fucking curious about it and you dug your own hole. You wanted to run away and not deal with this but then Robin marched back in with a smile to her face, Nancy holding her hand, Argyle, Eden and–

Fuck. He put his hair in a half ponytail just like you did that one time for him.

He was wearing a black button up linen shirt, open buttons at the top revealing his thin silver necklace. He was also wearing some worn out black colored pants, or jeans, you didn’t know, but fuck he looked good. Warm weather Eddie was going to fuck you over wasn’t he?

“Okay, continue!” Robin yelled as she sat on one of the stools, elbows on the counter and her chin on her hands with a smile on her face. Eddie’s eyes found yours and– shivers went down your spine as a flash of that night came to your mind. Him on top of you, moaning, thrusting in and out of you and you–

“Continue what?” Nancy snapped you out of your thoughts, making you look at her. Everyone was now waiting for you to continue and when you stuttered, not daring to look at Eddie, Jonathan talked for you.

“Robin said that since Eddie’s party, she–” and he made a nod at you making you wince”--has been in a special mood at work and now we found out why.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her and Nancy gasped, covering her mouth and her head snapped towards Eddie. His eyes were wide as he looked at you, a look that only asked one thing of you. ‘Did you tell them?’

Your mouth opened and closed as you looked at him and Argyle was looking in between the two of you while elbowing Eden to the side. You wanted to talk but Eddie was looking at you with anger or with confusion, you couldn’t really tell, but maybe it was both. You stuttered a bit but Steve was the one who interrupted this time, and you wanted the earth to swallow you whole.

“She just told us Jeff came to pick her up that night after we left.” He chuckled and looked at you while your eyes snapped to the wall on your side, not wanting to look at Eddie anymore. Your whole body and face was on fire as you wondered what his reaction was right now.

“Jeff…” By the sound of his voice he was starting to connect the dots together, and a dry chuckle escaped him, making you frown and turn your head to look back at him. “Yeah. Didn’t know he was that good, Peach. Special mood?” 

He was acting cocky now. A defiant look in his eyes and it reminded you of the Eddie of a year ago. Same look, same hateful gaze, arrogant, infuriating, making you want to walk over to him and strangle him until he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

But it was still enough to send shivers down your spine, making you move a bit in your place.

“It wasn’t that good.” Was your short reply, biting the inside of your left cheek and you just now noticed that she had been preparing drinks for everyone.

“Really?” Robin asked while looking at you as she took a sip of her drink. Your mouth opened to answer only for the motherfucker to interrupt you once again, while walking towards you, his hand reaching next to you to open the fridge and take a beer out.

“Hmm, is that why Jeff agreed that it was a one time thing? Maybe the one that wasn’t good…” and he looked at you, glares being exchanged, your heart beating into your chest as you looked at him and you saw his nostrils flare slightly as he continued, “-- was you, little Peach.” 

He slammed the door closed and you hissed at him, the sound startling you, but your anger was rising up, not being able to stop it as you fully faced him. Who does he think he is? Why does he feel that fucking entitled to treat you like this again?

“Slam my fridge one more fucking time Munson.” He cocked his head at you and Steve’s smile fell, immediately stepping in between you two, making you take a step back as well as Eddie, your eyes never leaving his, as he glared down at you.

“Okay, let’s not get too personal here…” Your breathing was deep, face burning with anger now, not knowing how to feel about this whole situation. Why was he acting so badly? He was the one who didn’t want to speak to you for a whole week, and he comes to your house and acts like a child?

“I was just protecting my friend Harrington. That’s all.” Eddie responded and took a sip of his beer before turning away from you. Your heart clenched at that, not really knowing why. You wanted to do something but you were not quite sure what. Just do something to him. But what?

You sighed as you looked at Robin who was looking back and forth to you and Eddie, while the other gave you one last look before turning to go to the living room, or to your balcony. You know Robin is worried, and you are too. Your heart clenched once more, feeling a pang of anxiety in the pit of your stomach.

All you wanted was to avoid this treatment. You wanted to avoid going back to the old ways Eddie and you treated eachother, yet you are still back into it. It was wrong to sleep with him. It was so wrong because now your friendship might be over thanks to ego, to pride, and you felt like crying. 

God, you knew he had become a close friend, almost a best friend you could say, and now realizing you fucked it all up for one night just made you want to hit yourself in the face. You wondered if he had the same thoughts or worries in his head. If he also didn’t like this situation at all.

But even with all these feelings, as you walked out with everyone else from the kitchen, and you looked towards the balcony, you couldn’t help but look at his broad back as smoke left his mouth while looking at his phone–

Wait, why is he looking at his phone? Is he– Nope, you are not doing this. You are not. You are going to pretend the knot in your stomach is not there, because, why the fuck would you care if Eddie was talking to someone? He can! He is free to do so, and maybe one of his hookups will be at the club you were all gonna go and he was just securing a fucking pussy. Yes, and he has all the right.

Yet, you couldn’t help but rush towards your table to grab your cellphone and turn away so no one could peek at your phone. You opened Instagram and saw Eddie had posted a story, right before he arrived. Your heart beat wildly in your chest and your finger clicked on his picture, only for the story to pop up and–

You let out a sigh of relief, very quietly, as you saw it was a goofy picture of him, Nancy, Argyle, and Eden in the mirror of your elevator. Wait, why are you relieved? If he wanted to post a shirtless picture on the mirror he could. It would probably score him some girl tonight for him to fuck, and he has all the right to do so because he wanted to forget about your body. And, did he say you weren’t good?

He fucking did. Anger bubbled up in your chest and you turned to see him in the balcony still, and you saw everyone else minding their own business, so you walked towards the sliding doors and stepped out, closing them behind you. Eddie looked over his shoulder and a dry huff escaped him before putting the cigarette on his lips again and taking a big puff.

“So, Jeff, huh.” He mumbled as he let the smoke out and your eyebrow twitched as you walked closer, standing next to him.

“You wanted me to tell the truth? I didn’t know Robin had been talking behind my back about how I–” Oh you chose your words wrong. A smirk broke on his lips, turning to face you with a piercing gaze, making you straighten up in your place.

“How you…? How you were glowing the whole week as Steve said? Or probably how satisfied you looked after riding my dick?” You gasped at how straightforward he was being. Didn’t he need the space to forget any kind of thoughts regarding that night? Thoughts about you? You cleared your throat and looked away, into the horizon, avoiding his eyes completely.

“Don’t give yourself so much credit. I bet you were also in a fucking great mood this week, let’s not forget how ‘I took you so well.’” You heard a groan from him and you turned your head to look at him with a frown and he was looking at you with those sharp eyes, jaw clenched and his free hand clenching onto the rail of the balcony.

“Now it is you who is giving herself way too much fucking credit.”

“I’m literally treating you the same way you are treating me. I didn’t know you would become a fucking asshole again after I said no!” You tried to keep your voice low, but high enough for him to know you were angry. He scoffed and shook his head, taking another puff of his cigarette before he continued talking.

“Don’t you fucking remember? I can read people like the back of my hand, and that is why I’m so goddamned angry at you.” Your mouth fell open as your body burnt from… anger? You didn’t know anymore. You just felt restless, and you felt like he could see right through you at the moment. Could he see how there is a part of you that regrets telling him no? That you want to kiss him again? That you want to feel him again? Can he see all of that?

“Stop with that bullshit Eddie. Did I crush your fucking ego? Is that the issue here?” You scoffed and you saw him clench his jaw as he straightened up, chuckling under his breath. There was tension between you, both are hunters ready to pounce, there’s no small and defenseless prey here. You’re both baring your teeth out at eachother to see who breaks first.

“You’re really up on that stupid high horse, aren’t you Peach?” His voice was rough, trying his best to probably sound cruel, but all you wanted was to pull him to your lips. You really need to fucking stop. “You started the insult, and I finished it.”

“I didn’t start shit! You made fun of my lie–”

“You know what, let’s just–” He closed his eyes for a second and took a deep breath to then exhale, looking down at you. “-- let’s just move on from this. You slept with Jeff last saturday, that’s the lie, let’s stick to it.”

“Yes, and he had a good time with me as well, even if he wants to fucking deny it just because I don’t want to do it again.” He was containing his own anger inside and you know it. He bit his bottom lip as he gave small nods while his nose flared up. He was pissed. Absolutely pissed. You were being a fucking hypocrite, and a liar.

“Believe what you want. In the end, you seem to be the one who looked refreshed this week.” You frowned at that, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Oh, and you didn’t?”

“Nope. I actually wasn’t refreshed. Hopefully, I can change that tonight.” You frowned in confusion as you turned to look at how he put out his cigarette on the ashtray. What did he mean? You felt nervousness as he looked at you one more time. Without saying another word he opened the sliding door and stepped inside. You stood there, processing what had just happened, wondering what he truly meant. 

Was he going to try to make a move on you tonight? The tension is there, the bantering is there and you should be disgusted or afraid of him making a move but why do you feel… elated? You feel happy or giddy from knowing that he is angry yet he might come onto you again.

Should you put condoms in your bag? Maybe, it doesn’t really hurt, but– no, no. You are not fucking him again. This is final. The group reacted badly when they suspected it was Eddie, which he was, but then they sighed with relief when they ‘knew’ it wasn’t. You sighed yourself as you held onto the rail and looked out into the city.

This really wasn’t supposed to be like this, but you can’t deny you are attracted to Eddie. More than any hookup you had before. It’s like you tried him once and it was enough to make you addicted. Nobody made you feel that way… well… except–

No time to think about that. No time to think about anything. You have to go back to being friends with Eddie. You can’t be salty or angry at one another because this little adventure happened between the two of you. You don’t want to lose Eddie, and you were trying to avoid it, but in the end, it didn’t matter, because it feels like you are losing him either way.

So you took a deep breath in and walked back into the living room, not wanting to look Eddie’s way but it was like you were magnetized to him. You tried focusing on getting to know Eden, and she was really cool, very Argyle in all the good sense. She was the perfect match for him, and her alternative clothes were a contrast to Argyle’s vibrant ones. It was cute.

You were on your second beer now, minutes had passed, almost an hour, and you didn’t want to drink anymore. Eddie has not been interacting or looking your way, and you are restless for some reason. Didn’t he say– No, if he does try something the answer is no. 

Even when you two were left alone in the kitchen for a whole minute, you didn’t share any words as you cleaned up to finally go to the club. You kept glancing at him, but he pretended you were non existent. Your heart ached at how he was treating you because before anything happened he was your friend first, and now you also lost that.

You opened your mouth to talk to him, tell him you didn’t mean what you said, just something for him to finally talk to you the way he always did, but you were interrupted when Jonathan came into the kitchen.

“Welp, you guys ready?” He was sober, being the designated driver this time. Eddie only drank one beer and he stopped because he was going to take the people that came with him home as well. You nodded as you closed the trash bag and walked out the kitchen. 

“Is everything okay between you and Eddie?” Robin asked worriedly. You didn’t really know what to tell her. Everyone for sure noticed the cold shoulders between the both of you, or how you talked to one another before. They weren’t blind, nor deaf.

“Um we– It seems that my comment towards Jeff didn’t sit right with him. And then he insulted me back so–”

“But I saw you two talking outside?” She asked with a small slur on her tongue. You sighed and rubbed her shoulder.

“Yeah, I am not saying sorry and he isn’t either.” Robin rolled her eyes at the two of you, knowing how childish that sounded.

“So, is everyone ready to go celebrate the great Argyle’s birthday?” Steve said a little too loud and you smiled weakly at his state of drunkenness. You heard Eddie laugh at him and your stomach flipped at the sound. This stupid crush towards your friend should be gone by now. It should, you already killed that curiosity, you know how it feels, you know how he does, it should be done.

“Let’s go amigos! You’re gonna like this club!” Eden cheered at her boyfriend as you remembered your purse, walking to your room to get it. This was going to be an outing with friends, so you should act like it. You will try to do some innocent talk with Eddie, maybe things flow naturally between the two of you again if you try.

Maybe.

Or maybe fucking not.

He is avoiding you like the plague. Argyle brought you all to a club that plays Latin music mostly, so it was easy for all of you to just stand around a table, drinking as you talked, laughing when Argyle did a shot of Jagermeister and almost spit it out, but his girlfriend took it like a champ. 

Steve and Robin were drunk, as always. Jonathan was sober trying to fix Steve’s hair while the other tried kissing his boyfriend, and Nancy was giddy, just hugging Robin from behind, and then Eddie… Eddie and you were sober. He was across from you, when a week ago he probably preferred to stand next to you, knowing the two of you were the single people in the group. You both shared that in common, and now you are separated while the couples around you were all over eachother.

You wanted to go dance, to distract yourself from it all, but no one was making any moves to do so. You turned around to look into the dancefloor, and the women were dancing sensually, exotic even, and then, a dark haired girl walked in front of you, her dress glistening from the lights in the club. You were mesmerized by her, not even hiding the fact you were looking at her, but she noticed, looking back at you.

She was really beautiful, and then she winked at you while walking away. Oh… That should have gotten you to make a move. To go after her, but– Fuck, why don’t you feel like going after her? You sighed, turning around to take a small sip of your glass of water only to find a pair of eyes, digging into your skull.

He was glaring your way, and you wondered if it was his ego once more. You got flirted at and he hadn’t. That’s all it was. You rolled your eyes at him and grabbed your glass, turning back around to avoid looking at him again. You felt your heart accelerating as you tried to think of ways to not think about him at all.

But the more you pondered, the more you realized that you didn’t go after that girl because– Fuck, you can’t, you can’t want him! It’s wrong, it’s wrong, it’s wrong. The two beers you had probably were enough to make you this stupid. You had to go dance with someone, or get away from Eddie, but you didn’t have to. Eddie was heading to the dancefloor with Steve and Argyle, the two drunks. You only guessed he was going as a chaperone for them.

But what if someone–

You looked at Eden and smiled, nodding towards the dancefloor to join the boys. She smiled back at you, linked her arm around yours, and dragged you to the middle where the guys were. You just wanted to dance, that’s the whole reason you came to dance with them. Steve immediately grabbed you and twirled you around, making you giggle at how he almost stepped all over your feet.

“I don’t know how to dance any of this shit, but I sure as hell will try!” You heard him yell and you shook your head at him, only to then be pushed on your back, making you stumble over. You gasped and tried to grab onto anyone. A pair of arms wrapped around you before you tumbled to the floor, and your face was pressed to a chest, the leather like cologne filling your nostrils, making your heart thump faster.

“Watch the fuck out!” You heard Eddie yell over the music, and then you felt as if he shoved someone. You wanted to remain here, in his arms, and then– memories of that night started coming to your mind. You felt yourself burning all over, and particularly downwards. Fuck– 

“God, there was enough space for him to go through!” You heard Eden complain and then you were being pushed away, gently, the arms unwrapping from your body. You looked up to see those brown irises looking back at you, reminding you of that time where he supposedly hated you, yet still defended you from an asshole.

You don’t want this to be like that time, where he felt obligated to act heroic. He didn’t hate you now, did he? It’s just a rough patch in your relationship and you have to get over it. His hand squeezed your right shoulder and you felt shivers running down your entire spine.

“You alright?” His voice was loud but he wasn’t screaming. You gulped and nodded, feeling cold when the hand retracted. How long will it have to be for you to at least feel Eddie’s embrace again? A hug. Anything… but–

“Thanks…” You muttered under your breath. He gave a single nod, looking back at Argyle who was now trying to twerk to a song, and all you could do is stare at his side profile. 

Stop. Stop. Stop. You can’t fuck him again.

He said you were jealous, and you weren’t! You were curious only! You just wanted to know if he kept hookups as friends later on. Was that so bad? Was it bad to be curious about what a friend does in their life? In their relationships? No, it isn’t. You know everything about Robin, and you just wanted to have the same level of knowledge on Eddie.

You weren’t fucking jealous. You didn’t like him that way even, it was just attraction, so how could you be jealous over someone you just like physically?

“I’m off to get water.” You heard him talk, and you saw him walk away, and now you didn’t want to dance anymore. You bit your bottom lip as you stared at him until he got lost in the crowd. You wanted to follow him and talk to him, but you couldn’t. Maybe tomorrow, because right now it is for certain he doesn’t want to talk to you at all. 

“C’mon brochacha, dance with me! I’m the birthday boy!” You giggled at Argyle and he was right. You weren’t enjoying your friend’s birthday because of these stupid thoughts. Because of Eddie. You tried to calm your heart and dance with him, laughing when he tried to show you and Steve how to dance this music, and Steve just failed miserably.

You were laughing, songs passing and your worries started to leave your mind. Jonathan, Robin and Nancy joined after, but no sign of Eddie. It didn’t matter, because you were laughing as you were twirled around by Nancy. The music was not something the lot of you listened daily, but at least they were very well known songs.

Your bladder suddenly yelled at you for release. You have been holding it in for thirty minutes already, and you had to rush to the bathroom. You leaned over to Eden to yell to her over the music and into her ear so she could hear you.

“Where’s the bathroom!?”

“Next to the left side of the bar!” You nodded and gave her a thumbs up. You told everyone you were going to the bathroom and you started swimming through the sea of people. You avoided a few men that tried grabbing your hand in order to dance with you, rolling your eyes at the insistence. You finally stepped out of the dancefloor and saw the bathroom sign over the entrance of a hallway, but as you walked towards it, your head turned to the left only for your face to completely fall.

Eddie was leaning against the bar counter, smiling down at a girl. Both of them with drinks in their hands. Didn’t he say he was getting water? When did that change to alcohol? And how did he get to flirt with a girl this quickly? Your mouth was dry as you felt your belly turning, feeling your ego being crushed for some fucking reason. 

You turned and walked down the hallway, your knees feeling like jelly. You rushed to get inside the lady’s room and into a stall. You could hear all the girls talk but all you could think about was Eddie’s flirtatious smile towards this stranger. You should feel happy for him, like, good for him for getting some.

You relieved yourself, knees hurting from having to hold yourself up from not touching the toilet seat, and you walked to wash your hands, looking at your reflection as foam appeared on your palms. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and why– why are you thinking like this?

You feel sick. Maybe you are sick. You felt like you wanted to puke, your stomach was turning and your throat was closing up on you. Everything was spinning and you felt dizzy, and angry, and like your dignity was fucking squashed into the floor. At least he shouldn’t flirt with her in your face? You didn’t flirt with that girl before, and he is just–

What the fuck are you thinking? He is nothing to you and you are nothing to him, so why are you thinking like this? You really do feel sick don’t you? You need to go home, but everyone wants to stay most likely, so who on earth can take you home? Maybe just order a car?

Meanwhile, Eddie was outside, in the bar, having the most boring conversation there is with a girl that started talking to him out of nowhere. He was really going to get water, but maybe this was a good opportunity to try to go back to who he was before having a taste of you.

She wasn’t exactly his type, but she was very pretty. She just seemed the typical airhead who laughs at whatever he says for his attention, the hand trick on his arm, the lip biting. Nothing like you flirted with him. It was subtle and you didn’t even know you were doing it, thinking it was simple bantering.

That’s what it was at first, and now you two are back to how you were months ago. He didn’t want to treat you the way he did, but he was angry. He knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you, and he understood you. He really did understand your point of view, and why you were so afraid, but fuck did he want you again. He knows the woman in front of him won’t satisfy him, but if he isn’t going to be able to have you, then he should just refresh his contact list. 

“And then, we just like, drank a whole keg and it was insane.” Her voice was nasal, and her topic of conversation revolved around her solely. He faked a smirk, and he was already told that Argyle and Eden were heading to a motel after this. He didn’t need to know, but that leaves him with no passengers because he knows Nancy is leaving with Robin. So… he can easily take this girl back to his place.

He has to start trying to not think about your body because that’s all he did this past week. Seeing you tonight, in that dress, just made him want to grab you and take you to your room and just bend you over on all fours on your desk and rail into you, over and over again. Make you scream the way you did a week ago. But he can’t do that. 

So, taking this girl back to his place is. He opened his mouth to talk to her only to be interrupted by a tap on his shoulder. He turned his head, frowning in surprise as he saw you standing next to him. You were nervous, and you were a bit shaky from what he could see. He felt his stomach do a stupid twirl, and he wondered if something happened to you.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt um– I– I feel sick…” Now he was confused. His head tilted to the side in question, an eyebrow rising as he looked at you. You felt sick?

“Um… Alright Peach, go tell Jonathan.” Eddie was trying to understand why you were interrupting him, but he didn’t have to wonder for long.

“You promised me you were my ride tonight… Plus they don’t seem like they want to go…” Oh. Oh you were a fucking bitch. He didn’t make such a promise and you knew it. You saw him flirting with someone else, and just like he predicted, you became jealous, to the point of interrupting him. 

“Right. You feel sick and you want to leave now, is that correct?” Your jaw clenched while looking up at him with those glossy eyes of yours. You slowly nodded at him and he had to gather his thoughts for a second, his heart thumping in his chest in excitement. He didn’t plan this at all, he really was going to respect your choice even if you were lying and he didn’t like it either.

“Aww, but I was having fun.” The girl in front of him pouted and fuck, he already forgot her name. The adrenaline of leaving with you overtaking him completely, excited to feel you around him again, hopeful to feel you cum around his cock and yell his name like seven days ago.

“I’m sorry baby, but I did promise her I was her ride for tonight.” He side-eyed you for a moment, and you were fiddling with your fingers while looking away. He wondered what you were thinking right now. 

“Can I at least have your instagram? Snapchat?” His eyes turned to look at the girl in front of him again, and he chuckled, shaking his head.

“Sorry, I don’t own social media.” And before she could ask for his number, his arm wrapped around your shoulders, turning you towards the entrance of the club, making sure you didn’t bump into anyone. He felt you tense up under his touch, or shiver, but it filled him with pride knowing he was making you feel this way just by touching your shoulder.

Once you two were out, he let go of your shoulders and he saw you looking back at the club, and then continued walking next to him. He didn’t see you drink, just at your home and those two beers. He knows you are not drunk, and you did whatever you did back there completely conscious. 

The car was not far away, and there were no words exchanged by the two of you. His heart was beating loudly, hearing his blood flowing, already feeling his belly burn with need. He couldn’t believe how primal he became when you were next to him now. You were a fucking drug. 

He opened the passenger’s seat for you and you looked at him as you slowly got inside, your eyes never breaking contact with one another’s. He felt his hands itching to touch you, knowing he is a few minutes away to actually get to touch you the way he did a week ago. He closed the door and while rounding the car, he messaged Argyle and Nancy to tell them he is taking you home because you were really sick.

He wondered if they were going to buy that lie. He honestly didn’t actually care, not when his stomach turned with adrenaline at the thought of eating you out again, or feel you cum around his cock, very tight at the base, bottoming out completely inside of you. He got into the driver’s seat and he saw you were texting, probably Jonathan since he was the sober one. 

But, he didn’t see excitement in your face. He could detect hints of doubt, of worry, embarrassment? He was about to talk when your phone started ringing, your eyes frowning in confusion and answering it.

“Hello?” You asked and motioned for him to start driving. He started the car and he got out of the parking space to start driving… to your house? His? “Robin, you are drunk– I’m– Yeah, I’m fine! Eddie is taking me home.” 

To your house it is, okay. He leaned over to talk over the phone so that Robin could hear him talk, knowing she won’t remember shit from this night.

“We’re gonna go have sex with eachother Robin!” He felt you push his shoulder, and he could hear how Robin went ‘That’s impossible!’ and he snorted as he kept his eyes on the road. You cursed under your breath as you got on the phone with Robin again.

“He– Of course he lied, god Robin– Yes, I do feel sick… Uh huh.” You closed your eyes, head thumping on the headrest of your seat as you kept listening to your friend. He fixed himself on his own because– for some reason, there was anger bubbling inside of him, and he was hoping his intuition was wrong. “Yeah, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye.”

He saw you hang up and sigh, putting the phone into your purse again. Should he ask? Should he just drive to your place without a word? He was never in this position and now he is realizing just how different it is to fuck a stranger from a friend.

“So… sick huh.” He started and you gulped, staring out your window.

“Y-Yeah… I’m honestly feeling icky. Nauseous and stuff.” And he frowned, his gut already turning with a bad feeling, an awful taste in his mouth at your words. Were you serious? No, he definitely knows you are lying.

“Wait, you’re actually sick?” 

“Yeah, I was– in the bathroom trying not to puke before talking to you.” And– Oh he was pissed.

“You– Oh my fucking god!” His foot stepped on the gas, and his speed raised a bit more as he turned left, completely getting off the route to your house. You gasped as you held onto the handle above the window, and he knew you were a bit afraid, but he wanted to murder you right now.

“What the fuck Munson! Take me home!” You could see how the buildings started becoming smaller, then houses–

“No, you and I are going to have a fucking talk, Peach.” He gave you an unamused laugh as you saw the trees coming closer, your stomach turning wildly from nerves, of anger, of excitement? You are not sure anymore. You didn’t do anything wrong. You truly felt sick, you could feel it.

“We don’t have to talk about anything! I just need to get home to rest–” You hear him groan loudly at your response and he turns onto a dirt road, making the car swing around as he gets deeper into the trees around you. You knew there was some kind of countryside outside of the city, but not with trees. It looks more like an ecological park than anything.

Suddenly he comes to a stop, both of you jerking forward, stopped by your seatbelts. Your heart was pounding wildly in your chest as you looked at him, wide-eyed. He turned off the headlights, leaving your surroundings in complete darkness, and the only thing illuminating the inside of his car was the small navigating screen in the middle.

“You are a fucking bitch, you know that?” His voice was low as he almost ripped the seatbelt off of him, running a hand over his face. He couldn’t really believe what you just did, and the fact you are denying it is bringing back all those old feelings he had for you again. How much he hated seeing you lie over and over again in front of Robin. Lying about who you were. But this time, this involves him, and you are lying into his face and even fucking his night over.

“Excuse me? What the hell is your problem!?” You were angry at him because he basically kidnapped you, taking you far away from the city and your friends, and all you wanted was to get home and curl up in your bed. Didn’t you?

“My problem? Oh, I don’t know, the fact I was about to score a fuck for tonight until you showed up and demanded me to take you home, LYING that I promised to be your drive back, when we both know I didn’t agree to shit!” He was looking at you, both of your chests going up and down with heavy breaths. You felt your belly dropping lower and lower, the consequences of your actions now coming clean in front of your face, but you won’t admit that to him.

“I– I had to do it because no one wanted to leave! That’s that!” 

“And your best option was to lie to me, when you knew I was actually busy? You’re full of fucking bullshit and you know I know it.” His eyes were like daggers into your skull, your soul, your heart. He could see you and he could feel your lies and your tricks. It’s not that you didn’t want him to be with someone else, you just felt sick at the moment, that’s all.

“I felt sick! I really did!” You squealed out, making him huff as he let out a fake chuckle, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sick because I was going to stick my dick in someone else’s cunt and not yours.” Your whole stomach, intestines, and lungs made a turn, knocking the air out of you in an instant. How dare he? How fucking dare he say that about you when it was nothing like that?

It wasn’t.

“I– The world doesn’t revolve around you Munson! Why would I care about something like that? The fuck you think you are? The best I’ve ever had or some shit?” You wanted to scoff at that because you were lying. You were fucking lying but you cannot admit it to him. His face turned to you, a glare directed into your soul and you felt a shiver run down your whole body.

“I fucking know I am the best you’ve ever had. And I know you are regretting saying it was a one-time thing.” 

Your body was set aflame at that, and you knew you were becoming aroused each second that passed. You were aroused at the bantering? Were you for real? You couldn’t do this, you had to get home because you were feeling your body tremble with adrenaline as your stomach did somersaults. 

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?” He was angry, you could see it in the way his jaw clenched and unclenched, how he was looking at you with murderous eyes, and you didn’t really have a way to defend yourself at this point but just keet arguing with him.

“Me? Fine princess. I’ll just pretend you admitted you regretted your fucking choices and so you ruined my night.” You were fuming, thighs rubbing together as your impulsiveness started to get hold of you. Your hands were restless as you looked at him, whole body flushed and burning from inside out.

“Admit!? I didn’t admit shit, and it wasn’t like that! Why can’t you just accept that!?” Your voices were loud, and you were glad no one was around you, at least nowhere close.

“Because you’re a fucking liar Peach!” His whole body was turned to you and you felt your heart hammering in your chest, blood pumping in your ears and your breath was heavy and elaborated. Your eyes were scanning his eyes, his lips as they moved, the vein on his neck, his hand as he flayed it around when he talked.

“Why the fuck would I lie about something like that!?” You gritted out of your teeth and you could feel the tension inside the car, how the air became heavy, two predators waiting for one to pounce onto the other. You dug your nails into your thighs as he rolled his eyes at you, a final scoff out of his lips.

“The sooner you admit it, the sooner we can get this over with and fuck eachother stupid, because I know you want that as much as I do.” Your mouth fell open at that, jaw dropping to your thighs almost. Your hands gripped onto your seatbelt that was still tight on you, glaring at him with sharp eyes.

“No, I do not.” He lets out a chuckle at that, shaking his head and then giving you one nod as his tongue licks on his bottom lip, trying to contain himself, his eyes looking forward and out of the windshield.

“Alright, then it’s done. I’ll take you home and I’ll go back to the club.” Your heart hammered in your chest because, why? It’s already late, he wouldn’t be able to get in. Would he? You felt your entire skin burning, your fingertips up in flames as well as your cheeks. Your body trembled and you couldn’t pinpoint why. It felt like a mixture of things, adrenaline, excitement, euphoria, anger, and– your ego being squashed.

That is all it fucking was. Your pride being destroyed right on your face. Why do you feel like this when you were the one who made the decision? He wanted to keep doing it but you refused and– You didn’t want him to fuck another girl, at least not in front of you.

Because you know you were the best he ever had.

You unbuckled your seatbelt, the noise of it making Eddie turn to look at you, your body immediately reaching for him over the console. You heard him take a sharp intake of breath, as if in a hiss, meeting you in the middle, the both of you breathing heavily, desperate for one another. Your hands grasped his face, his left hand moving to your waist, right hand on the back of your neck, and you two gave one another one final look, before closing your eyes and hungrily taking eachother’s lips.

You kissed him with the purpose of taking his breath away. You wanted to leave no air at all in his lungs as the lip smacking could be heard inside the car, loudly so. Your fingernails went into his scalp, earning a groan from his part. You wanted to die from embarrassment because you realized how desperate you were to separate your thighs for him, so you rubbed them together as his hand on your waist gripped even harder, his fingertips digging into the fabric of your dress.

Your heads turned from side to side as the kiss grew more fierce, rougher, and sloppier. You wanted to feel him again, rub yourself on him, get him inside of you as quickly as possible. You don’t even know if you have the strength to go to his or your house at this point, the need being too unbearable. 

You moaned into his mouth when his hand moved downwards, gripping your ass and you felt a sweat moving all over your body, drenching you from how hot the car felt. How hot you felt. He chuckled into the kiss at your moan which earned him a tug on his hair from your part. He growled into his throat and his hand left your ass. You wanted to whine at the loss of touch, but then he pulled away, making the both of you look at one another, and then, his seat went all the way backwards, away from the steering wheel, his left hand on the lever underneath his seat.

You didn’t hesitate, not a single second, your breathing heavy as you moved quickly over the console, not caring if you were flashing him at all, you just needed to sit down on the bulge you could clearly see on his pants. Feel him once more because who were you going to lie to right now? Lie about how you didn’t think of messaging him all week and tell him to fuck what you said before? Lie about how you were close to visiting him at his shop and probably suck his cock under his desk?

Yeah, whatever friendship you had with Eddie, it’s gone.

Your knees were against the leather seat, one on each side of his hips and your hands cradled his face once again, leaning down to kiss his lips just like seconds before. Your head was bumping slightly against the roof of the car but you didn’t care. It will be a bit uncomfortable but it’s not something you really care for right now.

His right hand gripped the lever on the side to lean the back of his seat downwards, just slightly, not all the way. You didn’t stop kissing him for a second, and then your hips collided with his and he couldn’t help but moan into the kiss, almost a whimper, which you reciprocated with a moan of your own. You could feel him through your wet underwear, rubbing deliciously against you and the zipper’s fly of his pants catching onto your aching clit. 

Your hips were rubbing against him aggressively, not caring if he noticed how desperate you were because, by how his hands started gripping your waist, and by how his own hips swayed on the seat back and forth with you tells you he was in the exact same situation as you were. 

Eddie grunted into the kiss as he felt his dick become harder, twitch at every movement, and he was probably leaking a lot of precum already. This whole week had been torturous for him, not being able to get you out of his head and no matter how many times he jerked off and dedicated his cum to your name, it wasn’t enough. 

And right now, this wasn’t what he had planned. He had planned to meet a chick at the club to take home and try to satiate himself with her, even if he knew damn well it wasn’t going to work out, he still wanted to try. He didn’t expect your jealousy, or whatever it is called because the two of you do not like eachother, not in that way.

This was just physical attraction.

He knew he was territorial. He had his reasons to, but you, you were a mystery to him. Maybe it was your ego, your pride, and it probably really was. Maybe if you weren’t there and you found out later, you wouldn’t have cared. Would he care if he found out about you sleeping with someone else? Missing a night out and to find out you went out and fucked some guy or girl–

The thought made his mind spin, his right hand flying up to grip the back of your head, yanking onto your hair so you would open your mouth. A gasp escaped you, your lips parting over his, and he took this opportunity to slide his tongue in your mouth in order to meet yours. Your moans filled his throat and he felt as if he came back to life once more after the fucking week he had.

Your hands, now clawed onto his shoulders, nails digging into the stupid shirt he is wearing that looks way too good on him and you want to see it in complete shreds. Your hips started circling onto him, and you moaned into his mouth as your clit was rubbed on, your cunt just getting wetter at each roll. His hips were jerking upwards, his need to be inside of you growing each second.

You were pathetically clenching around nothing. Fuck, he felt too good, and you were so stupid for saying that it should have been a one-time thing only, and he is not even inside you yet. His dick is still inside his pants and you already felt cockdrunk on him, but it feels too good to stop. You could already feel the coil in your belly turning, finally pleased to have what it has been craving for.

His tongue was greedily licking onto yours, tasting you and devouring you, eating you whole. He wanted to eat you out again, have your pussy in his mouth, and make you crumble under his touch, but it seems there is going to be another time after this. Your hands went down his chest, and your breaths were heavy against eachother, and he couldn’t help but feel… victorious. He gripped your hair in order to pull away from you, keeping his lips close to yours and he smirked when a whimper fell from your pouted and puffy lips.

“One time thing my fucking ass, right Peach?” Your eyes were glistening with lustful tears, and you glared at him, grunting at his cockiness. You responded by rolling your hips against his, making him choke on his breath.

“Shut the fuck up Munson, my pussy drove you so mad that you didn’t think rationally at all. One of us had to be the voice of reason, and it wasn’t going to be you.” At your response, his eyes looked at you with a murderous stare, and his nostrils were flaring up at you, showing how pissed off your comment made him. 

But you were right on that.

He wanted you so bad that he didn’t want to see how it would affect the entire group and not just the two of you. He wanted to be inside of you again so bad that he was willing to risk it all. He wanted you again. He needed you again. But you are never going to hear that coming from his mouth.

“You say that, yet I had the intention of taking someone home tonight, and trust me Peach, you weren’t a choice.” And now it was your turn to glare into his eyes because, how fucking dare he? How dare he say something like that to you? Why does that hurt you? Why do you feel so angry? Why does it feel like he just carved a hole somewhere in your body?

Your hand flew to grip his chin, tilting his head back as his hand let go of your hair, letting you dive into his neck and biting him. It wasn’t that harsh, but it was enough to sink your teeth in if just a little bit. He winced, clenching his eyes as he felt his whole body tremble at the sensation. You were marking him up. Fuck, if only you knew what it was doing to him.

His dick twitched in his pants, making him groan in pain at how much pressure was being put onto him, your relentless rubbing against him making it all worse. His breathing was shaky, your tongue now lapping at the part where you had bitten. You proceeded to kiss him there, the burning in your belly becoming even more unbearable. 

You pulled away from him with a pop, trying to not hit the roof of the car with your head, and his hands gripped onto your jacket, pulling it down your shoulders and you helped him with taking it off. His mouth latched onto your neck this time, and you sat down on his thighs as you sighed in delight at his kisses. He knew he couldn’t mark you now, it would be too obvious since he probably has your fucking teeth engraved in his neck right now. 

Your hands went to his pants, and you thanked the heavens he didn’t wear a belt today. It was just a matter of seconds before you had unbuttoned him and pulled the fly of his zipper down. You were so close, and then– he pulled away.

“Shit, fuck–”

“What is it?” You were infuriated. Why was he stopping? Why was he stopping you now?

“I don’t have a condom sweetheart, and as much as I would love to fuck you raw, who knows what dick’s been in there.” That earned him a bite to his bottom lip this time, making him whimper against you. Fuck. This was another side of you that he never expected. He loved it. No one ever treated him like this, as if he was owned, as if he should know his place. This was new. You were new.

“I’m more worried about where your dick’s been. I have condoms in my purse.” And that earned you a smirk from him, his bottom lip now red and pulsing from your bite. 

“So, you came prepared.”

“And who says you were a choice?” At that, Eddie only leans in towards you, and you could see him inhaling, how his pupils dilated even more for just a second, and then focused on your face once again. 

“Oh baby, I know I was your only choice.” His and your eyes were locked on one another, fire and sparks flying between the two of you. Your jaw clenched, looking at the purse sitting on the passenger’s seat and then back at him.

“You’re gonna put it on or not?” And his hand flew to reach your purse, without taking his eyes off you. He hands it to you and you take just one second to stick your hand in and then into the small side pocket to take the condom out. You could see your phone lighting up from the movement, and that you had notifications, more than thirty minutes passed since you left the club. It can wait.

He threw the purse back to the side, and you raised yourself a bit from his thighs as you opened the condom with your teeth. He was mesmerized by you, not being able to take his eyes off you as he raised his hips to push his pants and boxers down to his bent knees. You took the latex out of the foil and you threw it away, not caring where it landed really.

You looked down to see his cock, up, alert, red, and leaking for you. You wanted to bend down and lick it clean, to taste it again, but your pussy is begging for it. It has been begging for it for the past week. You gulped as you felt your mouth watering, the back of your head touching the roof of the car from being kneeled on the seat.

Eddie was seeing how you were biting your bottom lip, looking down at his cock and– fuck you were going to be the death of him because if he is not inside you in the next three seconds, he is going to explode. He grabbed the condom from your hand, and immediately rolled it down, holding in a pathetic moan from finally feeling some friction, but it’s stupid to feel it from his own hands.

Your left hand pressed on his shoulder as the right one lifted the hem of your dress up towards your stomach, keeping it bunched up there, finally revealing your underwear to him. He licked the inside of his cheek as he saw how you pushed your thong to the side, and fuck– he could see it. He could see how sticky your underwear was to your pussy from how wet you were. He felt his heart punching his chest with the need to go down on you again, but you didn’t give him time to think at all.

You were already guiding yourself on top of him, the head of his cock gliding between your folds and catching onto your clit, making you moan with relief. Your body shook with adrenaline as Eddie’s hands went to your hips, bracing himself for the moment he had been dreaming of for days. He should have put music on because this was going to be loud, he knew it–

His thoughts were shut off as you started sinking down on him, no need for foreplay, no time for it. It was stupid to try to stop this. It was stupid to try to make this a one-time thing. It was stupid to try to make it seem as if the attraction was not there. It was stupid to try to deny that the year of hatred just made you both want eachother even more. Craving a friendship, or this, you don’t know.

A smile spread on your lips while you bit your bottom lip, your eyes closed as you relished in the feeling of finally having him inside, and you couldn’t wait to feel like last saturday again. Full. Satisfied. Relaxed. You didn’t notice how Eddie was fighting off closing his own eyes so he could drink you in. You were smiling while taking his cock, slowly, inch by inch. Fuck, he can’t wait to feel you around him, to feel you pulsating, throbbing, and then the clench. That delicious fucking clench.

He threw his head back on the headrest as your mouth finally opened with a silent moan, and you looked down to where the two of you were connecting, finally opening your eyes. Your left hand on his shoulder while the other gripped the roof handle on his side for some leverage. If you didn’t, then you were for sure going to sink down at once, and even if you know you can take him, you also know you didn’t stretch yourself out first. You’re wet enough to go slow, but not to immediately slam down on him like you did last time. 

“Oh, holy fuck…” He moaned out, breaths leaving his lungs in huffs, holding himself back from thrusting his hips upwards. The more you took him, the more he was beginning to lose control of his movements. He didn’t want you to be in charge, that was his job… but fuck, you looked so good like this.

You could feel him filling you up, finally swallowing up his base, noticing how his back arched from the backrest, just slightly, as well as a whimper leaving his lips. He looks so good, he feels so good. Your breath was completely out of your lungs as you adjusted to his size, walls fluttering around him, pulsating, sucking him in and not letting him go anywhere anytime soon.

He let out a loud grunt, almost a growl, opening his eyes when your hips finally touched his. He was breathing heavily through his nose as he looked where you clearly swallowed him whole, his cock deep inside of you, and your face did not show a single sign of pain, of hurt, of displeasure. He had some doubts from last time, that maybe the euphoria of it all let you take him the way you did but– no… No, you could take him.

You can fucking take him.

“God, yes...” You breathed out when you felt the tip of his cock just touch you in places you’ve never felt before, or in a while. You weren’t sure, and you really weren’t. All you know is that now you feel amazing, and that’s what matters, that he feels amazing. Your left hand gripped his shoulder tightly, your pussy suddenly clenching around him, making his eyes go wide, and his hips jerk upwards. You gasped at the feeling, the back of your head knocking on the roof, just gently. 

“Shit– Sorry Peach– But fuck do you feel good…” His ass was back on the seat, and you took the opportunity to hover a little longer so his cock would slide out of you a few inches, and then you slammed yourself against him, knocking the breath out of his lungs. Your eyes were glistening, the pleasure taking over your features and body.

“You feel good Eddie, so good–” You could admit that to him, just like he was to you. You rolled your hips against him, your G-spot being rubbed on and your mouth fell open in silent moans. Eddie could only grip your thighs, trying not to dig his fingertips into your flesh, not wanting to hurt you but–

It was as if the two of you were made for eachother.

You raised yourself from him, only to move down again, swaying your hips just slightly as you did so. He let out a sigh of pleasure, rolling his head over the headrest as he felt you start to create a tempo slowly. He could feel how deep he was inside of you, and he kept wondering how it was possible. But just like last time, maybe some things just have no answers. ‘Because it can’ and it was as simple as that.

You were now moaning a louder, your moves quickening as you felt him glide inside of you, feeling every vein and ridge of his shaft. You felt like you were floating on clouds by how good it felt, only the burning on your thighs from the work you were putting into bringing you back to earth. 

He saw how there was some drool pooling at the corner of your mouth as it remained open with noises coming out of it each time you went down on his cock. He could also hear the squelching sound of your juices, of your wetness all around him. You look so beautiful and perfect right now, he can’t help it. He leaned forward, his right hand moving to the back of your neck to pull you downwards and clash his lips onto yours.

You moaned into the kiss as your right hand now rested on his left shoulder, mimicking your left one. You kissed him back, instantly melting your tongue with his, savoring him once again as you kept moving your hips, up and down, quicker, faster, rougher, and his left hand moved from your thigh to your ass and then–

SMACK.

You gasped into the kiss, pulling away for just a second, your right ass cheek burning from the slap it received. 

“Eddie–!” His hand pulled you back to his lips by the back of your neck. You moaned into the kiss, his hand now rubbing the area where he slapped and you just rutted your hips against him, the tip of his cock just abusing your g spot, tipping you closer and closer towards the edge. 

You didn’t feel like yourself and Eddie didn’t either. It was weird to think that the two of you were just friends a few weeks ago and now you are roughly fucking inside his car, like two horny teenagers. The windows of it all fogged up, and you are pretty sure your moans can be heard from the fucking city. 

Your belly burnt and twisted, and you felt like it was going to explode. Your orgasm was coming closer and closer and Eddie could feel it all around his cock. Your walls were throbbing against him and in all honesty, Eddie had been thinking about this for so long that his own orgasm was coming quicker than normal. He grunted when he raised his hips and then set a brutal pace on you, pistoning his hips into you, the slapping of hips loud inside the small room in the car.

You pulled away from the kiss, holding onto his shoulders and feeling his fingertips digging into the flesh of your ass. He had a death grip on you, helping him pull you down towards him as he thrust upwards into you.

“So well. Taking me so fucking well Peach–” He groaned as he felt beads of sweat falling from the side of his face, your moans and the squelch of your pussy a degenerate but blissful sound in his ears.

“Eddie– Eddie– oh fuck–” Your belly coiled, pussy clenching around him which made him stutter, feeling himself getting closer. He wished he wasn’t, just to make you time two, maybe three times around his cock, but his body was betraying him tonight. He gave one deep thrust before pulling his hips back down onto the seat, making you slam down on him, a loud grunt escaping him.

You started moving desperately, trying to chase your high, needing it, and Eddie was just letting you use him at your disposal. You were moaning his name like your life depended on it and he was loving it. His right hand left the back of your neck to push one of the straps of your dress down, as well as the strap of your bralette.

He almost ripped the cup of the lace off you but he wasn’t going to risk being yelled at by you, so he pulled it downwards, making your left breast pop out. His mouth immediately latched on your neck, kissing it sloppily. You were dizzy, your mind completely shut off thanks to pleasure as your hips kept moving on him, feeling the drag of his cock against your walls, and the tip of it hit you deliciously where you needed him the most.

You felt him unlatch from your neck to then feel your nipple being pinched by teeth. You let out a pathetic whine, a whimper, and you hear him moan against you as his lips envelop your nipple and he starts sucking on it, making you sweat all over as you feel your orgasm as if it were about to murder you.

He could feel you, smell you, and you were driving him absolutely mad. He was throbbing, begging for release, but he was holding himself back trying to wait for you to cum around him first. He needs to feel it. He lets go of your nipple with a pop and he presses his forehead against your collarbone, his face twisting as his entire body starts to shake from the impending orgasm.

“Peach– I’m going to fucking cum, fuck–” And for some reason, knowing she was making him cum by just riding him stupid was the drop that tipped over the glass.

“Ed– Ed– Eddie–!” Your eyebrows were met in the middle as your mouth remained open with breathless moans as your walls clenched tightly all around him, making you stop moving. He threw his head back onto the headrest, feeling himself being engulfed by you, trapped by you around his base and it felt too good.

“You feel so fucking good baby, god fucking damnit–” You were trembling on top of him as he moved back and forth in the seat so his cock would drag inside of you, helping you ride your orgasm out, and he realized you came with penetration only. His hands held onto your thighs now, his hips thrusting as much as they could, his breath coming out ragged as he still felt you spasming around him, and clenching on him. “-- sh-SHIT!”

He pushed your thighs down on him, seething himself deep inside of you, finally letting a loud cry escape your lips, and he clenched his eyes as he moaned your name, his seed spilling into the condom in huge spurts, and in great quantities. His hips twitched underneath you, the vein in his neck popping off from the intensity of the orgasm. He felt so good, so satisfied, his breathing coming in heavy as well as yours as you both finally relaxed, him on the seat and you over him. 

The crescent moon marks on his shoulders thanks to your nails, your heart threatening to just give up on you at any moment, the fogginess of your climax starting to slowly wear off the more you catch your breath. Your legs were shaking, spasming every now and then and he winced from the overstimulation around him.

With one hand he managed to press the button to pull the window down, letting the cool air come in and it felt like a punch to the face, a punch of reality. You felt quite shocked suddenly, pulling the strap of your bra and dress over your shoulder, fixing it on you. Eddie was just like you, just staring at your middle because the adrenaline started to wear off and– fuck.

You slowly moved your hips upwards, pulling him out of you, earning a wince from the two of you. You saw the filled condom, making the situation more real than just a passing dream. You were trying to catch your breath yet as you moved, trying not to make a fool of yourself and just fall on your face, going back to the passenger seat, stepping over the console. Once seated, you fixed your dress, looking forward completely wide eyed, feeling your juices dampening your now fixed underwear, covering you once more.

Eddie was staring at the windshield, starting to get clearer, the fog of it coming off thanks to the window being open. He gulped as he looked down and took off the condom, hearing you still fixing yourself on the passenger’s seat. He tied the latex up, and opened the small trash can container that is underneath the radio. He has to remember to take it out the next day.

He fixed his pants, then the seat and then it was just silence as the two of you looked forward into nothingness. You were slowly putting your jacket back on, and then you could hear just how quiet the outside was, making the entire situation even more embarrassing.

“We… have to talk… but tomorrow–” You started, and he quickly answered.

“Agreed.” He knows the two of you are quite in a state of shock right now, so talking about this now was not the best idea. He sees you putting your seatbelt on, so he copies your movements, and before he can ask–

“Want to… sleep over?”

end of chapter 18

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a/n: it's all uphill from here

Taglist is closed! I will start deleting people that do not interact with my posts.

Taglist: @katethetankk @seatnights @bebe07011

@babez-a-licious @arsenicred @bl4ckt00thgr1n

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[soldearestsoulmate]

Inspired by the Bad End of the game.

Something small. Angst time. (and venting I guess. depression rocks lol)

The sound of the clock ticking that hung on the wall always sounded loudest in these moments.

He hated it, but Sol endured it. Since he had no choice after all.

He silently waited in his seat for the woman sitting across from him to finish looking through his book...His book full of drawings, sketches, of what he made this week.

She hummed lowly, closely looking at one of the drawings. "I see you drew them again...Quite the memory you have to have picked up all their details, Mr. Brugmansia."

Sol didn't respond to that...He was used to hearing this by now. How many times has these sessions happened? He lost count...

"The rest however...You still can't let that day go, I see...The more you cling to that day. The less likelihood we can make progress on your healing to be released, you know?"

Now Sol let out a low chuckle, it sounded forced, and exhausted.

"You know I'm never getting out of here, doctor..." He spoke with a look that said it all...He was tired, drained...but not because of these sessions, these repeated days.

No...He was tired of living these days without them...

Without you...

"...Then I guess there's no point in this session then. I can skip straight to filling out the paper work for your medica--"

"NO! Please...Just...Can you not do it...This once? Please? I...I rarely can feel not numb anymore since coming here. It's...You don't understand how horrible it feels...To feel like a zombie...A stranger in your own body...It's like..."

"I completely understand, Mr. Brugmansia. That only means the medication is working. It's for your own good. You don't want a repeat of what happened last time, after all...Right?"

Sol looked down at his lap, his hands clenched into fists as he remembered. It wasn't his fault those bastards said that stuff about you. They deserved it...Deserved having their heads bashed in...and put into comas. It was all for you.

The woman opened his sketchbook again, and flipped through a few pages until stopping on one.

"May I ask why you drew him in color this time?" She showed the page...Which had Crowe in it...Usually he'll be colored in black and white or in red...for blood.

"...I had my reasons..."

"Speak then."

"You wouldn't understand."

"Try me." She leaned back in her seat, getting her pen and clipboard ready, prepared to write and take down notes.

Sol sighed and then spoke. "...The night the medication wore off earlier than usual...I had a dream again...A vivid one...I saw them again, but they were...They looked and felt so real. I didn't want to wake up...Not be away from them again..." He smiled at the memory, then paused, his smile fading. "Though they asked me of something. I hated it...I hated the request, but for them...I did it. It was for them..."

"Mhm...By "them", you mean Y/n correct?" Sol nodded lightly. Hearing their name spoken made his heart ache.

"...They said they love the way I bring color and life through my art...That's why I draw them a lot...To--"

"To bring them back to life." She felt pity for the man before him, but not enough. Especially after knowing what he done.

"They wanted to see...Ichabod...with life again...Even after I took it, they asked of me to bring it back, bring him back." He gave a smile, desperation in his eyes as he looked at her. "THAT HAS TO MEAN SOMETHING, RIGHT?! THAT MEANS THEY STILL LOVE ME AND TRUST ME! THEY'RE WATCHING ME! WAITING FOR ME! MY PUMPKIN! MY SOULMATE LOVES ME! EVEN AFTER WHAT HAPPENED, THEY UNDERSTOOD, AND KNEW I DID IT FOR THEM! FOR US!! THEY LOVE ME!!"

It'll be a lie to say she wasn't startled by his outburst, especially with the crazed look in his eyes, but worked to remain calm in her seat. Until he looked to calm himself with a lovestruck smile over his own delusion of what he thought that dream meant. Over believing you actually spoke to him...and met him again.

"...Of course you did, Solivan...Of course." She wrote down a few more things, then clicked her pen shut. "Our session is over now. Please, do eat your food tonight, Mr. Brugmansia. As well, get plenty of rest."

After Sol left the room, with cuffed hands and escorted out by some men, like always. Luckily with no fight this time like the other times.

The woman sighed and rubbed her eyes in frustration. "He's not showing signs of improvement...His delusions truly have a tight hold on him...A change of medication might be best...or a higher dosage..."

[bones4thecats]

┗ A Star's Shield; Starscream × F! S/O ┛

Characters: Starscream (Transformers One) A/N: This was a lot of fun to write, though I do believe it could have been better, I do think it turned out pretty good. Anyways, sorry for the long wait for this. Enjoy <3 Trigger Warnings for: Kidnapping, corrupt government, assault, unwanted advances. Sentinel is just his own trigger warning at this point. ⇘ Summary: After being captured by Airachnid and the Cybertronian Government, you were thrown into a room with the rest of your captured High Guard members and two miner bots. As you were handed over to Sentinel Prime by his right-hand, you notice your sparkmate, Starscream, watching you in an attempt to keep you and himself calm. But, when Sentinel begins to speak, not even B-127 could keep himself calm. Italic words = past memories

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┕━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━┙

💫 A cozy set of rays from the sun began to cover Cybertron. Another day, another restless amount of hours trying to sabotage Sentinel Prime beyond what his reputation could save.

💫 The steps of a seeker made you look up from the surface floor of your base's exteriors. There, walking up to you, was Starscream. He had been leading your guard, the High Guard, for so long that you could hardly keep count, and that says a lot.

💫 Starscream looked at you and nodded. You responded the same as you looked back outside. It was hard to see without expert optics, but, far out in the distance, was Iacon City. Your optics narrowed as memories you once made there popped up. Anyone who understood your real self knew why that bothered you so much.

"I heard from Wreckwave that the Iacon 5000 is happening tomorrow." Starscream said.

"I did too. Why does it matter? Are we planning something big during it or something?" You questioned back.

"No. Though, it would be of expert insight that at least some-bot goes there to check on how the city is holding together after all this time."

💫 His optics slightly shut as he chuckled. He then lifted his arm and wrapped it around your shoulders, pulling you into his side as he laid his helm on top of your own. As seekers, you were both fairly tall, though, you were just about a head shorter than the masculine one next to you. Fortunate for him, unfortunate for your short self.

"Let me guess, Scream'. You want me to go down there with you?"

"I knew your processor would lock in sooner rather than later!" He smiled.

"And, what happens if, I don't know- a member of the guard sees us snooping around? You know that Sentinel and the High Guard aren't exactly friends, and most definitely not close to frenemies."

"That's the thing. I have spoken with Shockwave, and he has a device that shall last for, around a third of a cycle. Are you in or out, my dearest Y/N?"

"Is that even a question?"

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

💫 Your optics went online as you groaned, pain covering the back of your helm as you looked around. You reached up and felt the back of your helmet, and once you felt the liquid, you froze in fear. You remembered what happened now.

💫 It was when those four bots were brought to your base. A blue and red one, a grey one with a Megatronus Prime sticker on his shoulder, another with a yellow-colored frame, and the only feminine one, whom was colored pink with some white here and there.

💫 They, well, the red and blue one at least, proposed that they were on the same side as you. They wanted to reveal Sentinel Prime as the traitor to Cybertron that he was. And honestly? You thought it was a pretty good deal. Starscream on the other hand? His own beliefs clouded his judgement of the four.

💫 When the grey one, whom the blue and red one called D, tried to walk out of the base to locate Cybertron's leader to punish himself, Starscream obviously was taking a hit to his own ego. Shocker.

💫 As he was chocked to the point that his voice-box was beginning to be crushed, making what was once a smooth and slightly-raspy voice begin to go from pitch to pitch with a highly artificial tang being added on top of it all. You had been able to slightly alter it, bringing the pitches down slightly, but fixing it fully was beyond anyone's abilities.

💫 While your memories came back, a dark figure stepped inside with golden-Cybertronians following suite. You looked up towards the helms of these people and scoffed. You recognized the tallest one. It was Airachnid. The heap of scrap that was somehow still alive well without any scratches. How disappointing.

"Get her up. I'm sure he's going to be very pleased to see his favorite old friend here." She said, grazing underneath your chin with one of her elongated insect-legs.

"Good to see you as well, Airachnid." You said.

💫 Airachnid rolled her optics and began walking away, a guard at both sides of you as you followed. Unwilling was one word to describe the entire journey through the tower's halls. Until you found Starscream and got the others out to safety, you needed to keep these fearful thoughts of yours out of sight and out of mind.

💫 Sentinel looked at a statue and glared, those Primes that tried holding the planet back from compromise. He did the right thing. Of course he did, how could his judgement be bad?

💫 The Prime looked over his shoulder and cocked a brow, wondering why Airachnid was bringing in some random seeker. So, in his true, straight-forward nature, asked the insect-themed Cybertronian about this.

"I'm sure you'll love to find out who this is."

"Yeah, yeah. Get to the point."

💫 The mask that covered most of your helm released pressure as it was unlocked by a guard. You grimaced as light hit you all of a sudden, seriously, a warning would be amazing sometimes.

"It can't be. Y/N?"

"...Y/N?"

💫 Sentinel's optics were wide as he stepped up to look closely at you. It just couldn't be you. There was no way in the name of the 13 Primes that you were alive and standing right before him.

"I almost forgot just how beautiful you were. Though, you looked better on the ground, kneeling before me." Sentinel smirked before allowing his hand to drift across your face, to your shoulder, and down to your sides. "Go ahead and undo her cuffs. I'm sure she won't claw me without orders."

"Are you sure, Sir?" A guard asked.

"Completely."

💫 Your brows furrowed as you glared at him. The clicks of your cuffs coming undone hit everyone's sound-receptors, and before anyone realized it, you had launched yourself at Sentinel, grabbing one of his wings and tugging on it to draw some sort of pain.

💫 Sentinel just glared and wrapped a servo around your neck, lifted you up in the air and chuckled darkly. Everyone, including the guards, shivered as he crushed your neck slowly and delicately, almost as if he was enjoying this pain he was drawing out of you.

"How did I know you were going to do that?"

💫 Crash.

"Y/N!" B-127 yelled.

💫 You yelped as your back made contact with the nearby wall. The pain that overtook your system was immediate, and it only worsened as a guard picked you up and threw you back at Sentinel to keep torturing.

💫 His servo wrapped around your neck once again, this time from behind as he held you flush against his front. Sentinel smirked and wrapped his opposite roam around your waist as you struggled to free yourself.

"You know, if you had just stayed by my side we could've been the perfect duo. Leading Cybertron into the future."

"Like hell I would've-" A gasp came out as his grasp on your vocal cords tightened.

"Had the most perfect model family unit. Two young sparklings filled with potential. Little Quartermaster and Artillery. Sounds just right, wouldn't you agree, lovely?"

"Get your servos off of her!" Starscream yelled.

"Oh?" Sentinel hummed. "I forgot just how dear you two held one another. Almost as if you were together for eons before I met you."

"We were, and still are! So, I will warn you one more time, Sentinel. Get your energon-stained servos off of my sparkmate!"

💫 Sentinel rolled his optics and latched another pair of cuffs on you, securing your violent impulses. He got near your sound-receptors once again and said quietly;

"To bad your love for that pitchy seeker kept that future out of my grasp."

💫 Starscream kneeled back down as you were thrown in front of him, dents in your frame as he looked you over. Fear was in his optics as he looked you over. And, as Sentinel moved onto D-16, Starscream paid attention to you, keeping the guards and Airachnid away from your frame. No more pain was going to come to you while he stood beside you.

💫 But, unknowingly to you both, that future was soon to be completely changed.

═══════════════ ⋆★⋆

"There is no way that Starscream yelled at Sentinel Prime!" Blitzwing said.

💫 You smiled at the bot holding two sparklings in his lap, acting like the older brother figure that he was for them as they've aged.

"Well, believe it or don't, I know for sure that he did." You said, turning around to look at the Second-in-Command of the Decepticons as he planned with Megatron the next move in the war.

"And I'm thankful every passing moment that he was there for me..."

[gotta-winwin]

2019 debut year special <> you do too much pt 2

word count: 2.8k TW: anxiety, hurt, angst, comfort, mentions of hit the road trauma italics are in english, bolded words are in mandarin

She supposed she should've expected tour to be difficult. The first couple legs of their An Ode tour were fine, Cyana had gone in wide-eyed and immensely happy to be sharing the stage with her found family. She liked how she was able to hear the cheers of their fans every night and how it lingered even after the concert. She was still nervous about returning to LA for their North American leg, but Joshua had promised he'd make it okay. Cyana always had a strong love for travelling, and was glad she could do it while performing.

Everything started to go sideways moments before landing in Jakarta.

"1-10, Cyana?" Jun touched her shoulder gently to catch her attention. They were waiting at the airport for the others to get through security.

She blinked. "7." It was a system she had started with the boys, finding that asking for a number was easier than asking how their condition was. It was easier for them to answer to, if the pain was rated on a scale. She had deemed anything lower than a 4 to be dangerous and a cause of worry. So far nobody had reported anything lower than 6. Thank god. "What about you?" She asked back. She had noticed the heavy eye bags despite Jun covering his face with a hat.

The boy shrugged. "7 too. Just tired."

She turned, about to tap Dino and ask him the same question, when Wonwoo stood up, startling them all. He had been napping and his sudden movement was unexpected.

"What's going on?" Jun asked, grabbing Wonwoo's elbow to steady the boy.

"They're here." Wonwoo nodded to the rest of the group, who had finished security and was approaching them. He nudged Dino awake with his foot. "Let's go. I need to crash on the plane."

Cyana grabbed her bag, grateful the staff had taken all their luggage. In her drowsy state, she would have a higher chance of forgetting her things than anything else. Shuffling to Seungcheol's side, she walked to match his pace. It was unusual that she could, most times Seungcheol walked too fast for her to keep up.

"Cheol? Number?" She asked, her eyes betraying her worry. Joshua looked over from Seungcheol's other side with as much worry as she felt.

Seungcheol seemed to struggle to even compute the question. "5." He mumbled, glancing at them both. "I'm fine."

Cyana's eyebrows furrowed. "That's low."

"Not a 4." Seungcheol countered. "Don't push it." The tone of his voice sounded more weak than stern.

Cyana could only look at Joshua, who shrugged. She remembered what he had told her just this morning, when she complained to him she just wanted to strap Seungcheol down so that he could rest.

"You can't help people who don't want to be helped." He had told her, although he looked just as distraught. "Coups needs to want to help himself first. Before we can do anything."

Now, looking at the boy in question, she felt eerily as if he wasn't there at all, like some shell of their leader was the one walking next to them instead.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" Cyana pleaded with Jeonghan, who looked mildly bemused under his tired state. "All Mingyu and Hoshi does is snore."

That pulled a laugh out of him. Jeonghan was another member on Cyana's worry radar, and if Mingyu and Hoshi's snoring could gain her a ticket into keeping an eye on Jeonghan, she would take it.

"Okay." Jeonghan relented, moving over to let her into his hotel room. "But just tonight. Don't get too comfortable." He gave her a teasing smile. "You might get too attached."

Cyana frowned. "Big headed much?"

She was glad to see him laugh. She knew how much his body had been aching during this tour. Every time she looked over after a song and saw a brief look of pain flash across his face, she felt a heavy pang in her stomach. On any other circumstance she would've quipped that it was because he was old. But that was the exact reason why it scared her so much: Seungcheol and Jeonghan were getting old and so were their bodies. She wished desperately that they could be young forever.

Sliding into bed, she heard Jeonghan shuffle to turn off the lights before joining, tugging the blanket away from her with a cheeky giggle. Pulling back equally hard, they finally settled in a standstill as they both stared up at the ceiling.

"Number?" Jeonghan whispered into the dark.

"8." There had been no concert today. Cyana felt fine. "Less tired. You?"

"Mentally I'm at a 9. But physically, more like a 6." He admitted.

"Sit out of the next concert, please." Cyana pleaded into the darkness. It helped that neither of them could see each others faces. It was in darkness where it was easiest to talk.

She could hear him breathe as he thought. "I want to perform. For Carats."

"They'll be sad that you're not there, sure." Cyana agreed. "But they'll be even more upset if you die."

Jeonghan laughed. "Oh, our little pessimist." He cooed good naturally. "I'm not going to die."

"It feels like you might." She admitted out loud for the first time. "Every time you take off your shirt for taping it's like you're withering away."

There was silence, and Cyana started to fear she may have overstepped.

"You worry too much." Jeonghan finally said. "If it gets too much before our concert tomorrow, I'll sit out. Promise."

She nodded, although he couldn't see it. "Good. If only Cheol was as cooperative as you."

"You've got his stubbornness, that's for sure." Jeonghan let out a loud sigh. "He's not doing well."

"I've noticed." Cyana agreed. "It's kinda hard not to."

"His mind's not doing well." Jeonghan corrected himself after a pause. "I'm been trying to get him to take a break. See a doctor. Admit he's going a little crazy. He-" Jeonghan's voice cracked. "You know he scrolls through SNS like a ritual? He'll just sit there and read comments. I can always tell when he reaches a particularly cruel one cause he just sits there."

"He hasn't been talking much during filming either." Cyana recalled. "He used to like filming for Going."

"Dieting too." Jeonghan added. "Even though I told him he's fine the way he is."

"He told Hoshi he doesn't see himself being an idol after his contract ends."

Jeonghan froze, and Cyana could tell by the way his arm suddenly stiffened from next to her. He hadn't known.

"I thought he would've told you." She added lamely, feeling like she had definitely said something wrong.

"I guess not." Jeonghan sighed after awhile. "We're a mess, Nana. You joined at a bad time."

Cyana hummed, rolling over to lean her head against his. "That's okay. Maybe it was just meant to be. I'll fix it. I'll fix him."

Jeonghan wrapped an arm around her. "I like that idea actually. You and us all being meant to be."

It was only because she was listening too hard, so concentrated, that she could tell exactly what moment Jeonghan fell asleep, his arm still around her. She told herself to sleep too, she would need all the energy she had if she wanted to help Seungcheol and perform tomorrow.

"We go on in twenty minutes!" One of the event coordinators called out towards the members who had all gathered in the green room. Cyana adjusted her stage outfit, tilting her head up to give her makeup artist easier access. Her eyes flitted around the room as she mentally counted her members. She knew it was the leader's job and she had no business stepping in for a weary Seungcheol as the youngest, but she felt as if she had to. She was easily the most well rested out of them all.

"Number?" She mouthed at Mingyu, who she briefly caught eye contact with.

He merely flashed back an ok sign and a bright smile. She knew he was telling the truth. If there was one thing Seungcheol enforced the most it was their strict 'no lies' policy.

The man in question sat bleary-eyed on the couch, seemingly out of it.

"Are we almost finished?" Cyana mumbled to her makeup artist, who was busy touching up her lips. "I need to go speak to Cheol."

She shook her head. "Not yet."

Cyana sighed as Jeonghan approached her, wincing as he rolled his shoulders. "I think I'm heading out." He leaned down to whisper into her ear.

Her eyes widened. "Really? Good." She eyed his shoulder warily. "Does it hurt a lot?" She asked.

He nodded. "I can barely remember our choreo. Figured I would do better not embarrassing myself onstage tonight."

She let out a sad laugh, stopping quickly when her makeup artist scolded her for moving. "Is Cheol going too?" She wondered hopefully.

Jeonghan shrugged before wincing at the movement. "He hasn't said anything. I'm gonna go to the car before I pass out." He offered weakly, waving towards the staff who was waiting for him at the exit. "Have fun. Be safe." He reminded her, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head before leaving.

She waited impatiently for her makeup artist to finish. Hoshi found her next, murmuring into her ear about position changes they needed to make without Jeonghan here.

"Scratch that and make us 12." She whispered back, moving once she got a green light from her makeup artist. "Cheol's not performing tonight."

Hoshi looked at her, surprised. "He finally agreed?"

Cyana shook her head. "I'll convince him."

He scoffed. "Good luck with that. We've all been trying since last week."

It felt like the longest twenty minutes Cyana had ever experienced.

"Go back to the hotel, Cheol." She begged, fixing his hair so it wouldn't fall into his eyes.

"I'm fine." He insisted again, turning his head away from her. The stubborn piece of hair fell back where it was before.

They'd been at this for hours, it felt like. She was blindly aware of the amount of eyes that were on them, watching who'd win the mental battle.

"Number?" She asked, hoping he'd give her the truth this time.

"7."

She couldn't help but scoff. "You're lying again. We said no lying about the number system."

He finally looked up from the ground to shoot her a glare. "I'm not lying."

"I don't want to fight, Cheol." She sighed. "We're worried. You're not doing okay."

His shoulders dropped as he looked away again. "I can do this concert."

"Hannie oppa's going home." She offered, knowing it'd make him feel better not to be the only one dropping out. It was almost silly, his pride and responsibility.

He looked at her with surprise before quickly averting his eyes again. "Jeonghan's leaving?"

"He's in the car waiting for you. His shoulders aren't feeling well." Cyana grabbed his hand and tried to pull him off the couch. "Please." She begged again.

Resigned, Seungcheol stood up, wavering as he called their manager over with a feeble wave. They both stared at him, watching as he tried to form words into sentences.

"I think-" He broke off, before picking up again. "I think I need a break."

It was like a dam cracked open. Cyana let out a harsh sigh of relief as she watched their manager take Seungcheol away, presumably into the car with Jeonghan and back to the hotel.

"He'll be okay." Minghao joined to stand next to her. He took her hand, gently leading her towards the stage entrance. "Game face on, Yue Liang. We can worry later."

She nodded, knowing he was right. They were resting and safe and that was all that mattered. She'd be back to them in a couple hours anyways.

Cyana cracked open the door to Seungcheol's room as quietly as possible. She knew he was awake, the lights were on despite it being nearly 3AM. The concert had gone smoothly despite the missing members and she knew Seungcheol would appreciate an update.

"Cheolie?" She called into the room, walking in and see the leader standing on the balcony. She slid open the balcony door and stepped out to join him.

He turned around at the sound of the door opening immediately, frowning and opening his mouth to scold her when he saw how little she was wearing.

"Stop." Cyana held a hand up before he could go on his rant.

"You should be wearing a jacket." He said either way. "You'll catch a cold."

"I'm okay." She moved to stand next to him and looked out at the city landscape. "Everything went really well today. Carats had fun."

She received back nothing but silence. Still, she continued. "DK led the skit and he roped Vernon in with him. They somehow got me involved too. I was nervous, but it ended up being lots of fun." She paused to glance up at Seungcheol, who had his eyes trained on the night sky. "I went and said hi to Jeonghan before coming here. He's okay. Worried about you. We all are."

She watched as his eyes seemed to quiver and glisten with forming tears.

"Minghao told me it was just part of the job, going onstage and pretending like everything wasn't just chaos. It was hard. I don't know how any of you do it. Vernon told me it's not like America, where we can just take a break whenever we wanted to and have people understand." She stopped talking again, wishing he'd say something. It was odd for her to be the one talking the most.

"I think people would understand though. You've all worked so hard and people can see it. You should've heard how loud they were cheering you and Jeonghan's names today. It was like you guys were there anyways." She smiled softly at the memory. "We'll be here for a long time, Cheol. You can step back for a little while."

There was a pause as a particularly strong gust of wind passed them, diverting both their attentions.

"I think-" His voice was quiet but she could hear him. "I think I need a break." He echoed the same words he had said hours ago. "I talked to manager-hyung and-" His voice broke. "he said it was okay. If I stopped for a bit."

Cyana nodded. "We'll be okay without you for awhile, Cheol. You don't need to carry so much on your back. There's 14 of us for a reason, we can all take a little bit of the burden."

He was still staring off into the night sky, giving no sign he had really heard her. "It just felt like if I stopped even for one second, the world might spin too fast and lose me." He continued. "Like I needed to be there every moment."

Cyana could relate to the feeling. "I know." She had the same problem. "Someone once told me it's okay to step off the world for a little bit. To stop chasing the cycle and to breathe."

"It spins too fast." He whispered, finally looking at her. She felt a pang in her chest when she noticed there were tears tracking silently down his face. "The world spins too fast."

Cyana nodded ruefully. "Yeah, sometimes it does that." She tried to smile, reaching up to wipe his tears away with her sleeve. "Don't cry, Cheol."

He sniffed, looking down at her and giving a weak smile back. "We've been doing a lot of that recently, huh."

She laughed, and he watched her throw her head back as the sound echoed into the night. He couldn't help but smile at the sight. "It's okay." She said, coming back to him. "Crying is good sometimes."

"You're good at this." He mused. "Comforting people. Maybe you should replace Jeonghan as SEVENTEEN's therapist. Surely you'd do much better. He usually just listens and then starts scolding."

She shook her head. "That's okay. Feelings still make me iffy." Shivering suddenly as another gust of wind blew past, she patted Seungcheol awkwardly on the back. "Good talk. You're okay now, right? It's cold."

He let out a breathy laugh. "I'm better now. Go inside, I'll be in in a moment." He turned back to look out at the city's nightlife.

Cyana moved back into the hotel room, shivering as she grabbed one of his spare zip-ups for the couch and pulled it on. Pulling out her phone, she selected her conversation with Jeonghan, typing out a text.

me: seungcheol, fixed!

She smiled, amused when she saw him immediately start typing back.

hannie: you're the best.

Liking the message, she was about to swipe out and peruse the ramen packets Seungcheol had laid out on the coffee table when another text popped up on her screen.

dino: we're in hoshi's room. got ramen.

Sending Dino a silent thank you, she called back into the room as she opened the door to leave. "I'm going to Hoshi's!" She knew Seungcheol would need his silence.

A quiet grunt of acknowledge came from the balcony as she closed the door behind her.

She knew Seungcheol was a long way from being completely fixed and fine again. She knew Jeonghan's body was still a long way from healthy. She knew they still had months of tour left over without the two. Yet, just like she had told Seungcheol, the world would keep spinning, and Seventeen would come back stronger in 2020 then ever before.

a/n: more angst for you guys (..◜ᴗ◝..) we're officially kicking off into hit the road era!

[butlervibesonly]

𝑆𝑎𝑓𝑒 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑚𝑠 || Austin Butler

• Summary : Y/n is having terrible day, feeling so tired and overwhelmed lately. Until she completely loses it, but Austin gets home and everything feels safe all of sudden.

• Pairing: Austin Butler x actress! reader

• Warnings !! : angst, mentions of panic attack, crying, trembling, swearing,...

• Note : Hope y'all doing well! I thought I could write this, because we all sometimes deserve a good cry and, well, please don't tell me that I'm the only one who feels so overwhelmed lately 😭

Day by day felt same for you. All the work, meetings every day, unfinished projects... It's like a circle going around. And it's enough for you. You're sitting in living room of yours and Austin's house, your laptop lay in your lap as one notification after another flashes across your screen. Meeting tomorrow 6:00 pm, video call with producer of your next movie 11:00 am, interview at 3:00 pm.

The living room was quiet, except for the fast clicking of your keyboard as you write response to an email. The weight of the week pressed heavily on your chest, making even the simple act of sitting still feel exhausting.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table, interrupting you. It was your manager calling you. All of sudden you remember that the couch is not the place where you should be right now. “No, no, no,” you whispered, scrambling off the couch. "Y/n! Where are you, were supposed to be at a meeting right now!" she says, sounding furious. "Shit, I uh... Sorry, I completely forgot. Will I still be able to make it on time?"

"If you'll manage to get yourself here in like 5 minutes?" You hang up the call, not even bothering to answer her. Anxiety clawed at your chest as you tried to gather your things. In your rush, you tripp over the table's leg, knocking over the glass of water you’d been drinking earlier. It fell down with a loud crash, spilling the water all over the wooden floor.

"Fuck!" you hissed, staring at the mess. The tears fill your eyes, feeling a combination of the frustration and exhaustion you’d been bottling up. Your chest tightened, your breathing quickened, and suddenly it felt like the walls were closing in on you.

You can't move, not even think. All you're capable of is sitting down on the floor, leaning against the couch. You hide your face into your hands, sobbing loudly. You didn't think that it would be so much on you and certainly not that it would ruin you like this.

No longer after, you hear the door to the house being open. Austin's home. And you're here like this. This is what he comes home to. What a shame — Austin deserves to arrive to a tidy house where everything is as it should be while you sit here like this.

“Hey, I’m home,” his familiar voice filled the space, calm and grounding. The moment he saw you, he stopped mid-sentence, his expression shifting to concern. "Sweetie, what’s going on?” You, don't replying, makes him cross the room quickly, kneeling beside you. His hands wraps you tightly. Austin actually notices the broken glass, which leads him to check if you have any cut.

"Hey, hey — Y/n, baby, what's the matter?" His voice was steady, soothing, and you clung to it like a lifeline. When he notices the laptop with tons of notes and unread emails, he gets it. He inhales slowly. “Doll, breathe okay? I'm here and I won't let you go." You nod, burying your head in his chest.

Austin holds you for a while, making you to steady your breathing. "That’s it. I’m here,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Whatever happened, we’ll figure it out," he says, his hand careful patting circles on your back.

You started to feel better, although, the tears didn’t stop. He pulls you into his arms more firmly, wrapping you in a hug so warm and secure it almost feels like there is nothing but him.

“It’s too much,” you choke out, mumbling against his chest. “I can’t do this anymore.” Austin and you talked about how overwhelmed you're feeling, but he didn't know it's this intensive.

“You don’t have to do it all at once, ya know,” he brush his fingers through your hair. "Why don't you ask me for a help? You know I'm here for you," you look up at him, your eyes red and swollen from all the crying.

"You've got a lot of your own and I don't want to bother you, Aus," you sob out. Austin smiles softly, cupping your cheek. "Baby, you never bother me, I'm here for you no matter what, okay?" he says. You nod, pulling closer to him again.

He stayed with you like this for few more minutes, holding you close, until your breathing steadied completely. And when you finally lifted your head, not crying anymore, his warm, understanding smile was waiting for you. “Why don’t we clean this up together? Then we’ll figure out the rest. Aight?” he kisses your forehead. "Mhm," you agree, grabbing his hand.

Austin wipes away tears from your cheeks, kissing you again, and helps you to your feet, steadying you against him. In his arms, the chaos of the week seemed just a little less overwhelming. In his arms, you feel safe, loved and cared about. And it's perfect.

[chocolilies]

okay i caved here's an extract of my toji x babysitter!reader fic I started but never finished... i'm still not sure about continuing it or not so lmk if I should! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

the jarring sound of the doorbell cut through the strangely calm atmosphere, forcing toji to get up and face the dreaded “interview” shiu had put in place for him. behind him, megumi pulled himself up to a seating position, chubby hands wrapping around the plastic bars of his confine, lower lip trembling from the combination of the loud sound and his father walking towards the door, thinking it was time to be once-again left with toji’s tobacco-stinking friend. 

“don't be too mean,” toji remembered shiu’s words as the handler forwarded your contact to him. “she’s a sweet girl. not the smartest tool but definitely one of the kindest.”

his stupid analogy didn't even make sense. 

before he even started to open the door, toji angled his head to peer through the peephole, being greeted with a skittish expression pulling at a pretty face. 

he felt his mouth go dry the moment he laid eyes upon you, the tiny, blurry picture he’d seen on shiu’s phone doing you no justice whatsoever. despite the fisheye lens he was staring through, he could still tell you were absolutely gorgeous. 

too gorgeous to be working for him.  

he hoped you’d come to the same realisation once you saw him, the bratty infant or the neglected flat, that you’d take one look at them and turn right back around, as toji didn't know how the hell he’d be expected to behave with someone as tempting as you around. 

maybe it was the loneliness speaking, or maybe you were just that attractive that you were causing toji’s brain to short-circuit with a single, not-even-proper glance at you, but toji didn't care to elaborate, not when you were waiting so patiently for him to greet you. 

you were taking deep breaths, clearly trying to shake away the nerves written on your face, bringing up your manicured hands (had you really gotten a manicure for this?) to your artificially blushed cheeks, makeup shining beneath the fluorescent lights of the corridor.  

unbeknownst to him, you were actually silently debating whether to stay or turn on your heel and run right back down the funky-smelling corridor you'd initially hesitated to walk through, especially in the new heels you'd impulsively bought the moment shiu had told you of his friend's offer. 

now, you were truly thankful for this opportunity, excited at the prospect of finally getting to do something with your life except mope around shiu’s apartment thinking about your stupid ex-boyfriend, but that feeling of hope didn't cancel out the borderline fright that filled you at the idea. 

despite this not being an official job interview, you had spent the last few days straight up stressed at the notion of meeting toji. 

you didn’t know him. yes, you’d heard his name mentioned by shiu, but you'd never formally met him. 

which, of course, only added to your already frazzled nerves. 

you didn't know what to expect when you rang the doorbell, giving your cheeks a few slaps as a way to get yourself focused, blush and highlighter sticking to your palm due to the sweat your body was creating in response to your anxiety. 

you cursed out loud, attempting to wipe your hands down on your skirt, but were interrupted as the sound of the door unlocking reverberated around the hallway. when nothing happened after the few clicks, you subconsciously leaned into the wooden door to get a better hearing of whatever might be going on inside, wondering whether you'd imagined the sound or it was actually someone locking the door, and you'd gotten the wrong apartment. 

you straightened up with a jump as the door pulled back open into the flat, an action that sent you reeling backwards, heels clacking against the faux-marble floor as you skittered back into a wall, lifting your embarrassed gaze towards the man who'd pulled it open. 

what you certainly hadn't expected, was for toji to be absolutely stunning. 

you noted the shaggy bangs messily cut above his crinkling green eyes, the sharp jaw that framed the lips that were twitching up into an amused smile, a tiny scar at the corner of his mouth that only added to the raw attractiveness he radiated.  

although… as you looked him up and down, taking in the outfit he was sporting, you noticed he clearly hadn't put in as much effort as you had in dressing up nice for this “interview”. you felt your palms grow sweaty in embarrassment, looking down at your own clothes in comparison, mortified that you’d dressed up this cute and presentable only for your possible employer to show up to the door… like this. 

you let the slippers, the joggers, the eyebag that framed his eyes, the dishevelled state his hair was in soak in before fully committing to an idea of him in your head… 

normally, a man wearing such an outfit would make your face scrunch up in disgust, but toji… somehow made it work. 

he said your name, clicking his fingers a few times and forcing you to stop gawking, staring down at you with an unreadable expression on his worn-down face.