#i had to talk to him for almost all of a drinks reception

[jarofstyles]

Merlot

Hello my lovely ducklings. I promised a good age gap DILF sorta thing and I’m here to hand ‘em over. He’s getting some silver at the temples and she’s loving every second of it. Let me know what you think 🍷

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WC- 8k

Warnings- age gap, dilfrry, smut, oral (m + f receiving) unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl), exhibitionism, daddy kink if you squint, and all the fun stuff.

“I hate to ask this cliche question, and it absolutely pains me to ask in such an uncouth way- but do you come here often?” Peeking over the rim of the glass, amber liquid brushed his top lip and the ice cubs clanked as the smoky liquor hit his tongue.

God knew what he was doing- the girl in front of him looked too young for him, but she had struck up the conversation first. Commenting on his silver lion’s head ring and asking where he’d gotten it, wide eyed and eager as she looked up at him with that pretty pout and mascara coated lashes. Perhaps it was the crippling loneliness of divorce, maybe it was the hint of a buzz of his second drink, or even a hint of desperation that had him continuing the conversation with the younger woman as she took the bar stool in front of him- but she seemed receptive. Leaning into the conversation and keeping eye contact, she played into him.

"Cliches can be cute sometimes." She laughed as she placed her own glass down, now empty. "I don't, no. I'm not one for the whole going out thing. Not anymore. I was in uni, but I think as soon as you graduate they take away your tolerance card." Rolling her eyes playfully she felt a lick of satisfaction in getting a chuckle out of him. "And what about you? Do you like to come to bars with overpriced drinks to talk to random people who decide to invade your bubble to ask where your pretty jewelry is from?"

"Well, I can't say I make a habit of it, but sometimes a man needs to escape the responsibilities of reality- and as much as I adore my pets, I think they’re tiring of hearing my voice.” He shook his head as he flexed his fingers, looking back down at the conversation starter. Pretty eyes met his own. It had been so long since he felt flustered but she had done a pretty good job at making him feel a little off kilter in the best way. A break from the mundane.

“I’ll have to agree with you on them revoking your tolerance once you exit uni. Though I will say it’s a blessing in disguise. I wasn’t terribly into partying in my last year, considering I’d started getting awful hangovers. Almost like s’bad for you, or something.” He teased, leaning against the bar top. It was clear that they’d shifted closer to each other through their conversation and he tried to not get his hopes up, but he sort of did feel like she was giving him… those sort of eyes. “I don’t want to keep you from your friends, though.”

“You’re not.” She said simply, looking up at him. Usually, facial hair wasn’t something she considered much at all. Not many around her wore it, but she had to say the longer she looked at him, the more she liked it. It was just… masculine. Rugged, in a way, but he kept it groomed. This man was interesting all around, with pretty rings and a deep raspy voice, seafoam eyes and a little tiny gray streak starting near his temple. God, that was hot. “I’m plenty happy talking to you.”

His heart skipped a beat as she looked up at him, those eyes sparkling with something he hoped was interest, but at the very least looked like genuine intrigue. Nothing about their encounter led to her feeling otherwise. It was a nice change, feeling the ease of a conversation flow even if he stumbled on words when he accidentally looked down at her lips.

Fuck it.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek. "I’m glad t’hear that. You're very easy to talk to." he said, his voice low and warm. The risk was there, initiating a bit of touch, but he had fo test to waters. See where this was headed. Was she looking for a safe haven? A reliable guy who didn’t look like a creep (hopefully), someone to buy her drinks as she pitied the older man at the bar, or… was this headed the direction the heat in his belly desperately wanted.

“Am I?” Her head tilted slightly, smile slightly shy but making no effort to move from where his fingers hovered slightly. “I do get told I have problems knowing when to shut up and let things be quiet, so I suppose that tracks. It can be nice in conversations.” Especially when he had seemed slightly apprehensive of her at first and now warmed up. “You’ve got a nice voice. It’s nice to talk to you.”

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to keep talking, then." He said softly, his voice growing even warmer as he leaned in closer, his eyes flicking back down to her lips briefly before returning to her eyes.

“I agree.”

Y/N could be considered bold at times, but she liked that he was showing some effort- some interest. It was give and take, push and pull, a fun little game as she was given a perfect chance when someone else approached the bar top from behind Harry. “Oop- come ‘ere.’ She laughed, gently tugging him in as her ankle hooked around the back of his knee to tug him into her. “Someone’s tryn’ to make an order.”

Now he was closer than she had anticipated, stood between her thighs as she sat on the barstool with her leg wrapped around his. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to get in your space.” The girl could feel his body heat. Fuck, he smelled so good. None of that… the familiar cheap colognes and aftershaves she was used to, not was it overpowering. Harry smelled expensive and spicy with some sort of leathery vanilla and she had to wonder what it was. "You smell really good..."

"No, no, it's fine..." He said softly, his voice trailing off as he looked down at her, their faces inches apart. He didn't move away, instead, he leaned in even closer, his hand resting on her knee. “Thank you.” The heat felt a little overwhelming in his cheeks. Pathetic to be a grown man blushing over such a simple compliment but he was so close to her now, body head radiating off of her and she smelled equally as good. “Um, so do you.”

He breathed in deeply, taking in her scent. It was a unique blend of floral notes, with a hint of citrus and a sweet, vanilla-like undertone. It was feminine, youthful, and intoxicating. Sweet and fresh. It didn’t choke him in floral and musk like the women who had been after him since his signature had barely dried on his divorce papers, but something that he vaguely remembered from his own days around her age. Perhaps that was a sign he should back off, but he couldn’t. He felt himself getting lost in the scent, his head spinning slightly as he continued to breathe her in.

His hand on her knee nearly burned but she relished in the feeling, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she smiled slightly at him. It was her first time attempting something like this. Older men were always a thing for her, a desire, but never one she felt bold enough to go for. Now, though, she wondered why she had waited. The feeling in her stomach and the delicate way she felt under his touch was something that had her nearly giddy.

“I like the mustache.” She pointed to it. “It’s a mature look. In a good way.” Of course she didn’t want to offend him, make him feel like she was calling him old. “Guys I’m around usually can’t pull it off. But you do.” Braving a touch, she let her fingers run over his jaw and felt a slight bit of scruff. “Are y’gonna go for a full beard? Or no?”

"Maybe..." Harry murmured, leaning into her touch. "Depends on how well it's received..." The joke was cracked softly, his eyes fluttering closed briefly as she touched his face. He let his hand slide a little higher up on her thigh, squeezing gently. "Thank you for the compliment though. Was hoping it wouldn’t be a bad thing cause I noticed y’looking at it.”

“Mm, I was. It’s nice.” Sexy. Her eyes felt heavy as she watched his lips curl in a slight smile. “ I’m assuming that there’s no missus at home?” She asked lightly. “You don’t seem like a cheater, Harry.” It was a tease, but he didn’t wear a ring on his ring finger. Usually she never gave men the benefit of the doubt but selfishly, she wanted to be right so she wouldn’t feel guilty about imagining her inner thighs raw from beard burn later tonight.

"No missus." He confirmed, his thumb rubbing small circles on her thigh as he opened his eyes to look at her. "Just me, and the office. I've been too busy to think about dating, let alone finding someone serious." He admitted honestly, his gaze lingering on her face. "I mean, I was married. Briefly." He said, his expression growing slightly somber. "But that's over now. It didn't work out." He shrugged, trying to downplay it, even though the divorce had been messy and painful. "What about you? Boyfriend at home?"

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.” She frowned. It wasn’t something she’d pry on because she could see it bothered him a bit, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t curious. Nor that she didn’t feel bad. “I’m single, thank god. My last boyfriend was a complete prick.” Her nose wrinkled in disgust. “Cheated on me a few times on a boys holiday. Was stupid enough to post with other girls and think people wouldn’t send it to me just because he hid stories from me. but it was a relief, anyways.” It sounded cold, callous maybe, but it was the truth. “It’s just me now as I figure out what to do.”’

"He sounds like an idiot." He grumbled, his hand tightening lightly on her thigh. "You're too good for that." He paused, his eyes flicking over her features. "What do you mean, figure out what to do? Like, with life?"

“Yeah. Career wise mostly. I think I want to do writing but it’s been hard to tell lately. I do that part time and then work at a cafe as a waitress and pick up shifts when I need the money. I’m tired all the time so it’s taking me longer to simply sit down and figure out 100% what I want to do but, that’s life.” She shrugged. “So I get suckered into going out to bars with my coworkers and getting a buzz so I go up to a handsome man and demand to know where his ring is from, so it suppose it isn’t all bad.”

"Writing, huh?" There was intrigue in his voice as he took in her answer. The compliment wasn’t lost on him, and it fueled that bolder part of him that wanted to break out. "Like, books, or journalism? I happen to be in publishing, so if that’s something you’d like to walk about we can…." He trailed off, his thumb continuing to rub soothing patterns on her thigh. "It’s not the easiest thing to break into but you’ve got a lot going for you. I’d be willing to help you if you feel ready.” . That was a genuine offer, regardless if he got laid… but he still felt that the way she was looking at him had an undertone

"You should come by my office sometime, if you want." He offered, his voice low. "I mean, if you're interested in publishing. We could... talk shop. Or something." He added, his hand slowly creeping higher up her thigh as he spoke.

“Or something?” She grinned widely. “Are you making a pass at me, handsome stranger Harry?” Her fingers stroked down his jaw towards his neck, messing with the collar of his shirt.

"I mean, m’being serious about helping you but… Maybe a bit of flirting is happening." He whispered, tilting his head to the side to give her better access. "I mean, you did ask where my ring was..." He pointed out softly, his hand now resting high up on her thigh, fingers spread wide, said ring gleaming in the low light. "And I haven't exactly been getting much action since the divorce..."

Eyes fell down to his hand and back up to his face, ever so slightly spreading her legs more to allow him to step closer between them. The heel of her shoe gently ran over his calf, biting lightly on her lower lip as she tried to keep the smile off her face. “And is that the only thing you want from me?”

Harry's breath hitched as she spread her legs, his heart racing at the subtle gesture. His hand tightened ever so slightly on her thigh, his fingers digging in just a bit as he leaned in closer. "No," He admitted quietly, his voice husky. "But it's a good start."

“Tell me.” She slipped her hand down to let them curl into the fabric of his shirt. “I’ve never been with an older man before, Harry. Are you all just as shitty as the younger ones? Or are you better?”

Harry's eyes darkened as she slipped her hand under his shirt, the rough pad of her fingers against his skin making him shiver. "I'm better." He said confidently, his voice deep and rumbling. "I know what I want, and I know how to treat a woman."

The man’s hand tightened on her flesh as she let out a breathy sigh, his eyes never leaving hers. "With respect," He said simply. "With kindness and attention. I open doors, I pull out chairs, I make sure they're comfortable and cared for. And in bed…" There was a pause, a slight smirk on his face as he averted his gaze for a single moment.

“In bed?” She echoed, looking up at him expectantly. “Don’t keep me on edge here. I’m dying to know.”

Harry smirked at her, his hand moving higher up her thigh, stopping right at the hem of her panties. His knuckles could feel how humid she was, no denying she was wet. It was hard to keep focused, but he had to. "Well, Y/N… I make sure they're satisfied," He said, his voice low and sultry. "I take my time, I pay attention to their body, I explore and learn what makes them tick."

“So you won’t just cum and roll over and fall asleep?” She hummed, her other hand running under his blazer and over his back. “Because I’m real tired of giving it my all and barely getting a subpar orgasm out of it. It’s why I was trying to be celibate for a while…”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Not on my watch," He said, his thumb brushing against her panties. "I'll make sure you're thoroughly satisfied, multiple times if needed. I'll hold you close, kiss you, tell you how beautiful you are, while I make love to you."

“Ooo… he makes love..” She cooed, giggling lightly before leaning into whisper the next words to him. Was this an older man thing? Or a literature person sort of thing? Waxing poetically about the things he could provide, it all sounded amazing. But she had to know. “But can you fuck? Can you make me feel it for days, bruise my ass, get me so wet I ruin your sheets?”

Harry groaned quietly her words, his thumb pressing against her panties, feeling how soaked they were. "Fuck, yes." He growled under his breath, his other hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "I can be rough, I can be gentle, I can do whatever the hell you want. All y’have to do is ask."

Y/N let out a shuddering breath as his thumb brushed over her clit through her panties, looking to the side as she attempted to see if anyone was paying attention- but considering how crowded it was tonight, no one was paying them much mind. “So you’ll take me back to your place and make me cum? That’s what I want.”

Harry nodded, his thumb rubbing against her. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'll take you back to my place and make you cum so hard you'll see stars. And then I'll keep going, as long as you want, until you can't take it anymore."

“God.” The girl’s head rolled toward and thumped on his shoulder, feeling him chuckle as he rolled his thumb over her swollen clit. The lacy scrap of material she considered panties did little to hide how slick she was, the older man having plenty of fun playing with her as she turned her head and nipped her teeth into his throat.

Harry let out a low hiss at the sharp little bite, his hand still pressing against her clit through her panties. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and pulled out his phone, quickly typing out a text message before putting it back in his pocket.

“W-What are you doing?” She murmured, slowly pressing her lips to his skin and staining it with her lipstick. He was casual about playing with her, acting like stroking her clit was second nature as his other hand adjusted the straps of her dress back up from where they’d begun to droop.

Harry smirked as she inquired, his thumb still making small circles against her clit. He leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "I'm sending a message to my housekeeper, to make sure the bed is prepared for when we get back to my place."

“God, M’gonna suck your dick so good.” She sighed, a tipsy giggle leaving her throat. “It’s big. I knew it was when I came over here but… shit, I’m gonna feel it for days.”

Harry grinned as she grumbled against his neck, his hand leaving her panties to grip her hip possessively. "You're going to love it, baby. I'm going to stretch your little mouth wide, and you're going to take every inch like a good girl." He crooned low in his throat. “But you need to get that pretty ass up and come t’the car with me. My driver is here.”

——-

Y/N let out a squeal of delight as Harry tossed her into his bed. His Californian King with a canopy, four postered, hand craved fucking bed frame, his shirt unbuttoned, belt undone and jacket on the floor. Her dress was over her hips and she wasn’t sure exactly how they’d gotten here, but what she was sure of was the fact that she really did like kissing him. “Kiss me.” She demanded, grabbing his scruffy face as he crawled up the bed and hovered over top of her.

Harry chuckled at her demanding tone, his mustache brushing against her lips as he obliged her request. He kissed her deeply, his hand wrapping around her jaw to pull her close. As they made out, he let go only momentarily to reach down and grab her dress, yanking it up over her head and tossing it carelessly aside.

That left her in just the pathetic excuse of lace panties, as she had forgone the bra for the sake of the dress, and there was no complaints on his end. Her hand pushed at the shoulder of his shirt, trying to get it off of him. “Want you closer.” She mumbled, leaning into him with a mewl as he pulled back to do as she asked. It was erotic and hot and she was surprised by the amount of tattoos he had, but god, did she want to see more of him.

Harry grinned, feeling her warm hands pushing at his shirt. He lifted his arms, allowing her to pull it off of him. His tattoos were extensive, covering most of his arms, chest, and back. Inquisitive hands ran over her sides, marveling at her form compared to his own build.

The man bent down and started to place kisses along her collarbone and up her neck. His rough hands squeezed her sides gently, thumbs brushing along her ribs. He continued to kiss and nibble at her neck, his facial hair tickling her sensitive skin. He whispered, "Wrap your legs around my waist, baby."

She did as asked, eyes fluttering shut as she could feel him through his trousers. Of course, she’d been right. The man’s cock was big like she had expected, and it was thick. Throbbing against her through the fabric, her mouth watered slightly as she rubbed herself against him, fingers finding his hair as he made his way down her throat. “Fuck, it’s been so long.” The slight scratching of the facial hair only made her feel more sensitive, like she was on a live wire. It was decided that she definitely liked it now.

Harry groaned at her words, the sound coming out more like a rumble from his chest. He continued to kiss and nip at her throat as she ground herself against him. His hands squeezed and gripped her ass, encouraging her movements. "God, you feel so damn good, and m’not even inside you yet."

Harry paused for a moment, looking up at her with a heated gaze. "You're so precious, so sweet... I've never been with anyone like you before." His voice was gruff, filled with desire. He ran his hands up her sides, marveling at her smooth skin. The curves, the indents, all of it was new and exciting.

“No?” She asked softly. “I’ve never been with an older man either. Kinda like it.” There was no hesitation in admitting it. “Was your ex wife not good to you, Harry?”

Harry's expression darkened briefly at the mention of his ex-wife. "She wasn't... attentive. And she certainly never looked at me the way you are now." He buried his face in her neck once more, kissing and nuzzling her skin.

“No?” It was astounding. “I don’t know how. If I had a man like you…” She let out a breathy laugh. “You’d have to pry me off of you. you are so attractive, so sweet… Can’t imagine why she wouldn’t be all over you, all the time.” It wasn’t something she could really understand. She barely knew the guy but she liked what she saw, and she liked it a lot.

Harry's heart swelled with pride at her words. He felt his ego growing a bit, having this beautiful young woman fawn over him. "I think she was always more interested in the status and prestige that came with being married to me, rather than actually being in love with me." It wasn’t something he liked to think about but in this instance he felt okay with it. If it hadn't ended, he wouldn’t end up here.

His lips continued to kiss and caress Y/N, his hands roaming over her curves almost in awe of what he had his hands on. It wasn’t what he had expected. People watching at the bar was his goal, really. He had one night stands a few times but he didn’t necessarily want this to be a one time sorta of thing. Not when she smelled this good and her lips tasted like cherry wine. He wanted to know what books she liked just as much as he wanted to know how she looked when she came. "But now I have you in my bed, and you're looking at me like I'm the most desirable man you've ever seen, so I think m’doing okay." He crooned, nipping at her neck.

“Because you are.” The girl purred. “All man and power in the best way. Not socially, but in what you are. You exude it.” Her cunt rubbed against him, making her eyes lull. “I knew you’d have a big dick. Knew it just walking up, how you stood. I wanted it inside of me.”

Harry let out a low chuckle, his voice a deep rumble. "Is that right? You wanted me inside you from the moment you saw me?" His hands gripped her backside firmly, spreading her cheeks as she ground against him. "Well, you're going to get it, baby."

“Mmm… I want it now.”

Y/N nearly whimpered as he pulled away but quickly shut up as she watched him stand up, hands working the button of his trousers. It took her seconds to lift up and get on her knees in front of him, shooing his hands away to take over. it had been months since she’d given head and while she wasn’t a normal lover of it, she had been dying to get her hands on him.

Harry watched with heavy-lidded eyes as she pushed his hands away and undid his pants herself. He bit his lower lip as she slowly revealed what she'd been craving. "You don't have to do that, baby." He said hoarsely, knowing full well that he wanted her to- but he wouldn’t make her. It would be more than okay if he focused on her. He got off on giving, and that’s what he focused on.

“Need to.” She gave him a look as she slowly tugged the zipper down, guiding his trousers down before palming him over his briefs. “Fuck, I’m gonna be full of this.”

Harry let out a low moan at her grip and the words that followed. The image of her full and well used was enough to send any red-blooded man to their knees, but he just stood there in front of her, letting her take control, letting her give him pleasure. He watched as she pulled his boxers down, freeing his length. His hands moved to cup the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair. He could see the lust in her gaze, and he couldn’t help but sigh again at the sight of her.

His thick, veined shaft jutted out proudly from a trimmed thatch of dark hair. The head was a dark, angry red and already glistening with precome. The older man let out a sharp breath as she wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly starting to stroke him. He watched intently as she gripped his cock, sliding it over the sensitive length, causing it to pulse in her grip.

A shiver of pleasure ran down her spine as she watched his control come undone. Her eyes were locked onto him, watching his cock pulse and throb in her hand. She could feel it grow harder with each stroke, leaning herself down and sticking out her tongue for a taste.

The sensation of her tapping tongue against the tip of his cock made him shudder, watching the precum string from his slit to the pad of her pink tongue. He looked down at her, seeing the hot promise in her eyes- this was going to be good and he knew it. She slowly began to slide the head of his cock back and forth between her lips, teasing it with her tongue.

Y/N wasn’t one to call any cock pretty, but she would dare to say it for him. Harry’s cock was appealing in the way most others hadn’t been. Maybe part of it was her overwhelming attraction to him in general, but she felt even more eager to make him feel good than she had with anyone else in the past. “I want to take it in my throat. I can do it, I promise. Jus’ need your help.” Her plea was finished with a kiss to the tip before opening her mouth, looking up at him to let him take over.

He guided her head forward gently, encouraging her to take more of him into her mouth. "Relax your jaw, baby, you can take it." He coaxed softly, his voice laced with desire. As Y/N did as he asked, Harry felt his cock slide deeper into her warm, wet mouth. Her lips stretched around his girth, pushing in slowly before he felt the tip of his cock hitting the back of her throat. He could feel her nose pressing against his pubic bone as she struggled to take him all in. “Shh, sweetheart. Just gotta get it wet for me, show me what you can do.”

He held her head steady, his hands gently gripping her hair as he started to slowly thrust his hips. The sound of his thick cock sliding in and out of her mouth filled the room, along with the occasional gagging noise as she struggled to accommodate his size.

"You're doing so well, baby," Harry praised, his voice low and gravelly. "Look at you, takin’ it like a good girl. You're gonna make me come so hard today, aren’t you, sweetheart? Just like that, that's it- relax that throat for me..."

As Harry continued to talk to her, his sweet words and praise, Y/N's eyes began to water from the effort of taking him so deep. She gagged a few times, her hands coming up to his thighs for support, but she refused to pull away for longer than a few seconds to catch her breath.

Her cheeks hollowed and her jaw ached, but she was determined to take him all in. Harry's hands moved to the back of her head, fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her closer, fucking her mouth with more urgency. "That's it, baby. You're making me so hard... S’been so long... Been ages since anyone’s made me feel like this..." Harry's voice trailed off into a low moan as Y/N finally managed to take him all in, her nose pressing against his lower abdomen. “Tha’s it, right there- fucks sake.”

Harry's hips began to thrust involuntarily, fucking her mouth with shallow pumps as he held the back of her head, still buried deep in her throat. He released the grip, trying to urge her off- but she didn’t want to. "Fuck... you’ve got t’pull off, sweetheart..." he groaned, his breathing heavy and erratic. “Need t’fuck you.” Y/N whimpered around his thickness, her eyes watering as she shook her head slightly, indicating that she wasn't ready to give up yet. She wanted to taste him, to drink him down like he had with her. Harry's grip tightened in her hair, his voice strained.

"Babe...you've gotta-you've got to... please," Harry begged, his voice cracking as she continued to suck him off, her head bobbing and nose brushing his thatch of hair, making his eyes clench shut. "If you don't stop now, M’gonna, fuck...I'm gonna cum in your mouth..."

Y/N whimpered, her hands gripping his thighs tightly as she continued to suck him enthusiastically, eager to taste him. Harry's breathing became rapid and shallow, his fingers tightening in her hair as he struggled to hold back. "Y/N, last chance...I'm-"

The girl moaned as she felt him stiffen, his hips bucking forward as he finally gave in and let go, filling her mouth with his warm release. Watching his face fall in ecstasy, it was going to be worth the soreness tomorrow. She struggled to swallow it all, some of it dripping out of her mouth and down her chin. Harry's knuckles were white from gripping her hair so tightly, his body trembling as he came deep in her mouth. The sight of her swallowing him down was almost too much for him to handle, and he had to close his eyes and focus on not passing out. It truly had been a long fucking time.

As Harry finished cumming, Y/N eagerly cleaned his sensitive prick with her tongue, licking and sucking until he was completely clean. She ran her tongue along the veins and underneath the head, making him shudder and pull back. "Too sensitive...God, you're so good at that." he praised breathlessly. There was slight disbelief in there too, a slight tingling in his thighs as he looked at her as she pressed sloppy kisses to his hip bone. Mascara smeared under her eyes and lipstick a faded smeared mess, he wondered how he had gotten this lucky.

Harry needed a moment to catch his breath, his heart still racing from the intense orgasm. He looked down at Y/N, her messy appearance only making her more adorable to him. "You know what would be perfect right now?" he asked, his voice still shaking slightly.

“What?” Her voice croaked, feeling his thumb brushed away some of the tears on her cheek that had fallen from the gagging.

"Letting me get a taste of that pussy I've been fantasizing about." Harry suggested, his eyes still lingering on her messy and sated appearance as he pulled her up and pushed her to lay back down on the bed. “S’my turn now. Spread those perfect legs and let me see that cunt.”

Y/N obediently spread her legs wide, letting Harry see her dripping wet pussy. He let out a low groan at the sight as he got on his knees, his thumbs spreading her lips apart to reveal her slick folds. He buried his face between her thighs, inhaling her scent deeply before diving in and licking her from asshole to clit. There was no wasting any time or pretending to be shy about a single thing.

A started squeak left her mouth as her head popped up, hands gripping his head as he dove right in with little hesitation. Harry hadn’t seemed like the type to have any reservations in taking what he wanted, and it was being proven by how his tongue slid over her most sensitive parts.

He continued to eat her out with reckless abandon, his tongue fucking her pussy as if it belonged to him. Her breathing was heavy as he sucked on her clit, nibbling at it gently before returning to lap at her folds. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her cheeks wide to give himself better access to her tight hole. He wanted to have it all. “S’this okay, baby?”

“Uh-huh.” Y/N hadn’t really had anyone touch her there before but she couldn’t say she hadn’t been curious and self explored. It was always something she wanted to play around with and it felt exciting, handing herself over to the man like that.

Harry grinned mischievously against her wet flesh, his hands spreading her wider as he buried his face deeper. He pushed his thumb against her hole, slowly sliding it inside as he continued to lap at her cunt. “You taste so good, sweetheart...” he murmured, his voice muffled by her flesh.

He added a second finger to her ass, scissoring them apart slowly as he tongue fucked her pussy. Y/N's legs started to shake as the dual stimulation became too much. She gripped his hair tightly, her back arching off the bed as she let out a high pitched whine. "Ah!"

Y/N's fingers tightened painfully in Harry's hair, her knuckles turning pale as she tried to stay grounded while the pleasure consumed her. His tongue was spearing into her soaking wet hole over and over, curling up to rub against that spot inside her that made her see stars. And his fingers… god, those hands.

His fingers were stretching her asshole, pushing past the initial resistance and sinking deep into her tight heat. He scissored them further apart, popping her open wider as he fingered her ass. Y/N's legs shook violently, her whole body trembling as she felt herself on the verge of a massive orgasm.

"Harry...it's...too- please..." She babbled, unable to form a full sentence as he continued to stuff her holes. It had never been like this before, no one had even come close. He ignored her pleas, instead burying his face deeper and pumping his fingers faster. She felt so stuffed, so full, the pressure mounting inside her unbearably.

He felt her whole body stiffen, her pussy fluttering on his tongue as she cried out. She gushed against his mouth as she came, the feeling so intense and overwhelming that the waves of pleasure forced her to collapse against him.

Harry worked her through it as she trembled and whimpered with pleasure, his fingers still buried in her ass and his tongue still buried in her pussy. He felt a sense of pride and accomplishment, knowing that he'd reduced this beautiful young woman to a whimpering, shaking mess. It was not only an ego boost from what had been lacking for a while now, but he liked seeing how she reacted to him. He alone had done it.

Harry slowly lifted his head, wiping her from his face as he grinned wickedly at Y/N. "You taste even better when you're coming apart for me, sweetheart." He brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean while maintaining eye contact with her. "And you’re tight everywhere, hm?”

Y/N stared at Harry, her eyes glazed over and pupils dilated from the intense high she was still riding down from. Her mouth was slightly parted, breath hitching as she watched him clean her off his hands. A soft blush spread across her cheeks, embarrassed yet turned on by his bold actions.

"H-Harry...that was...I've never...I mean...no one's ever..." She stammered, unable to form a coherent sentence even still.

He chuckled darkly, enjoying how flustered she was. "No one's ever played with your pretty little hole before?"

“No.” Her face felt hot as he grinned up at her. He seemed more than pleased and it made her feel good to know he was happy but still, she had the slight embarrassment that only came with the territory.

"Well, consider that box checked then." He said smugly, crawling back up her body to kiss her passionately. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue, the musky flavor a testament to what he'd just done to her.

He grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head as he continued to ravage her mouth. She mewled into the kiss, arching up against him as she felt his hard length pressing into her stomach. "Does my pretty girl want more?"

“Mhm.” She nipped his lip. “Want you inside of me.” Was she still sensitive from her orgasm? yes. But she had been desperate to get him inside of her since she’d first spoken to him. “Do you- are you clean?”

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against her cheek. "I'm always clean, sweetheart. I get checked regularly and I'm very particular about who I share my dick with." He gave her wrists a gentle squeeze before releasing them, reaching over to his pants to his back pocket to grab his wallet.

“I-“ Her hand reached for his wrist. “I don’t wanna use one.” The words laid in the humid air for a moment. It was risky, sure, as any sort of unprotected anything was, but she didn’t want anything in between them. “I want t’feel you inside of me…”

He groaned at her words, his eyes darkening with desire. "Christ, doll. You're gonna be the death of me." Leaning down to kiss her again, his tongue traced over her bottom lip before slipping inside her mouth. He took his time, savoring every inch of her. His lips found the sensitive spot behind her ear, causing her to shiver in anticipation. His hands made their way under her hair, feeling the warmth of her skin.

“Can I push in, baby?” He asked with a low tone, his lips tracing her collarbone. At her nod, he wasted little time. Poor thing hadn’t been fucked right before, and he would happily give her a proper experience. Reaching down between them, he positioned himself at her entrance. With one slow thrust, he entered her fully, feeling the warmth and tightness of her around him. His eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he buried the tip inside of her. “Fuck, thank you.”

He groaned as he pushed into her, feeling the way her body welcomed him. He paused for a moment, giving her time to adjust and letting himself feel the depth of her wet heat around him. His hands reached up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

Being with a younger woman was different for him, but maybe it was just her- he realized as he moved inside of her. It was like being with a whole new sense of being, one who was full of energy and life. Everything about her was so fresh and vibrant, from her tight little pussy to her perfect tits and gorgeous face.

He continued to thrust into her, feeling the way her walls tightened around him. His hands moved down from her breasts, over her soft stomach and to her hips, exploring whenever he could.

His movements were slower, each thrust deliberate and measured. He wanted to savor the feel of her, the way her body yielded to his. He was drawn to watch her face, loving the way her eyes fluttered shut and her mouth fell open as he filled her. "Look at me," he murmured. She opened her eyes, looking at him with a dazed expression. "Good girl, like t’see those pretty eyes." The man sighed, unable to resist praising her. He continued to thrust into her slowly, each movement filled with lust and desire.

“Fuck.” She kept her eyes on him as her hands ran over his hot shoulderbaldes, keeping that contact as he dipped all the way back home as deep as he could. Her mouth fell open and a high pitched noise left her throat without her permission, brows furrowed. “It’s never been that d-deep.”

He grinned at her, loving the way her inexperience made her react to him. "That's because no one's ever taken the time to stretch you out right." He leaned down to kiss her neck, his hips continuing to move in slow, deep thrusts.

“Where the fuck have you been, then?” She laughed breathlessly, letting her eyes fall back closed as he kept the thrusts slow and deep, relishing every inch he took. her body was lax and hot, his for the taking. Right now she felt like he could do anything and she would welcome it. “Are all older guys like this, or is it j-just you?”

He chuckled darkly against her neck, "There's a reason why women often prefer older men, doll- but M’gonna say for greeds sake, s’just me." He suckled at her skin, his hands sliding down to grip her thighs and push them back farther, opening her up even more to his slow, deep thrusts.

“Oh, shit.” Her mouth fell open and he welcomed it, sliding his tongue back inside her mouth and humming at the taste of her against him. The fact there was not a single barrier, albeit risky for the first time fucking, made it even hotter.

His movements became gentler, his hands caressing her skin instead of gripping it. "You like that?" he murmured against her lips, his hips rolling into hers instead of thrusting. "You like knowing that there's nothing between us?" He pulled back slightly, looking down at her with a heated gaze. "I want you to look at me when I ask you something," he said, his voice low and commanding as he took her eyes. "Are you on any birth control?"

“Y-Yeah. Uh-huh.” Her eyes wide, she looked up at him hazily as she wrapped her legs further around his hips. “Don’t pull out when you cum. Please- I know m’crazy, but I need… need it.” Y/N knew she was insane for it, but their connection was so strong, every thrust inside of her, hitting places she didn’t know existed prior to this… she needed it.

His expression softened, a coo leaving his mouth as he nodded at her. How precious. "Alright, sweetheart. I promise I won't pull out." A dumb decision on his part too considering they’d just met but in the midst of it all, it was all he wanted to do. His hips began to move again, his pace quickening as he felt the heat of her around him. "You're going to take it all then, aren't you?"

“Yeah.” She mewled. From the sounds and feel alone she knew she was making a mess on his cock, but she had a feeling he was enjoying it every time he snuck a glance between them. “Take everything you give me, Daddy.” It was a risk, but she wanted to see what he’d do.

His face contorted with pleasure, his brow furrowing and his jaw clenching. "Good girl…" he hissed, his voice low and gravelly. He buried his face in her neck and thrust into her with more need, his movements becoming more urgent. "You're going to make me cum, doll."

“Cum.” She begged. “Cum in me. Then fuck it into me. Please.” Her nails dragged over his toned back as she clung to him, his bed creaking as he fucked into her welcoming, wet pussy.

He let out a primal grunt and slammed into her one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled her with his hot, thick cum. He held himself inside her, his hips jerking as he pumped his load deep into her cunt. "Fuck, baby... I'm going to fucking fill you up."

But he wasn’t done. Not in the slightest.

With his cum still pouring into her, he reached under her and grabbed her thighs, spreading them wide apart. Observing the mess he made, he fixed his fingers on her clit as he fucked the cum into her just like she asked. “I gave you what you wanted, darling. Give me what I need too, mm?” His lips brushed her cheek, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. She just needed a little extra, and he was more than happy to provide.

Y/N squirmed slightly as she felt it creep up on her faster than she could anticipate. The pulse of his cock as it dribbled the last of his cum inside of her, the feel of his facial hair brushing her tender skin and his fingertips rubbing quick circles over her clit, it was impossible to keep from holding back. Heat boiled in her stomach as she tried to tell him, but it came on quicker than she could speak.

A broken moan left her lips as her body shook under him, eyes burning with tears of pleasure as he fucked her messy cunt and continued the circles until she pushed his hand away, grabbing his face and kissing him far more messily than she would have done in any other capacity- but this felt right. Fucked out and wobbly, melting into the bed as he slowly stopped the thrusts and stayed buried in her.

“Mm- baby. Sweetheart…” he pulled back to look at her. “You alright? Tell me how you’re feelin’.” He needed to check in on her, make sure she was feeling properly taken care of. Just by the look of it alone he had a feeling she felt that way, but he wanted to hear it from her pretty lips.

“I’m so good.” She grinned, drunk with the pleasure as she looked up at the handsome man. He was everything that she had dreamt about when she woke up sticky between her thighs. Aged like a fine wine.

“Can we go again?”

[mr-cha-n]

Glass Towers

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x fem!reader

Genres: fluff, angst, smut, architect AU

Warnings: Profanities, drinking, angst, sexual content, penetration, mouth stuff (f. receiving), tension, yearning

Word Count: 18.2k

Summary: City lights are beautiful, but they're nothing compared to the spark between a hopelessly optimistic architect and his no-nonsense boss. He hopes.

Mingyu's always had a thing for the city skyline. He stands there, staring up like a tourist in his own city, while the lights blink back at him. He's convinced that the twinkling stars work overtime in the winter to brighten up the world for busy employees, wonderstruck sightseers, and homebound natives alike. 

And the people? Oh, don't get him started. City folk are like ants with a caffeine addiction, scurrying down streets wide enough to do doughnuts on (he's tempted), all on their own secret missions. Got places to be, people to bump into, lives to live. And every now and then, there's a stray tourist wandering around like they're decoding a map from a century-old pirate treasure hunt, or a food vendor desperately offering free samples and a good, if unique, conversation.

But, most of all, he's got a soft spot for buildings. Those skyscrapers that loom over everyone like friendly giants are his favourite. They're tall, dramatic, stoic - but also weirdly welcoming, like they're saying "Come on in, friend, there's an elevator with your name on it." Each one holds a mini-universe of people with no clue that they're all part of this giant city love affair. And honestly? That's what Mingyu loves most.

That is why he is practically vibrating with excitement as he makes his way to the towering glass-and-steel behemoth that houses his new firm. This building is the pinnacle of urban architecture. It has a shiny, almost reflective facade that makes every other building on the block look like they'd shown up to the party in sweatpants. Windows stretch floor to floor like a series of portals to success.

He's read about this building, of course. Brought it up in the interview for the position. Its architect was apparently a big deal who had once described it as "a dialogue between the earth and the sky." Which, as far as Mingyu is concerned, is just fancy architect-speak for, "Look at how absurdly tall I can make things."

Stepping inside, he is immediately hit with that professional smell - a mix of leather-bound sofas, artisanal coffee, and freshly printed documents. The lobby is decorated with minimalist sculptures that seem like they could either be priceless modern art or just very confusing coat ranks. Either way, Mingyu thinks they look amazing and decides that he'd probably best never trying to lean on one.

He stops at the reception desk, where a sharply dressed woman with an impressively unflappable expression sits.

"Good morning!" He says, a little too enthusiastically. "I'm Kim Mingyu. I'm starting as the new project architect, so you'll probably see a lot of confused-looking, lost-guy moments from me."

She raises an eyebrow, a faint smile quirking on the edge of her lips. "Good luck, Mr Kim. This building does tend to eat people up on their first day."

Mingyu lets out a small chuckle, unsure if she's joking or not, but he takes the smile on her face to signify that she is. After getting directions to his new office space, he makes a point of talking to every staff member he sees on the way, hoping to gain a little bit of familiarity with the new space. There's the security guard by the elevator, who gives him a quick nod of approval, the intern rushing by with a stack of blueprints precariously balanced like they are training for Cirque du Soleil, and the coffee cart guy, who looked positively thrilled to tell Mingyu that they're starting a 'Mocha Monday' deal, envisioning half-price mochas flying off the shelf to cure those start-of-week blues.

The elevator itself is sleek, fast, and almost comically over-engineered. Encased in glass and stainless steel, it features a control panel with buttons for every floor and amenities like a mini espresso machine, a retractable tablet and an adjustable lighting system for 'mood optimisation'. He barely has time to catch his breath before the elevator doors ding open, depositing him on the top floor. 

Waiting for him is Mr Choi, the firm's head partner, a man so put-together than even his cufflinks look like they could close a business deal. Mingyu recognises him instantly - the same piercing gaze from his interview, though today softened by the faintest hint of a smile. Or, well, something that might one day consider becoming a smile.

"Good to see you again, Mingyu," Mr Choi greets, his voice as smooth as marble. He gestures down the hallway, as if guiding him into an architectural wonderland (which, for all intents and purposes, he is). "Shall we?"

They pass through a maze of glass-walled offices and open spaces dotted with architects, designers, and enough blueprint paper to wrap the world's largest birthday present. As they reach Mr Choi's office, Mingyu makes sure to hold the door open for his new boss.

The space is less of an office and more of an architectural shrine, humming with the wisdom of ten thousand blueprints. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a panoramic view of the city, as if the whole skyline had been personally curated just to keep Mr Choi inspired. His desk - a sleek slab of dark walnut with edges so sharp they could probably slice bread - sits precisely in the centre of the room. On the walls sit framed sketches of the firm's most iconic projects, each one hung and lit like a small art gallery. The coffee table at the centre piles high with glossy architecture magazines and books with titles like The Future of Concrete and The Language of Buildings. It is as if every element in the room had been strategically selected to convey that Mr Choi is not just any architect. 

And, most stunning of all, is you. Tall, poised, and commanding a presence that immediately silences whatever joke Mingyu has mentally queued up to break the ice. You're seated across from Mr Choi's desk, reading through a thick stack of documents with the intensity of someone evaluating world-changing data - or possibly planning the most efficient way to dismantle a skyscraper with your mind. You don't look up when he enters.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," Mr Choi says, a hint of amusement in his voice, "this is Kim Mingyu, our newest project architect. He'll be working under you, as we discussed."

Finally, you look up. There's a flash of something unreadable in your eyes as you meet his, and Mingyu's heart skips a beat. You're beautiful, of course, but not in the approachable way he'd normally charm his way though. There's a quiet sharpness to you, like the edge of a blade hidden under silk. You nod, polite but detached, and extend a hand across the desk. Mingyu's hand is halfway to yours before he realises he's probably grinning too wide.

"Mr Kim," You say, your tone flat and calm. "Welcome to the team."

"Thank you, Ms (Y/l/n)," he replies, fighting the urge to launch into an unnecessarily enthusiastic monologue about how honoured he is to work with someone as formidable as you. Instead, he forces himself to stick with, "It's a pleasure to be here."

Your handshake is brief, controlled, and you retract your hand almost before he's registered the contact. Then you sit back, folding your arms with a measured kind of grace that makes Mingyu feel like he's just been granted an audience with a queen.

"We'll be starting you off on the Langham project," you say, consulting your papers as if double-checking this fact - or maybe just avoiding his eyes. "I'll be overseeing your work and guiding you through our procedures here. We have high standards, and I'll expect you to meet them."

"Of course!" He nods vigorously, attempting his best I-won't-let-you-down smile. "I'm up for any challenge, Ms (Y/l/n). High standards are, uh, my middle name."

You raise an eyebrow, looking slightly perplexed, as though wondering if he might be serious. Mr Choi clears his throat, breaking the silence with a faint smirk that betrays a hint of secondhand amusement.

"Ms (Y/l/n)," he continues, "has been with us for nearly a decade. She's an invaluable asset to the firm. I trust you'll learn a great deal from her."

Mingyu nods earnestly, glancing at you, but you're already back to scanning the documents as if he's drifted into background noise. He's mildly disappointed, though he can't exactly blame you - after all, he is juts the latest recruit with probably a hundred questions, and you seem like the type who doesn't have time for aimless chatter.

"Any questions before we begin?" you ask, in a tone that suggests the answer you're really hoping for is 'no.'

But of course, Mingyu has questions. Too many, probably. He opens his mouth to ask one, but then catches the faintest glint of what he thinks might be impatience in your eyes and quickly changes gears.

"Actually, no," he says, flashing a thumbs-up. "Good to go!"

You don’t seem particularly impressed by this, but there’s a flicker of something — amusement, maybe? — before you turn back to Mr. Choi. "Shall I take him to the Langham briefing room, then?"

Mr Choi waves you off with a nod, and you rise with a brisk elegance that makes Mingyu almost trip over himself in an effort to follow. You walk him through the halls with a calm, businesslike air, giving succinct, precise explanations as you go. Every step you take feels purposeful, every word perfectly chosen. Mingyu feels like an eager puppy trotting beside you, but he's determined to keep up.

As you reach the briefing room, he can't resist trying to break the ice one more time. "You know," he starts, grinning. "I really love the city skyline. It's kind of why I got into architecture."

You pause, giving him a look that manages to be both blank and withering at once. "Is that so?"Yeah!" He barrels on, encouraged by the fact that you responded at all. "It's like ... it's all a big love letter to everyone living here, you know? Every building, every floor, every light in the window - it's all just there, lighting up people's lives."

There's a moment of silence. Mingyu wonders if maybe he overdid it.

Finally, you nod, albeit with an expression he can't quite place. "That's an ... optimistic way of looking at it, Mr Kim."

Optimistic? Not exactly the response he was hoping for, but he'll take it. He smiles, trying to hide his excitement at the fact that you actually acknowledged his point. "I guess that’s me — hopelessly optimistic."

You glance at him with what he might, just might, dare to interpret as the tiniest hint of a smirk. But just as quickly, it’s gone, replaced by your usual professional demeanour.

"Well," you say crisply, gesturing to the plans spread out on the table. "Let’s see if that optimism translates to effective project execution."

By the time Mingyu finally steps out of the firm's towering glass sanctuary, the city has dipped into that golden hour where the skyline looks like it's been dipped in honey. The streets are packed with people still racing to meetings, or dinners, or late-night escapades, but Mingyu feels like he's in his own little bubble, still buzzing from the whirlwind of his first day.

He's not sure what's more overwhelming - the Langham project itself, which already feels like it's going to stretch every ounce of his architectural prowess and patience, or you. The way you carried yourself like you were born in this building, with all its sharp edges and polished surfaces. He isn't sure how to keep up with that level of composure.

But there was something there, wasn't there? A flicker of something. Maybe you were just humouring him, but there was that slight tilt of your lips when he said something slightly amusing. Or the way your eyes lingered just a fraction longer than necessary when he spoke. Of course, he could just be imagining it. But Mingyu isn't about to let go of that feeling just yet.

The subway ride home does little to calm his excitement. He thinks about the massive pile of documents he's expected to digest tonight for the briefing tomorrow. As the train rumbles beneath the city, Mingyu cracks open his bag and pulls out the folder that was handed to him this morning - a mess of blueprints, floor plans and complicated notes that look like they were designed to break a person's will to live. 

But he's not scared, not by this at least. The only thing that kind of scares him is the realisation that you are going to be watching him closely. Judging. Monitoring. And if he’s being honest, he’s not sure if he’s ready for that sort of proximity.

The train screeches to a halt, and Mingyu exits at his stop, shaking off those thoughts. Tonight, he’ll just have to forget about all that for now and focus on getting some food in his stomach. Besides, he’s almost home.

Mingyu’s apartment building isn’t anything to write home about. It’s not a shiny, glass-covered marvel like the office, but it’s cozy and warm, with enough character to make him feel like he has a place to call his own. His apartment is on the fourth floor, up a narrow staircase that creaks with every step. As he pulls his key from his pocket and unlocks the door, the familiar smell of instant ramen and coffee hits him. His flatmate, Wonwoo, is already home.

Wonwoo’s there in the living room, sprawled across the couch with his laptop on his lap and a half-empty mug of coffee next to him. He’s the polar opposite of Mingyu in almost every way: quiet, reserved, and extremely not into architecture, but somehow they’ve been rooming together for the past few years without any major conflicts. Mingyu’s loud, chaotic energy and tendency to overshare perfectly balances Wonwoo’s brooding, half-mysterious vibe. It’s a friendship forged in caffeine and mutual understanding that sometimes, you need someone who won’t judge when you blast pop music at 2 AM, or when you eat cereal for dinner because you forgot to go grocery shopping.

"How’s the first day?" Wonwoo doesn’t look up from his screen, his voice cool and unbothered. But Mingyu can tell he’s asking out of a form of polite curiosity, like a scientist observing a very energetic specimen.

Mingyu drops his bag on the counter and flops onto the couch next to him. "It was ... intense," he starts, rubbing the back of his neck. "The project I'm gonna be working on is a beast. There's this whole ocean of details to sift through. And then there's Ms (Y/l/n)."

Wonwoo looks up, his brow slightly raised. "Your boss?"

"Yeah," Mingyu says, leaning back and staring at the ceiling. "She's something else. Like she doesn't seem interested in me at all, and I'm not sure how to deal with that. But she's got this, like, presence. Makes you want to impress her, y'know? Even when she's totally stone-faced - especially when, actually."

Wonwoo hums noncommittally and takes a sip of his coffee, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "So, you're in love with your boss already. Good to know."

Mingyu shoots him a mock glare, his cheeks ringing with a hint of pink. "I'm not in love with her, okay? It's more like ... fascination. She's just really intimidating."

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow, the picture of dry amusement. "Uh-huh. Sure. And what's her deal, anyway? Too professional for your flirty smile?"

"She doesn't seem flattered by it." Mingyu dramatically drops his head into his hands, mimicking a tragic melodrama. "I might have to rethink my whole life strategy if I can’t get her to crack a smile at my jokes."

"But hey," Wonwoo adds with a smirk, "if you want to survive your first week, I suggest you do not mention the city skyline and your theories about how it’s a love letter to people. That’s a hard pass."

Mingyu groans, covering his face in embarrassment. "I’m never telling you anything ever again."

Wonwoo chuckles, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied grin. "You love me and you know it."

Mingyu snorts. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’ve got work to do." He picks up the pile of documents, pulling them closer with a resigned sigh. "Gotta impress Ms (Y/l/n) somehow."

Gulping down a quick 'dinner' of left-over stir fry and a couple of eggs for good measure, Mingyu picks back up the Langham project folder, its content still a chaotic swirl of technical specs and words he can't read, and flips open the first few pages. The project itself is a massive undertaking - a luxury hotel and mixed-use complex nestled in the heart of the city, right by the river. The building is going to stretch twenty stories high, with glass facades that'll reflect the river's light like a prism. The design includes state-of-the-art amenities, with the goal of being the ultimate urban getaway - a haven for tourists, business moguls, and the occasional local who just wants to treat themselves to a little luxury.

Mingyu's eyes light up as he scans the proposed design. There's a grand atrium in the centre, stretching all the way up to the top floor, with cascading gardens and open-air terraces. "So fancy," he mutters to himself. His team is clearly trying to push boundaries here, blending modern steel and glass with organic elements - like a giant metallic tree-house hybrid for the city's elite.

He flips to a page filled with notes about sustainability and energy efficiency. They’re aiming for a platinum LEED certification — top-tier green building status. It’s all about using smart, eco-friendly tech to make the building as self-sustaining as possible. Mingyu groans inwardly, wondering if he’s about to become an expert on solar panels and rainwater harvesting.

As he continues reading, one particular detail catches his eye. The signature design element for the building is a series of “floating” glass bridges between the upper floors — a bold architectural statement meant to make the building appear less like a typical office block and more like something out of a futuristic movie. It sounds incredible, but Mingyu can already picture himself pulling his hair out over the engineering calculations required to make sure the whole thing doesn’t come crashing down in a windstorm.

By the time he reaches the end of the folder, his mind is spinning, and a mild panic starts to creep in. Your expectations are clear, and the project’s scope is enormous. But Mingyu can’t help the tiny spark of excitement that flickers in his chest. This is what he’s been working toward — to be a part of something that will change the city’s landscape, something that will make people stop and look up.

He rubs his eyes and glances at the clock. It's late, but he knows he'll need all the preparation he can get for tomorrow.

With one last long look at the papers, Mingyu closes the folder, shoving it aside with a resigned sigh. "I’m going to need a lot more coffee," he mutters, flopping back on the couch beside Wonwoo, who’s already half asleep with his laptop still glowing faintly in his lap.

Wonwoo snorts without opening his eyes. "You’re going to need more than coffee for this, buddy."

"Tell me about it," Mingyu grins, grabbing his phone to order another coffee, just in case he didn’t have enough already. Tonight, it looks like he’s going to be living on caffeine and architectural dreams.

A few weeks into the job, Mingyu has already made a significant number of mistakes. Well, significant is probably an understatement. More like a collection of blunders so impressive that, if anyone were to catalogue them, they might think Mingyu was trying to break some sort of world record in architectural mishaps.

It starts innocently enough, with a small miscalculation on the elevator shaft dimensions that nearly caused a minor freakout in the engineering department. Then there was that time he mixed up the load-bearing capacity for the glass facades and accidentally sent an email to the whole team saying, "We could use stronger glass" when technically, the existing plans were fine. And, of course, who could forget that time he got overzealous and rearranged the project's timeline, shaving an entire month off the construction schedule, only to realise later that it was a little bit too ambitious for anyone's taste?

He still hasn't lived down the elevator incident, which, for the record, wasn't even entirely his fault. But it's hard to explain that when your eyes are drilling into him from across the room, a careful blend of disappointment and 'I'm trying not to send you into an existential crisis right now.'

Today, he's perched at his desk watching the clock tick down the minutes until the inevitable meeting with you. His fingers drum nervously on the edge of his notepad. There's a fresh stack of papers in front of him, each one brimming with red-inked corrections, and he knows what's coming. He's almost perfected the art of nodding in silent shame during your critiques, hoping the earth might swallow him whole.

When the meeting finally comes, you walk into the room, as poised and unbothered as ever. He tries to stand up to greet you, but he stumbles into his chair instead, catching himself just in time.

"You've been busy," you say dryly, as you flip through the stack of appears, your eyes scanning the marked-up blueprints. Your tone is sharp, like an exam proctor giving him one last chance to pass without the lecture.

Mingyu forces a grin, wiping his palms against his pants. "Yep, learning a lot on the fly, you know?"

You don't smile. "You've certainly given us a lot to work with."

Mingyu winces, cracking for the inevitable storm of corrections. He can already feel the weight of your disappointment pressing down on him. He's been trying so hard to make a good impression, but it seems every time he tries, he only ends up making things more complicated.

But then, as if you've suddenly decided that maybe he hasn’t completely bungled everything, you pause, tapping your pen against the papers in front of you. “But there’s one thing...”

His heart stutters. "What's that?"

You flip to the last page in the folder, revealing a neatly detailed diagram of the building's eco-friendly water filtration system, a proposal Mingyu put together at the last minute after a rather inspiring lunch break (where he might have gotten just a little carried away talking to the environmental consultant). You tap the diagram. "This," you say, your voice softer than he's ever heard it, "This is well done. You identified a potential issue with the system that we hadn't accounted for in the original design. We'll need to revise a few things to integrate it fully, but this is exactly the kind of thinking we need."

Mingyu stares at you, completely caught off guard. His brain is still half-parked in panic mode from the earlier mistakes. and he can't quite process your words. Did you just ... praise him?

"Really?" He blinks, his surprise making his voice higher than usual. "You mean the, uh, water thing? I just thought it might be better if we-"

"I know," you interrupt, your gaze steady on him. "You found a solution we missed. We'll be able to integrate it without a massive redesign. Good work."

Mingyu blinks again, this time in pure disbelief. It's like someone just handed him a bag of cash and told him to keep it. "I - uh, wow. Thanks." He tries to act cool, but he's pretty sure he looks like a kid who's just been handed an extra cookie.

You don't break your composed demeanour, but there's a subtle shift in your expression - a quiet respect that wasn't there before. "You're capable, Mr Kim," you say, your voice calm but with a hint of approval. "Despite your tendency to make things a little more complicated than necessary, you're on the right track."

The words hang in the air for a moment, and Mingyu feels an odd rush of pride — a mix of relief and the kind of warmth you get when you find out you didn’t totally mess everything up. For once, he’s not the guy who ruins everything in your eyes.

And, maybe, just maybe, he can keep that “capable” label for a while.

“I’ll expect the revised plans on my desk by Friday,” you say, your voice steady. “Don’t disappoint me.”

“I won’t!” Mingyu promises, his voice more confident than it’s been in weeks. “I’m on it.”

Mingyu throws himself into revising the plans with a fervour that borders on obsession. He’s got spreadsheets, CAD files, hand-drawn sketches, and a brand new stack of sticky notes covering his desk like a rainbow-coloured fortress of architectural ambition. The water filtration system has turned into his personal magnum opus, and he’s determined to make sure it’s nothing short of revolutionary.

He's started to stay later than usual, his desk lamp becoming a beacon in the dimmed office. At first, he doesn't pay much attention to who else is around, his mind so wrapped up in calculations and potential pitfalls that he barely notices his own hunger or fatigue. But after a few nights, he realises he's not the only one burning the midnight oil.

Your office light is always on. Sometimes he'll glance up, bleary-eyed and half delirious from staring at documents, and he'll catch a glimpse of you through the glass walls - hair pulled back, eyes locked on your laptop screen, fingers tapping briskly on the keys as if your thoughts are sprinting ahead of your hands. You're a constant fixture, as much a part of the office's architecture as the polished marble floors and unbreakable glass doors. And, he realises, you're usually there even later than he is.

One evening, after finally signing off on what feels like the hundredth draft of the plans, Mingyu yawns and stretches, feeling every vertebra pop like bubble wrap. He glances at the clock. It's nearly midnight. As he stands to grab his coat, he sees your office light flick off, and you appear, looking just as composed as you did this morning, as if working fifteen hours straight is just part of your weekly routine.

You both walk to the elevator in silence, the quiet stretch of the office settling around you like an unspoken truce. When the elevator doors close, you glance at him, breaking the silence with a casual, "You're still here, Mr Kim."

He lets out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, still making sure I don't mess up the Langham project. You know how it is."

You don't smile, but your expression softens. "I do."

The elevator ride is quiet, filled with the low hum of machinery and the faintest scent of Mingyu's cologne - a last-ditch attempt this morning to feel professional. When you step out onto the ground floor, you hesitate by the door, glancing out at the street. The city is dark and quiet, the only lights the occasional passing car and the soft glow of streetlamps.

"Do you have a way home?" You ask, your voice so casual it takes him a second to realise you're actually offering him a ride.

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard. "Uh, well, I was going to take the subway. But if you're offering..." He trails off, grinning sheepishly.

You nod, motioning to the car parked just outside. It's as sleek and polished as you are - a dark sedan that looks like it would have absolutely no patience for speed bumps. He slides into the passenger seat, trying not to fumble with his seatbelt, and you start the engine, pulling into the quiet streets with a calm, practised ease.

For a while, you drive in silence. Mingyu glances out the window, his thoughts tangled between the day's work and the surreal feeling of sitting in the same car as you.

"You're ... very driven," you break the quiet, your tone almost contemplative. "I don't often see people put in that kind of effort, especially so early on."

He chuckles softly, scratching the back of his neck. "Guess I just don’t want to let you down. Or, you know, be known as the guy who destroyed the Langham project.”

You finally smile, a small, genuine expression that feels like a rare peek beyond the wall, and leaves Mingyu feeling a little breathless. "It's more than that, though, isn't it?"

Mingyu hesitates, taken aback by the question. He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but it definitely wasn’t that. “I mean, yeah. I’ve always loved buildings. Ever since I was a kid, I’d spend hours sketching skyscrapers in my notebooks. It’s kind of a dream come true, being here. Getting to work on something this big.”

You listen, your eyes fixed on the road but your expression soft, focusing now somewhere beyond just his words.

"This job can consume you, if you let it," you say quietly, almost to yourself. "It's a rare thing to see someone bring genuine excitement to it. Most people, they burn out or let it harden them." You glance at him, and for a brief moment, he sees a flicker of something almost vulnerable in your gaze. "It's good that you still ... care."

Your words hang in the air, and Mingyu feels a strange ache in his chest - a sudden realisation that beneath the cool professionalism, you had been through this same path yourself, fighting to keep that spark alive in an industry that seems determined to grind it out of you.

"Thanks," he says softly, the playful tone absent for once. "I mean it. And ... I think I get what you mean." He hesitates, then adds, "But I don't think I'll stop caring anytime soon."

You nod, a faint smile ghosting your lips. You drive on through the city, the lights casting soft, shifting patterns on the glass.

When you finally reach his building, he unbuckles his seatbelt, giving you a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the ride. And, you know… for everything else.”

You nod, your expression back to usual, but there's a warmth in your eyes now. "Goodnight, Mr Kim."

"Goodnight," he says, stepping out and closing the door gently. He watches as you drive away, the taillights disappearing down the street, and feels a strange mixture of inspiration and relief, and a hunger to get back in the car and learn anything else he can about you.

It's a week before his presentation, and Mingyu is thrilled about his latest proposal for the Lagham project - a sleek, eco-friendly rooftop space designed to collect rainwater, enhance natural cooling, and serve as a green oasis in the middle of the city for all visitors to access. It's his baby, his architectural pièce de résistance. He’s already named the design “Green Above” in his head, but, apparently, the client is less than convinced.

The hesitation comes during a routine check-in meeting, when Mr. Choi casually drops the news that the client has “concerns.” The term is as vague as it is ominous, and Mingyu’s heart sinks. Apparently, they’re worried it’s too “experimental,” too “risky” for the firm’s conservative image. Mingyu tries to hide his disappointment, nodding as Mr. Choi politely recommends that he “polish up his pitch” before the big day.

By “polish,” of course, he means pull a miracle out of thin air.

Enter: you.

Later that afternoon, you call him into your office, the door clicking shut behind him as you gesture for him to sit. He braces himself, ready for another dissection of his work, but instead, you surprise him by pulling out his sketches and nodding. "The client might be wary," you say, your tone clinical and level, "but there's a strong case for this. You just need to learn how to show them the vision." You pause, looking at him. "I'll help you with that."

Mingyu blinks. "You'll help me present?"

"Yes, Mr Kim," you say. "We'll work on this every evening until you're confident enough to convince a room full of sceptics. You'll have to be better than good. Exceptional."

And so, every evening for the next week, Mingyu stays late in the conference room, rehearsing his proposal with you. The first night, he stumbles through the trial run, mumbling about sustainable design, only to have you stop him after two minutes, unimpressed.

"Start over," you say, tapping your pen against the table. "And this time, stop burying the lead. Walk in there and make me believe it's the best thing I've ever heard."

You're relentless but patient, correcting him when he gets too caught up in technical jargon, showing him how to highlight the benefits rather than the process. "This is a story," you tell him one evening. "Show that what it feels like. Make them see the vision before you go into how it works."

Somewhere around the fourth late night, you sit back into your chair after another dry run, watching him with an intensity that makes him nearly forget his lines.

“Stop talking like you’re trying to convince them you’re good enough,” you say, "You are. You have to believe it, or no one else will."

Mingyu blinks, the words landing with unexpected weight. You say it like it's a fact - as if there's no question about his abilities, just his confidence. Something in your gaze is softer than he's ever seen, and for the first time, he wonders how many long nights like these you've spent not just perfecting your work, but holding yourself up to impossible standards too.

He nods, taking a breath. “Right. Believe it.”

By the night before the presentation, he’d rehearsed the pitch so many times he could recite it in his sleep. You give him one last nod, a subtle flicker of approval in your eyes. "You're ready."

The day of the meeting dawns, and Mingyu arrives early, the faint taste of nerves tingling in his throat. When he enters the boardroom, the client representatives are all seated, an assortment of tailored suits and sceptical expressions. Mr. Choi offers a nod of encouragement from his place at the head of the table, and you stand nearby, arms folded, watching him with that same quiet intensity.

As he begins his pitch, Mingyu can feel his initial nerves settle, his voice steady as he moves through each point. He doesn’t just talk about “Green Above” like an idea on paper; he paints it as a vision, something meant to make the city’s skyline greener, bolder, better. He gestures to the architectural mockups, describing the rooftop garden as not just a feature but a destination, an asset that would be both functional and iconic.

He can tell, halfway through, that the room has shifted. The clients sit forward, nodding, leaning into his words, their initial scepticism melting as he lays out the plan. The numbers, the materials, the maintenance — it’s all there, practical but wrapped in the bigger picture he’s been rehearsing for nights on end.

When he finishes, the room is silent for a beat before the client’s lead representative nods, visibly impressed. “It’s… ambitious,” he says, almost smiling. “But I see what you mean. Let’s move forward.”

Mingyu grins, fighting the urge to fist pump as the clients exchange approving glances. He looks over at you, who gives him the slightest nod of approval. He can almost see a glimmer of pride in your expression, faint but undeniable.

As the room empties and the clients file out, Mingyu's heart is still racing, his whole body humming with triumph. He turns to you, grinning wide. "We did it," he says, his voice barely containing his excitement. "I mean ... I did it. But only because you..."

He trails off, realising just how close you're standing, the quiet of the empty room settling around you. Your gaze meets his, and for a moment, you don't look away. It's a long, lingering look, like you're seeing him not just as an employee or an eager architect but as… him. Someone who cares, who tries, who’s just won his first major victory and feels like he’s on top of the world.

“Thank you,” he says, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “For all of it. I don’t think I could have pulled it off without you.”

You hesitate, your eyes flickering with something he can’t quite place. Your expression softens, your lips parting slightly as if your about to say something else. And in that moment, there’s a warmth between them, a shared understanding that words alone wouldn’t quite capture.

“Just… keep going,” you say finally, your voice so quiet it feels like a secret. “You’re more capable than you realize, Mingyu.”

The way you says his name — with that subtle, unfamiliar warmth — makes his heart skip. He nods, still holding your gaze, feeling the weight of everything you’ve shared in the past week in that single, electric second.

And then, as if the moment might disappear if you linger too long, you step back, your usual composure slipping back into place.

For the first time, Mingyu feels that maybe — just maybe — there’s more between them than late-night work sessions and professional boundaries. And as you walk side by side down the quiet hall, he can’t shake the feeling that, for the first time, you might be feeling it too.

Mingyu's gotten good at convincing himself he's not entirely losing it. So what if his boss, who barely blinks at a 15-hour day and thinks "weekends" are a suggestion, is suddenly occupying 90% of his mental bandwidth? That's just ... professional admiration. So when he finds himself thinking about you at odd times - like, mid-bite of his breakfast burrito, or what he's supposed to be learning zoning codes - he brushes it off. After all, it's normal to be totally absorbed by someone you admire.

One evening, after bringing home takeout and trying (again) to casually mention his most recent success, Wonwoo decides to drop a bomb. "I saw an article about your boss the other day, you know. Back when she first joined the firm. People in the comments kept talking about something called the Westbrook Project - ever heard of it?"

"Westbrook Project?" Mingyu repeats, a little too quickly, his brain scrambling. Nothing. He’s pretty sure he’s never heard the name before, but it’s his boss, so he’s probably supposed to know. After Wonwoo can't provide any more details, Mingyu does what any self-respecting architect does at 2 a.m. when faced with a mysterious professional tidbit: he Googles it. Expecting, like, a vague overview, maybe some old press releases. What he finds, though, are words like "abandoned," "budget issues," and, worst of all, "failure," with your name all over it. Ouch. Big, deep ouch.

The next day at work, Mingyu manages to strike up a casual conversation with the marketing guy who's practically the office encyclopedia. "Oh, the Westbrook Project?" he says with a knowing smirk. "I read the case files. It was supposed to be, like, revolutionary. Eco-forward, huge downtown build. A lot of drama when it got shut down. Man, Ms (Y/l/n) was obsessed with that thing. You've gotta respect someone who fights like that for their work." He laughs a little, but there's something almost pitying in his tone, like he doesn't quite know what to make of someone who has been through such a high-profile professional failure.

Mingyu's stomach drops as he realises that there's a whole side of you - this weight - he never saw before. He feels embarrassed for not knowing. But, maybe, it explains the way you hold yourself together, so careful with your words, so precise in every gesture. Because what happens when you give so much of yourself, and it still isn't enough?

Mingyu can't help but glance at you differently when you walk into the office. You're still the same, all business and poise, but there's a weight to you now that he hadn't noticed before. It's not his place to ask you about Westbrook, and he's not sure he could even bring it up without tripping over his own words.

So, Mingyu brings it up.

Not immediately, because he's not that much of a disaster. It's not the same day, or even the same week. It's one of those late nights when he's deep into pretending he's not panicking over math, and he's only going into your office to ask if you've seen the last-minute email from the client. 

Except. 

He sees the bottle of red on your desk.

It's sitting there, a little too casually, with half of it in a glass that's perched too close to your mouse. 

It's not that Mingyu thought you didn't drink. But seeing it there, on your desk, is like catching a glimpse of a teacher's pet outside of school. His brain starts spiralling. Are you getting drunk? Are you able to get drunk?

Still standing in the doorway like he's caught in some sort of personal disaster movie, Mingyu clears his throat. "Uh," he starts, because his brain is still stuck on you drinking alcohol in the office, "What's the deal with the wine?"

You glance up from your computer, completely unfazed. "Oh, this?" You wave a hand, almost like it’s nothing. “A gift from a client. They thought I needed something to ‘relax’ after all the late nights." You flash a teasing grin. "I didn’t think anyone else would be in the office this late, though."

Mingyu freezes again. Seeing a smile on your face is unnerving him. "Uh, well, yeah ... just ... I thought you were busy, y'know? I didn't want to disturb you," he stammers, as if that makes any sense. Of course you know he's here. He's always here. He's practically a fixture at this point.

You raise an eyebrow at him, clearly not fooled. “Sure you didn’t. Anyway, now that you’re here," you say, looking at him with a glint of curiosity, "what’s been keeping you up lately? Besides zoning codes and whatever else you’ve been trying to memorise, that is."

Mingyu, caught completely off guard by the question, opens his mouth to respond, but his brain, still fighting the urge to melt into the floor, can't form a proper sentence. His gaze flicks back to the wine bottle like it holds all the answers to his life right now. Finally, he blurts out, "Uhh... I’ve been, uh, thinking about the Green Above project. You know, the one we’re working on?"

“Right,” you nod, leaning back in your chair. “Big, green rooftop. You’ve got your hands full with that one.” You take a sip from your glass, and Mingyu swears the way your lips wrap around the rim is completely unfair to his focus. “What else?”

Mingyu, not used to people asking him personal questions that aren’t about work or how he’s planning on saving the planet with his architectural genius, scratches the back of his neck. “Uh... I mean, well, I’ve been wondering about... you. I mean, your—" he pauses, shaking his head, "your work, of course. Like, how you got into all this. You’ve clearly been through a lot, right?”

You chuckle softly, eyes softening for a brief moment. "A lot? Yeah, I guess you could say that. But that’s not what we’re talking about right now, is it?" You lean forward. "What's really going on, Mingyu?"

Mingyu’s mind is officially in crisis mode. He could barely form a sentence when talking about wine, and now you’ve flipped the tables. What is he even supposed to say?

“I—uh, well, it’s just... I’m curious,” he mutters, struggling to sound casual. He bites his lip, then his curiosity gets the best of him. “Wait, can I ask about something?”

You lean back again, clearly amused. “Go ahead.”

He takes a breath and gestures to the cabinet rested against the back wall of your office. "That picture there .. of a building, I think? It kind of looks like the Westbrook Project. Was it yours?” He winces as soon as he asks, knowing full well how awkward this must sound. But now he really wants to know, and he’s not sure he can keep pretending he hasn’t been thinking about it.

You blink, clearly not expecting him to ask, but then you just sigh and open your desk drawer, revealing an old architectural sketch, detailed and bold, with a city skyline in the background. “Yeah,” you say, voice quieter now. “It was.”

Mingyu swallows hard, his voice dropping to a more respectful tone. “What happened to it? The project, I mean... why didn’t it go through?”

You don’t answer immediately. Instead, you take another slow sip of your wine, letting the moment stretch out. When you finally speak, your voice is calm but laced with something unspoken. “It was a good idea, just... not the right time. But that’s how it goes sometimes in this field. Things get started, and then... they don’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t say anything at first, processing what you’ve shared. “I get that,” he says softly. “I think I’ve been there too. You know, not everything works out exactly the way you expect.”

You glance at him, and for a moment, there’s this quiet weight in your expression, something raw you don’t usually let slip. The smile fades, but it’s not replaced with sadness—more like... an understanding, an acceptance.

“The Westbrook Project was supposed to be everything I’ve worked for,” you begin, your voice softer now, like the walls are coming down just a little. “My goal has always been to help the community, to build things that people can actually enjoy, not just walk by and forget. I wanted something that would be a part of the city, something that people could use—a space that felt like it belonged to everyone.” You stop, looking at the picture in the drawer for a moment as if it’s not just a sketch, but a piece of your heart. "The Westbrook Project was supposed to be the culmination of all that. The perfect mix of green spaces, architecture, and public access. I wanted to create something people would look at and feel like they were part of it, you know? Not just bystanders."

You take another slow breath, running a hand through your hair, looking a bit less put-together than usual, but somehow even more... real. “I think that’s the hardest part. It wasn’t just a project to me—it was everything I believed in. And when it got shut down... it felt like a piece of that belief just... crumbled.” You shake your head, almost laughing at yourself. “I know it sounds dramatic, but when you spend so much of your time fighting for something, putting everything into it... and it still isn’t enough... it makes you wonder what the point is.”

Mingyu watches you closely with a strange mix of admiration and empathy. For a second, he’s struck with the urge to reach out and say something comforting, but all he can manage is a quiet, "That... sounds incredible. You must have been really proud of it."

You nod, a small, wistful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I was. Still am, in a way. But life moves on, right?” You glance back at the bottle of wine, then take another sip, before setting it down and meeting Mingyu’s gaze again, this time with a lighter, almost teasing glint. "You want some?"

“Uh... yeah?” he says, but it comes out more like a question than a statement, as if he's still trying to make sure this is actually happening.

You pour him a glass, your movements slow and deliberate. Mingyu watches every little gesture, thinking that maybe if he looks at the wine long enough, it might just turn into something less dangerous. It doesn't.

He takes the glass from you, trying to act casual, but honestly? It's a miracle he doesn’t spill it everywhere. "Thanks," he mutters.

You smirk at him as if you know exactly what’s going on in his head, and for a moment, Mingyu wonders if you can hear it, too—the way his pulse skips whenever he looks at you. He takes a sip of the wine, hoping it will steady him. It doesn’t. It only makes him more aware of you, of the way your eyes glint in the dim light of the office, how close you’re sitting, how warm it feels in here all of a sudden.

“So,” you say, your voice dropping a little lower than before, “Now that we’ve gone through my failed projects, do you feel enlightened?”

Mingyu laughs, but it’s a little too breathless, a little too caught off guard. He leans back, trying to appear cool, but it’s hard to be anything but a mess when you’re so close and everything feels a little off in the best possible way. “Enlightened? I’m still figuring out if you’re real,” he admits, voice cracking just a bit.

You raise an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? What does that mean?”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, avoiding your gaze for a moment as his thoughts scatter in a dozen different directions. “It’s just ... you’re different than what I expected. I mean, you’re still, like, boss mode, but there’s this whole other side to you. Like, I don't know ... I think I’ve been seeing you as this untouchable, perfect person, and now I’m realising maybe I’m not the only one who’s human.”

You blink at him for a moment, and then—before he can get too embarrassed—something flickers across your face. Maybe it’s recognition. Maybe it’s something else. You lean in just slightly, the air between you thickening, but you don't break the distance just yet.

“I think,” you start slowly, “you might be onto something there, Mingyu.”

His breath hitches. He’s not sure if it’s the wine, the late hour, or the way your voice dropped that has him leaning forward a little. It’s all of it, really. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you reply, lips curling into a knowing smile. “You might find I’m not so untouchable, after all. But—” You pause, the tension rising as your eyes flicker down to his lips, then back to his eyes. “We’ll see if you can handle the reality of that.”

Mingyu’s mind is going full tilt now, brain in overdrive, as his hand involuntarily moves closer to yours on the desk. He's this close to spilling all his thoughts and feelings—about work, about the project, about the way you make him feel—but instead, he blurts out, “I—uh, I’m pretty good with challenges.”

The words hang there, thick in the air between you. And then, before Mingyu can think any more about it, you break the tension—just slightly—by leaning even closer, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sure you are.”

The space between you shrinks, just a little. And Mingyu, heart hammering in his chest, finds himself absolutely certain that if things don’t shift soon, this office might just catch fire from how hot it’s gotten in the last few minutes. The tension in the air is thick, like static before a storm. Mingyu’s hand hovers just a fraction too close to yours on the desk, his heart a jackhammer in his chest. He’s this close to losing all control, caught between wanting to say the right thing and just leaning in and kissing you. But what would that even mean? Would it be the worst decision of his life? Or the best?

His thoughts are a mess, but then—just like that—it’s like you’ve made up your mind for him. You close the space between you with a single, deliberate movement, your lips pressing softly against his.

Mingyu freezes for half a second, too stunned to process what’s happening. And then, without even thinking, he leans into the kiss, his hand moving to cup your jaw. It’s slow at first, soft, like neither of you can quite believe this is actually happening. Your lips are warm, and the taste of wine lingers on them—something sweet and intoxicating that has his head spinning.

You pull back just slightly, your breath brushing against his lips, and he feels his pulse race. You look at him, eyes dark with something unreadable. "You're not regretting this, are you?" you murmur, voice low.

“No,” he breathes out, shaking his head. “Definitely not regretting this.”

And then you’re kissing him again, deeper this time, your hands moving to his collar as if you’re suddenly both starved for this closeness. His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer, and all he can think about is how right this feels, how every inch of him seems to have been made for this exact moment.

The kiss grows more urgent, more heated. His body presses into yours, the desk suddenly feeling too small, too far away. He wants you closer, needs you closer, and the way you move against him makes him ache with desire. He’s so lost in you, in this kiss, that everything else fades away—the Westbrook Project, work deadlines, the office. There’s only you, only this.

You're mumbling something and Mingyu's not sure he has the brain capacity to listen when he can feel your hands on his chest and your body pressed against his.

"... couldn't believe it when I saw you. I mean, who looks like this?"

His brain practically short-circuits at that. 

You’re grinning now, clearly enjoying his flustered reaction, and he can feel his cheeks heat up. But before he can manage a reply, you reach up, your hand grazing the back of his neck as you lean in again. His breath catches in his throat, and suddenly his brain clears—just long enough for him to close the remaining distance between you two.

The kiss this time is less hesitant, filled with a kind of urgency that makes the room feel smaller, more intense. His hands find their way to your waist, pulling you against him, and he feels your fingers twisting in his hair as if you can’t get enough either. Every brush of your lips sends another jolt through him, and he’s quickly losing any sense of professionalism or reason. He’s just Mingyu, in this moment, in this office, completely undone by you.

You’re mumbling again, half-laughing as he trails his lips down to the corner of your mouth and just slightly to your jawline. “I mean, really,” you manage between kisses, breathy but amused. “Did you even realise the effect you have?”

He lets out a breath of laughter against your skin, half a smirk forming. “I—I mean, maybe,” he says, but the words come out more as a gasp because you’ve got your hands back on him, your fingers trailing along his jaw in a way that has him melting. “I might have... kinda hoped, at least?”

“Oh?” Your voice is soft, teasing, and he catches a flash of that mischievous smile just before you lean in again, catching him in another kiss that’s more intense, more consuming than before.

Mingyu’s senses are a blur, but he manages to break away for just a second, eyes dark, a grin of his own tugging at his lips. “I think,” he says, his voice low, “I’d like to show you just how much I can handle.” His tone is playful but edged with a confidence he didn’t know he had until this very moment.

The moment is thick, like honey, everything moving slower and faster at once. Mingyu’s hands slip around your waist, and you’re tugging him closer, a little breathless, a little reckless. You’re both lost in the feeling of it, the thrill and warmth that seemed impossible just minutes ago.

But then—a sharp vibration echoes against the desk. The hum of your phone springs to life, startling you both. The screen lights up with an urgent notification, reminding you exactly where you are and what you’re doing.

You pull back, your lips just a whisper away from his, and a flicker of reality cuts through the haze of the moment. “Oh—” Your hands drop from his collar, fingertips brushing his chest as if the memory of the touch will fade otherwise. “Mingyu, I...”

His eyes meet yours, still dark and soft, a little dazed, a little too hopeful. But he pulls himself together, straightening and running a hand through his hair, somehow flustered and grinning at the same time. “Uh, right. Sorry,” he says, though it’s not clear who he’s apologising to.

You swallow, nodding as you try to steady yourself. “I—need to go,” you manage. “We both do, actually. It’s...late.”

Mingyu blinks, nodding, though he can't help the hint of disappointment beneath his expression. “Right. Of course. We probably... shouldn’t even be here right now.” He laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of his head as if that could somehow erase the last few minutes. “Guess I should close up?”

You nod, and he watches your hand move to your chest, as if to catch your pulse before it runs off. “Yeah, let’s...do that.”

As you step out of the office, you glance back one last time, catching his eye in the dim light. “Goodnight, Mingyu.”

His gaze is steady, his voice warm. “Goodnight.”

The door clicks shut behind you, and Mingyu stands there, staring at it as if it might magically swing back open. For a moment, he doesn’t move, too stunned to process the fact that you were just here, inches away, closer than he ever thought possible, and then—gone. The warmth of you, the softness of your touch, is still buzzing on his skin, and it’s taking everything in him to not replay every single second in his mind.

He lets out a shaky breath and rubs his face, laughing softly to himself. “Wow,” he mutters, barely believing it. Did that really just happen? His boss—the woman he’s spent months trying not to have a full-on crisis over every time she looks at him—just kissed him. And it wasn’t just a peck; it was real, and his head is still spinning.

He paces the office, catching his reflection in the dark window. His hair’s a mess, his shirt collar a little crumpled, and the look on his face is somewhere between ecstatic and completely lost. He feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff—excited but terrified, staring down into something he can’t quite see.

“Okay, pull it together, man,” he whispers, clutching the edge of his desk like it might hold him steady. But he can’t shake the lingering feeling of your hands against him, the way your voice softened as you spoke to him about your dreams, how for a moment, he felt like he’d glimpsed something real and vulnerable and human in you. It’s like he’s been handed the answer to a riddle he didn’t even know he was solving.

He glances back at the empty doorway and smiles, a little helplessly. Because he knows—there’s no going back from this.

On Monday, Mingyu is ready. He's had days to replay every single second of that kiss, dissecting the tiniest details: the way you'd smiled before leaning in, the way you'd pulled back just a bit only to close the gap even tighter the next time. He’s convinced there’s no way you could look at him the same after that. He’s barely looked at himself the same.

So when he walks into the office Monday morning, there's this nervous excitement buzzing in his chest. He expects maybe a shared look or even a subtle nod, something that says 'yeah, we're definitely not forgetting that happened'. But he doesn't get that. In fact, he doesn't get much of anything.

“Uh, good morning,” he finally says, attempting a smile, hoping to break whatever tension he’s imagining.

“Morning,” you say briskly, barely looking up. “Did you get the updated renderings for the Green Above project?”

Mingyu blinks, caught off guard by how quickly you’ve brushed him off. “Yeah, I—um, they should be in your inbox. I, uh, made some adjustments you might want to look at.”

“Great. I’ll check later,” you say, curtly, already turning back to your computer. It’s not even like you’re being rude, exactly; just… distant. Professional. Totally not how you’d looked at him last week when he’d practically melted into you against this very desk.

The day drags on with more of the same. Every time he tries to catch your eye, you’re looking somewhere else. Every attempt at a lighthearted comment, something to bridge the gap, lands with a dull thud. By mid-afternoon, Mingyu’s just staring at his computer screen, feeling completely lost. Did he imagine everything? Because suddenly, it feels like he’s reading way too much into every little thing, wondering if the smile you’d given him that night was all in his head.

By the end of the day, he can’t take it anymore. He decides to be subtle—or something like that—and casually leans into your office as you’re gathering your things.

“Hey, um… are we good?” He tries to keep his voice light, but there’s an edge of worry there that he can’t quite hide. “It feels like—well, last week was—”

You glance up sharply, your expression guarded. “We’re fine, Mingyu,” you say, with a tone that’s just a little too even. “You’re doing great on the project. Keep up the good work.”

There’s that polished professional mask again, and this time it feels like a wall. Mingyu’s stomach twists, and he can’t help but feel a sting in his chest. He nods, trying to ignore the disappointment sinking in. "Right. Yeah, I’ll, uh… keep that up.”

And just like that, you walk past him, your footsteps echoing down the hallway as you head out for the night, leaving him standing there, staring after you, wondering what just went wrong.

It’s Thursday, and Mingyu’s still thinking about every clipped interaction you’ve had all week. He’s convinced he’s somehow messed everything up, but he’s not sure how. By lunchtime, he’s already halfway through a takeout sandwich in the break room when some of the other junior architects drift in, plates and coffees in hand. He’s only half-listening to their conversation, until, like a magnet, he hears your name.

“Did you see how she restructured the timeline?” One of them—Hyun, a friend from Mingyu’s first week—says, rolling his eyes. “Feels like she’s trying to prove something to everyone.”

Another snorts. “Yeah, she’s always like that. Like she has to make everything harder just to remind us she’s the boss.”

Mingyu freezes mid-bite, a flicker of irritation flaring in his chest. He’d learned more from working with you in the past few months than he could’ve in years of grad school. You didn’t ask anyone to work harder than you did yourself, and Mingyu’s certain no one stays later or puts in more effort than you do.

“Maybe she just actually cares about the projects,” Mingyu snaps, dropping his sandwich. The room goes a bit quiet, a few heads turning his way in surprise. “I mean, do you guys know how much time she’s spent on this? She’s doing half of our jobs for us so we don’t mess it up.”

Hyun raises an eyebrow. "Calm down, Mingyu. Everyone knows she's intense."

“‘Intense’ doesn’t mean you have to talk about her like that,” Mingyu says, his voice a bit sharper than he means it to be. “Maybe if people here actually appreciated all the work she does, she wouldn’t have to be so ‘intense’ to get things done.”

There’s a beat of awkward silence, everyone looking at him like he’s suddenly sprouted a second head. Hyun mutters, "That's easy to say when you're the one getting special favours from her."

Mingyu's jaw clenches, the insinuation making his blood boil.  Special favours? He opens his mouth to snap back, but then catches himself. Getting defensive will only make things worse, and he doesn’t owe anyone an explanation for the late nights or the extra hours you’ve spent on his work. The truth is, he’s learned more from those “extra” moments than he could ever explain to Hyun and the others.

“Look,” he says, keeping his voice as steady as he can. “If you guys actually put in half the effort she does, you’d see it’s not about favourites. It’s about getting things right. Maybe if you tried it sometime, you’d get the same attention.”

Hyun snorts, clearly unconvinced. “Right. Must be nice, though, always getting her undivided attention. Pretty convenient, huh?”

The others chuckle, and Mingyu feels his face flush. He glances down, jaw set tight as he clenches his fists under the table. He can feel the weight of their stares and half-smirks, their words pressing in on him like a slow burn he can’t shake off.

The door swings open just then, and he catches sight of you standing there, eyes narrowed, a faint frown on your face. His heart drops, and suddenly he realizes you must have heard—possibly all of it.

“Can I talk to you for a second, Mingyu?” Your tone is measured, calm, but he can tell there’s something icy underneath. The others exchange looks, clearly ready to gossip the second you both leave.

Mingyu follows you out of the room, feeling a sense of dread settle in his stomach. As soon as you’re out of earshot, you turn to him, arms crossed.

“So is that how you’re spending your lunch breaks now?” you ask, a cool edge to your voice. “Defending me in the office cafeteria?”

Mingyu swallows, unsure how to respond. “I just… didn’t think they should be talking about you like that,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, even though he can feel the intensity of your gaze. “It wasn’t right.”

You sigh, pressing your lips together, something almost unreadable flickering across your face. “I don’t need you to defend me, Mingyu,” you say, your tone firm. “I’ve been doing this job long enough to handle what people say behind my back. You’re here to do your job, not to play protector.”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches. He wants to argue, to tell you that maybe you don’t need anyone’s help, but that doesn’t mean you deserve to be dragged through the mud behind your back. But something in your expression stops him. He nods, swallowing back whatever words were fighting their way to the surface. “Got it,” he says, keeping his voice as even as possible. “It won’t happen again.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer, as if deciding whether to say more, but then you just shake your head, walking away with a tense set to your shoulders. He watches you go, the frustration and confusion still churning inside him, wondering just how much further away you both seem to get with every step.

Later that evening, Mingyu slumps into the apartment, looking so defeated that Wonwoo’s expression goes from mildly bored to instantly entertained. “Let me guess. It’s about your boss?” Wonwoo doesn’t even wait for confirmation before tossing him a soda. “You’re like a walking rom-com.”

Mingyu sighs, collapsing on the couch. “Wonwoo, I think she hates me. I mean, really hates me.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “And here I thought you two were practically having candlelit takeout dinners in her office.”

Mingyu runs a hand through his hair, deflating. “Yeah, well, that was before I kissed her.”

Wonwoo’s phone slides out of his hand, falling onto the couch like a lead balloon. “You what?”

Mingyu nods slowly, a rueful look on his face. “We were working late. It just—happened, okay? And now she’s all distant. Like, avoid me at all costs distant.”

“You kissed your boss?” Wonwoo repeats, still processing. He’s looking at Mingyu like he’s a particularly unsolvable math problem. “As in, the one you worship and whose entire life story you’ve googled?”

“Yes, that one,” Mingyu mutters, covering his face with his hands. “And it was incredible. Like, the kind of kiss that makes you think about life and all your choices and, you know… stuff.” He trails off, his voice a bit dreamy despite himself. “But then, after that, she started acting all cold, like it didn’t mean anything.”

Wonwoo stares at him, baffled. “Did you, uh, talk to her about it? You know, use words and stuff?”

Mingyu gives him a look. “Of course I tried talking to her. But she’s been all serious and professional and—ugh.” He sinks deeper into the couch. “And today, I may or may not have defended her in front of everyone. Like, really aggressively.”

Wonwoo groans. “You really know how to complicate things, don’t you?”

“Look, it just came out! They were acting like she’s some kind of boss robot or something. I just couldn’t listen to it.” Mingyu shakes his head. “And of course, she overheard it and was not happy. Told me she doesn’t need someone to protect her.”

Wonwoo considers this, eyebrows furrowed. “So basically, you kissed her, defended her honour, and now you think you ruined everything because she’s distant?”

“Exactly,” Mingyu sighs. “I feel like I messed it all up, and now she thinks I’m just some junior architect with a crush or something.”

Wonwoo raises an eyebrow. “I mean, to be fair, you kind of are a junior architect with a crush.”

“Thanks, Wonwoo. Really needed that.” Mingyu glares at him, but a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Wonwoo nudges him, his tone a little lighter now. “Look, man, maybe she just needs to know it was more than a one-time, late-night thing for you. Like, a serious talk. But not at the office, where everything’s so formal. Just the two of you.”

Mingyu’s eyes light up. “A serious talk… outside of work. Like, maybe over coffee?”

“Or dinner. Or anything where you can show her that you’re interested in more than work. Just, you know, don’t do that thing where you panic and say something weird.”

Mingyu sighs dramatically. “So, no pressure.”

Wonwoo grins, giving him a slap on the back. “You’ve got this, Romeo. Go win her over.”

Mingyu stands in front of your office door, hands nervously tugging at his sleeves like he's preparing for a public execution. He’s been rehearsing this moment for the last twenty minutes—while staring at his desk like it could offer him some sort of guidance—and he still has no idea what he’s doing. He only knows that if he doesn't get his foot in the door right now, he's going to spend the rest of the day overthinking this until his brain short circuits.

So, he knocks.

And of course, you don’t answer immediately. He stands there like a complete idiot, holding his breath for about five seconds before taking the most awkward step inside. Your eyes flick up to him, and for a second, he’s sure his heart is going to stop.

“Oh. Mingyu.” You sound surprised. Great. That’s just what he needed. "What do you need?"

He smiles, too big, too eager. This is fine. “Hey! So, um, I was thinking—”

“Uh oh,” you mutter, narrowing your eyes as if you already know where this is going.

“No, no, don’t worry, it’s nothing bad,” he says quickly, forcing himself to sound more convincing than he feels. “I just, you know… you’ve been working super hard, and I was thinking, you deserve a break. So, what do you say? Dinner? You and me, tonight.”

You blink at him like he just asked if you wanted to run through the streets naked.

“Dinner? With you?” You tilt your head, looking him up and down, clearly trying to figure out if he’s joking or if his brain’s just melted from exhaustion.

"Yup!" Mingyu says, definitely a little too loud and way too enthusiastic. “Yeah, just dinner. No work talk, no presentations, just a chance to unwind, you know?” He grins like he's already won, but there’s something in your gaze that makes him freeze up.

You raise an eyebrow, studying him carefully. The air between you two is thick with that awkward tension, like you’re both trying to figure out if this is a professional gesture or something else entirely. Mingyu can feel the temperature in the room rise, and his stomach does a somersault as he waits for you to respond.

“Are you… serious right now?” You finally ask, your tone a mix of confusion and cautious curiosity.

Mingyu’s heart stutters in his chest. “Of course, I’m serious,” he says quickly, voice cracking slightly as his nerves get the best of him. “I mean, it’s not like—uh, it’s not like I want anything weird to happen. It’s just dinner. With two people who both happen to work in the same office. Completely normal, right?” He laughs a little too loudly, and it sounds forced, like someone desperately trying to convince themselves of something they don’t believe.

You’re silent for a moment, and Mingyu’s brain spins with overthinking. Should he apologise? Should he leave before this gets even more awkward? Why did he even think this was a good idea? His palms are sweating, his throat dry, and he feels like he might pass out from sheer mortification.

You lean back in your chair, still watching him, and for a second, Mingyu is sure you’re about to shut him down completely. But then, something shifts in your expression—just the faintest flicker of amusement, like you’re trying not to let it show.

“Dinner,” you repeat, almost like you’re testing the word, as though it’s foreign or absurd coming from him. “No work talk?”

“No work talk,” Mingyu confirms, nodding so hard he might give himself whiplash. “I promise. Just good food and maybe a chance to, you know, talk about literally anything else.”

Your lips curve into the smallest of smirks, and Mingyu swears the room feels a little less tense. “You’re persistent, I’ll give you that.”

He grins, a spark of hope lighting up his chest. “I like to think of it as... enthusiastic.”

You shake your head, clearly amused now, though you’re doing your best to hide it. “Fine,” you say, leaning forward to jot something on a sticky note. “Dinner."

Mingyu’s heart leaps, and he barely resists the urge to fist pump right there in your office. “Deal!” he says, grinning so wide it’s a wonder his face doesn’t hurt. “Seven o’clock?”

“Seven,” you agree, handing him the sticky note with an address scribbled on it. “Don’t be late, Mingyu.”

He takes the note like it’s a golden ticket, clutching it in his hand as if it might disappear. “I won’t. I’ll see you there.”

As he walks out of your office, he can’t help the goofy smile plastered across his face.

By the time the evening rolls around, Mingyu is pacing outside the restaurant like a man on the edge. He’s checked his watch twice, his phone four times, and stared at the sidewalk so long he’s convinced it’s going to start judging him soon. Late. You're late. Or maybe he’s just early. Impossible to say when your nerves feel like they’re hosting a small rave in your chest.

After all, there’s something about you that makes him want to try harder. Maybe too hard, but he’s finally learned that no one gets anywhere by waiting for the perfect moment to arrive. So, here he is, standing outside the restaurant, pacing like a nervous wreck while waiting for you to arrive.

He’s tried to stay calm, really. Spent the entire afternoon mentally drafting this… whatever this dinner is supposed to be. Not a date (probably). Not a work meeting (definitely). Just dinner. Dinner with the one person who’s managed to turn him into a bundle of energy and chaos masquerading as a fully functional adult.

And then, right as he’s about to dial his mom and ask for advice (because that’s clearly what any reasonable person would do), he sees you.

You walk up with that confident stride, the one that always makes his heart skip a beat, and Mingyu feels himself freeze for a moment, completely forgetting everything he’s planned to say. You've changed and you look good. Too good for a casual dinner, but that’s a problem for another time.

“Hey,” you greet him with a smile, your eyes soft, but not quite soft enough for him to completely relax. “I didn’t expect you to actually show up on time.”

Mingyu laughs, awkwardly tugging at his shirt. “I like to be punctual. It’s kind of a thing.”

You raise an eyebrow but don’t comment on the obvious lie, allowing the small banter to settle between you like a cushion. Instead, you let him open the restaurant door for you, falling into that casual rhythm that somehow feels more natural than the air he’s been breathing all day.

The dinner itself is nice. Too nice. No weird silences, no work talk, just good food and easy conversation. And yet, there’s a weight in the room that Mingyu can’t shake. It’s been lingering ever since the kiss—the kiss—and he knows he can’t keep tiptoeing around it forever. So as the plates are cleared and the server drops off the check, he reaches into his bag, pulling out the rolled-up plans he’s been carrying like a talisman.

He sets them on the table, his hands a little too careful, his heart racing like it’s bracing for impact.

“Okay, now you’re being mysterious,” you say, the smallest hint of amusement curling your lips.

Mingyu’s throat goes dry, but he pushes forward, unrolling the designs and smoothing them out between the two of you. “I know I said no work talk,” he starts, his voice steady despite the storm in his chest, “but… I’ve been working on this. And I thought you should see it.”

Your eyes drop to the papers, and he watches as your expression shifts. At first, there’s curiosity, then recognition, and finally… something deeper. Something he can’t quite name but feels in the way your fingers tremble slightly as they trace the edges of the designs with a reverence he didn’t know he could envy. Your fingers are delicate but deliberate, the way you touch the plans like they might vanish under too much pressure. Mingyu’s heart is pounding so loudly he's surprised you can’t hear it across the table.

“Where did you get these?” Your voice comes out hoarse, more vulnerable than you mean it to be.

“I’ve been working on them for a while,” Mingyu admits, leaning forward, his hands clasped on the table. “After you talked about the Westbrook Project that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how much it mattered to you. I wanted to do something with it. Something for you.”

You blink, unsure how to process this. “But how did you know?”

“I just—” Mingyu hesitates, then shrugs. “I listened. I saw it. The way you talked about it that night, the passion you put into your projects. I wanted to give it the respect it deserves. I couldn’t let it just end with a ‘no’.”

You stare at the designs again, looking like you've been hit by a wave of nostalgia and shock. "You really... did this for me?”

“I did,” he says quietly, his eyes meeting yours. “And I think it could be something we could do together. If you’re interested.”

You pause, the space between you thick with emotion, something unspoken hanging in the air. Finally, you swallow and look at him, searching his face as if trying to make sure this is real.

“I... I don’t know what to say, Mingyu.” Your voice cracks, and you can’t quite hide the emotion that’s flooding through you. “You’ve—this is everything I’ve been trying to do. But I didn’t think anyone else could see it.”

He sits up straighter, his hands resting on the edge of the table as he tries to keep his voice steady. "I just didn't want you to let go of something so important," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "It deserves another chance. You deserve another chance."

He doesn't know where he finds the courage to say those words. They sound so earnest. Almost embarrassingly so. But, it's the truth, and if there's one thing he's learned from you, it's that honesty - no matter how uncomfortable - is the foundation of anything worth building.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the restaurant fades away—the low hum of conversation, the soft clink of silverware, all of it. It's just you and Mingyu, sitting across from each other, separated by a stack of papers and an ocean of unspoken feelings.

"Mingyu..." You start, but the words get caught in your throat.

You look down, the faintest hint of a tremble in your hands. And Mingyu, who had been prepared for you to shut him down, to dismiss this moment as anything but professional, has to fight the urge to reach across the table and take your hand. He doesn't, of course. He can't. Not yet.

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. He's not used to this - seeing you so vulnerable - and he just wants to take some of that pressure off your back. "Look, I know I’m not perfect. I mess up, I talk too much, and I probably drive you crazy most of the time. But I see you, (Y/n). I see how much you care, how much you put into everything you do. And I don’t just admire that—I... I want to be part of it. To be there for you."

Your lips part in surprise. "I don’t know how to do this," you admit, your voice trembling slightly. "I’ve spent so long trying to keep everything together. To keep people at a distance. And now—"

"You don’t have to figure it all out right now," Mingyu says softly, sensing the spiral of doubt you appear to be descending into.  "We can take it slow. One step at a time. I just... I needed you to know how I feel."

For a long moment, you don’t move. But then, slowly, you let your hand inch toward his, your fingertips brushing against his palm.

It’s small. Tentative. But it’s enough.

Mingyu barely breathes as your fingers brush his. It’s such a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt straight through him, grounding him in this moment that feels impossibly fragile. He wraps his hand gently around yours, his thumb brushing lightly over your knuckles. It’s all he can do to keep himself steady when every nerve in his body is screaming at him to close the distance completely.

You don’t pull away, and that feels like a victory in itself. But when you look up at him again, your eyes are brimming with something he can’t quite name—fear, maybe, or hesitation—but also something softer, warmer, that gives him just enough hope to hold on.

“Mingyu,” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. You glance down at your joined hands, your brows furrowing slightly as though you’re gathering the courage to say something that’s been weighing on you. “After the kiss... I didn't know what to do.”

His heart skips a beat at the mention of it, the memory still fresh in his mind—the way your lips had felt against his, the way the world had seemed to tilt on its axis for just a moment. He doesn’t say anything, though, afraid that if he interrupts, you’ll stop.

“I started acting cold because...” You take a shaky breath, your fingers tightening slightly around his. “Because I didn’t know how to handle it. How to handle you.”

Mingyu blinks, his chest tightening at your words. “Me?” His voice is soft, cautious. He doesn’t want to push too hard, but he needs to understand.

You nod, your gaze flickering back to his, vulnerable but resolute. “You scare me, Mingyu. Not in a bad way, but... in a way I’ve never felt before. You’re so open, so sincere. You make everything seem so easy, like it’s natural to just—feel. And for me, that’s... terrifying.”

He watches you, his heart breaking a little with every word. He wants to say something, to tell you that you don’t have to be scared, but he knows this isn’t the time. He needs to let you finish.

“I’ve spent so long keeping people at arm’s length,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It’s just easier that way. I don’t get hurt, and I don’t hurt anyone else. But then you came along, with your ridiculous optimism and your... your kindness, and suddenly I didn’t know how to keep you out. And that kiss—it made me realise I can’t.”

Mingyu doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if there’s anything he can say to match the weight of what you’re giving him. So he squeezes your hand, letting his touch say what his words can’t.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you continue, your voice soft but unsteady. “But I thought if I could convince myself it didn’t matter, that you didn’t matter, then maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much if it all fell apart.”

Mingyu shakes his head slowly, his grip on your hand firm but gentle. “You don’t have to protect yourself from me,” he says, his voice low but steady. “I’m not going anywhere."

You look at him, your eyes searching his for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that he’s not just saying what he thinks you want to hear. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because your shoulders relax just a fraction, and a small, almost imperceptible smile tugs at the corner of your lips.

“I don’t know how to do this,” you repeat, your voice barely audible. “But I think... I think I want to try.”

And that’s it. That’s all Mingyu needs. His chest swells with something that feels suspiciously like hope, and he leans in just enough. "I don't need perfect. I just need you, the way you are, right here, right now."

For a moment, there’s silence. Not the awkward kind—the kind where the world feels like it’s holding its breath just for you. Mingyu’s words hang in the air, his thumb still brushing over your knuckles, as if he’s afraid you might vanish if he stops. His heart is doing that thing again, where it feels way too big for his chest, and honestly, he’s not sure if that’s romantic or just a pending medical emergency.

You glance down, exhaling softly, and then look back up at him with that small, tentative smile that could single-handedly knock him off his chair. “Do you...” You pause, biting your lip like you’re still deciding if this is a terrible idea or just a regular bad one. “Do you want to come back to my apartment?”

Mingyu’s brain short-circuits.

Like, fully shuts down. There’s no reboot happening here. Just static, a faint buzzing sound, and a very unfortunate replay of every romantic comedy scene he’s ever watched where the male lead trips over his own words and ruins everything.

His mouth opens, but no sound comes out. Great. Perfect. Ideal response.

“Mingyu?” you ask, your tone softer now, like you’re worried you might’ve just set his brain on fire.

“I—uh—yes? I mean, yes!” He blurts it out, too loud, and the couple at the next table glance over like they’re wondering if he’s okay. He’s not, but that’s beside the point.

You laugh, and the sound feels like sunshine breaking through the clouds. “You’re sure?” you ask, your tone teasing but warm.

“Absolutely,” he says, sitting up straighter, like he’s about to sign an unbreakable contract. “I am very sure. Extremely sure. Couldn’t be more sure.”

You raise an eyebrow, clearly enjoying his spiral. “Okay, then.”

You stand, and Mingyu scrambles to follow, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. Smooth. So smooth. He rushes to grab his coat, fumbling with the sleeve as he tries to put it on without dislocating a shoulder. When he finally gets it together and turns back to you, you’re just standing there, watching him with an amused smile.

“You good?” you ask, tilting your head.

“Good?” Mingyu repeats, laughing nervously. “Yeah, I’m great. Amazing. Let’s, uh, go.”

He follows you out of the restaurant, trying to act like a normal, functional human being. Except his palms are sweating, his heart is racing, and he’s pretty sure he almost tripped on absolutely nothing as you walked to the curb. When you glance back at him, your expression softens, and suddenly, it feels like the world’s gone quiet again.

“Hey,” you say, your voice cutting through the chaos in his head. “You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” Mingyu lies, his grin wide and unconvincing. “This is just how I always look when I’m—uh—happy.”

You laugh again, shaking your head, and link your arm with his, pulling him gently along. “Come on, let’s go before you combust.”

The walk to your apartment is a blur for Mingyu. His brain is bouncing between, Wow, I can't believe this is happening and What am I supposed to do when we get there? Sit? Stand? Compliment her interior design choices? He's overthinking so hard he barely notices when you nudge him gently and gesture toward the building in front of you.

“This is me,” you say, your voice calm, but there’s a small smile tugging at your lips like you know exactly how fried his brain is right now.

“Cool,” Mingyu replies, because apparently that’s the only word left in his vocabulary. Cool. Not “nice place” or “wow, it suits you,” just cool. He could punch himself, but then you’re already unlocking the door, and the reality of the moment hits him like a freight train.

The inside of your apartment is warm. Not literally warm—though the temperature is pleasant—but warm in the way it feels lived-in and completely, unmistakably you. It’s smaller than he imagined, but cozy, like every piece of furniture and every object has been chosen for a reason. There’s a soft throw blanket draped over the arm of your couch, a mug on the coffee table with a faint ring from earlier that day, and a half-finished book on the shelf that he knows he’s seen you reading during breaks.

Mingyu steps inside, toeing off his shoes at the door because it feels like the kind of place where shoes on indoors would be a crime. “Your apartment is really nice,” he says, his voice a little too high-pitched because he’s still desperately trying not to think about why he’s here.

“It suits you,” Mingyu says before he can stop himself, the words slipping out too soft, too sincere. When you glance at him, your cheeks warm, he knows he’s said the right thing.

“Thanks,” you murmur, ducking your head slightly. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll grab us something to drink.”

You disappear into the kitchen, and Mingyu is left standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, trying not to spiral. This is fine. Totally normal. Just two people hanging out in a perfectly platonic and definitely not emotionally loaded way. Except it’s not fine, and his brain is racing faster than he can catch up.

He sits down on the couch, his hands fidgeting in his lap as he looks around again. It’s impossible not to take everything in, to let the space tell him little things about you he didn’t know before. Like how there’s a stack of notebooks on the side table, their covers worn like they’ve been flipped through a thousand times. Or how there’s a candle sitting on the shelf labelled something ridiculous like “Cinnamon Forest Dreams,” and now all he can think about is you lighting it during one of your late-night brainstorming sessions.

When you come back, two glasses of water in hand (because you’re practical like that, of course), Mingyu straightens up, his heart pounding in his chest. You sit down beside him, closer than he expected but not close enough to touch, and he’s suddenly very aware of how small the couch feels.

“So,” you say, handing him a glass, your voice light but your eyes betraying a flicker of nervousness. “What do you think?”

“Of the apartment?” Mingyu asks, taking a sip of water because it’s something to do with his hands. “I think it’s great. Like... really great. It’s very... you.”

You raise an eyebrow, amusement tugging at your lips. “Is that a compliment?”

“It’s the compliment,” he replies, his grin a little sheepish. “It’s perfect. Just like—” He cuts himself off, his cheeks flushing as he looks down at his glass. Don’t say it. Don’t overdo it.

But you’re looking at him now, your expression softening. “Just like what?”

Mingyu swallows hard, his brain screaming at him to play it cool. “Just like I imagined,” he finally says, his voice quiet but steady. “Like... a space that feels like you.”

There’s a pause, and for a moment, he wonders if he’s completely ruined everything. But then you smile—really smile—and his chest feels like it might explode.

“Thanks, Mingyu,” you say, your voice soft, almost shy. “That means a lot.”

He smiles back, trying to ignore the way his heart is doing somersaults. This is fine. Totally fine. Nothing to freak out about. But then your knee bumps against his, and suddenly, he’s not so sure.

Mingyu swallows. A cough almost escapes his throat, but he manages to catch it, instead clearing his throat like he's trying to shake off the sudden, very real butterflies in his stomach.

You, on the other hand, seem perfectly at ease, sipping your water, your eyes not quite meeting his, but still playful, still warm. Your knee stays lightly resting against his.

He looks at you, his mind racing, and wonders if maybe this is one of those moments where he should just say it. Say what’s been sitting heavy on his mind, almost screaming to come out ever since that night—the kiss, the awkwardness, the moments of quiet when he almost wished he could reach out and grab the truth like it was some kind of lifeline.

“Y'know," he begins, his voice coming out a little more nervously than he meant, "I’ve spent most of my life messing up in the most spectacular ways possible. I don’t exactly have a good track record when it comes to making things right."

You tilt your head at him, a playful smile on your lips, but your gaze is intense in a way that makes his breath catch. “You’re being too hard on yourself, Mingyu,” you say, your tone teasing, but there’s something beneath it—a quiet, steady assurance that has him clinging to every word.

“No, I’m serious,” he insists, his hand tightening slightly around his glass. “Like, when it comes to this—" He gestures vaguely between the two of you, "I’m completely out of my depth. I don’t really know what I’m doing.” He bites his lip, willing himself not to spill everything at once. “But, I think… I think I really want to try. With you.”

The silence that follows is thick. Mingyu mentally runs through every scenario, and none of them seem to be as perfectly awkward and fragile as this one. He starts to second-guess himself, but before he can say something stupid to cover it all up, you do something that catches him completely off-guard.

You shift closer, your knee brushing against his again, but this time, there’s no hesitation in the way you move. Your hand reaches out, fingers gently resting on his forearm, warm and soft. He can feel your pulse, steady and strong, as if somehow in this small gesture, you’re grounding him.

“Mingyu,” you say quietly, and he’s not sure if it’s his name or the way you say it that knocks all the air out of him. “I’m not asking for perfection. I don’t even know what that looks like.”

Mingyu’s breath hitches as he watches you, his heart skipping a beat at the honesty in your eyes. It feels like you're both on the edge of something, teetering between what is and what could be, and yet all Mingyu can think about in this moment is how simple it is to be here with you—how uncomplicated it feels to just let go.

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you continue, your voice soft but clear. “But I want to find out. With you."

It’s then that Mingyu realizes how quiet it’s gotten, how still the air is around the two of you. The world outside your apartment could be spinning at a hundred miles per hour, and in this small space, with your hand on his arm, time feels like it’s standing still.

You’re sitting so close now. The space between you is smaller than the gap in his thoughts. His hand, which had been fidgeting with the glass of water, starts to move on its own. He places it gently on the cushion beside you, just a few inches from your own. His palm is open, but he waits.

And then—he takes a breath.

"Can I?" he asks, voice low, almost a whisper, as though he's afraid you'll pull away, as though he's asking permission for something he should have done a hundred times before.

Your eyes lock with his. They're soft, vulnerable, like you're weighing his words against everything that's happened before. For a moment, the world feels like it’s paused, like there’s no room for doubts or what-ifs. There’s just you and him, and something that’s undeniable between you.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you let your gaze drift to his lips, and then, almost imperceptibly, you lean in.

Mingyu doesn’t wait for a second invitation. His hand slides from the couch to gently cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing over the soft skin of your cheek as he moves closer. He feels the heat radiating off you, and his breath catches when your lips are just a breath away.

And then, before he can even think, he closes the distance between you, his lips brushing softly against yours.

It’s nothing like the first kiss. There’s no hesitation, no uncertainty—just the sensation of everything falling into place. The kiss is slow, tender, almost like he’s savouring it, wanting to memorise the moment because, for once, it feels like everything is exactly how it should be.

Your lips move against his in a quiet, unspoken rhythm, and he feels the tension that had been building between the two of you melt away. He’s no longer nervous, no longer afraid of saying the wrong thing or doing the wrong thing. He just wants to be here with you—now, in this perfect moment.

When you pull away, it’s not with distance, but with the smallest of smiles tugging at your lips, your eyes full of something that makes Mingyu's chest tighten. Your breath is still coming fast, like you’re just as shaken as he is.

He doesn’t say anything at first. There’s no need. His heart is still racing, but now, he’s not afraid of what comes next. He feels like he’s finally stepped into something real, something that might not be easy but is worth every bit of effort.

"I think..." he starts, his voice a little hushed, "I really wanted to do that again."

You laugh softly, the sound warm and familiar, as you tilt your head just enough for your forehead to rest against his. "Yeah?" you murmur, your fingers gently tracing the outline of his jaw. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Mingyu can't help but smile, his hand, still resting gently on your waist, pulls you just a little closer, as if to remind himself that this is real. That you're really here, and this is really happening. You don’t pull away. Instead, your hand moves from his jaw to his collar, gently tugging at the fabric like it’s an invitation he can’t refuse.

And Mingyu? He doesn’t need any more encouragement. He leans in again, his lips finding yours with more urgency this time. His free hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls you deeper into the kiss. It’s like his body’s on autopilot, all his self-control falling away the moment you’re close enough to feel.

You gasp softly against his lips as his hand slides down to your waist, fingertips brushing the curve of your hip, and he feels you shiver. His pulse is racing in his ears, but it's the warmth of your body against his that completely consumes him. He can't stop. Can't pull away. You taste like the promise of something more, and the way your fingers grip his collar tightens the knot in his stomach until it’s a full-on spiral of heat.

Your mouth moves with his now, more desperate, more demanding, and Mingyu’s heart does that weird, annoying thing again—where it leaps in his chest, and all his thoughts vanish like mist under the sun. He kisses you harder, taking a moment to pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead resting against yours, both of you panting as if you’ve run miles, even though you’ve hardly moved.

“Mingyu...” you whisper, voice breathless, a little unsteady. He feels the sound vibrating through him as much as he hears it.

"Yeah?" he responds, a grin pulling at the corners of his mouth despite how utterly wrecked he feels in the best possible way. "You’re not gonna suddenly tell me this is all a huge mistake, right?"

You laugh—a low, playful sound that makes his chest tighten, and then you kiss him again. This time, it's slow, deliberate, like you’re savouring each second, each touch. And Mingyu’s mind short-circuits all over again, as if he's trying to figure out how it's possible for something so simple to make him feel so—so—alive.

Your hands are everywhere now—on his chest, around his neck, tugging him closer until there’s not an inch of space between you. And that’s when he feels it, that surge of want, a physical ache deep in his chest that spreads out to his limbs, making him burn.

He presses you back gently against the armrest of the couch, his lips trailing down to your neck, his breath hitching when you arch into him. The way you melt under his touch is everything he’s ever wanted—more than he even realised he craved. The warmth of your skin, the way your fingers dig into his back, all of it pulls him in, deeper, until he’s lost in the sensation of just being with you.

“Mingyu, we—” you start, but the words cut off when his lips meet the curve of your neck, and the way you shudder against him makes his pulse stutter in his veins. You can’t even finish the sentence, and he’s so close to being past the point of caring.

He pulls away just enough to look at you, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “We what?” he asks, his voice rough. "I won't let you talk if you're going to tell me you changed your mind."

Your gaze flickers between his lips and his eyes, a playful challenge in your expression. "I’m just saying," you murmur, your hands shifting down to his shirt as you slowly begin to unbutton it. "You're going to have to transfer to a different team after Langham is done."

Mingyu grins, a breathless huff of laughter leaving his lips. "As long as I still get to see you every day."

"I'd say you're probably going to get to see a lot more of me." Your words are said innocently enough, but the implication mixed with the feeling of your heaving chest against his is making his head spin again.

And just like that, you have him, every inch of him. Mingyu can’t keep his hands from wandering, can’t keep his lips from pressing harder against yours, can’t keep from falling deeper into this beautiful mess of passion and want. The last shred of his self-control slips away, leaving only you—right here, right now.

Your clothes go quickly, his quicker, until you're both laid bare before the other, entirely vulnerable and at peace at the same time. He's drowning in you, his head nested between your legs, feeling as eager to please as he did the first day he met you. You're gasping his name, hands curling into his hair, head falling back onto your couch in utter bliss. 

And then your fingers are wrapping around his shoulders, digging into the muscles and pulling him back up towards you. He almost falls off the couch he moves so fast, but you don't seem to notice. You're too busy looking positively angelic in front of him, with those large, sparkling eyes staring at him and dirty words pouring out of your mouth.

Mingyu has to hold himself together as you tell him, point blank, to "hurry up, and make love to me."

This isn't Mingyu's first rollercoaster. He's a good-looking guy, and he knows it. He's been with others before, but when you speak to him like that, he feels like he's eighteen again and a girl's just sat on his lap for the first time. 

And it feels so good, you feel so good around him. You might not have to worry about transferring teams, because he's not sure he's going to make it. The noises you're making, the warmth of your body, the scraping of your nails against his chest - it's enough to finish him off (or at least allow him to ignore the ungodly sounds pouring out of his own mouth).

He makes sure you've finished as well before pulling out (because he wants to, not because he feels embarrassed that he came first). A blissful look falls over your face and Mingyu has to mentally take a photo of the image to make sure he never forgets it. He's staring at you; he knows it and you know it, and you're giggling a little and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever heard.

"Wait here," he whispers, not wanting to break the moment by speaking too loudly. He leans down to peck your lips, before running into your bathroom to dispose of the condom and get some towels and blankets. 

The night fades softly into a comfortable quiet as you and Mingyu lay there, nestled on your couch, your bodies half-melted into the cushions, the air between you warm and thick with the lingering feeling of everything now spoken. 

Mingyu is still processing it all. This. This feeling of being here, with you. He’s supposed to be good at this—the whole dating thing, at least. But everything about tonight has been different. And, if he’s being honest with himself, much better than he expected. He expected the awkwardness, the second-guessing, the inevitable when do I leave? moment, but none of that happened. Instead, all that’s left is you. And him. And the soft rhythm of your breathing in the stillness of your apartment.

He stares at the ceiling, trying to act casual, but the smile tugging at his lips betrays him. This is fine, he thinks, despite the tiny voice in the back of his head screaming that nothing this nice is ever fine. But the voice is quieter now. A lot quieter.

“You’re thinking too loud,” you mumble, your voice muffled against the fabric of his shirt, your head resting on his chest. Your fingers play with the hem of his shirt absently, as though you’re trying to figure out the material, the way it fits him, the way it feels beneath your touch.

Mingyu chuckles softly, a little embarrassed. “Sorry,” he murmurs, his chest vibrating with the sound. “I guess I’m just... trying to make sure I’m not dreaming.”

“Well,” you reply, shifting just enough to lift your head, your eyes soft but amused, “if this is a dream, I’m okay with it. I think I’ll stick around.”

Mingyu's heart skips a beat at the words, but he keeps his voice steady, even if the teasing smile he wears is bordering on ridiculous. “Good, because if this is a dream, I’m not waking up."

As the night deepens and the city lights paint soft patterns on the walls of your apartment, Mingyu finds himself drawn to your window. The skyline stretches before him, a tapestry of glowing spires and shimmering reflections, alive with the energy of the place he loves most. He smiles, realising for the first time how much this view has changed for him. It isn't just buildings and lights anymore - it's connection, collaboration, and the quiet promise of something new. A reminder of what you are going to build together, layer by layer, one light at a time.

Divider credit: @cafekitsune

[felassan]

Lucanis and Crows snippets, under a cut due to spoilers.

How would Viago and Teia react to a Crow Rook being romantically involved with Lucanis? "Teia is going to plan the wedding, and insist that Viago give Rook away at the ceremony. Viago will sigh dramatically, lecture Rook about it, and then spend a week picking out the right gloves to wear." [source]

If Illario wasn't locked away, how would he react? "Under any circumstances, Illario would be upset since it's a whole lot of attention that's STILL not on him. He would definitely get drunk at the reception and tell the same two most embarrassing stories about Lucanis over and over until Viago knocked him out and put him upstairs." [source]

With Rook romancing Lucanis, is it possible that Spite could become affection or benevolence? "Spite's basic aspect is defiance. He can be more or less difficult depending on influence (rebellion vs. vindictiveness, etc), but at his core he's always going to be a spirit of "NOPE"" [source]

Lucanis' mother was the heir apparent to House Dellamorte [source]

Does Spite have any kind of feeling about Rook? "Spite is fond of Rook in his own Spite-like way. He and Lucanis agree on the point of trusting Rook over and above other people or themselves. He does go to Rook for help with Lucanis, after all." [source]

For the Lion King reference in Murder of Crows, Mary Kirby went to the cinematic animators and described it as Illario's "Scar at Pride Rock" scene [source]

User: "I cut Lucanis' hair and shaved his beard and I almost feel like I should apologise to him" / Mary Kirby: "Now he can't tell himself from Illario, and you've given them both a complex." [source]

Teia and Viago were half-written by Mary Kirby and half-written by Luke Kristjanson [source]

Lucanis likes his coffee black [source]

Would he judge your coffee order? "As long as it's not boiled, or instant coffee, or whatever that stuff from a can is, he's fine with it. Or at least, he will only judge you silently for it." [source]

What kind of treats does Lucanis like? "Sweet, because it goes better with his coffee. Savory, if somehow he is NOT drinking coffee at that moment." [source]

Lucanis grew his beard and long hair while in the Ossuary. "He hasn't exactly had a haircut in a while." [source, two].

Would Lucanis make Powerpoint presentations about jobs or to talk? "No, he doesn't want to talk to anyone, let alone explain things and present them. That's 300% an Illario thing. That man has a powerpoint to introduce his powerpoint about why you should listen to his powerpoint." [source]

"Lucanis would never be on social media. He'd be on YouTube watching videos of people restoring rusty cutlery with no dialogue until four in the morning." [source] Could he tell when content is manufactured? "Yes. And he gets upset and finds Bellara or Neve (whichever is unluckier) to rant about it." [source]

Lucanis' favorite stove burner? Right front [source]

"Spite doesn't have any concept of physical appearances. It looks the way Lucanis sees himself. Lucanis is never relaxed, even in casual wear." [source]

Along with Lucanis Mary Kirby also wrote Spite [source]

Mary Kirby wrote Illario, Luke Kristjanson wrote the Crow faction quests [source]

Lucanis' perfect date night? "I'm gonna be honest: There is a non-zero chance it would involve assassinating somebody and getting coffee, and I'm not entirely certain which would come first." [source]

Lucanis "has so much [trauma] to sort through, and he could really use some help. Like, a Marie Kondo level of help with that." [source]

What sparks joy for Lucanis? "Coffee, paella, wyverns, knives, REDACTED, book club, REDACTED, revenge..." [source]

Lucanis is older than Illario by a few months [source]

How did Spite feel watching Lucanis fumble after the near-kiss moment with Rook? "Confused. Spite, like most demons, doesn't really get emotions outside its domain. Not doing something that someone clearly wants you to do should make you happy! I mean, honestly, what's better than that, except maybe revenge?" [source]

Did Spite interact much with Manfred? "We wrote a bunch of interactions between them, though I have no idea how many made it in." [source]

[auroreliis]

OMGGG!! Imagine platonic yandere batfam and reader on a vacation at the beach on a privat Island. Would you like to do headcanons/or a scenario (you can decide) of it. Hope you have a good day/night!!

Aaaaa anon <333 We had the same idea <3333 Thank you so much!!!

Perhaps a little late for summer, but inspiration only struck me now!!! <33

Also, I wrote this on like 4 energy drinks so forgive any spelling errors

Also it's not edited or anything...

If reception is positive on this one, I might make a part 2 with the other characters, so let me know if you'd be interested in that :)

Platonic Yandere!Batfamily

Summary: The Batfamily takes you to their private island for summer vacation.

It was just you. Just you and the gently lapping of the waves against the shore. Finally, some alone time. You had to make the most of it, since you were convinced that it wouldn’t last long.

It was about 8 o’clock in the morning. Bruce, Damian and Stephanie had left the island for whatever reason. Dick was either at home or at main beach, looking for you. You had come here about half an hour ago, surely they would’ve noticed your absence and the fact that you had left your phone at home. They were going to chip you eventually, you had come to accept that. However, you certainly enjoyed the time you had away from them whenever they couldn’t find you.

Jason was probably inside the villa. He wasn’t particularly fond of the heat outside. Either that or he’d gone swimming to cool off. Cassandra could’ve been looking for you. Maybe she had already found you.

Instinctively, you looked around. No one was in sight. Then again, she probably wouldn’t let herself be seen anyway.

The shore surrounding the island was wider at the main beach. Here, it was only a few feet wide. Behind you laid a sparse palm forest. Cassandra could certainly hide there. Whatever. You wouldn’t find her anyway. Besides, she would have probably come to talk to you. Probably.

Where would Duke and Tim be? At the villa, right? Where else would they be? Hopefully not looking for you.

Now that you had considered it, you were probably being observed by someone. And if you weren’t, then soon, you would be.

Whatever, just take your mind off it. Think of something else, like…the beautiful beach you’re at. Yes, it is much nicer to think about the gentle breeze. How wonderful. Just you, the beach and the ocean.

You hadn’t ever been at a private beach, so this was a unique experience. All of this belonged to you. Well it actually belonged to your new family, but still, it almost belonged to you.

Your soul nearly left your body at the sound of rustling coming from behind you.

“Hi”, Tim waved nervously after you had spotted him sneaking up on you.

You didn’t feel like answering, so you just turned back to the ocean. Wanting to engage with you somehow, Tim sat down on the sand next to you.

“So…what are you doing here?”, he kept looking at you, but you tried very hard to ignore his gaze.

“Just sitting.”

“Well, I can tell that, but why here? Why not on the main beach? Dick and Jason are scrambling to find you there.”

You had thought that was the case.

“I wanted to be alone.”, you emphasized every word.

He chuckles nervously. That was it. He didn’t say anything. That told you everything you needed to know: He was only here to annoy you.

“How did you even find me?”, you turned to him, your voice tinged with frustration.

“Find you? Oh, I wasn’t looking for you, I just wanted to go somewhere alone. You know, somewhere peaceful”, he turned to the ocean, as though in deep thought,”I get it, you know. You also want to be alone sometimes.”

If he “gets it”, then why is he always right behind you?

“I think you and I have a lot more in common than you think”, he said, crossing his arms on his propped up knees and turning to you.

The audacity to say something like that made you shudder.

“I think you’re full of shit”, you wouldn’t let him think that he’s getting closer to you. You could never like someone like him.

He tried to hide his frown, but you saw right through him,”That’s pretty mean, you know. I’m just trying to connect with you.”

He didn’t say it directly, but you knew his words were a warning. Bruce had talked to you about this. You were allowed to have your opinions about them, but being overly rude was a violation of the rules—rules, which he made up. In other words, if Tim thought you were being mean, then you were being mean. Against this, there would be no arguing.

Well, you know what they say: If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all.

“Ahem, I’m trying to connect with you…”, Tim persisted. You merely pursed your lips and nodded.

Noticing the awkward silence, he spoke again, ”So, will you go swimming?”

You shook your head.

He nodded, “Yes, it isn’t that hot yet, so there’s no need to cool off, I suppose.”

“Well”, he turned to you with a smile, his determination unwavering, “What would you like for breakfast? Alfred already started preparing something. Let’s head back and let him know what you want before he finishes.” But wouldn’t Alfred already know your preference? Perhaps this was Tim’s idea of “bonding”…

Still, his offer seemed tempting, since you hadn’t eaten yet. However, you weren’t jumping at the idea of going back only to place your order with Alfred and then get dragged off to go swimming by either Jason or Dick. Or worse, Tim.

Only now that you felt the hopelessness more intensely, did you begin to question things. Why did Tim always find you first. And how? They didn’t secretly chip you, did they?

…Did they?

Asking them wouldn’t result in an honest answer, so you didn’t really see a point in it. But how else would you figure it out?

You supposed the best person to ask was Bruce—AKA. Dad. He was likely the only person who would answer truthfully…as long as you behaved properly, that is.

“Is dad home yet?”, you turned to Tim, ignoring his previous rambling.

“Oh uh, I’m not sure. Shall we go check together?”, Tim scrambled to use every opportunity he was given, despite being caught off guard.

Perhaps it won’t get any better than this: Mediocre at best.

“Fine, let’s go.”

From the corner of your eye, after Tim grabbed your hand, you saw his smile widen remarkably.

The walk was long and awkward. Your older brother was desperately trying to talk about something, anything, that would catch your interest. Meanwhile, you were silent for the most part.

You had to admit, the villa was quite nice (if only it came without the addition of desperate, touch starved reprobates). Despite having your own room, you were forced to share a room—and often even a bed—with someone, unless you gained Bruce’s special favour for the day.

Luckily, Damian, the person you had to share the room with last night, had left very early in the morning. You weren’t sure how long ago, though, since the letter he’d written to inform you of his absence was…detailed, to say the least. Surely it would’ve taken him more than an hour to even come up with it, let alone write it. What a waster of paper. He didn’t have to say anything at all…

Entering the cool living room made you relax enough to finally engage with Tim, “Um…are Jay and Dick home, or…?”

In respone, he laughed, “Oh, no. I didn’t tell them that you’re with me. They’re probably still looking for you at the main beach. Dick went on about how we shouldn’t let you go anywhere alone in case you drowned or something like that.”

“Wait, what? But I know how to swim! Please tell Bruce that Dick’s rule is unnecessary…I already have enough restrictions, don’t I?” You panicked.

“Well…” He grinned, “That depends on what you’ll do for me in exchange.”

Even sighing was tiring for you at this point, “Fine, I’ll sleep in your room tonight.”

“Until the end of the week, or no deal.”

Holding back a groan, you responded, “Fine, whatever, just…work your magic, okay?” He nodded eagerly.

“Greeting, Masters. Breakfast is almost prepared”, Alfred appeared from the kitchen.

“Hi. Alfred, did you make-”

“Your favourite? Of course I did”, Alfred interrupted.

“…Right.” You should’ve known, to be fair, “Well, when will it be done?”

“When Master Bruce and Master Damian return”

“What about Steph? Isn’t she returning?” If she didn’t return at all, your life would improve considerably.

“Oh, Steph? She wanted to stay in the city for a bit, probably to buy you gifts or something”, Tim responds in Alfred’s stead.

“Gifts…? You don’t think she’ll, you know, make me play dress-up again, right?”, the thought sent a shiver down your spine. In this heat? There was no way you’d wear layers upon layers of clothes just because she was bored. You immediately left the living room, leaving Tim and Alfred behind.

While waiting for everyone to return to eat breakfast, you went and hid somewhere in the villa to avoid social interractions. And hopefully the heat. It was very hot.

[jakesangel]

first date w jake ꣑୧

jake might seem cocky n super flirty but when it comes to blossoming love he is more the shy type. giggles hidden behind his hands n flirty joke said w a hint of embarrassment, this is how newly love w jake feels like. but as much as shy he is he will never back down in shooting his shot w the pretty girl right in front of him, do you wanna go to see a movie w me someday ? he would shyly say, looking away as his hand would be behind his head, a soothing manner to cope w his anxiety. but as he senses your flustered state, his would slowly fade away, specially when you agree to his offer. 8pm tonight ? the one in the shopping mall ? he would add a bit too fast, his excitement barely hidden.

at home, he would totally freak out, the group chat going on fire as he doesn't know how to dress or even process his pretty girl accept a date w him. his heart would beat so so fast, excitement n stress buzzing out of him, he'd even arrive earlier at the cinema, almost 20 minutes early and even on site, he can't stay put. it would be as he sat down, waiting for you,that he'd realize, his mind being full of you, that he forgot to bring flowers, going right back up in search of a fleurist.

seeing you all dolled up, just for him, almost made him fall on his knees, but once he sees you sawing him, finally walking to him smiling, he lost it. h-hi y/n, you look so beautiful, he would say breathless. he even forgot to give you the flowers he bought you, that you'd have to tell him thank you first for him to give it to you. oh yeah sorry, these are for you he would say as he hand them, n if you are flustered or if he his brave enough he would add, you're prettier than them tho. after little chitchat, he would lead you to the reception to buy the tickets n the snacks. he will get you everything you want, some drink n popcorn but wouldn't let you buy anything, you look like a princess, i just treat you like one, no ? or can't let a pretty girl waste her money w such, his true self coming back.

during the movie, he would try to focus but how can he ? you're sitting so close to him, your scent filling up his nose. he would look your way, also using the popcorn between the both of you as an excuse to touch your hand for spilt second. n truly the movie date was a bad idea : he doesnt want to not talk w you, nor not look at you. he is stuck in his chair, darkness surrounding him, blocking his view of you. he has you so close yet so far, he doesnt know what to do. so he just let his body act on his own, hoping it won't make you uncomfortable. his hand would come close to yours, tasting the waters, n as he sees you not pulling away, he'd take your hand in his.

your hands would stay together, thru out the movie, or even throwing out your waste. his hand remain in yours as you walk side by side, walking you to your place. thank you for coming w me today y/n or i really had a good time w you, he would say in front of your front door. could we redo it, another day ?

notes : me when ᵕ᷄≀ ̠˘᷅

@imaluckygirl @luvj4key @stwrjvke @amouriu @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @jaeyunpinkyring @pockettwinzz @jwsdoll @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee

[authortelevision]

george’s fake wedding plus one ₊˚⊹♡

words: 2,267 ✦ .ᐟ

♯┆ george clarke fluff, fake dating, friends to lovers

you have known george for a while and have always been close, when he invites you to his sisters wedding as a ‘fake date’ you both realise maybe the date was fake but the love might not be

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You had been working with the Useless Hotline for two years now and due to that you and George have been close friends for a few years, but that’s all it has ever been. You wished it was more, far more than you’d ever wanted to admit to him. He’d had hookups and so had you, but with George you’d never wanted to be one of the many girls he had fucked, you wanted to love him, hold his hand through the city and kiss under fairy lights. You just wanted George, the boy you had fallen for, the boy who would stay around after the podcast just to lean on the desk of the set and talk to you about his day and what had been happening in his life, not the one on camera, but of his family and his interests.

After tip toeing around it for a few weeks when the cameras were turned off for the day, he asked you if you wanted to come to his sisters wedding, as his date, a fake girlfriend to be more specific. He just didn’t want to disappointed his family with how he hadn’t found a date yet and he knew his sister liked you and with Max and his boyfriend being invited he didn’t want to turn up alone again. He thought you were the perfect one to come along and he didn’t mind lingering his hand on your waist or whispering silly jokes in your ear hoping that the secret affair would seem genuine when you’d push him away playfully.

When the day arrived, you were absolutely terrified. You were so scared of what his extended family would think of you. You knew it fake and that you didn’t have to be worried, but seeing George in his suit waiting outside your house ready for the ‘big show’ was overwhelming. He looked so attractive and put together, checking his phone relentlessly waiting for you to say you were ready. His hair was falling down his face as he gently adjusted his suit.

When you arrived, you felt George’s hand sneak around your waist, leaning closer to whisper into your ear “You look really beautiful by the way,” you felt slightly breathless at the compliment, but part of you knew the touch was just of the act and it hurt a little bit, you wished it was genuine but the lingering feeling of his hand was enough to calm you, you had always wished for this intimacy and you thought you should just embrace the love you would feel tonight.

The reception began, and after a beautiful ceremony filled with heartfelt vows, the guests settle into their seats for dinner. The warm glow of candlelight created an intimate setting as George stood up to deliver his toast. He clutched a champagne flute, and cleared his throat. He looked down at you for a brief moment, lightly smiling as his eyes sparkled with a mix of nerves and excitement.

“Hey everyone! For those of you who don’t know me, I’m George, the Emily’s brother,” he started, his voice slightly shaky but growing steadier with each word. “I just wanted to say how happy I am for my sister and her new husband. They are truly meant for each other. Who would have thought Geo’s older sister would meet someone who is almost as funny as me’

He earned a soft laugh from the crowd and as he continues, the more he drinks, the more sentimental he becomes. Slowly he concludes his speech, sitting down. He looks over at you, a soft smile spreading across his face. He leans over again to whisper in your ear, “And I’m really grateful for having someone as amazing as my lovely not girlfriend girlfriend by my side.” The guests start murmuring, glancing between the two of you. You knew it was because this was the first girl they had seen George with and part of you felt like this act was going a bit too far but you just pushed it down, remembering that George still chose you.

He eventually leans back, your heart races as George’s gaze still lingers on you, filled with warmth and a drunken haze being noticeable as he looks at you through his eyelashes. It feels surreal—his words almost sound like a confession. You can’t help but smile back, feeling a rush of affection.

After the toast, the music begins to play, and the reception begins to feel more comfortable and familiar as you begin drinking more and more. The dance floor fills with guests swaying and twirling under the string lights. George, buoyed by the energy and perhaps a few more sips of champagne, grabs your hand and pulls you onto the dance floor.

As you both dance, laughter begins pouring from your lips, and George spins you around playfully. The warmth of his body against yours feels so right. He leant in closer, his breath brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m so glad you’re here with me.” The way he looks at you, eyes bright scrunching at the corners with genuine joy, sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

As the night continues, you are pulled away from George by family, you recognise them from photos but the only one you truly knew was George’s beautiful sister. George turns to you, leaning in to gently kiss you on the cheek. The lingering feeling went straight to your face making them warm and brighten, “Good luck beautiful”.

You see George slowly drift away outside, stumbling as he goes, turning back one last time to look back at you, giving you a small wink as he fades away through the crowd.

The garden was glowing from soft string lights that cast a golden hue across the scenery. The night was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the smell of fresh flowers. George’s sister’s wedding has turned out to be more magical than anyone anticipated, and George can’t help but feel proud—and a little overwhelmed as his head starts spinning as he realises how much the champagne and occasional double shot vodka sodas had caught up to him.

The buzz of alcohol adding to the dizzying mixture of emotions he’s been trying to keep at bay all night. Every time he sees you, mingling with his family or laughing with friends, he feels his heart warming in his chest. He brought you here as his pretend date, yet the way you fit so seamlessly into his world tonight has him questioning everything.

Feeling unsteady, he eventually makes it out into the garden, hoping the cool night air will help clear his head. But as he rounds the corner, he nearly walks straight into Max and his boyfriend, Andrew, who are sharing a quiet moment away from the crowd. Max raises an eyebrow as George teeters slightly, a smirk creeping onto his face.

“George,” Max chuckles, steadying him by the shoulder, “How much have you had to drink?”

George laughs, though it’s slightly unsteady, and shrugs. “Maybe a bit more than I thought,” he admits, slurring just slightly. Andrew chuckles as he and Max guide George over to a bench beneath a tree, urging him to sit before he loses his balance entirely.

“You are absolutely gone” Max asks, his tone playful but his eyes gentle. George nods, feeling grateful for the support. The coolness of the bench against his hands is grounding, but not enough to stop his gaze from drifting back to the reception.

From where they’re sitting, he can just make out the dance floor. There, under the twinkling lights, you’re dancing with his sister, laughing as she spins you around. The sight makes his chest ache in a way that’s both comforting and terrifying, like the beginning of something he’s not sure he’s ready to admit.

Max’s voice interrupts his thoughts. “You’ve looked back over there at least three times in the last minute. What’s going on?” he asks, a knowing smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

George swallows, feeling his heart pounding. He shifts on the bench, letting out a nervous laugh, but his eyes are still fixed on you as you dance. “I… I don’t know, mate,” he begins, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… her.”

Max’s smirk softens, replaced by a more serious expression as he watches his friend. “Come on, George. Tell me what’s actually going on.”

George hesitates, torn between wanting to admit the truth and feeling ridiculous for how vulnerable he’s become. But with Max and Andrew there, it somehow feels safe to confess, like a secret he’s been keeping to himself for too long. He lets out a shaky sigh, his gaze still trained on you, swaying to the music with that easy, genuine smile he’s come to love.

“I think… I think,” he stops himself for a moment “No it’s so dumb I’m literally 24, it’s so embarrassing.. fuck it whatever, I think I actually love her,” he says quietly, the words slipping out almost as if they’d been waiting to be spoken aloud. Saying it feels strange but also freeing, like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

Max’s face breaks into a wide smile, while Andrew gives him an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “You are such a big fat fucking idiot,” Max says, a gleam of mischief in his eyes. “You literally spend hours every week waiting around for her at the studio like a lost dog, you literally message her like every night and only now are you thinking you like her”

George groans, laughing as he buries his face in his hands. “Yeah, something like that,” he mumbles, feeling both foolish and exhilarated. “I just thought if I brought her here, it’d be easier to keep things casual. But now… seeing her here, with everyone, and knowing how she just… fits…” He trails off, lost in the thought.

Max chuckles, shaking his head. “You know, George, you might just be the most oblivious man I’ve ever met. But if you ask me, now’s the time to go for it.” He nudges George, his grin full of encouragement. “You’ve been staring at her like that all night like a freak, just talk to her or I’ll tell everyone you paid her to come.”

After a quick hug from George’s sister and a few warm words, you glance back and spot George outside, sat under a tree decorated with fairy lights. He’s with Max and Andrew, who are laughing and chatting with him, but something about his posture—softened, maybe a bit nervous—makes you pause. You catch his eye and give him a wave, and he offers a perfectly white smile in return, watching you as you make your way over.

As you approach, Max and Andrew turn to greet you, both of them smiling knowingly. “We’ll let you two talk,” Max says with a wink, nudging George’s arm in a way that makes you feel a pit in your stomach. “Come on, Andrew. I think we need another drink.” Andrew smiles at you and gives you a quick wave before letting Max pull him back inside, leaving you alone with George.

There’s a moment of quiet as you sit down resting your head on George’s soldier under the fairy lights, surrounded by the soft sounds of the celebration drifting in from the reception. You remove your head and George looks at you, swallowing harshly as he scans your face, briefly focusing on your lips to then stare affectionately into your eyes. He opens his mouth as if to speak. But before he can say anything, you feel your heart racing, and you find yourself blurting out, “George, wait—I need to say something.”

He pauses, a bit startled, but nods for you to go on, his eyes never leaving yours.

“I know this was supposed to be pretend,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly, looking away from his gaze, “but like.. I don’t know, it’s dumb I’m sorry, it stopped feeling like that for me. I’ve been trying to keep things casual, but…” You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to look him in the eyes. “I think I actually love you. I don’t expect you to feel the same way, and you don’t have to say anything, but I couldn’t leave tonight without telling you.”

For a split second, there’s silence. But then, without a word, George steps forward, his sparkling blue eyes locked on yours, and he cups your face in his hands. His touch is warm and soft, and before you can say anything else, he leans down and presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is gentle and full of a feeling that’s been building for so long. Underneath the twinkling fairy lights, surrounded by the quiet of the night, you lose yourself in the moment, feeling the weight of every unspoken word drift away. His hands trail down to your waist, pulling you closer, you wrap your arms around him as though you’ve been waiting forever for this.

When he finally pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours, his voice soft. “Fuck,” he whispers with a grin. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”

A smile breaks across your face, your heart soaring as you laugh, unable to believe this is real. “Really?” you ask, still breathless from the kiss.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice warm and sure. “I think I fell in love with you long before tonight. I just needed this to realise how much I truly like you.”

He leans in again, and under the cold bite of the night’s sky, you kiss once more, knowing this is only the beginning of something you’ve both been waiting for, far longer than either of you realized.

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author note: i’m so so proud of this one i hope you like it !!

[trippedandfell]

stop the world just to stop the feeling

The night before Maddie and Chimney's wedding, Buck and Eddie talk on a balcony. | 1.5k | buddie | ao3

Eddie’s just uncapped his second beer when he hears footsteps behind him, so familiar he recognizes who it is by sound alone.

“Hey,” he says, as Buck sidles into view, arms coming to rest on the balcony railing beside him. He’s got a drink in his hand, too - one of those fruity vodka seltzers that Eddie’s reluctantly started stocking in the bottom drawer of his fridge. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Buck fiddles with the tab on his can, the silver of it reflecting in the moonlight. “Something like that.”

His shirt is slightly too big, slipping down just enough to expose the sharp jut of his collarbone, the dark bruise forming on the edge of it. Eddie’s eyes fly to it without permission, and Buck flushes red. 

“It’ll be covered by the suit tomorrow, promise.”

“Mm.” Eddie takes another sip of his beer, ignoring the sour way it curdles in his stomach. “Good. Think Chim’s one incident away from going full groomzilla.”

“Can you blame him?”

“Not at all,” Eddie admits, and Buck huffs a laugh. “You should have been me the night before Shannon and I got married. I was a wreck.”

He’d been alone, in the shitty little apartment they’d rented once they learned about Christopher, Shannon spending the night at her mom’s across town to help them cling to some ragged sense of propriety that neither of them truly believed in. It had been one of the most awful, stomachache-inducing nights he’d ever had up to that point in his life, and it wasn’t until he saw Shannon in the church the next day, glowing in a way that had nothing to do with the bump hidden under the folds of her white dress, that everything had finally clicked into place.

“Hi,” she had said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, and Eddie had let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

Buck’s staring at him now, as if he can sense the myriad emotions playing out in Eddie’s head. “It’s so weird,” he says. “Maddie and Chimney have basically been married for a while now. But all of this just makes it feel so real.” He gestures a hand at the expansive hotel grounds, the ocean beyond. “I mean, my parents are here.”

Eddie knows. Eddie had done an exceptional job at ignoring them at the rehearsal dinner that night, tucked in the corner by himself, Marisol having gone to their room earlier with a headache.

He feels a brief, guilty flash about leaving her alone now, although she’d been snoring when he’d crept past Chris on the sofa bed and out into the light of the hallway. He wonders, idly, if he should have left a note.

“They seem to be behaving,” he offers, which is about all of the goodwill he’s able to give the Buckley parents at any given time. Buck makes a face at him, and he adds, half-teasing, “for now.”

As far as he knows, they haven’t said a word so far to Buck about Tommy. He should probably ask, but somehow he can’t make his mouth form the words.

Buck drums his fingers against the balcony, quiet. “Do you ever think about it?”

What, fighting your parents? Eddie almost jokes, but he knows that’s not what Buck’s asking. “About getting married again?”

“Or getting married at all,” Buck says, and there’s something in his face, something suspiciously like longing, that has Eddie taking another gulp of his beer. “Like, big reception, flowers. The whole nine yards.”

“I wouldn’t do a big reception,” Eddie says, shuddering. “Just in the backyard, or something.”

Buck cracks a smile. “You do have a nice backyard.”

“You’re just saying that because you did all the landscaping,” Eddie says, bumping their shoulders together. “I had to weed it the other day though, so I should at least get partial credit.”

Buck looks sheepish at that, which wasn’t what Eddie was going for, but also wasn’t not what he wanted to happen. “I meant to come do it this week, I’ve just been -”

“Busy,” Eddie finishes for him, which isn’t fair, not really. Not when Buck is still over at his house most days, not when he hasn’t missed a single one of his afternoons out with Christopher. It’s just that there’s now a new purple marker in his kitchen, carefully outlining Buck’s availability on the calendar.

Eddie’s never had to schedule Buck in before. Not with Taylor, or Natalia, or even Ali, way back when. 

Combine that with the fact that Buck’s now asking about marriage…

Eddie drains the last of his beer. “You should get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Buck agrees, but stays where he is, shoulder still pressed against Eddie’s. “Hey - uh. We’re good, right?”

“Buck, you’ve already apologized.” And grovelled, and apologized again, until Eddie was back from medical leave and working with the 118 again.

“Not about that.” Buck shakes his head, the movement bringing him closer to Eddie still, their forearms nearly overlapping on the railing. “I mean - about me. And Tommy, I guess.”

And Eddie - Eddie will be the first to admit it took him a second to come to terms with it, to fully wrap his head around the idea of Buck with a man and, more specifically, Buck with Tommy. But he’d hugged Buck, and stumbled his way through some approximation of support, and then gone home and researched until his eyes were burning and he’d bookmarked every tab he could find about bisexuality and being a good ally - so. He thinks he’s been doing okay, overall. Certainly not poorly enough to make Buck question if he’s been harbouring secret homophobic tendencies all this time.

“You know I’m good with that,” he says, and means it. “And you and Tommy seem - really good. So if you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Buck’s eyebrows crinkle together, and Eddie has to resist the fanatical urge to reach over and smooth them out. “I know. I know you are. But something else just seems - wrong.”

“With me?”

“With us,” Buck says, voice veering toward frustration. “Come on, Eddie. You know you feel it too.”

Something thumps in Eddie’s chest, like his heart is suddenly trying to beat out of his chest. “Buck, I promise nothing’s changed-”

“But something has,” Buck says. “And I don’t know what, and it’s driving me insane, and every time I’m at work or at the gym or even with Tommy-” Wait, what? Eddie thinks, panicked -  “I’m lost in my own head, wondering how the fuck I managed to mess up the most important relationship in my life.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” Eddie says, honest. “No one did. It’s just - growing pains. You’re in a relationship, I’m in a relationship - it’s natural that we maybe don’t come first for each other anymore.”

Buck stares at him, the corner of his eyes suspiciously red. “We both know you don’t actually believe that.”

He doesn’t, but they’re veering into dangerous territory now. “Buck-”

“Why is it different now?” Buck says. “We’ve both dated people at the same time before. Taylor and Ana, Marisol and Natalia. Why is this different?”

Eddie doesn’t feel like he’s capable of breathing. “Buck-”

“It’s not because I’m with Tommy,” Buck says, raking a hand through his hair. “Or that I’m bi. It’s not actually any of it, is it, Eddie?”

He doesn’t sound angry, just - resigned. Tired. The beer bottle is clammy against Eddie’s palm. 

“You never answered my question earlier,” Buck says. “About if you would get married again.”

When Eddie speaks, his voice feels like sandpaper. “Maybe. If it was the right person.”

“Is Marisol the right person?”

“Is Tommy?”

Buck flinches, minuscule. “I asked first.”

“You know what my answer is, Buck,” Eddie says, and he’s tired, so tired. 

“You know mine too,” Buck says, soft.

He does know. Just like he knows Buck’s favourite song, favourite dinner, favourite feel-good rom-com. Just like he knows that Buck will spend all of tomorrow night dancing with Tommy, but he’ll save one dance for Christopher, spinning him around the middle of the room while Eddie watches. Just like how he knows -

“Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie realizes how close they are now, facing each other with the moon still high overhead, lips a hairsbreadth apart. “We can’t.”

Eddie can feel Buck’s exhale against his lips. “I know,” he says. Taking a step back feels like swimming against a riptide, but he manages to get his limbs to cooperate eventually. “We should head back in.”

Buck swallows, chin bobbing as he nods. “Yeah. I’ll - uh. See you tomorrow?”

There’s something here, slipping out of Eddie’s grasp. He doesn’t think either of them knows quite how to cling on to it. 

“See you tomorrow,” he echoes, and then Buck’s turning toward the door, back to the hallway that’ll lead him to his room, to Tommy in his bed.

Eddie waits until he’s fully out of sight before he follows.

also on ao3!

---

tags: @leothil @sibylsleaves @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @deformed-globule @cantyouseethatyouresmotheringme @silassstingy

[french-unknown]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: shanks, vivi, ace, law, sabo 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐖/𝐂: 1.2k +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 1 |

✧ You were part of the Red Haired Pirates crew for a long time.

✧ You've been sleeping with the captain for almost as long.

It had started during a night of drinking on a remote island where, after a few drinks, you realized that Shanks was a lot more flirtatious than usual. One word after another, you ended up sleeping together that same evening before waking up the next morning in the same bed. You both decided to continue this relationship.

Everyone knew what you were doing.

✧ You gradually became attached to him but, knowing that it wouldn't go further than sex, you said nothing while continuing what you were doing.

✧ So you found yourself having to watch passively when he was being flirted with or when we disappeared with someone during drinking evenings. On his side, he happily raised his glass to you when you got hit on and made jokes when he caught you in bed with someone else.

✧ Things changed when, totally drunk, he admitted to you that he was sad you weren't dating because he would have loved to kiss you in front of the others. Then he changed the subject as if nothing had happened.

✧ It was only the next morning, while you questioned him despite his hangover, that you discovered that he had also liked you for quite a few years. It was just he also thought you only wanted easy sex from him.

✧ You have known each other since childhood and immediately became friends. You started dating secretly during your teenage years. Her parents thought you were just close friends.

✧ So you thought she loved you too but, one day, she completely disappeared from your life without warning.

One evening she was there, and the next day she had already disappeared without a trace. You didn't know it but she was off to infiltrate Barroque Work to save her country. She didn't put you in the scheme so you wouldn't be in danger. You found yourself from one day to the next without news of your lover, totally abandoned. The shock was hard to take.

✧ The reception was therefore more than cold when she returned to the palace.

✧ She naively thought at that time that you were still together and that your relationship would resume where she left off before she left.

✧ However, you refused to meet her because you were convinced that she didn't want anything serious from you. You were just a little youthful love interest—nothing at all—just good enough to be thrown away when she matured.

✧ In order to prove to you that she really liked you, she had you summoned by force to the throne room with her parents. As soon as you arrived, she declared herself to you in front of her parents before kissing you directly on the lips and introducing you to her parents as her lover for several years.

✧ You had some doubts but you weren't really sure.

✧ It mainly came from the fact that he was always by your side and very affectionate towards you. At first, you thought he was like that with everyone. He would run towards them as soon as they entered the room to jump on them. He was always talking to them animatedly or listening to them with stars in his eyes. Or he was very tactile with them since he always had contact with you, whether it was an arm around your shoulders or a hand against your back.

However, you realized this was not the case after discreetly observing him interacting with the others.

✧ You had some doubts about whether he liked you more than the others, but not as a lover. You secretly prayed at that moment that you wouldn't be in the best friend zone.

✧ You got tired of it one evening.

You were on Moby Dick and he had joined you in your room to chat. You don't know how but you found yourself lying on your bed, side by side, discussing some of your problems. During a more emotional moment where your voice had faltered slightly, you felt his hand slip into your hair to massage your head. You then pulled away angrily to ask him—quite aggressively, unfortunately—why he was so clingy to you.

"You don't like me anymore?" He then asked with his head down, hurt.

✧ You discovered that evening that he had confessed his feelings several months ago when you were both drunk and he had been thinking since then that you were dating. It was just that he remembered it and you didn't.

✧ He wasn't particularly nicer to you than he was to the other members of his crew. He also didn't come to talk to you or seek your company. You honestly thought that, to him, you were just another member of the Heart Pirates.

✧ Your vision changed a little when you fell ill and it was he who came to take care of you. "Shut up. It's the captain's role to take care of his crewmates." he had declared.

✧ However, when you refused to eat the soup he brought you because you didn't like it, he initially resisted before going back to get you another meal. A minute before, he maintained that you wouldn't have anything else to eat and he suddenly changed his mind after taking a look at you.

As he left, you heard him grumbling that you shouldn't be so cute. It took you a few minutes to process what he had said but it eventually got to your brain.

✧ From there, you actually realized that he gave in to your demands quite easily. Unlike everyone else on the crew, including Bepo. So you used it to your advantage.

✧ It continued like that without him making the slightest move so you took the courage to declare yourself.

He simply replied, "I think I see what you're talking about. I accept your confession." before dismissing you from his office with a wave of his hand. You just had time to see his red cheeks before he hid behind one of his books.

✧ You were quite close but not as close as he was to Koala or other members of the Army.

✧ Your group were ambushed by the people you had been following for several weeks under Sabo's orders. At the end of the confrontation, you emerged winners but not without losses.

Some were dead and you were injured with several broken bones and a bruised face.

✧ You were therefore urgently repatriated and you spent the next few days lying in the infirmary until your condition stabilized. You were then transferred to a room alone to rest and recover from your injuries. Your face nevertheless remained unsightly swollen with bruises that badly colored your face.

✧ One day, you heard the sound of boots echoing in the corridor. You didn't want anyone to see your face, which you were ashamed of, so you curled up on your side before pulling up your blanket to hide your face.

You pretended to be asleep.

The door opened. The person slowly walked to the edge of your bed and sat down.

"You sleep?" Sabo's voice whispered.

Faced with your lack of response, he stood up and you felt a kiss being placed in your hair.

"Rest easy and don't ever scare me like that again. It would hurt me to lose you before I could tell you I liked you."

And he left as silently as he had arrived.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717 @lys-ada @viscade @parkyrr @dozcan123 @livwritesfics @anotherproblemsos @phsycochan @sketchmilk @clovernumber3 @radiorowrites

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Quand Tu Voudras

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: ~7.2k

TW: kissing, angst, blood, burns, cuts, bruises, arguments, crying, depression, mention of EDs, panicking, explosions, drinking, self-image issues, mentions of addiction, mentions of drug use, mentions of Maeve

A/N: Third and Final Part babyyyyyy let's GO. I'm actually excited to watch each part get its own vibes, but also be a cohesive story. I really hope you all enjoy it! Thank y'all for doing me on this crazy journey!

Dedicated to New Lovers , You're Keeping Me Down

“If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story.” ~Orson Welles

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked. 

Shopping for a wedding dress was one of the most terrifying experiences you had ever lived through, and you had been shot multiple times. 

But being surrounded by your closest friends and family members as you tried on dress after dress kept you going. 

You finally found the perfect one in a small shop outside of the DC area, hidden in a little suburb where life wasn’t as rushed as it felt. 

You tried on only three dresses at this little boutique. The second was almost perfect, and you were about to “say yes to the dress,” but someone was reorganizing the front rack, and that’s when the one you were currently wearing appeared, sent by the higher powers. 

It fits you perfectly. 

You started to cry when you saw yourself in the mirror, which caused Garcia to start crying, which caused Emily and JJ to cry, and the rest of your family quickly followed. 

So it was only natural that staring at yourself in the mirror right now made you tear up again. 

“Oh, Babe, no.” Emily was quick to fan your eyes as you tilted your head back, letting the tears melt back into your eyes. 

“I can’t help it.” You grumbled, eyes wide as you tried calming your breathing slowly. “It’s just so pretty…” 

“I know, I know. My money is on Derek crying first.” 

“Oh, please. We all know Rossi won’t stop crying the second he takes his seat.”

You had decided that the only people you wanted at the ceremony were close friends and family. That meant the team, their little ones, and each of your parents. Small. Peaceful. Intimate.

Derek was over the moon when you asked him to officiate your wedding, wanting him to be there for you in every way since that’s always been his role. 

You had taken him out for coffee under the very real guise that wedding planning made you want to rip your head off and chuck it out to sea. 

“Okay, baby girl, talk to me.” 

The ice was melting in the cup from the warmth of your hands, making your hands wet with the condensation, hiding the sweat from your nerves. 

“Do you know how much flowers cost?” 

Derek chuckled and shook his head. “No. I don’t think I do.”

“The government doesn’t pay me enough for the amount of flowers I want at my reception.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have picked the Peabody Library as your reception location.”

“In my defense.” You furrowed your brows. “You were with us when we toured it. It’s perfect, Derek. Don’t tell me it’s not.” 

“No, it’s perfect; I just don’t understand why you need that many flowers.”

“Sometimes, I feel like you don’t even know me, Derek Morgan.” 

“He’s going to cry first.” Emily smiled, lightly dabbing under your eyes with some of your powder foundation to show that you weren’t almost crying. 

“I will buy you a whole bottle of Möet that Rossi will cry first.” 

As JJ entered the room, you and Emily shook hands, giggling like school girls. “Almost ready?” 

You nodded, glancing over at yourself in the mirror. 

Honestly, you had never thought this day would come. Your wedding day. After everything you had been through, all of the heartbreak, all of the confusion, all of the traveling and running away. Everything you could possibly think of going wrong just went wrong. Suddenly, the flowers weren’t delivered, and then no one showed up to the reception, and then you were left at the altar, abandoned and unloveable again. You couldn’t breathe; your chest was seizing. It was too tight. There wasn’t enough fresh air in the room. Your heartbeat was too loud, and you couldn’t look away from yourself in the mirror. This wasn’t real; Everything bad happening was in your head. 

Or maybe it was an awful dream, and you need to wake up before it gets too far and your heart gets shattered again. 

JJ whispered your name, reaching out for you, sending a shock of electricity through your arm when she touched it. 

You jumped. 

“I want to talk to him.” You blurted out, looking over at JJ. “I–I need to talk to him.” 

“You said yes.” 

You nodded, staring down at your wine glass, pondering if it was the right decision. Emily was wondering the same thing. 

“I don’t know if it’s the best idea for you to go back to—”

“It is.” You cut her off, not harshly, just firmly. “I haven’t been the same since I left the BAU, and I left for perfectly valid reasons, Em, I know. But….”

“But?” 

“But I miss it. Don’t you? It flexes my muscles in ways I couldn’t replicate, and I was so good at it. I felt smart and useful and not lost, wandering the islands of Greece.”

If you didn’t know her so well, Emily’s fake gasp could have easily been mistaken for a real one. “We had a fantastic time, and you know it.” 

“Yes, but I also know that I was feeling so unfulfilled intellectually that I went off and got a Ph.D. Like, come on, I never wanted a PhD before I left; I just didn’t know how to challenge myself.”

“That is fair. I just think you need to consider the fact that you’d be working with you know who.”

“You can say his name, Emily. He’s not some dark lord; he’s just an idiot with an IQ of 187.” 

“Yeah, Yeah, look. I have to go, but we are not done with this conversation, okay? I’ll need a full PowerPoint presentation with all the pros and the cons.” 

“Yes, ma’am, I can do that. I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”

You heard the click of her line going dead before there was a knock on your door. You quickly pressed play on your movie, letting one of your favorite rom-coms (When Harry Met Sally) play in the background as you scrounged around for where you had left your wallet. 

Clad in an oversized shirt you’ve had forever, plaid pajama shorts that were once part of a Christmas set, and your comfiest fuzzy socks, you slid over to the door once you had found your wallet. 

You opened the door. “How much…”

His eyes met yours, and you took a small step back. 

“You are not the pizza guy.” 

“No. I’m not.” 

His answer caused you to laugh a little bit, filling his chest with a warmth he hadn’t felt in over two years. 

“Can I–” He gestured into your house, and you moved to the side, allowing him to enter. 

“I, um….” You bit your lip and eyed him up and down. “As long as you’re okay with When Harry Met Sally playing in the background.”

“Time for the annual rewatch.” He smiled at you nervously, but a very small part of yourself enjoyed the fact that he remembered. 

You headed back towards the couch, casually trying to clean up as you went to give the impression that you were cleaner than you were. 

“Shoes off before you get to the couch.” You called over your shoulder. 

The door closed behind Spencer with a soft click. 

“Honey, you said you don’t want a first look.”

“We don’t have to look at each other—I don’t know, like a corner or something. I just..I-I-I.” 

JJ watched as your panic started to bubble over, and she took your hands in hers. “Want to call him first?” 

You nodded. “Y-Yeah, let’s try that.” 

JJ handed you your phone off the vanity, watching as you dialed the number, panicking even more when it wouldn’t connect—there was no service. 

Spencer had asked you to play chess with him that night, and you obliged. Something about falling into an old routine felt good; it felt right. A movie you chose in the background while playing chess against Spencer. Some things were always meant to be. The night was filled with laughs, small talk, and contentment–life feeling like it should. 

A familiarity shrouded you both, mocking the comfort you once used to feel.

When you won, he was a bit baffled. You had only beaten him a few times, and he was focusing on all of the outcomes. How could he not notice—

“You can’t win every game, Spence.” 

His heart lodged in his throat at the nickname, and he looked up at you, that goofy half smile on his lips. 

Lovestruck. He looked lovestruck. 

And then you exhaled. “We can’t avoid it forever. I know that’s why you came here in the first place.” 

He blinked away the love, replacing it with guilt, hurt, fragments of something you both had grieved in your own time. 

“Y-yeah. Let’s um, let’s talk about…”

You redialled the number only to be met with the same beeping as before, eyes wide as you looked at JJ. “There’s no service. JJ, I can’t–he won’t…” 

Emily handed you her phone–it was ringing, thank god. 

“Hey Emily, is everything okay?” 

“It’s me.” You said simply, but the wobble in your voice said everything he needed to hear.

“oh–Honey, talk to me. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” 

“I-I…” You swallowed your tears and looked over at your two friends—you gestured slightly, silently asking them to leave the room so you could talk to your future husband alone. They obliged, letting the door close. It was nice of them to pretend like they weren’t running over to see if they could eavesdrop from his room, but they were just met with Derek in the hall, who had also been booted out. 

“Is she okay?” 

Emily shook her head. “No idea. She was fine one moment, and she was about to burst the next. Like a complete shift of personality.” 

Derek sighed. “I’ve never seen him switch so quickly either. He was all nervous one minute, but the second he heard her voice….he almost sounded like Hotch doing damage control.” 

JJ laughed slightly at that, glancing back at the door hiding you behind it. 

“Do you think she’ll go through with it?” Derek whispered slowly, making sure no one was around to hear him. 

Emily fidgeted with the bracelet on her wrist. “She’s terrified he’s not going to.” 

“Look, Spence, I get it. Shit happens. But you don’t know what it was like, coming home one day and you were laughing with someone else. You hadn’t laughed for months, almost a year, before then.”

“I know. I’m so–”

“Say sorry one more fucking time. Sorry isn’t explaining…or talking to me. I know you have trouble expressing whatever bullshit is going on in your head, but you have to try. It’s me, for fucks sake, Spence, And while I am willing to wait, I can only be so patient for so long with no actual explanation—” 

“I was terrified of you.”

“What…” 

Spencer stood up, pacing back and forth in front of your coffee table, trying to find the right words. “You were so far gone when Em died, and you had sunk into this pit of despair, and I was scared of watching you push down this path, destructive and–and; I didn’t know who you were, and I was so scared to watch you go down this path so I turned away instead.” 

“Spencer, you ran to JJ. You just left me here, alone. And then, when she comes back, you fucking threaten the fact that you were having Dilaudid cravings?”

“I think he’s even more mortified that she will back out on him. He knows everything she’s gone through. I mean–I love her, but she’s got major commitment issues.” 

JJ slapped his arm and glared at him. “And for good reason, Derek.” 

Derek grumbled an ‘ow,’ rubbing at his arm. “I’m not saying it wasn’t justified–I completely side with her on it--I’m just pointing out what we already know.” 

Spencer closed his eyes. “I don’t love you anymore.” 

Your heart leaped into your throat, or maybe it was vomit, you weren’t sure, but all you could do was stare at him from across the kitchen countertop. 

“Since this was my place first, uh…I can give you a couple of weeks to find a place, and I’ll even sleep on the couch…”

You hadn’t even spoken yet, shaking your head. “Stop. Spencer. What.” 

Your head was pounding, hands gripping onto the counter to try and steady yourself.”

“Sorry.” He whispered. He couldn’t even look at you. He was just staring at his hands, almost unsure about what he was saying. 

“Sorry?” You laughed, tears starting to track down your cheeks. “Spencer, this has to be a sick fucking joke..” 

He shook his head. 

Behind the door, You were just pacing back and forth, listening to his voice, trying to erase this memory from your mind and find a new one to replace it, barely listening to the man on the other end of the line. 

“Hey, listen to me. It’s going to be okay. If you want to call the whole thing off, everyone will understand. If it’s not right—.” 

“No.” You responded immediately. “I–I, I want to do this, I want to marry you…just…”

“You just needed some reassurance. I know.”

You nodded, not realizing he couldn’t hear you nod, but somehow, it felt like he did. 

“I love you.” 

You smiled, exhaling shakily. “Good.” 

His laugh bubbled through his lips, causing you to take another breath.

“I’ll see you out there?” 

“Can you just stay on the phone for another minute or so? I just need, like—”

You could hear him nod over the phone. “Anything you want.”

Somehow, you were back in that fucking elevator. Again. 

But this time, it felt like a homecoming rather than a curse you were trying to break. 

When the doors opened, you saw your family leaving little presents on your desk—flowers, balloons, chocolate, even cupcakes from your favorite bakery. They were all so busy setting it up that they didn’t notice as you walked up behind them, peering over their shoulders. 

“Looks good, guys.” 

“You think—” Derek did a double take and clutched his chest. “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” 

You laughed and smiled at him, dropping your bag onto your chair. “It looks wonderful. You guys didn’t have to do anything for me–”

“Actually, we did. How could we not? I mean! She’s home! She’s back solving crimes in sexy-looking outfits!” Garcia wrapped her arm around your shoulders, resting her head on yours. 

“I love it, guys, thank you.” 

JJ briskly walked past you all, giving you a brief smile, almost running up the stairs and into Hotch’s office. 

“Well, looks like you’re getting thrown right back into it.” Derek sighed. 

Hotch came out of his office and smiled at you before nodding at the others. “Wheels up in forty, everyone. I’ll brief you all on the plane.” 

“Good.” 

“Just breathe y/n. Okay? I’ll be the one at the end of the altar with the incredibly well-tailored suit and those flowers you like so much pinned to my chest.”

“You’re gonna cry.” You whispered jokingly, taking in a deeper breath than before. “I look so good in this dress. I actually was crying about it before I made Emily call you.” 

“It’s like you’re trying to kill me.”

Derek knocked on your door, leaning his ear up against it, trying to hear what you were saying. He called out your name, and after about a minute, you told him it was unlocked. 

“Can I come in?”

“If you want Derek, it is entirely up to you.” 

He opened the door, tears welling up the second he saw you. 

Hearing him enter, you faced him, smiling softly at him. 

All Derek could do was take you in for a second, unable to really think of what he was about to tell you. This felt a bit ridiculous since he was there when you picked out the dress, but watching you now, ready to actually wear it for its intended purpose, was a whole different ball game. 

“You look…..”

“Right.” You whispered, walking over and squeezing his hand. “I’m ready. Let’s do this thing before shit goes south.”

______________________________________________________________

“Y/n, You are the love of my life, and I could give you an eternal list of every single moment of my life where I felt nothing but complete and utter adoration for you. But then last week, you picked the movie you thought we should watch: a nineties rom-com, obviously, with big romantic gestures and a heroine who doesn’t need to be tamed. And those two inspired me to give you instead a list of the ten things I hate about you.” 

Spencer had gotten a good look at you for the first time in a long time. He had already felt guilty about the fact that he had Maeve and that you had broken up. But what he had failed to realize was the same thing Derek had–You were someone entirely different, a ghost of yourself. The guilt was gnawing through his stomach when he told Hotch what was going on, and he had begged Hotch to let you sit out, trying to save you from this, but clearly, Spencer couldn’t do anything right for you anymore. He hadn’t been able to in a very long time. Hotch had cleared his throat while Spencer shook his head. “I-I tried Hotch, I really didn’t want…”

He just nodded at Spencer. “I know, Reid, but you must have known there was no way this conversation would go any better than that.” 

Reid just nodded and stood up, going out into the bullpen, not missing the way all of their eyes snapped to him as Penelope dumped her broken mug into the trash. 

Before anyone could say anything, Hotch walked out of his office and looked at everyone. “As you all could have guessed, Agent Y/L/N will not be joining us on this case. I expect everyone in the conference room in ten.” with that, Hotch walked past Reid and down the stairs toward where he had assumed you had run off to. 

Reid just returned to his desk, sitting and staring at your now empty desk. Hotch had fulfilled your request, letting you move across the bullpen so you didn’t have to sit next to him anymore. 

Some part of the thought that you couldn’t even look at him anymore caused his gut to lurch, causing his hearing to burst for a moment. Maybe this was too fucked up. Perhaps he had been wrong. He thought he was doing the right thing by letting you go, not weighing you down with all his own bullshit, but he realized he had failed to pay attention. 

Spencer thought long and hard, trying to piece together everything he had thought about in the past couple of months when it came to you, and that’s when he realized it was every day. He thought about you every day. 

But he had ignored you. He had failed to notice as you crumbled to nothing in front of him. 

“Number ten is that I hate the way you fold laundry. It’s incredible how you manage to fold every single item in a completely different manner. It baffles me. One of the great mysteries in this world that we might never have the answer to.” 

“So you two spoke?”

You held up your finger as you finished the prosecco in your glass. Once you finished, casually, you picked up the bottle and poured yourself a second glass, only beginning to speak when the glass had been filled to your liking. 

“He came over to my apartment, Derek. I had already opened the door, and what was I going to say—”

“How about no?”

“It’s rude to interrupt Derek Morgan.” Penelope elbowed him and took a sip from her own glass. “But he’s right, Y/n. You could have said no and slammed the door in his face.” 

“But that’s not who I am. You know I’m a sucker for closure. You know I wanted to talk to him anyway. I just wasn’t expecting the discussion that ended up happening….”

Derek raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Do tell Princess.”

You shrugged and took another sip. “We talked about Maeve.”  

The looks you received were exactly what you had expected, only because it was how you felt about the conversation. 

“Number nine. I hate how you pick out what we will watch each week. You just skim through every single title on every platform until the one with the right ‘energy’ calls out to you. And they’re never the same. You manage to match a film to the night perfectly, and I hate how well you can pinpoint that about me. 

“Eight. I hate the way you drive. You manage to be the safest and most dangerous person on the road. There’s nothing more to that one. You terrify me.” 

“I cannot believe you, Spencer Reid. You have the audacity to come to my house, lose at chess, and then accuse me of being the reason our relationship ended!?”

“That’s not what I said.” His voice was desperate. “I’m not blaming anyone but myself, okay? I fucked up. I know I fucked up. I just—You were so–”

“I was so what, Spencer. What about me was just soooo fucking terrifying to you that you decided you didn’t want to propose to me anymore.” 

“That’s not fair.” 

Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucked in the head if you think the part that isn’t fair is me calling you out on that.” 

Spencer paced around, running his hands through his hair. He was going to wear a path in your carpet the way he was pacing back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. 

“Seven. I hate how captivating you are. Whenever you tell a story, there’s no use in getting any work done because all anyone can do is wait for the story to be finished. If there’s no ending–I’ve watched Morgan sulk at his desk until you returned from a meeting because you were running late and didn’t wrap up the end of the story for him. Something about the way you speak, the way you capture people’s attention, is one of the most dangerous weapons I’ve ever seen on the planet. 

“I hate—oh, sorry–Number six.” He smiled at you and squeezed your head. You were shaking slightly as you rapidly blinked away tears, trying to inhale and exhale through your nose. It wasn’t working. Every word this man said made you one second closer to jumping onto him and kissing him senseless. “I hate how smart you are. It’s ridiculous. You can argue so beautifully and eloquently that it makes anyone arguing against you look like a fucking idiot. You speak four fucking languages, making you invincible and even more aggravating since you’ve decided to start learning a fifth one. You have started to beat me every other game in chess, which is actually humiliating for me, and I can’t figure out how you’re doing it. You read everything under the sun and still manage to have a life, friends, and family. I don’t know anyone in the world who could compare to your intellect.”

“Five. I hate how you steal my chocolate-covered pretzels. I bought you a whole fucking cabinet’s worth, and somehow, mine still got eaten.” 

You watched him give you a bit of a stink eye for that one, causing you to kiss his hand lightly. “My apologies.”

“You don’t mean it, and you know it.” He grumbled, flipping his page so that he could keep reading. 

“I hate how beautiful you are. It’s distracting. I can’t work near you anymore because all I want to do is daydream about you. I want to watch you smile for the rest of my life if I can help it.” 

“Three. I hate how much you care. It terrifies me how much you care about other people. I have seen you at your best and your worst moments.” You squeezed his hand in reassurance. “I have seen the worst outcomes of cases we could ever imagine, or the best, and yet you put the same amount of effort and care into all of them. It’s infuriating because you put your life on the line constantly to be able to give people a chance, whether that be to save them from others or to save them from themselves. You are the most considerate person in the world, even to those who might not deserve it.” 

This was not a good case. 

It was never a ‘good case,’ but this one just sucked the absolute life out of you. You had been back for only a month, and it was going too well. You were on top of your game. You were better than ever—but you knew the other shoe would drop.

And it did. 

You were never a big fan of getting shot at, but you would prefer that rather than have to escape a burning building. It was one of your biggest fears, and here it was, being realized. 

You had managed to crawl down to the first floor before everything started to go black. He had sealed the windows. He had sprinkled broken glass along the stairs, causing you to rip open your legs and hands as you slid down the stairs. The more significant shards of glass shredding the back of your pants. It was fucking painful. But you had managed to make it to the kitchen. 

That’s when you saw the firefighters bursting through doors, trying to contain the fire surrounding you. You could feel the burn on your skin as they pulled you out of the building, blood dripping down your legs and hands. 

You must have been one fucked up sight for Hotch to drop everything he was doing and run over to you. But you wished he didn’t because the building behind you exploded. The flames must have hit the gas line, and the house came crashing down. 

You were thrown back from the force, causing you to land on your back. Nothing was broken, nothing was sprained, but adding road rash and hearing loss to your ever-growing list of injuries was not fun. 

Spencer and Hotch, who were shoved to the ground by the blast, scrambled over to you, where you were just lying on the ground, facing the sky, trying to breathe. 

Maybe they were yelling your name or just trying to speak to you, but your head buzzed with the remnants of the explosion. 

You watched as the sky above you filled with smoke and flickered with red hues. At some point, you saw Spencer come into your line of view. He was definitely mouthing your name. 

Just then, like a wave crashing over you again, your hearing came back. Overwhelming could barely describe the feeling of shock running through your body. Your eyes widened as tears sprung to your eyes, your lungs gasping for air, and your mind flooded with adrenaline, with panic. 

“Y/N. Hey. Listen to me. Hey.” Hotch had been trying to get you to sit up. He was going through his own internal panic attack—this scene was a little too close to NYC, to Kate. 

Ambulance sirens blared, and you could hear a beam crash down and spur on the fire—” It hurts. So. Bad.” You finally managed to whisper, still gasping for air. 

Reid wasn’t sure you were even registering that you were sobbing and that tears were racing down your cheeks. 

“Can you sit up?” 

“My hands.” You mumbled. “There-there was glass…so much…” 

You flinched as Hotch yelled for a gurney. 

“I need you to try and sit up, okay?” Spencer was next to you. He was on his hands and knees, slowly trying to gain your attention. There is a gentle touch on the arm here and a brush of your hair out of your eyes. He was just trying to give you peace, a breath amid everything going on.

“Spence.” You whined, flexing your hand, wincing when a tiny shard of glass shifted in your palm, causing even more pain. 

“I know.” He said to you, gently taking your hand and wincing as he saw the microscopic shards scattered across your palm. “I need you to sit up for me.” 

“Please don’t make me get up, Spence.” You whispered. 

Hotch had moved away from the both of you, trying to clear a path so two EMTs could reach you. 

“Once you sit up, I promise you won’t have to do anything else.” 

You closed your eyes and let out a cry. It felt so relieving to just let whatever tension you had left in your body. But the thought of not doing anything sounded even better, so you slowly made your way to a sitting position, leaning against Spencer’s chest as he kissed your head and carefully ran his hand up and down your arm. 

Spencer’s entire body relaxed into yours. He had never been more grateful that you could make it out of that building before…he didn’t want to think about what else would have happened. The two of you had just started talking again. You were hanging out. He would have never forgiven himself if he left things the way they were. 

It felt wrong for him to be grateful at how much you got hurt because all of your limbs were still intact, and you were still conscious, still breathing. But he was thankful as he held you on the pavement, in the middle of the road, while everyone ran around you both. 

You, on the other hand, were not happy to be sitting up. The adrenaline started to wear off, and your body was no longer buzzing. “Spence.” You whispered to him, trying to get his attention. You were nauseous, and the world was spinning. Everything was phasing in, and out of clarity, you could actually feel the earth rotating. 

“Spence.” This time, it was said with more urgency. And it caught his attention. “I need to lie back down.” 

“You can’t—”

“I’m gonna vomit.” 

“Shit shit shit, okay, nausea is usually a sign of a concussion, a really bad one, most likely in the red zone—”

“Spencer, please.” You mumbled, closing your eyes and slumping against him, trying your best to hold down whatever you felt slowly creeping up your throat. 

“I can’t let you lay back down.” He mumbled, turning you in his arms, prepping for whatever would come out. 

Luckily for both of you, the two EMTs and Hotch had made it back over, bucket in hand, because Hotch had told them you most likely had a concussion. And god bless that stupid bucket because it managed to save some of your dignity by not throwing up all over the street. The EMTs had checked you out, flashing that stupid fucking light in your eyes, looking at your hands and doing their best to pull out some of the larger chunks of glass, and then helping to get you onto a gurney, and eventually into an ambulance to be shipped off to the nearest hospital. 

Spencer was the only person you would allow to come with you in the ambulance. 

“Two. I hate how well you know me and can read me like an open book. I have never met someone who knew me in the same way you could. You know things about me before I could even fathom the possibilities. You have been there for me in some of the darkest times of my life, and I would not have survived if it wasn’t for you. You picked me off the ground countless times, more than I could ever repay you for.” 

“And last but not least. I hate how I can’t live without you. I hate that if you’re not in the same room as me, I can’t breathe. I hate how you manage to make my days filled with comfort, support, and love when sometimes I don’t deserve it. I hate when you go away to conferences, and I have to wake up to an empty bed, and the only thing that motivates me is the fact that I know you’ll text me as soon as you’re awake. I hate how you are the last person I want to see at night before I go to sleep. And I hate that I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.”

You were fully crying, tears tracking down your cheeks, as you squeezed his hand tightly. You laughed slightly, trying to wipe away one of the stray tears, but he beat you to it, using his thumb to wipe away your tears gently. 

“Did you just quote When Harry Met Sally at me?” 

He smiled cheekily, handing the paper back to Derek, who put it in his pocket. “What else would I be able to quote at you? It was playing that night…” 

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile across your face. You heard him whisper, “I love you,” but it still made your heart ache. 

“Okay, Doctor Reid. Work your magic.” 

“You make it sound like I’m performing a spell or something. I’m literally just fixing your computer.” 

You snorted and shrugged. “Isn’t it you who always said that physics and magic are basically the same thing.”

“Okay, yes, but—”

“And computer science is a science, right?” 

Spencer just rolled his eyes, realizing he would not win this argument, and began to futz with your desktop. 

It had crashed on you while you were in the middle of a report. At home. In your pajamas. 

This was a practice that was familiar to Spencer. Whenever you were working on something that was not classified or very sensitive information, you had gotten special clearance from Hotch to bring it home. So Spencer has seen you write up preliminary profiles for cases around the country in nothing but your pajamas many times. 

Except he hasn’t seen you in just pajama shorts and a tank top since, well. 

He was supposed to be focusing on the desktop, and that is what he is going to do. 

“I really appreciate you coming over at like 10 pm, Spence. I really do. I’m sure you were busy, so I really appreciate it.”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “It was no trouble, really. Besides.” He turned back to the screen with a cheeky grin across his face. “I know how you get when something breaks.” 

Your jaw dropped slightly, and you leaned against the kitchen counter. “Spencer. Are you…flirting with me…”

His face turned slightly red as he quickly faced the computer screen again. “And so what if I am,” he mumbled, focusing on the task at hand. He wasn’t sure how you managed to freeze your computer this badly, but he was determined to work it out. 

You shrugged and checked your phone, looking at the text from Emily that you had chosen to ignore. Maybe she told you not to ask Spencer over. Maybe she had warned against moving too quickly with anything. 

But you were a grown adult, you could make your own choices. You could—

“It’s, uh, it’s all fixed for you.” Spencer had stood up and was nervously fiddling with his hands. He hasn’t been like this towards you since you had both started dating over seven years ago. 

You bit your lip and casually turned your phone on DnD. 

“Thanks, Spence. I really appreciate it.” 

He nodded, doing his best to stop eying you up and down. 

The two of you stood there, unsure of how to continue on with one another. 

The tension was thick, almost like a humidity in the air that covered your skin and ruined your hair, just by stepping into it. 

Spencer eventually broke eye contact and wiped his hands on his pants. “Well, I’m going to uh…Have a good night.” He quickly grabbed his bag from the counter and shut the door behind him. 

Your hands dragged down your face as you sighed and shook your head. Maybe it was for the best that you two just stayed friends. Maybe it was for the best that you two never were in a relationship again. You remembered what happened last time. Maybe you should just finish the report and go to bed. Or maybe you should run after him. It wouldn’t be that embarrassing, considering he was staring back at you, right? 

Who said you didn’t deserve to make a bad decision every now and again. 

You grabbed your keys and slid on your slippers, not even bothering to grab a coat. You opened the door and came face to face with an out-of-breath Spencer just about to knock on your door. You took one look at each other. 

And that’s when he reached down and brought your lips to his. 

Emily reached over and gently handed you your vows.

“Fuck fuck fuck.�� You whispered, causing everyone around you to laugh softly at you, desperately trying to stop crying. 

“I said I was going to try not to cry during his, and that obviously was not the case.” You slowly exhaled your lips, taking his hand and smiling up at him.

“Hey.” You whispered, causing him to whisper it back to you. “So–um. I wrote my vows a long time ago. Like, a while back. And I was looking for them and almost couldn’t find them. But I remembered that I had written them in that really small brown, leather journal thing that you got me for one of my birthdays that I kept losing because I always put it down and never remembered where.” 

The small, collected group laughed together, watching you turn the page in that small brown leather journal. 

“I didn’t know where I wanted to start when writing my vows. I knew how I wanted it to end, though. I’ve always known how I wanted my life to end and everything to go. So that’s what I did. I started at my endgame and worked my way backward. But shit happens, and life never goes according to plan. Never.” 

He squeezed your hand. 

Those weeks after were fucking brutal for you. 

Relaxing was something you were never fantastic at, so having to take two weeks off to recover from your concussion, burns, cuts, and bruises was excruciating. 

Maybe it would have been worse if a certain someone wasn’t basically living in your apartment with you, doing anything and everything to be there for you. 

You woke up to freshly brewed coffee, sometimes breakfast if he wasn’t away on a case. Sometimes, he’d be home in time to make you both dinner. It felt oddly domestic for you, reminding you of before Maeve, before everything that had gone down over the phone. 

Once the two weeks were over, he might have visited to check up on you. There would be nights where he would stay over just in case your head or back started to hurt again. It took more convincing for Spencer to let you go back to work than it did for your actual neurologist. 

“Need I remind you I’m a doctor too, Spencer. I’m going back to work on Monday, meaning two over one, majority rules.” 

Spencer scoffed and crossed his arms. “The lights will cause headaches, and staring at screens and files will only add to that. It’s a bad idea, y/n. Especially if we have to go somewhere, traveling across the country in a plane. You might as well knock yourself out because the air pressure would kill your head and ear drums.” 

“Always the one for dramatics, aren’t we.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m not being dramatic. I just care about your well-being, apparently more than you do—”

“Spence.”

“What.”

You kissed him softly. Just to shut him up. There were no ulterior motives. None. 

He hummed, hands sliding around your waist, keeping you close to him as you broke the kiss. 

That was another development you were keeping under wraps. The two of you might have decided to give it another shot. It had been over a month since you rejoined the BAU, and even before you got severely injured, Spencer had been doing everything he could to apologize. Whether that be his apologies or through his actions, he was stepping up. 

But both of you had yet to outright tell the others. Emily knew something was going on, especially when you showed up to work in the same outfit two days in a row, but she had assumed you had seen someone else, not your ex. 

You didn’t mind, though, when he took such good care of you when he bought you fresh flowers every week, when he kissed you past the point of breathing when he would—

“What are you thinking about?” Spencer whispered, interrupting whatever spiral you had started.

“What book I should read next.” 

“Liar.” He squeezed your sides, laughing softly and kissing you again. 

“There’s not much I can say about how life doesn’t go as planned since everyone here with us understands and knows how quickly life changes. But I realized that I need to have you by my side regardless of how it changes. I don’t want to be back in a place where I’m not with you because it just didn’t make any sense.” 

“My vows are short because I would never make it through them if they were any longer.” 

This caused another ripple of laughter throughout your friends, giving your fiancé a moment to wipe away another stray tear on your cheek. 

“All of this to say.” You cleared your throat, but it didn’t stop the tears from clouding your vision. “Shit. Give me a second.” 

Emily gave you a tissue, which you used to wipe under your eyes. You shook your hands slightly, trying to calm yourself down and shake out the rest of the emotions so that you could at least finish saying your vows. 

“Having begun to love you, I love you forever—in all changes, in all disgraces, because you are yourself.”

Spencer beamed joyfully, realizing you followed his same path, quoting something you knew the other loved. 

And suddenly, the stars aligned. A soft breeze picked up, and the world was quiet. 

Everything was alright. Everything was okay. 

And for that beautiful, brief moment, you had everything you could have ever asked for, and there was nothing you would have changed, nothing in the whole world that was worth the love and happiness you felt in this moment, beaming at Spencer as you both said

I do. 

“To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” - Victor Hugo, Les Misérables

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @gubzgirl @onlyspence @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mynameisnotokay @kalulakunundrum @academiareid @lilsunshine1092 @brilliantreid @shqwqrma @cluelessteam @lockwoods-coat-and-reids-vests @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @r-3dlips @lilrios-world @hereforfun22-blog @mega-kittyglitter-1

[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Second Chances

Love Bites, Epilogue // Love Bites {Masterlist}

Ship: Astarion Ancunin x fem!vampire spawn!elf!Tav/reader

Summary: Home is a place and home is people. You have quite the large family now, and it's time to provide for them, however you may.

Word Count: 5,729 words

Warnings: 18+, slice of life, spawn ending, Astarion is reunited with his parents, wedding planning, Astarion experimenting with his boundaries, open-ended

18+ Warnings: consensual touching, consensual sex, utilizing Elvish anatomy, fingering, biting, handjob, taking it slow, check-ins, aftercare

Notes: Thank you to everyone who's read Love Bites! I will eventually be adding more to this universe in this future; if you have any requests (add-ons to this story or otherwise), DM me!

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

It was an unusually busy night for the tavern. Between the patrons sitting at your bartop and the servers bustling back and forth between their tables and the bar with drink orders, you’d hardly had a moment to slow down and breathe—so it was a good thing you no longer needed to breathe. 

One of your patrons—a regular from before your time with a tadpole in your head—paid his dues and wished you a good night. You sent him off with a smile and a wave and cleared away his empty glass. You hardly had the time to wash the glass before someone cleared their throat behind you.

“I’ll be with you in just a second,” you started, not even looking over your shoulder.

Your visitor giggled. “Oh, bartender, give me a glass of your best red,” he drawled. You turned around with a smile and found your fiancé leaning on your bartop, a dopey, pretty smile on his face. 

“Wait your turn like the rest of these lovely people,” you teased, gesturing to your full bar. Regardless, you leaned over the bar and kissed him quickly.

Astarion chuckled. “Oooo, whatever would the owner say, seeing the bartender kissing her customers?”

You rolled your eyes. “Good thing I’m the owner, then, hmm?” 

Astarion grinned. “Oh, yes.”

“Did you just get back from the Underdark?” you asked, making another cocktail as you talked.

He nodded. “Yes. They’re all doing fine down there, darling, I promise. I’ll tell you all about it when we get home.”

“You haven’t been home yet?”

He caught and kissed the back of your hand. “No, I came straight here, I thought you could use the help on a busy night.”

You smiled at him. “Aren’t you sweet? Let me get back to work, love, and I’ll get back to you when it slows down, alright?” You kissed his cheek one last time and went back to the server trying to catch your attention—another vampire spawn with a table-full of drinks to make.

It had taken almost a year after the business with the Netherbrain, but you’d gotten here, with Astarion by your side. You had expected it to take longer to get to this point: a tavern owned and operated by vampires, keeping some of the seven thousand spawn Astarion had freed when he killed his master occupied and a place that welcomed them. Those who didn’t live and work at the tavern had made a place for themselves in the Underdark and visited frequently. 

Public reception hadn’t been great at first. You had just filled a business in a respectable part of town with dangerous creatures, you hadn’t expected Baldur’s Gate to be enthusiastic. But, by some miracle, it had worked. The spawn kept their hands—and their teeth—to themselves, drinking from wild animals and from the blood spared by the butcher shop just down the road. With help from you and Astarion, a community had formed around your little tavern, one that stretched all the way into the Underdark. 

For having seven thousand new “children,” you and Astarion were doing fairly good for yourselves. You’d even had the time to do some adventuring here and there when your companions called for your help. It had been some months since you’d picked up a weapon, but you were hoping this dry spell would be over quickly—you had Gale searching for a pair of Sunwalker rings rumored to be in Waterdeep, and the sooner you got Astarion back into the sunlight, the better. Dalyria was attempting to find or make a cure for vampirism, but she hadn’t found anything yet, so the rings were your best bet for the time being. 

As always, the hours passed quickly. Before you knew it, you were sending the last of the servers home well before sunup. You and Astarion closed up together and locked the door when you left. He slipped his hand into yours as you started walking home.

“The long way or the short way?” he asked.

“The short way,” you said. “I can’t wait to climb into bed.”

Astarion kissed your cheek. “Oh, I wholeheartedly agree, darling. I still can’t get over the joy of sleeping on an actual bed—and with you beside me.”

You snorted. “And not your stupid plank and bedroll?”

He rolled his eyes. “I was making due with what I had!”

You giggled and leaned into him. “I know, I know. We did pretty good for ourselves back then, didn’t we?”

Astarion looked at you fondly. “We did,” he said, kissing your temple. “We did.”

Home was just around the corner—the place Astarion had grown up and where so many of your best memories were. Now that he had gone back to living in those walls, his memory had been coming back in bits and pieces, little snippets of his life before Cazador turned him. Sometimes it was a relief, when a nostalgic little smile would cross his face and he would recite whatever he’d remembered as if in a daze. Other times you found yourself cradling him as he mourned what had been stolen from him. Recently, the happier moments were becoming more frequent.

Astarion unlocked the door for you and shouted over your shoulder, “We’re home, Ma!”

You giggled as you and Selwynn made eye contact as she put down her knife. “She’s right here, Asty, no need to shout.”

Selwynn came over as you pulled your coat off and hung it up. She kissed Astarion’s cheek, cupping his cheek to hold him closer, as if he might escape. However, since his return home, Astarion had never once tried to get out of her grasp quicker than she was ready for. More often than not, he lingered in the hope she’d keep holding her. “How were the spawn today, dear?”

“Oh, they’re doing fine,” Astarion promised. “The tavern’s helping them get a fresh start and they’ve got a nice little village set up in the Underdark. Some of them are even starting families. As it happens, spawn can get pregnant.”

Selwynn raised one elegant brow. “Well, then. I suppose your plans for the future from all those years ago aren’t completely off the table now, are they?”

Astarion laughed. “Slow down, Ma, let us get through the wedding first, alright?”

You smiled at them. “We’ll get there one day,” you promised. “I’m just happy to have him back for now.”

Astarion beamed at you, all fangs, and leaned down to capture your lips in a sweet, searing kiss—the kind of kiss you never would have let his parents see two centuries ago, but no longer cared to hide. 

When he broke the kiss, you were left dizzy and clinging to his arm or you were going to fall over, but Astarion asked easily, if it hadn’t happened, “Where’s Dad?”

“He went to bed early,” Selwynn explained. “Headache. He’s been getting them more often now that he’s stopped trancing regularly.”

You frowned. “If keeping our odd hours doesn’t work, he doesn’t have to. Neither of you have to become nocturnal until we find the Sunwalker rings.”

She gave you a sympathetic smile. “We know we don’t have to, dear, but we want to. We have your wedding to plan, you know. Oh, that reminds me! I made some adjustments to your veil. It’s finished now, if you want to take a look at it.”

“After we eat, absolutely,” you said. “What do we have today?”

“Boar’s blood,” Selwynn said. “I think it should work with my recipe. And I’ve got a few jars left if it doesn’t.”

Selwynn was yet another way you, Astarion, and the other spawn were making normal lives for yourself. Over the past year, she’d been experimenting with cooking and magic to find ways for vampires to eat solid food. A few of her recipes had been successful.

“Looking forward to it, Mama,” Astarion said. He kissed her cheek. Something came over him, clouding his eyes. He shook it off subtly and smiled at his mother. 

“What is it?” she asked. None of his moods escaped her.

“Nothing,” he promised. He kissed the top of her head. “Nothing. I just…I love you.”

Selwynn folded him into a hug he gladly fell into. “I love you, too, Star.”

~❊~

After dinner, the four of you retired to the sitting room. Your wedding dress waited for you on a mannequin, your veil draped over it, your shoes next to it. Astarion jokingly covered his eyes, claiming he didn’t want to see it until your wedding day, but put his hands down when you insisted on showing him the veil. As always, his eye caught on the two portraits of him on the mantle—one from all those years ago, his skin slightly pink and his eyes still honeyed, and another that his parents had commissioned when he returned with his features as they were now, with crimson eyes and features made sharper from blood loss. He was gorgeous in both and you never let on that you noticed him admiring himself; he deserved his likeness, after all this time.

Selwynn’s finished veil was the same one she had been working on two hundred years ago, carefully preserved for all that time. She had added some extra length to it since Astarion had returned with odes to your journey and your love. 

You held it gently in your hands, reverently looking over the delicate lace. “Selwynn, this is…this is beautiful! Thank you so much, I don’t…I don’t know what else to say. Gods, this is absolutely perfect…”

Astarion hooked his chin over your shoulder to look at the veil, resting his hands on your hips. “Oh, Ma, this is perfect! Wait, is that— Are those fangs?” He narrowed his eyes and leaned closer, then gasped. “Is that me biting her?”

You giggled. “Oh, gods, it is!”

“You told my mom about me biting you because I was struggling to hunt?” Astarion whispered in your ear. “Darling…”

“I couldn’t resist,” you teased. “You were just so cute when you begged me to share my prey with you, only to find I’d eaten already so you had to feed from me.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “Sometimes I think you live to embarrass me.”

“It’s a very special moment,” Selwynn reminded her son, lightly pinching his cheek. He made a sound of complaint but the smile on his face suggested he was more than happy to have his mother picking on him again. “It helped you bond together again.”

Thesan smiled into his goblet of wine. “They would have bonded even without the blood drinking, dear. I’m quite certain they always would.”

You leaned into Astarion’s arms, turning to kiss his cheek. “I have to agree with you there, Thesan. Two centuries and I still fell in love with him the second time as easily as I did the first.”

Astarion turned to you with a happy smile, almost purring as he pulled you into a deep kiss. “I love you, too,” he whispered to you, pressing his forehead to yours.

Thesan glanced at his wife. “Is it just me, or are they more touchy than they were before?” 

Selwynn’s smile was answer enough. She cleared her throat to get your attention. “Have you decided on the flowers you want yet?”

“White lilies,” you answered quickly. “There’ll be more, of course, but…the lilies are important.” You glanced at Astarion, remembering setting them on his grave, and he squeezed your hip. 

She pulled out a massive book of flowers. “Well, here—take a seat and we can find some other flowers to match.”

~❊~

You and Astarion spent the last few minutes of night on the rooftop, his arm around your shoulders, your eyes trained on the stars. His thumb rubbed your skin gently, a soothing sensation that was easily lulling you to sleep. But as soon as the sky began to lighten, both of your heads turned toward the horizon. You could feel Astarion’s longing for the sun radiating off of him. 

“Has Gale sent word yet?” Astarion asked. You could hear the barely restrained hope in his voice.

“Not yet,” you sighed. His answering huff made you reach up and squeeze his hand. “It’s alright, honey. It won’t be long now, I can feel it. We just have to be…patient.”

Astarion rubbed his temple. “I know, I know, we need to give him time to— Gods, darling, I hate taking the moral high ground, I’m getting tired of being patient, and I hate relying on—other people.”

You laid your head on his shoulder. “By ‘other people,’ do you mean specifically Gale?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe.”

You bumped your knee against his. “Be nice,” you chided, through your own small giggle as you fondly thought of the boys’ little rivalry. “He’s trying to help us out of the goodness of his heart.”

Astarion sighed dramatically. “Alright, alright—I’ll be civil, even though he has a massive crush on you.”

“He does not! Well, he did, but I’m quite certain he’s moved on, considering we invited him to our wedding.” You kissed his cheek twice in quick succession. “You’re not jealous of his unrequited love for me, are you?”

“Me? Jealous?” he scoffed, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Of course not!”

“Mmhmm,” you teased, not quite believing him. 

The two of you lapsed into comfortable silence, watching the sky become a pale lavender color. The coolness of the night began to warm by a few degrees at a time. Astarion stood and offered you his hand.

“Shall we turn in for the night, my darling?” he asked, though you could see the longing to be in the daylight on his face. You nodded and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

You stood and let him help you crawl back down the roof and wall. He dropped down onto the balcony and caught you in his arms. He held you close to his chest and kissed your forehead. 

“I think I’m quite enjoying this new strength of mine,” he purred.

You grinned at him. “Me too, remind me to keep you happy and fed so you can pick me up like I’m a feather.”

Astarion giggled and swooped you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style. He brought you over to the bed and gently laid you down on it, kissing you softly as he did.

“Practicing for our wedding day?” you joked, wriggling under the bedsheets and getting comfortable.

He chuckled. “Can’t I just enjoy being your knight in shining armor?” He pulled his shirt off and joined you under the blankets.

“Of course you can,” you said, pressing yourself into his side the moment he opened his arms to you for a cuddle. He hummed softly and wrapped the two of you in the blankets. “Comfortable?”

Astarion smiled against you. “Very. I’d quite forgotten what it felt like to sleep on an actual bed.”

You giggled and kissed him softly. You reached up to cup his cheek, brushing your thumb against his cheekbone. You appreciated the beauty of his relaxed, happy face before you whispered, “I love you, Asty. I know I say it all the time, but…I’m glad to have you back.”

When he smiled, one of Astarion’s fangs peeked out over his lip. “I’m glad to be home in your arms.”

You hummed happily, leaning your head against his chest and let yourself relax against him, your hand sliding into his. Astarion kissed the top of your head and wrapped his arm around you, keeping you laying on top of him.

After what felt like a few minutes, though it could have been an hour with how little you were keeping track of the time, Astarion shifted against you. He brushed your hair behind your ear and hesitantly asked, “Darling… Are you…up for some fun, maybe?”

Drowsily, you shifted so you could look up at his face. “I could fool around for a little while. What are you thinking, Asty?”

“I…I think I want to go a little further tonight,” he said.

“How much further?”

“I want you to touch me again.”

You were waking up quickly now. “You feel ready for it?”

He nodded. “As long as we keep taking it slow, I’m ready for a little bit of touching,” he explained. “In…in baby steps.”

You smiled, kissing his jawline. “Of course, darling. What do you want to do?”

He bit his lip and met your eyes. “I think I want to…give you some attention, like we normally do—you can choose if you want to cum on my fingers or my face—and then…when I get aroused…instead of just letting it go down…” He looked away, looking a little like the embarrassed young man you’d first slept with. “We could take care of it instead?”

You grinned. “Oh, darling, of course! I’d love to take care of you, however you want.”

“Your hand,” Astarion said immediately. “I’d like to start simple.”

“And you can always stop me if you change your mind,” you reminded him, a statement that had been established between the two of you since the night Astarion asked to try being intimate with you again. 

For the past few months, you and Astarion had been treading carefully. After making love at his grave, he’d decided to slow down again, and you had respected that decision. A majority of your intimacy had been non-sexual, except for the times he sat you in his lap and reached between your legs. He’d been enjoying pleasuring you but hadn’t wanted to be touched himself, happy to take pleasure from your pleasure—until tonight.

Astarion brushed his lips over your knuckles. “Thank you, darling.” He put his hand on your hip, warm from feeding recently but burning hot from the need now coursing through your veins, even though the thin layer of your silk slip. He toyed with the hem. “May I?”

You nodded and he slipped his hand between your legs. He cupped your cunt through your panties, letting his finger slide along your slit as he pulled his hand back. He rubbed back and forth for a few minutes, pressing soft kisses to your lips as your breathing got heavier. 

Astarion hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and met your gaze. You nodded again and whispered, “Please…” He was quick to pull them down enough to get his hand against your pussy again. One finger slid between your folds, rubbing gently. 

“Already a little wet for me,” he murmured, kissing the tip of your ear. You shuddered. “Oh, did you like that, my love?” He did it again, this time lightly scraping his teeth over the shell of your ear and you whimpered softly.

Astarion brought his hand up from your slit, getting wetter by the second, and used one finger to start rubbing circles on your clit. Automatically, you bucked into his hand. Even though he’d been touching you like this for months now, it still felt new every time and sent shocks of electricity through your body. 

You let a small whine slip past your lips and Astarion beamed. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me hear you. Let me hear how good I make you feel.”

You brought a hand up to his shoulder, gripping him tightly, glad you were laying down and pressed against him or the subtle pressure he was adding to your clit was going to make your knees collapse beneath you. “Astarion,” you whimpered, kissing him rapidly. “Astarion, oh gods…”

He chuckled and soothed you with his free hand rubbing your back. He kissed you deeply and you moaned into his mouth.

“Are you ready for more?” he murmured, sliding his fingers down from your clit to your entrance before you could answer. He coated his fingers in the wetness he found there. He met your eyes as he rubbed your pussy. “Do you want my fingers inside you, darling?”

“Yes, please,” you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. He smiled at you, his eyes fond, and teased you a few times by sliding the tip of his finger in and then pulling it out without going any further. You whined pitifully, nipping gently at his jaw.

“Alright, alright,” he relented, laughing a little. “One or two?”

You nuzzled into his neck. “Start with one.”

Astarion pushed one finger into you with ease. He began pumping it in and out, curling up to graze your spongy walls, careful to hit your favorite spot every time. He had you moaning his name into his neck in no time, your entire body shaking against his. 

“You’re doing so good for me, love,” he murmured into your ear. “You’re so tight around my fingers… I love it when you moan like this, keep saying my name, darling. Can you take another finger, sweet girl?”

You nodded. “Yes, Asty! Please, oh gods…” You moaned deeply as he pulled his finger out, then pushed two back in. You clenched tightly around his fingers. “Gods, you feel so damn good!”

Astarion grinned. “Good girl, just feel good for me, alright? Tell me how it feels, tell me what you need.”

“A l-little faster,” you stammered out between your panting breaths. 

He pumped his fingers faster, so much faster that you knew his wrist would start hurting soon. But it did the trick—you threw your head back with a loud moan, fresh slick coating his fingers. You could already feel yourself getting close, but your orgasm seemed just a little out of your reach…

“T-touch my clit? Please?” you begged. “I’m almost there…”

Astarion kept his fingers moving inside you as he brought his thumb to your clit. He pressed down lightly and began rubbing in circles. He switched the direction he moved his thumb in every so often to catch you off guard, making your legs shake every time. 

“Can I suck on your tits?” he murmured, eyeing them where they were about to spill out of your slip anyway from the angle you lay in. 

“Yes, please!” you gasped, your walls fluttering and clenching. It wouldn’t be long now.

Astarion whispered his thanks in Elvish and yanked your neckline down. He covered both of your breasts in kisses, nicking your skin with his fangs every so often and licking up the beads of blood after. He made eye contact with you as he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples and began to happily suck. His eyes fluttered shut and you put your hand in his hair, keeping his head at your breast, keeping the pressure light so he could pull away whenever he wished. He hummed happily and slowly his hips began grinding against your thigh.

His hardness filled you with unbelievable glee. You stuck your leg out further so he could get better friction. The movement opened you up more and Astarion’s fingers sank deeper into you. You wailed his name.

Astarion shut you up with a searing kiss, his lips swallowing your cries and grounding you to the reality of your bed. You moaned softly into the kiss.

“Not so loud,” he whispered when he pulled away. He looked at you with lidded eyes. “Keep up like that and you might just finish me without ever touching me.” You whined in protest and he giggled. “I thought you wouldn’t like that.”

“Can I touch you now?” you asked.

He shook his head. “Let me finish you first, darling. You’re so close, I know it. Cum for me and then you can touch me, okay?” You nodded. “Good girl. I’m gonna go a little faster to get you there, love, alright?”

You spread your legs further for him and he kissed your neck, sucking harshly. He curled his fingers deep inside you and rubbed your clit faster. Your legs began to shake, your upper body writhing. You whined until it became a sob. You felt the first waves begin to wash over you, your walls clenching rhythmically. 

“Cum for me,” Astarion demanded in your ear, his voice nearly a growl, and your body obeyed him before the order even processed in your brain. You nearly clamped your legs shut over his hand as your orgasm swept through you, the feeling like glass shattering throughout your body. You bit down on his neck, your teeth sinking in. You tasted his blood, sweet as honey wine on your tongue.

“Astarion!” you whined as you came down from your high, cuddling into his side. He pumped his fingers a few more times, helping you ride it out. He pulled his fingers out of you at the perfect time and sucked them clean, moaning as he did. You whimpered. 

Astarion wrapped his arms around you. “You’re alright,” he soothed, kissing your forehead. “You did good for me, darling. You did so well.”

You rested briefly against his chest, catching your breath. After a few moments, you wriggled against him. “Your turn?” 

“Rest for a minute,” he murmured. He kissed the top of your head.

“Do you still want this?” you asked, scratching his scalp.

Astarion brought one of your hands down to his crotch and gently placed your hand over his length. He gasped, his brows pinching together. “Oh, gods, yes, I want this,” he breathed, hips bucking into your hand. “Darling, you— You feel…”

You smiled at him, kissing his neck softly. “Oh, honey, I’ve barely touched you!”

He blushed. “I know… I’m not gonna last long when you really start touching me.”

“Speaking of… What do you want me to do?” you asked. “What do you think you’re comfortable with?”

He bucked his hips experimentally again. “Start with rubbing me over my pants. You can try squeezing me a little. I…I want to try a regular handjob.”

You started moving your hand over his bulge, reveling in the way he reacted with a sharp intake of breath and his hips desperately following your hand. You watched his face for the key signs that he was disassociating. But his eyelashes were simply fluttering in pleasure. 

“How’s that feel?” you asked, giving him a gentle squeeze. He moaned happily.

“Good,” he panted. “Really good, keep doing that.”

“Rubbing then squeezing?” you clarified. He nodded quickly. You continued the pace, rubbing his bulge until you felt him kick up beneath your hand, then squeezing his length as best as you could through his pants.

Astarion began wiggling underneath you, a flush spreading from his face down to his neck. You cooed at him.

“Do you want more, pretty boy? Does this feel good?”

The flush spread to his chest. “Take my pants off,” he pleaded. “I need to feel more of you.”

You raised an eyebrow, taking your hand off of him. You gently unlaced his pants and began sliding them down his legs. You took your panties completely off your legs at the same time, kicking them to the floor, for your own comfort. “Do you want your boxers on or off?”

Astarion panted, thinking about it. Then he nodded. “Off, I want them off. I want to feel your skin on mine.”

You nodded and kissed him softly. “Thank you for telling me. Keep telling me what you want, okay? If it’s too much, stop me.”

���I will,” he promised. 

You hooked your fingers into the waistband of his boxers. He did the same, ready to help you. “Lift your hips,” you told him. When he did, the two of you pushed his boxers off his waist. You pulled them down his legs, trying not to stare at his erection, and crawled back up to lay down next to him. You tucked yourself into his side again and looked up at his face.

“I’m okay,” he assured you, answering your question before you could even get it out. “Please touch me.”

You reached down, coated your hand in your own juices, and laid your hand over his hard cock. He took a steadying breath and nodded for you to continue. You wrapped your hand around him and slowly began stroking him. 

Astarion let out a loud moan, his hips stuttering into your hand. 

“Look who’s being loud now,” you teased. The flush reaching his chest deepened.

Slowly, as he got used to your rhythm, Astarion began fucking into your hand, rolling his hips at a leisurely pace you were careful to match. 

“Feel good?” you asked him, nuzzling against him. He nodded. “Words, please, honey.”

Astarion nodded again and rasped out, “Feels great, darling… Don’t stop, please, don’t stop what you’re doing.”

“Good boy,” you whispered and his cock twitched in your hand. You raised a brow but left that for a later discussion. 

You watched Astarion carefully, appreciating the way he reacted to your touch. A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, created both through his writhing and the attempt to hold back his orgasm. His hips pistoned into your fist, his face blissful and his lashes fluttering rapidly, his legs shaking, his hands unable to keep still.

You took his hand in your free one and squeezed gently. He brought your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your hand. You smiled warmly at him.

“Can—oh, gods, fuck!—can you go a little faster?” he asked, panting heavily. 

“Of course, honey,” you promised. You leaned down to kiss his neck, soothing your love bite with your tongue, as you pumped him faster, letting him whine against your lips. You glanced down, watching the pre-cum start to leak from his cock. “Gods, you’re a pretty sight when you feel good…”

Astarion whimpered and nestled into your neck. He bucked a little more ferociously into your hand, smiling into your skin. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too, Astarion,” you murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Still feeling good?”

He nodded. “But…can you pay more attention to my head?”

You looked down at his pink, leaking tip. “Sure thing, honey.” You swiped your thumb over his tip, collecting his pre-cum and further slicking his cock with it. He whined, the muscles of his abdomen tightening. You brought your hand up to his head and focused on stimulating it. Astarion’s whines became incredibly high-pitched as he threw his head back.

“Darling, I’m— I’m close,” he gasped, hips losing their rhythm. 

You met his gaze and looked at him lovingly, using your free hand to brush his hair from his forehead. You kissed his forehead and his lips latched onto your neck. You felt his teeth sink in, giving you a love bite to match the one you’d sucked onto his neck. “Cum for me,” you whispered to him, echoing his earlier statement to you.

Just as it had been for you, the command was magic. Astarion moaned wantonly and fucked your hand desperately until his entire body curled inward as he came. Thick ropes of cum fell onto your hand. His orgasm racked his whole body and lasted far longer than you had expected. You stroked him gently, pumping him through it until he let out a little whimper of overstimulation.

You let him go and licked your hand clean just as he had. He stared at you with a little smile on his face. With your hand clean, you laid back down next to him.

“Are you okay?” you asked, gently rubbing your hand over his chest and stomach.

Astarion grinned at you. “That was… Gods. That was wonderful. I feel great!” He let out a little giggle, slightly astonished. “I feel like I’m floating.” He rolled onto his side and pulled you into his arms. “Thank you for doing that.”

You kissed him gently, licking into his mouth and letting him deepen it. He dominated the kiss quickly and you let him take control. He made a small sound of surprise and you realized he could taste himself on your tongue. 

A string of spit connected your lips when he pulled away. The two of you giggled, the sexual tension in the room thinning immediately. You pulled him back down to you and cuddled into his chest. 

“Any time you want to be touched, I will do whatever you ask,” you promised. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Let me clean you up, Asty,” you said. You pulled a washcloth from the nightstand—which had been prepared for this like it always had been two centuries ago—and gently wiped him clean. He took it from you and did the same to you, then pulled the covers back over you.

“Can we sleep naked?” he asked. “I want your skin tonight.”

You nodded. “I want yours, too,” you agreed. You snuggled into his side, resting your head against his chest. “This was amazing, Astarion.”

He hummed his agreement, kissing your nose. “Absolutely fantastic.”

“But this isn’t all you are to me, Asty,” you reminded him. “I know I say it every time we do anything sexual, but you could tell me right now you wanted it all to stop and I wouldn’t protest. I’d stay by your side. You are enough for me.”

Astarion hugged you tight. “You don’t have to worry about that, darling. You’ll get all of me again one day, I promise. I… I trust you with my body, more than I’ve ever trusted anyone with anything before.” He kissed you gingerly. 

You blinked back the joyful tears that had filled your eyes. “I love you. I love you so much.”

Astarion laced your fingers together. “I love you, too.” He met your gaze. “How did I get so lucky to find you again? To be marrying you again?”

“I think your dad’s right,” you said. “I think we’d find each other again in any universe.”

Astarion buried his face into your neck and mumbled something that sounded like, “Love you.”

You wrapped him up in your arms and whispered, “Love you, too.”

One after the other, you dropped into trance, your hands still laced together. The love bites you’d left each other slowly deepened in color throughout the night. Your memories were peaceful and mostly of Astarion. You had a long road ahead of you, but it was a road you’d walk together. With Astarion at your side, your worries faded away; things would turn out fine.

☞ ❊ ☜

[Image Caption: I do not give permission to repost, translate, or publish my work on any other site or app by anyone except myself. I do not give permission for my work to be fed into AI (for audio, art, or writing).]

Baldur's Gate 3 // Astarion Ancunin

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the Astarion taglist!} @wayward-hel @cheeslyy @ofmyth-andmagicart @neetheslayer @whispering-depths @freesidexjunkie @lightsinmycity @the0ldmann @gobbodoggo @oooof-ifellforyou @beeblisss @fangboner @aquaarietes @fiercest-eigengrau-skies @niqhtfell @call-me-nyxx @lueji-m @ceres-xiv @tricksy-trinity @graynstairs @rosa-rubus @ynisthatyou @thegoodwitchs-blog @catching-fire-in-the-wind @kiyastrf94 @vincemachina @silverfangmarks @ravenswritingroom @hinata7346 @hellethil @makepastanotwar13 @caramel-hufflepuff @beemiilk @mypainischronicbutmyassisiconic @starwatch77 @julianmarie @sadexistentialism @supernaturallover15 @writinghound @frankie-mercury @kindadolly @infernalrusalka

[holly-the-trash-writer]

Runaway Fiancé Part 1

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Part 2

Summary: You find out about J.J's love confession to Spencer, one month before your wedding. Why didn't Spencer tell you? Does he love her too? Can you get past this or will J.J come between you?

Word Count: 2,295

A/N: This was another work with an OC character but I really wanted to do it again with Reader. Also. I'm sorry. But J.J sucks. (I'll be honest I've never seen this episode because I refuse but like... bitch, you better be joking)

Yours and Spencer’s wedding day was coming up fast.  

The happiest day of your lives was only a month away. 

That’s when J.J and Spencer got caught up in a life-threatening situation and flipped everything on its head. 

You could tell that something changed with Spencer after the ordeal. 

He pulled away from you almost completely, he barely listened to any of your wedding plans and yous hadn’t spoken properly in two days. 

Now, being held at gun point isn’t something you can just walk away from, everyone on the team knows that but that’s not what’s wrong here. 

There was something else. You were sure of it. 

And it all decided to come to blows on Rossi’s wedding night. 

Spencer wasn’t himself. He isn’t spinning you around on the dancefloor like he usually did or doing magic with Henry or even laughing with the team. 

Instead, the love of your life was sitting at the table alone, drinking and thinking. 

You watched him stare into space and decided to ask Penelope about it. She would know if something was going on.  

You made your way over to the dancefloor where Luke was spinning Penelope around. 

You felt bad to interrupt them, but you needed to know if Penelope knew anything. 

Narrowly avoiding their waving hands, you tapped Penelope on the shoulder, “I’m so sorry to interrupt but can I talk to you for a minute, P?” 

Penelope grinned and linked arms with you, “Of course!” before they walked off, she waved her finger seriously at Luke, “Do not move.” to which Luke only laughed. 

You led her over to the corner and subtly gestured to Spencer who was sitting with his back to you, “Has he said anything to you about the other day?” 

Penelope thought for a moment before shaking her head, “No, honey, why do you ask?” 

“He’s barely spoken to me, danced or even talked to Henry. He’s been sitting there drinking quietly almost all night and I’m worried that whatever happened in that shop really got to him.” 

Penelope looked over sadly, “He hasn’t said anything to me. But I’m sure he’s alright, just a bit shaken up. He just needs some of your good lovin and he will be our regular boy wonder again.” She nudged you knowingly, “And it’s probably this reception is making him think of his own big day in a few weeks.” 

“Yeah.” You smiled at the thought of your wedding being so close, “You’re probably right. I’m feeling it myself. This will be me soon.” 

Penelope grinned and gave her a hug, “And it will be perfect. I’ll make sure of it.” 

You giggled and gave her a big hug, “Thanks, P.” 

With Penelope’s words fresh in your brain, you decided to just make Spencer feel as loved and cared for as possible, letting him know you were here when he felt ready to come to you. You grabbed two fresh drinks from the bar and made your way over to the table Spencer was sitting at. 

You slowed down and couldn’t stop the small frown appearing on your face when you noticed that J.J was now sitting beside him and the two were talking quietly.  

When you had found out that Spencer used to have a crush on J.J it really twisted your view of her. Not that it was her fault of course. But since they were such good friends, you just couldn’t help the insecurity that bubbled within you when they spent time together. Not that you’d ever say anything to anyone about it. 

Taking a deep breath, you shook off any of the negative feelings. You were just going to walk up and join them; you didn’t mean to eavesdrop on their conversation. 

“What I said… I said to throw the unsub off. Nothing more.” J.J’s voice wavered. 

Spencer sighed, “Truth or dare?” 

J.J turned to him, her eyes were shining with tears, “Truth.” 

“Did you mean it?” Spencer turned his head to look at her as well, “Do you love me?” 

Your blood ran cold. 

Your heart thundered in your chest as the fog cleared and you now understood why Spencer had been acting so distant all day. 

J.J told Spencer she loved him. 

Your fiancé. 

Your brain began to shut down and go ninety miles per hour all at the same time. You couldn’t process what just happened. 

Spencer nodded, the look on J.J’s face told him more than words ever could. He pushed his chair back and moved to turn away from the table which, unfortunately for you, meant that he was now frozen in place and staring right at you. J.J noticed Spencer freeze and turned in the seat also stiffening when she saw you there. 

You were just standing there like an idiot with a glass in each hand. 

“Y/n?" Spencer called softly.  

Your eyes darted between the two, before your flight response kicked in and you placed the two drinks quickly on the table, blurting out an, “Excuse me.” and rushing away from the table. 

You were not going to make a scene on Rossi's wedding day. Absolutely not. 

“Wait!” Spencer rushed after you before you made it outside and grabbed your wrist, “Y/n, please, this isn’t-” 

J.J had also followed the couple and interrupted Spencer, “Y/n it isn’t what you think.” 

“I really don’t want to hear anything from you right now. Okay?” You kept your voice low, “Your husband is looking for you.” 

J.J nodded, knowing she was not wanted here and quickly vacated the area before it got worse.  

You were so furious as you turned on your heel and walked away, forcing a smile to anyone you passed before finally making it outside. 

You knew Spencer was following you, so you walked around the house until you were far enough away from everyone else. 

You rounded on him immediately, “What is going on? And I’m not stupid Spencer so don’t even think of lying to me or try to run me in circles.” It was freezing outside but you couldn’t feel it as the anger inside you was keeping you warm. 

Spencer just stared at you with wide eyes. 

“Spencer Reid, so help me. I’m not angry often but you’ve seen it and I am two seconds away from combustion. Now, I don’t like jumping to conclusions, but this situation isn’t looking good, for either of you.” 

“We are not sleeping together. I would never do that to you.” Spencer rushed out quickly, he knows where your mind was headed and he needed to get the truth out as fast as possible, “When, uh, when we were tied up, he ordered J.J to tell a secret she’s been too afraid to say, or he was going to shoot her. So, she- she told me that she has always loved me.” 

She told me that she has always loved me. 

You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh, cry or scream at this point.  

This entire situation was ridiculous! 

J.J has always loved him? Since when?! Where? In which universe? Because it certainly wasn’t this one. 

You couldn’t wrap your head around this. 

So, you inhaled and said the only thing you could, “And you?” 

“And me what?” he frowned at you in confusion. 

“Do you love her, Spencer?” You knew that there was a history there, years ago. He asked her on a date which J.J then brought Penelope to, and nothing ever came out of it. You thought it was over. 

But apparently having kids and marrying another man still doesn’t mean you don’t love someone else! 

Spencer was silent for a moment and then he took a step towards you, “I love you, Y/n.” 

You could feel the tears welling up as Spencer deflected, “That’s not what I asked, Spencer.” 

Spencer walked towards you, but you stepped back with each step he took, “Y/n...” he pleaded. 

You couldn’t do this. You can’t process all this information. 

You waved your hands at him, pleading him to stay back, “I need to think about this.” You rushed past him as fast as your heels would carry you. Making your way back inside and over to the table, grabbing your bag and shawl from the chair as quickly and as quietly as possible. 

You could feel the tears threatening to spill over. You kept breathing deeply to try and keep them at bay until you were out of here. 

You took one last glance around, watching the team all laughing, dancing and chatting happily, completely unaware of the breakdown that was crashing over you. You spotted J.J across the room dancing happily with Will.  

Anger boiled inside you and turned and left the room before you trailed her by her hair. 

You haven’t felt this petty since high school but that’s what you wanted to do. 

You sniffed and rustled through your bag to find your phone and calling a cab company. Looking around you decided to hide behind the large tree in Rossi’s front garden and wait. Praying that no one saw you. 

“Y/n?” 

You cursed heavily and stepped back into the light and watched Emily making her way towards you. 

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” she smiled. 

You forced a smile back and clutched your shawl tighter around your shoulders, “I’m leaving.” 

“What? Leaving?” Emily’s jaw was on the floor in shock. “Why?” 

“I can’t be here. I need to leave, and I need to go right now. I don’t want to ruin Rossi’s big day.” 

“Okay, woah.” Emily stepped closer and raised your hands to stop you, “Slow down and take a deep breath.” 

You nodded and followed your boss’s instructions. 

“Now, what’s going on?” 

You didn’t even really know what was going on yourself. One second you were excited for your wedding and the next your fiancé was held at gun point and his old crush-slash-best friend told him she has always loved him and there was a possibility that he also loved her too. 

Huh, maybe you could explain what was going on. 

You opened your mouth to explain but the beeping of the taxi behind you stopped you and you sighed in relief, “I’ll explain later but, please, don’t say to anyone, not even Spencer. I’ll text you. I will.” She talked as she opened the door of the cab and slid in and gave the driver her address. 

“Y/n!” 

You heard someone yell after you as the taxi began driving away, turning around to look out the back window you saw Spencer panting and standing in the garden beside Emily, looking as though he had just run around the building to find you.  

Your eyes locked and neither of you broke it until the driver was outside the property and your fiancé was no longer in sight. 

---

Spencer had gotten the next cab as quickly as he could. Ignoring all of Emily’s questions as he began calling and calling and calling you. He told the driver to go to his apartment, hoping you would be there, but it was empty. 

He sprinted back down to the cab driver to give him your address. 

He threw the money at the driver; more than the fare even cost as he got out of the cab and glad of his long legs as he took the stairs two at a time until he made it to your door; he couldn’t have been more than thirty minutes behind you. 

“Y/n!?” he yelled as he searched all the rooms, “Baby, please.” He ran into your bedroom and saw the closet open, and a few clothes were taken. He looked under your bed and saw your go bag missing, “No, no, no, no.” 

He felt the tears forming in his eyes as he stumbled back into main area. Beginning to hyperventilate and glancing around the room until his eyes fell on an envelope. 

An envelope with his name on it.  

Empty apartments and letters with names on them are never good.  

This just reminds him of when Gideon left him, and everyone knew how much that devastated him. 

He ran his hands through his hair and down his face before walking over to the counter and picking up the letter.  

He let out a sigh of relief as the envelope wasn’t weighted which meant that meant her engagement ring wasn’t in it which filled Spencer with a little hope. 

He ripped open the envelope and read over the letter five times before the words sank in. 

Spence, 

My love, I’m sorry I left without telling you why in person. I know what that did to you when Gideon left, but I just couldn’t bring myself to talk about it at Rossi’s wedding. 

I needed to get away from the situation. 

I don’t know how to process this and being around J.J will only make it worse.  

So, I’m going away for a few days. I need to think this through, and I hope you do as well. 

You are the greatest thing in my life, and I hope that you never doubt that. 

You may say you didn’t, but you hesitated when I asked you if you love her and then you didn’t say yes or no. 

I can’t marry someone who is in love with someone else and I’m sure you can’t either. 

Please think about what and who you want to be with. 

Please, don’t try to find me. I’m safe and I’m checking in with Emily. 

I’ll see you soon and I love you so much, 

Y/n x

Spencer fell to his knees when he finished reading the letter. 

You were gone, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to get you back. 

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[bethecliche]

family dinner l vincent renzi x f!original character

summary: your kids don't want to eat your food and vincent comes to the rescue word count: 2.6k content: female reader, no mention of skin color, hair or apparence, no use of y/n, maternity, food, kids being kids note: a short and quickly made story to thank you all for "my love mine all mine" good reception! omg 100 notes what a honor!!! from now on, word count will only increase :')

The table was set, but there were still two things left for dinner to be complete, one of which was Brigitte's food choice.

“My sweetie pie, would you rather have carrot or potato?” She asked the beautiful baby girl on her lap, pointing to the two options inside the kitchen cabinet. The baby, who had her head resting on her mother's shoulder, quickly stood up with interest in the bright colors inside the cabinet and was ready to stretch her hand to try to pull something out.

“It's too heavy for you, Brie. If you try to pick it up, you’ll drop it on the floor and make a mess for mommy to clean.” The mother warned, kinda hoping that her daughter would understand and stop reaching out to grab everything she saw in front of her, which didn't happen. Brigitte was in a pointing at everything phase and loved to knock things out, specially the ones that break.

With her eyes shining, the baby now bounced in her arms, excited as she recognized the jars in front of her as her baby food.

“Gu.” She tried to say, still pointing forward at the cabinet, but now looking at her mother, hoping she would understand what she was saying.

And she understood, just as she understood all of her daughter's almost words. “That’s it, my love. Food!" The older one repeated correctly so that Brigitte could repeat and learn. “Say it again: food. Fooood.”

But the baby was not interested in learning to talk, she was hungry and continued to push her weight towards the closet. Not wanting to take more long with it, her mother gave up and decided that Brie chose the potato flavor since that was the direction she pointed to. She placed the baby in her high chair and started to feed her.

Not long after the third spoonful, her restlessness began again and her pointing habit returned. She was completely uninterested in the spoon in front of her face and kept pointing to her brother's plate at the other side of the table.

“You can’t eat that, it’s your brother’s. Babies like you drink milk and eat baby food.” Mom said, pushing the spoon closer to her face.

But Brie wasn't caring about her food anymore. She was hungry but for the only thing she couldn’t eat: her brother’s food.

“You wanted it two minutes ago! How can you change so quickly?” Said her mom trying to laugh at the situation. The baby just kept trying to leave the high chair to crawl the table while the mom kept putting her down. “Can’t you eat at least two more spoons? For me?”

She tried to bargain, however Brie didn’t care.

“Baaaa.” Babbled the baby, in her way of saying “brother” and showing again her desire to whatever he was eating. But luckily for Brie, at that moment her mother noticed her son and how he was not eating too.

Little Vincent's plate was also full, even though she had put it down more than 10 minutes ago, right before looking for Brie’s food at the cabinet. The little boy was always the first to finish, looking forward to the rule that he could only eat dessert after cleaning his plate. Now, even with a pudding (something he loves) waiting to be devoured, he didn't want to eat the main plate.

“Vinnie, your food it’s getting cold.” She pointed out, turning towards her son to also give him attention. “Is there something wrong?”

“I do not like this.” The 4 year old said in a soft voice, almost embarrassed to speak out loud and upset his mother.

The woman, not understanding, insisted. “It’s made from cheese. You like cheese!"

“But I don’t like this one.” He pushed the plate away lightly and placed his little elbows on the table, frustrated, probably understanding that he won’t be able to eat pudding today.

“But I've never made soufflé before and you didn't touch the food. How do you know you don’t like it?”

“It looks ugly so I don’t like it.” He said pouting.

“Baby, it doesn’t look ugly!” She gave an uncomfortable laugh, not wanting to belittle her own creation, but she understood that it was paler and smaller than it really should be. “At least not that ugly.”

The front door opened before she could say something and the second thing missing from dinner appeared. Vincent entered quickly, leaving his coat and briefcase on a table next to the front door. He looked very tired and sweaty, but he kept a smile on his face for his family.

“Hello, reasons for my happiness.” That was the first thing he said as he approached the dinner table. He squeezed Brie's cheeks, gaining a smile with her little baby teeth from her and her arms thrown in his direction, asking to be picked up, which he couldn't resist to say no.

“Daddy!” Said little Vinnie, leaving the table and his sad face to hug his father's leg.

“Hey, champ.” With his free arm, Vincent got his son up too, kissing his forehead and shaking him a bit to get some giggles, putting him down again. Now for his wife, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips (gaining a “bleh” sound from their son) and sat down in front of her.

“Sorry for being late for dinner. You won’t believe the case that came to me today. I had to drive to meet a friend and… Well, I won’t talk about the details in front of the kids.”

She gave him a weak but happy smile, looking a little tired but trying not to dampen the mood. “It’s okay. We kinda just started.”

She started to put her food down on her plate, since Vincent arrived and could help her with the kids.

Already noticing there was something wrong, he continued on to a subject that might please her. “What did you do for dinner today, babe?” Even with everything on the table, he asked his wife to answer, as she loved talking about her attempts in the kitchen.

Most of the days, Vincent was the one cooking at home and she only made the most basic parts or simplest foods. Her husband has always been a handyman in the kitchen and prepared one thing tastier than another. Often, he would make some preparations on the weekend so that they could eat for the rest of the week, but as his work schedule was busy that month, his wife tried to cook something new to make his life easier.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t known for her cooking skills and that’s why Vincent took care of that part.

But after becoming a mom, she decided she wanted to cook more for her children and today’s experience was not the best.

“Soufflé au fromage. My mom called today and we talked about things I liked when I was a kid and after finding out what soufflé was, I wanted to eat it everyday, all the time. So I decided to make one for us.” Said sitting on the table again.

“Aw, that’s really sweet of you, babe. I didn’t know that.” He stretched forward to hold his wife’s hand, giving it a little squeeze. “But why do I feel there’s something wrong?”

She sighed, throwing herself back and pretending to melt on her seat. “Your kids.”

“What did my little rascals do? ‘Cause they’re only mine if they’re bad behaving.” Vincent said with a teasing smile, managing to get a grin from her too.

No matter how frustrated she could get in any type of situation, Vincent never needed to say or do much to make her forget her problems. His jokes or reassuring words always made her believe she could get out of any bad mood. That’s kind of his thing.

“I’m starting to believe they are plotting against me.”

“No, they would never plot against you without inviting me.” He jokingly said, giving her hand another squeeze and smiling at her. “Let’s start with this cute baby here. What’s the problem?”

“She forgot her teeths are still little and wants to eat the soufflé she can’t have.”

Vincent started to shake his leg up and down to bounce the baby, who began to giggle happily.

“That’s always a thing with her, huh? But that’s the secret. She always wants something she can’t have.” He proceeded to reach for the baby food in her seat and put it in front of them on the table. He filled the spoon the most he could and pretended to eat, opening his mouth and passing the spoon right next to his cheek. “So good. Let me get more.”

It didn't take long for this to attract the little girl's attention and she began to pull her father's arm, interested in what he was doing.

One spoonful after another, Brie was completely interested in finishing her meal and Vincent placed her back in her baby seat to move on to the other question.

“You make it seem so easy.” Said his wife in disbelief, still shocked with his efficiency to solve the problem.

“You deal with worse situations than this all day. That’s nothing.”

With their one year old in diapers and their four year old potty training, he could only imagine how her day went being a stay home mom. 

At this point, Vincent got up from his chair and went in direction to his son, picking him up from his seat and showering him with kisses. “What about this young gentleman here? Huh?”

“I’m innocent.” Said Vinnie making one of his cutest faces to appeal to his father, who just laughed along.

“That’s something a bad guy would say.” Replied the lawyer.

Brie was a very predictable girl. She is curious, likes to investigate the house and poke at everything in front of her, so assuming that she would want something "forbidden" was easy. Vinnie was a different story. When he puts his foot down, he won't change for anything. He also knows his parents are light hearted and usually goes along with his wishes.

“He also refuses to eat.”

“But I don’t like it!” Vinnie stated with a sullen face.

“Have you tried?” Vincent asked his son, to which Vinnie replied shaking his head no. “Then you don’t know what you’re missing! Soufflés are actually very good, especially the type your mom made. You’ll never know if you don’t try it.”

“Then I’ll never know.” The little boy shrugged.

Mrs. Renzi couldn’t resist but burst into a laugh, not believing what the 4 year old was saying. “He got your sharp tone.” Said pointing to Vincent, who provoked her by sticking out his tongue.

Vincent took the spoon and tried to feed the kid too, earning grunts and "no's" from him. “You’re growing and you need to eat to be big and strong! Just like your dad.”

“Can’t I just eat beef? I like beef. I don’t want to like anything else.”

This case was lost and the only thing he could do was accept it. Vincent looked at his wife, who just shrugged, satisfied that at least they got 1-2.

“It’s okay, we won’t insist anymore. But mommy worked hard to prepare this meal, be grateful for her efforts.”

Vincent released the child, who ran towards his mother and apologized for his behavior, promising he wouldn't do it again. “Sorry again, mommy.”

“It’s okay, my baby. I’m not mad.”

She made a move to get up, with the idea that she would make the steak for her son, but Vincent put her down, kissing her forehead and assuring her that he would take care of it.

“Let me do it. You need to relax a bit. Finish your food.”

Once again, she picked up her fork and now could finally eat.

-

After the difficult dinner, the Renzi family sat in the living room to finally enjoy dessert. Lucky for them, the pudding had come straight from the market and the woman had no involvement in its preparation.

For family time, they watched Frédéric Anton scolding the Masterchef chefs for their mistakes. A very educational program for them.

“It was terrible, wasn’t it?” She asked Vincent as soon as he sat down, kinda already knowing the answer. Vincent took a little more to eat since he had to prepare a different dish for his son and at that point, his wife was already cleaning Brie in the bathroom, so she couldn’t see his face eating the food first hand.

He wrapped his arm around his wife, shaking his head. “It’s not terrible. I would never use that world.” 

“Then you love it?”

“Love, love…” He looked away with a small smile on his face, a little unsure of what to say. “Love I only have for you.”

Rubbing herself a little closer to Vincent's embrace, she felt the response was enough. “Good answer. I’ll let it slide.”

The two were finally having a moment together (with Brie off to the side drinking a milk bottle and Vinnie distracted by the television and the pudding, sitting on the floor). Vincent kissed her cheek and then her mouth, hugging her body against his and finally enjoying the warmth of her body. She also couldn't resist his touch and her body was completely relaxed, feeling light and untroubled to be next to him.

But they had children, so it couldn’t last long, of course.

“Mommy, I want to eat that.” Vinnie pointed to the television that was showing this week’s challenge, which was a carbonara dish made from scratch. He jumped up and down, excited “Mommy, can we eat this pasta tomorrow? Please, please, please!”

“I bet your dad knows how to do it.” She replied to take away her responsibility for this work. “How about asking daddy to prepare it? Tomorrow is his day off, he will have time to cook this for us.”

“We can prepare together, like the chefs on television. Look!” He pointed once again to the TV and ran to the sofa, jumping between his parents. “It'll be fine, won't it? If we do it together…”

It was his way to say again that he was sorry for not liking her food and how he had hope for her cooking skills. She felt relieved and really loved, with Vincent by her side also giving her support. There was no plot against her, after all.

“Sorry again, mommy. I like your food sometimes.”

“I can sleep with that.” Said jokingly.  “Okay, we’ll do it.”

Little Vincent offered her a well accepted hug, followed by big Vincent joining too. She already anticipated that it would not go right on her part and carbonara would turn into carburnara, but to have her children and husband next to her, believing she could do it, she felt like she could make a thousand mistakes, ‘cause they would still be there waiting for another try.

“I can't wait to try this dish.” Vincent said out loud.

“No, daddy. I said I want to eat so it's just for me. You’ll only help because you’re an adult. Stated the young boy.

“You won’t give me even a small, small piece?” Vincent asked, pretending disbelief.

“No!” Vinnie said laughing and running across the sofa to get to Brigitte, now on his mother's lap. “Maybe I'll share it with Brie because she's cute. But only with her.”

Vincent, offended by his son's selfishness, started tickling him and his wife took the opportunity to tickle Brie too, leaving the room filled with laughter.

Food really brought people together. Especially the Renzi family.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

Hey dolly absolutely luv luv luv your writing and I was wondering if you could do a tangerine x nurse reader when tan lem and ladybug ends up at the readers and tans place and the reader is patching tan up… but the next day it’s the readers sister wedding reception and tan is like to ladybug right get ready because he doesn’t feel comfortable with leaving him alone in his house. But anyways so at the reception the reader finds out their sister is marrying someone that used to stalk them ( they were marrying the readers sister just to be closer to the reader ) and he says something to tan while drunk ( the reader and tan are already married ) and tan starts and lem is trying to calm tan down but then ladybug is on tans side, if this makes any sense so sorry

hii honey!! thank you! love it, thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

gif creds to @/peachyspaceslvt for the never ending supply of crazy hot tan gifs. ur our saviour🫡

BLAST FROM THE PAST.

tangerine x fem!reader — misc

lemon and ladybug have an appearance too YAY

word count. 1002

summary. readers sister is marrying someone from her past. someone who knew her better than she knew him. tangerine finds out and wants to do something about it

Weddings are supposed to be seen as these beautiful celebrations of love, an event made to showcase that same devotion between those individuals. 

That is what you were hoping for your sister at her wedding today. The man she had been dating had been a mystery to you all, a complete unknown stranger to your family. Your sister shared small stories and encounters of her enigma of a man, and he sounded great - though you had no real evidence to back that up.

And despite your theories about the rushed engagement timeframe, you decided to keep a clear, open head - staying hopeful for your sister. He seemed to make her happy, and that's what matters most.

But when you finally catch a glimpse of her soon-to-be husband standing at the alter, holding your sister's hands - you knew you were right to have your suspicions.

You turn to look at Tangerine on your left and lean into his shoulder, reaching for his ear. "I know him," you whisper, talking discreetly.

"Yeah, he's your sister's fiancé," your husband replies, speaking in a hushed tone.

You softly tap his arm. "No, like I recognise him from somewhere. Wait til he turns around— now look, see? I swear I've seen him before."

"What are we talking about?" Lemon butts in from Tan's left, head craning round to look at you both.

"Now I feel left out," Ladybug interrupts, copying Lemon from the seat to your right - peering past you, the four of you forming a slight semi-circle. Ladybug dated your sister years ago, and they weirdly remained good friends - hence why he was here at this ceremony.  

You sigh and look between the three guys. "I think I know the groom," you whisper, trying not to bring attention. 

"Stalker," Lemon says simply, almost casually. 

"What do you mean stalker?" Tangerine questions, words emphasised by narrowed eyes - clear distaste slapped across his face. "Never seen him before."

"You haven't? He followed her around," he nods to you. "Had a big thing for her, sent her things— he wouldn't leave her alone."

"Oh my god," you mumble as you bring your hands to cover your mouth, finally realising why he looks so familiar. "Oh my god."

"Why didn't you say anything before?" Tan snarks at his brother, punching him in the thigh. "Why would you not— oh, you prick."

"Don't fuckin' hit me," Lemon punches his brother back. "I thought you knew," he says, poking his head out to you.

"Guys, guys, guys," Ladybug chimes in, trying to stop the twins. 

All discussions are paused when your sister and her now-husband walk back down the aisle, their arms interlinked as they smile and nod at their guests. 

At the reception, all four of you are antsy. You were sipping on a drink to ease your nerves, Ladybug sat beside you doing the same - his leg bobbing, presumably from the nerves. The twins stood on high alert, arms folded and chins high as they scoped out the room - waiting for the right moment to speak to the groom. 

"Please just sit down," you reach for your husband's forearm, trying to get him back into his seat. "It's my sister's wedding— please don't make a big fuss."

"We're just gonna talk to him, darlin'," Tangerine speaks to you over his shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"Yeah, talk to him," Lemon repeats, emphasising the 'talk' like they would be doing the opposite. 

The twins spot the right opportunity, your now-brother-in-law by himself at the bar. And before you have a second to say anything, they're already gone, making their way over - Ladybug joining them too. You watch them entrap him to the bar, Tangerine and Lemon on either side, Ladybug standing behind. All of them blocking him. 

"Congratulations, mate," Tangerine speaks, extending a hand to the man - stance wide as if to intimidate him. 

"Thanks," he shakes his hand. "You are?"

"Oh, glad you asked," Tangerine chuckles dryly. "See that darlin' sitting right there. The pretty one," he starts, gesturing to you at the booth table. "You see, I'm her husband."

The man freezes, his eyes darting between you and your menace of a spouse. 

"That's his wife," Lemon reiterates, tapping the man on his shoulder - startling him when he notices it's not just Tangerine confronting him.

Tangerine pokes the groom's shoulder, hard pointed finger prodding. "And I know what you did," he sniffs, another intimidation tactic. "You stalked her, didn't ya?"

The man looks around the room, noticing all the guests surrounding them - his demeanour now growing confident, almost arrogant. "And what? You're going to hit me? Look around, tough guy," he utters, pushing on Tan's shoulder. "Going to punch a groom on his wedding day? What would your wife say about that? About hitting her sister's husband." 

Tangerine looks over to you, your head softly shaking, silently telling him to leave it be. 

"Come on, bruv," Lemon murmurs, gesturing for them to leave.

"You're lucky, mate," Tangerine snarks, restraining himself.

"Yeah?" the man chuckles weakly. 

"Next time I see you, I swear to god," he grits.

"See you at the next family barbeque."

Ladybug and Lemon move swiftly to step in front of Tan, both of them already anticipating his reaction. 

"Okay, okay," Ladybug interjects, distancing the groom away. "That was completely uncalled for, man." 

Lemon places a firm hand on his brother's back, trying to push him away from the situation - almost wrestling him back to the seats. 

"Thank you," you smile at your husband, placing a hand over his knee - trying to calm him down. "You contained yourself. I appreciate it."

He exhales, brushing a hand through his hair. "He was asking for it. When I see him next— I swear to fuck."

Ladybug makes his way back, face just as infuriated as the twins. "I was this close," he gestures with his thumb and index, showing a few centimetres gap. "This close."

this one tested my patience😭 was SO so close to giving up with it, and sorry if bit shit

[slvtforfiction]

Second chance romance

☆ Colby X Reader

☆ Forced proximity

☆ Fluff

☆ Ex-lovers to lovers

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

☆ And credits to Pinterest for the inspiration board at the top :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

Here I was sat on a plane next to my now ex boyfriend and roommate. I have been dreading this plane journey but I’m so excited for the holiday I was to soon be on.

I pulled up Spotify on my phone,that he had conveniently bought me before we parted, and began listening to music as I prayed for this flight to be over.

I closed my eyes after I had stared out of the window for what felt like an eternity and reminded myself that it was only a 4 hour flight.

I got jostled awake as the flight attendant stood in the aisle, “Do you want a drink or a snack? I’ll buy.” He said and I rolled my eyes, “I’ll buy my own stuff,thanks.” I replied sarcastically turning to look at the flight attendant who was patiently waiting for an answer.

“Can I have a can of coke and some peanuts please?” I asked and she looked away smiling pulling a cup,a can of coke and salted peanuts out of her trolly.

“That’s £6 please.” She told me as she continued smiling almost eerily at me “Uh yeah.” I said as I pulled my bag from beneath my legs searching for my purse.

As I looked up with my purse in hand,the flight attendant had left and I turned my head slowly towards Colby.

“What happened?” I asked with a strain of anger in my voice knowing that he had not just paid her. “I paid her and she went along,it’s not a big deal.” He told me with his smile, “God sake.” And then I knew this was going to be the longest holiday I had ever had and certainly not because I was happy.

I was once again jostled awake as he stood in the aisle looking down at me, “Come on sleepy,we’re here.” He said as he grabbed his bag from the overhead bin.

“Don’t call me that.” I said groggily as I wiped my eyes and and picked up my bag from the floor slinging it over my back as we walked off the plane.

“What’s your issue with me today?” He asked as if he was being genuine “Guess.” I said rhetorically.

Whenever I was with Colby he would be editing,it was like I had come to see my boyfriend and had gotten trapped in a mirror maze.

A room full of people but at the end of the day it was only me and the lifeless body hunched over his computer.

And then it all came crashing down,but the trip was non-refundable and I was not losing a good holiday over this,so here we are.

I walked out of the airport after having made it through security and grabbed my luggage and we hopped into the taxi waiting to be transported to our hotel.

The weather was perfect,sun rays hitting my face,the sounds of the waves crashing against the beach as we reached our hotel,everything was perfect.

We walked to reception,the reminder of the queen sized bed haunting me and we went into the lift and up to the room.

I collapsed on the bed and took a deep breath,I was finally on holiday. The realisation hit me and I got off the now scrunched up,untidy bed and walked over to my suitcase pulling out my makeup and a bikini.

I ignored Colby’s attempts of talking to me and walked straight into the bathroom to do my makeup.

I only did something simple,no foundation,knowing it would melt and would definitely come off if I went in the sea.

And I walked out of the bathroom,into the bedroom to pick out my bikini. I settled on a small purple bikini which showed off my curves in all the right ways and smiled to myself as I looked in the mirror.

I snapped a picture and uploaded it to instagram,captioning it ; ‘On holiday with someone I don’t know,this will be interesting 🤷‍♀️’ and posted it with a smile.

“You coming to the beach or what?” I said as I looked back at him, “No I’m in boxers for no reason.” He said sarcastically and I smiled sarcastically back at him.

I put on my sandals and walked out of the door with two towels in hand as Colby followed behind me.

We sat down on the first beach chairs we saw that were empty and I smiled as the sun rays hit my body,warming up my already hot body.

I lied there as I took in the light breeze against my face,the natural beauty of the scenery and the delicate sounds of the waves crashing against the shore.

I smiled to myself as I closed my eyes taking in the light smell of the sea,the sound of birds above us and the touch of my skin against the sandy beach chair.

I woke up about five minutes later realising I had fallen asleep again and decided to take off into the sea.

I took off the covering around my waist to reveal my thong bikini and walked into the calm sea.

I smiled as I floated around,taking in the view around me as the realisation hit me that I was finally on holiday.

I opened my relaxed eyes to see Colby walking into the water and floating over to me.

“Hey pretty.” He said and I scoffed looking at him dead in his eyes. “Really?” I said rolling my eyes with a sarcastic undertone.

Something I had noticed was how kind Colby was attempting to be now we were on holiday and I brushed it off as sarcasm.

We stayed until sundown,taking in the beautiful sunset that would never compare to LA’s busy scenery and with that we begun to walk back to our hotel room to get changed and go to the bar across the street.

The one thing we had both noticed upon our arrival was the obvious night life this city had. Bars upon every corner,clubs on every other corner and the copious amounts of taxi ranks that seemed to be empty,waiting till night to strike their attack of expensive drives upon their drunk victims.

As I reached the hotel room I opened up my suitcase once again picking out a skin tight dress and walked into the bathroom where my makeup bag sat.

This time however I decided to completely do my face how I would in LA,foundations,highlighter etc., I mean if I was going to meet someone new it may as well be here,where I wouldn’t have to see them again.

I walked out of the bathroom and looked into the full length mirror,smiling to myself as I noticed how stunning I looked.

I once again snapped a photo of myself,posting it to instagram,captioning it ; ‘🤩,night out for me!!’ And smiling to myself as I posted it.

I looked over at Colby who had gone for a more casual look, “You coming or what?” I said hurriedly.

“Waiting for you.” He mumbled as he followed me out of the hotel and to the bar across the road. I noted to myself the amount of drunk men and women stumbling down the street and to the filled taxi ranks.

As I made my way into the bar I took a seat on the empty barstool and the bartender came over to me almost immediately.

She was very pretty,without makeup and with the apron she was probably forced to wear,she smiled at me. “Can I get a gin and tonic please?” She smiled and walked away to go make my drink.

Colby sat next to me and I almost ignored his existence,whilst I would never say it aloud a part of me missed him,when he would stop editing and actually talk to me,but I knew that was rare and it pained me to know I missed him even if it was just the memories of his touch (and his cuddles and just everything about him).

I smiled as she handed me my drink before a guy behind me came up behind me,putting his arm around my shoulder, “I’ll pay for it beautiful.” And with that he handed the woman his credit card.

I smiled and turned around,drink in hand,to face him. “Thanks for the drink,handsome.” I smiled and suddenly I felt eyes piercing into the back of my skull.

“She’s mine,fuck off.” I heard Colby almost yell at him. I slammed my drink onto the bar and stormed out,leaving the drink behind and running off to the beach.

I stood in the sand as I heard footsteps running behind me,I ignored them in hopes of the sound soon disappearing,but it didn’t the sound came right up behind me and held its hands on my waist.

“Why do you just act like I’m not here with you?” He almost yelled at me and I stomped my foot like a toddler. “News flash! You aren’t!” I said laughing at him out of anger.

“Oh and whose fault is that?” He said staring into my eyes,piercing holes through my skull. “Yours!” I yell at him.

I knew we were causing a scene,the drunk people around us most likely didn’t have any idea of what was going on. The few couples who weren’t drunk stared in awe as if we were reality television.

“You broke up with me!” He yelled back but not nearly as loud as I had. “I left you because you treated me like I wasn’t there! A fucking roommate!” I yelled back at him,my eyes tearing up.

“You don’t think I love you?” He said softly,my teary eyes looked up at him and I replied, “No.” My voice strained but not from anger,instead from holding back the voice crack caused by the tears welling up in my eyes.

“I love you so much that I haven’t left any of my electronics alone for even a second because I was too scared you would call or message and I wouldn’t be there for you. I love you so much that I would pull up your Snapchat story,your instagram,anything you had posted on that day to make sure you were okay. I love you so much that even after you blocked me I continued to message and say ‘I love you’ every night because the thought of not saying that to you makes me sick. The only reason I’m even here is to keep you in my life for fuck sake Y/n.” He said and I stared up at him.

I quickly looked back down out of shame,not wanting to face the reality of his words. “Really?” I asked him as my tears waterfall down my face. “Yes!” He laughs back lovingly.

He cups his index finger under my cheek and makes me look up at him,taking me into a hug as I cried on his shoulder. “Im gonna stain your shirt.” I laughed half heartedly, “And it will be special because it was you.” He said back softly.

He pulled out of the hug,cupping my cheek as he pulled me into a kiss,I smiled into the kiss,the tear ducts drying up as I stopped crying.

As he pulled away he whispered to me “Y/n,be mine?” And I smiled,kissing his cheek, “Ofcourse.” I said gently.

[holylulusworld]

Two bikes (1) - Angsttober 8

Summary: You’re back in your hometown and meet two men from your past.

Pairing: former Jax Teller x fem!Reader (pre-story), Biker!Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Warnings: angst, language, kinda cheating, implied/mentions of past cheating

Trope: Angst

A/N: I wanted Jax and Biker!Bucky in one fic. So suffer with me...

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Two bikes masterlist

Back in town. Back to square one. Restart. Doing it all over.

You huff when you get out of your car. It doesn’t fit right in, just like you. It’s too expensive and conspicuous, for a small town like Charming. And you’re not the girl leaving this town with only a few bucks in your pocket but so many dreams.

It can’t be helped. You decided to come back here to find the inspiration for your next book. Change is what you want.

New place. New book. New you.

“Y/N?”

Crap. You didn’t think anyone would recognize you so soon. But here you are, finding yourself in the embrace of the man you ran away from so many years ago. “Hi, Jax.”

Fuck, he smells the same, and it still feels good being in his arms.

“I can’t believe it’s really you. I heard rumors about a VIP coming to our town.” He releases you and takes a step back to drink you in. “Look at you. All fancy and grown. You look…” Jax can’t find the words. “It’s good to see you, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t expect a reception committee,” you chuckle. Jax smiles as you take your time to drink him in. He wears torn jeans, a white tee, and a leather jacket. You can see that he’s second-in-command now, and sigh. When you left town, you had hoped Jax would turn his back on the club and do something more…legal. “I see you’re still with them.”

“It’s my family,” he hastily replies, but his tone lacks enthusiasm. “We are having a get-together tonight. A barbecue with family and friends. Why don’t you come too?”

“Jax,” you exhale sharply. “I haven’t seen most of them in years. I don’t think they want the girl they met once or twice years ago at their party.”

“Sweetheart, you’re still part of the family,” he shrugs. “Come on. Gemma will freak out seeing you all grown and Opi will love seeing you.”

“That big dummy is still around? I thought he’d leave you,” you snicker. “You were glued together at your hips if I recall right.”

“Well, he’s my best friend,” Jax grabs your hand. “Please come and have a little fun. For the old times.”

“I-“ you lick your lips. You knew that you’d eventually run into Jax and the others. If you want to start anew – why not see your old friends and Jax again? “Okay.”

“You can come around at any time, Y/N,” he grins. “If you want to, I’ll pick you up.”

“Nah,” you shake your head. This will go too far. You’re not ready to be back on a bike with Jax. “I’ll drive. I don’t trust you with speed and such.”

The reunion went surprisingly smoothly. Gemma hugged you, and wouldn’t stop asking questions. Opi offered a beer and a bear hug and the others greeted you like an old friend.

It almost felt like you never left. Almost.

You’re watching the others talk and having fun while Jax tries to talk you into going for a ride in the morning.

He has you caged against the wall, one hand next to your head, and his lips dangerously close to yours. Jax whispers your name and says all the right things.

Damn him. He easily had you wrapped around his finger in no time. Forgotten are the heartbreak and all the tears you shed for him.

“Y/N, tell you feel the same. Say that you feel there’s still this spark between us,” he leans impossibly closer to brush his lips over yours. “Sweetheart.”

“Jax.” You breathe out. “I-“ You open your mouth when he claims your lips. And you wrap your arms around him to hold him close.

“I knew it,” he nips at your lips, eagerly tasting you. “The moment I saw you standing next to your car, looking a little lost, I knew you’d come back to me.”

“Jax, it’s not that easy,” you grip his jacket tightly, not wanting him to pull away. “Maybe we can…”

“Jax, have a look at this. We need your help,” Tig ruins the intimate moment. He drags Jax away, unaware that you are about to do something stupid.

“Later,” you mouth as Jax glances at you. He nods, giving you a cracked smile before following Tig.

You’re pacing back and forth. Jax went to his room some time ago and you try to decide if you want to let your heart win tonight.

"Maybe this is the chance you've been waiting."

You take a deep breath and decide to go to his room and take the chance on him. Maybe this time, it won’t end in heartbreak.

You want to knock and feel like a fool. This used to be so easy when you were just horny and silly teens. Now you are a woman, and he’s a man. The man you still desire.

Without thinking twice, you open the door, pushing it open. You smile and want to tell Jax that you are ready to go on a ride with him tomorrow.

“What the fuck!” Your heart drops, and you feel like someone sent you back in time only for you to walk in on Jax and some other girl.

“Sweetheart…Y/N…” Jax gasps as you catch him red-handed with one of the girls from the strip club Tig wouldn’t stop talking about.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to stop you from ruining whatever that was not ten minutes ago,” you laugh at your stupidness.

You turn to leave and slam the door shut behind you. It’s not the first time in your life that someone made a fool out of you. But tonight, you did this to yourself.

“Babe, please wait,” Jax stumbles out of the room. He’s only in his boxers and tries to explain why he went from kissing you to fucking that girl. “I can explain…”

“You want to explain this?” you angrily point at the door. “Save it, Jax. You didn’t change one bit. One moment you sweet-talk to me and kiss me and the next you fuck her." You choke on your tears. “You made me feel like we got a second chance.”

Shaking your head, you try to hold back more tears. “It’s my fault. It was foolish of me to believe that for once I wasn't second best to you. How could I? If I’m so unimportant to you that you fuck her minutes after you kissed me.”

“Babe, we aren’t together, and,” he runs his fingers through his messed-up hair, “you got me so hard. I didn’t want to fuck things up and pounce on you. I just needed to release steam.”

“See, that’s the problem, Jackson Teller,” you silently sniffle. “You don’t even feel guilty for hurting me all over again. Ten minutes, Jax. You had to wait for ten minutes to get your dick wet. I’m glad it took me those ten minutes because you’ll never be faithful.”

“Please, let’s talk. We can go inside and…” He can only watch you step away from him. “Sweetheart.”

“I don’t need this and,” you push against his chest to slam him into the door, “I don’t have to listen to your lies. You’re right. We’re not together. We are nothing to each other. Only a faded memory. Let’s keep it that way.”

“Wait…I…”

“You better go back inside and finish what you started with her. At least give the poor girl an orgasm after all the trouble…”

You storm off, and shoulder past bikers. Gemma wants to stop you, but you’re too angry and hurt to even listen to her. Instead, you run toward your car and speed off.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” you slam your hands on the steering wheel. It feels like the world decided to fuck you over once again. “No. You can’t just die out here in the middle of nowhere.”

It’s all too much. Being back in your hometown. Meeting your high school sweetheart only for him to break your heart again.

You sit in silence for a moment and think about all the decisions leading you back to him. Bad choices, you guess.

You hide your face in the palm of your hands. How could your fresh start end like this?

You jump when someone knocks at your window. Great. Now you drew attention toward you and your car.

“Hey, why are you lurking around in front of our club?” The man asks. “Are you with the cops? We do nothing illegal here.”

Your heart races when the man knocks at your window again. If fate wants to fuck you over some more, so be it. You roll down the window to look at the man.

“Sorry. Uh-my car just…” you sniffle. “The engine died, and I can’t get it back to life. I wasn’t lurking, just thinking about what to do now.”

He looks inside your car, but his features soften when he looks at your teary eyes.

“Hi. I didn’t want to scare you, doll. Do you want me to have a look at the engine? I know a thing or two about cars.”

“James? James Barnes,” You blink a few times to check if you saw right. “Is that you?”

“You know me?” He asks, looking a little confused.

“It’s me, Y/N Y/L/N. We went to the same high school. You probably don’t remember me. I was a little shy, and you were two years ahead of me at school.”

“Wait…” He wrinkles his forehead. “You were the cute girl Jax Teller was dating. I always wondered how he got so lucky.”

You clear your throat, not wanting to talk about Jax, and what he did to you. Back then and today. “He didn’t feel lucky, I guess.”

“What did he do, doll?”

“I don’t feel like talking tonight. Let’s say he liked to stray. Back then, and recently,” you give him a cracked smile. “He’s the reason I drove out of town only to end up here.”

“A shame. He should’ve valued you more, doll,” he flashes you a stunning smile. “If you open the hood for me, I’ll have a look at the engine.”

“That’s very kind of you, James.”

“Call me Bucky doll,” he grins when you open the hood. “A pretty lady like you can always call me Bucky…”

Two bikes (2)

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