#i like to think they broke up but were like 'we can still be friends'

[endearng]

Out of reach

Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist

The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things — what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.

Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened — and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.

"Hi."

Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."

Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your… wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.

Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.

"You're a little distant... and—and I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.

"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.

Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.

"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"

You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes — that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.

He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."

Best friends.

The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.

Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."

Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"

Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Don’t worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.

And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age — you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.

You kept silent to make him happy.

Which was exactly what was happening now.

Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. “But, but... you’d come to me if you needed help, right?”

You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"

You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.

Your reaction — or lack of — was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.

As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.

Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal — until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.

Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.

Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.

—

The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy — not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.

Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.

Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."

The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.

Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.

Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. “That! That!” He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.

"That what?" You asked, puzzled.

"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'—not that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"

Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.

"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.

"That's not the point! Or—or rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.

"Calm down."

"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.” He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... “Tell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"

You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the ‘dad’ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes — that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.

But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?

He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."

"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."

"You know, Spencer…" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.

Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.

—

The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.

The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.

Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.

"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?

"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.

"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.

"Right, no—heh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.

If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.

Spencer.exe has stopped working.

"Heheh—I guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of its—heheh—habitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.

Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.

Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.

—

Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.

Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"

You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.

And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...

(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)

You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.

"No way." She gasped.

"Way."

"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."

"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."

She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."

"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"

She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?

"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.

No, not Spencer. It’s cool.

"Hi, I..."

MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."

They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.

Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.

"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"

"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.

MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.

"So, what does MJ stand for?"

She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."

"I'm familiar with that."

The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"

She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"

You smiled. "I like the shoes!"

Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"

You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."

"Where to?"

Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.

—

An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.

[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.

[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.

[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.

Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help — you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.

Their… case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach — you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.

Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.

To want, to desire, is to be selfish.

It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.

A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencer’s surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"

Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.

"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "I—I didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."

"Frustrated?"

He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.

Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.

Perhaps it was true.

He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked… “How much did you have to drink?” He asked, quietly.

"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I can’t hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more… disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.

"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."

Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."

He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."

"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic — to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."

"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."

You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."

His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."

Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone — not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.

"I..."

Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.

Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ah—hahahah—I guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totally—hic—destroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."

Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! That’s what she’d just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And she’d been jealous. She didn’t like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!

You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.

Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.

Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."

Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?

Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."

"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.

Saying your name softly, he beginned, “I said stupid, untrue things, and I’m sorry. I’m a jerk, and I know that I’m a jerk and—" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."

"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.

"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.

At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for me—"

"—but not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.

Deep breaths (from both ends).

"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some space—"

"What we need to do is talk."

You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"

Silence.

"You won't even remember this in the morning."

At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."

The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.

Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."

"Excuse me?"

"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.

"No?"

"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.

"I'm not drunk."

"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."

"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"

His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."

Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."

"Okay... I'll take the couch."

"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."

"It's okay."

"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."

You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."

His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.

"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.

"I am."

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No."

"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."

"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.

He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"

"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."

Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.

"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.

You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."

"You do?"

"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."

Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.

"Wait!" You almost shrieked.

"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.

"I don't want you to go."

He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."

"Just... stay here?"

"I can't—" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.

He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, to—"Done."

Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."

He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."

"I'll take the couch."

"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess… And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."

He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.

It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words — or lack of — could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.

"Spence?"

That damned nickname.

"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.

When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.

"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."

—

Spencer didn't get any sleep.

He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.

You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heart’s words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on — and that’s what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though… Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world… It wasn’t so bad, if he actually rejected you… you’d only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.

(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)

As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him — and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.

As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.

Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. “Morning. I, um, made you breakfast.” Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast. 

“Morning,” you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows… “Thanks, you didn't have to.”

“I did.”

You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. “I'm sorry…”

“Don't be.”

“But I was wrong.”

“So was I.”

“But—”

“Last night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?” You nodded, unable to speak. “Do you remember what you told me?” He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.

“Yes, Spencer. I remember.”

“Can you listen to what I have to say now?”

You nodded, weakly.

“I didn't say anything because… because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.” He said, approaching you calmly. “I was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I… was stupid. I… First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything… but… but you're everything to me.” At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. “All the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you… and… and… God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or that—that—that Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!”

At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a cliché! “Hey! I'm serious!”

“I'm sorry…” You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.

“As I was saying,” he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze,  “I… I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!”

You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.

“And I’m sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.” You kept silent, remembering his words. “I—I’ll spend the rest of my life apologizing if you’ll have me.” He added, intimidated by your gaze.

Silence. “Well, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.”

“I do… But…”

“But?”

“I'd like to hear you say it.”

“Say what?”

“That you love me?”

“I don't know. Do I, really?” You joked.

He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. “No, I mean… you—you said that—that you remembered what you said last night and… so… putting two and two…”

Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. “I really, really love you.” A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. “I love you.” A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. “So much.” A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.

As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. “Now you know what it's like to be teased.”

“I love you. Oh, Jesus… You're driving me insane. You're here… And you, you're you…”

You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.

The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.

The phone began ringing again. “Son of a…!” he cursed, picking up the phone. “Hi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busy—”

“Reid.” Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.

“Yes… sir?” You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.

“We have a new case.” Hotch announced.

“Oh… okay… I, um, I—I'll be there in 20.”

Silence.

“Is everything okay, Reid?” Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.

“Wh—yeah, yeah… Everything's… totally f—fine.” He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.

“Do you know where she is?” Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness. 

“Who?” He squeaked. You chuckled silently.

“My daughter.” Of course it was his daughter.

Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.

“N—no… I haven't… heard from her.”

“Sure.” Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable “We need to talk.”

Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. “Not funny.” He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.

“Come on, it is funny.”

He glared at you. “What do you think he wants to talk about?”

“I don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.” You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.

He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. “Do you think he knows?”

“Of course he knows.”

“How are you so collected?”

“Because I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.”

“He said ‘we’ need to talk. Emphasizing ‘we’. If he knows you’re here, then it probably—” you cut him off with a kiss.

“Well, then… Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?”

Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. “I’d face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.”

—

A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, “Do you think he noticed?” 

“Totally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,” He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. “I guess we should thank Lila, after all.” He joked, and you laughed out loud. 

Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, “Don’t ever say her name again, Spence.”

Your wish was always his command. It would always be.

[tevaselmundogiraalreves]

BUDDIE FIC RECS PART 2

Okay heres more fics cause ive been reading so so much lately, i cannot and will not be stopped. Heres the first list. I will most prob keep on making lists cause i honestly cannot stop reading. Once again, in no particular order:

Songbird by @colonoscopys - Goes first cause i just finished reading this one. FREAK EDDIE IS MY PASION. I said it already but at one point eddie eats bucks hair. Its awesome! FreakxFreak DumbxDumb

a bleeding sun on a silver screen by @hoediaz EVERYONE ALREADY READ THIS ONE RIGHT? IF NOT WTF ARE YOU EVEN DOING GO! ACTORS AU YOU WILL NE FAMOUS FOREVER.

chess inside my chest by @buick118 - HELLOOOO THIS ONE FIXED SOMETHING INSIDE MY CHEST "heart clipped in the backseat with his headphones already secured over his ears." I NEED AN EXPLANATION FOR THIS WRITING ❤️‍🩹

Two, Three Times in a Row by leslie_knope i honestly have no words for how much i love this fic, i reread it all the time, like ive reread it so much its embarrasing. Some of the best smut ive read.

wanna do a bad thing twice by @coldbam BUCK IS SUCH A FREAK GOD HE IS SUCH A FREAK

(You know what actually there are 2 more fics were buck is the freakiest hes ever been so ill put them right below ⬇️)

slow motion, double vision in rose blush by @saryasy Eddie Diaz. His friend. His Eddie. Has kissed a man. Which is strange because Buck is sure as hell he'd remember kissing Eddie.

Me at Buck: FREAAAAAAAAK

Also special mention to that flashback WOW!

i can tell just what you want (you don't want to be alone) by @tallsinspace Buck loses it every single time this is so awesome, it was so FUN reading INFIDELEDDIE this hiatus 🫶🏽

songs and poems and promises by @lesbianrobin buck summer of disatisfaction turns around thanks to eddie god they are so in love! Also special mention to chim well and maddie lets fucking goooooo

we keep this love in a photograph by @burnthatbridge its just so so freaking beautiful. Buck chooses eddies pics for his dating app after he comes out...

the tortured poets department by @colonoscopys once again the kind of fic that you wanna reread again and again.

"The first time Buck touched him, Eddie blew an ambulance up."

still sitting in a corner i haunt by @cal-daisies-and-briars i just love this one so much, should reread it, trust me its worth it.

we're not in love (but the sex is good) by elless. Idk i loved this one. Buddie are not even friends they just want the benefits as soon as they meet. The transition from that to them actually getting to know each other so naturally and start caring about each other is so beautiful.

in the passenger seat by @livingincolorsagain Evan Buckley was put on God’s green earth to drive Eddie Diaz around.

Just BEAUTIFUL.

tying you to me by @hoediaz ONCE AGAIN PERFECT TYPE OF WRITING. Buddie meet each other after 5x11. SO ORIGINAL GOD.

the soft animal of your body by @hattalove . This is a coda to another fic but can be read on its own. Just beautiful beautiful love making. I think i commented that i felt like they were making love with the words they were saying to each other just sitting on the kitchen table talking.

we could follow the sparks, i’ll drive by @markofalover bucks kink should be people calling him mr. diaz and thinking hes eddies husband.

Wait for me there by @kitkatpancakestack Childhood friends reunite after 8 years. I just really really loved this one. Those flashbacks to the past are so beautiful.

wanna be your endgame by literalmetaphor gotta be honest dont see this happening in canon at all cause the second eddie confesses buck would go down on his knees lets be honest. BUT this was so great! I loved it.

Pivot Tables by rainbowninja167 Does it show that i love reading buddie being so freaky and so kinky. Ill just say this: educational sex. Buck brings on the clipboard. Obsessed with this one.

I Broke What You Gave Me, But You Kept Giving More by rcdwings. memory loss buck cant remember his husband. Listen im not always a fun of memory loss fics but i loved this one i loved the twist.

there's a word for it, I'm sure by @ithilien-writes i have to reread this one asap cause i loved it so so much they are just so in love with each other but cant admit it so they just start having sex about it. And god they love esch other.

i could give you fifty reasons by @marviless buck FLIRTS with eddie cause he just want ti help. God this one was so much fun. I remember laughing out loud. I gotta reread.

beating the horse by @doitbuckley Eddie is moving to Texas. Buck finally figures out what he wants. Perfect read to the end of 8a.

In the Back Seat, Windows Up by @semperama SEX IN THE BACKSIT OF THE TRUCK LETSFUCKINGGOOOOOO

Play Me For Keeps by @semperama this one made me feel so MANY things in less than 1k words I WAS WONDERSTRUCK HONESTLY SMILING FROM EAR TO EAR

would you lie with me and just forget the world by @colonoscopys reread this one recently GODDDDD if you havent just go read it right now!!! Childhood friends to lovers for the win always.

your beauty (not just a mask) by @aashiqeddiediaz these next two fics GOD well i have a thing for mirrors and sex in front of mirrors apparently so... this i top tier for me. This one is the shorter one in front of the bathroom mirror 100/10 no notes.

my mirror (staring back at me) by @aashiqeddiediaz this one is longer. Mirror in the bedroom......... Eddie notices bucks insecurities and well he does smth about it ❤️‍🔥 such a fave of mine. It has everything!!!

Dreaming of a White Christmas by rosebuddiekin . Oh boy!!!... just gonna leave the blurb here cause no words could ever be enough: "Buck accepts a challenge to be edged in his and Eddie's own version of the 12 Days of Christmas and loses his mind a little more with each one." (Btw if someone knows the author please lmk. They put a link to their tumblr on ao3 but it doesnt work for me.)

[bueckersstuff]

REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1 & 2

Chapter 3: Forgotten Faces, Remembered Pain

Paige's POV

I grew up here in Minnesota, living what seemed like a perfect life until I left for college in Connecticut three years ago. Good family, solid school, a career I was proud of, the best friends anyone could ask for. I had everything I could have dreamed of. Or at least, I thought I did. But then, a certain someone walked back into my life, and now I realized—time doesn’t heal anything. You just get used to carrying the weight of what hurts for a lot longer than you should.

It all started when I was twelve, discovering my love for basketball. My dad used to bring me to this basketball court just down the street to practice, sometimes for hours. We’d always end up at the local convenience store, grabbing snacks—he’d stock up on chips while I picked out ice cream. I still remember that day. I grabbed my usual chocolate ice cream, lined up to pay, and that’s when I heard it.

"No! What you gave me is a dollar short! I can count!" A girl’s voice, sharp with frustration, cutting through the air. I turned, half expecting some kind of mistake, but she was standing there, arguing with the cashier, insisting on the right change.

I couldn’t help it—my eyes met hers, and she shoved the receipt into my face, her little face demanding validation.

"You know math? Tell me I’m right, and she’s wrong."

I had to laugh. I looked at the cashier, then back at her. "Yeah, you’re right." Though I was laughing, I actually glanced at the receipt and she was, indeed, right.

She flashed that cocky grin of hers, so smug. "See? Told you I’m right."

That was just the beginning.

She started following me around, asking questions, poking into my life, telling me she had no friends, she was bored all the time. I didn’t even know why I let her in, but I did. So, I told her, "If you want to waste time, you can come watch me practice. You live around here, right?" She had mentioned earlier that she lives nearby.

"Yeah, that works," she replied, smirking. "I can waste time and practice my math by counting your scores. That is, if you can score."

That was her way of challenging me.

Five years. Five years we spent inseparable, like we couldn’t exist without each other. And then, the world broke apart.

One day, she came to practice with bloodshot eyes, her face red and blotchy from crying. Before I could even ask, she blurted out, her voice cracking:

"I’m leaving Minnesota. Mom says it’s for work, and we’ll be back sooner than I think."

She started sobbing uncontrollably. "I don’t want to leave. I can’t leave you here alone."

I was speechless. My world was spinning, and I didn’t know how to respond. I couldn’t wrap my mind around it.

"If that’s what the adults want, there’s nothing we can do about it, right?" I muttered, trying to ease the tension. "We can still talk on video calls, and you’ll be back before you know it."

But what about what I wanted?

"No!" she screamed. "If I leave, you’ll forget about me. You’ll find new friends!"

I could hear the panic in her voice, and it drove a sharp pain into my chest. "I won’t. I promise. It’s just us two, forever and ever."

And then she was gone.

For two years, we kept in touch, but as soon as I moved to Connecticut for college, things started to unravel. The calls grew less frequent, the arguments more intense. Silence followed, suffocating silence. No texts, no calls. Just emptiness.

I thought she was living her best life—at least, that’s what her social media told me. She seemed happy, thriving. But where did that leave me? Did "forever and ever" mean nothing? Was I just another part of her past, fading away?

I moved on, or so I told myself. I threw myself into my studies, my career. But still, there were nights when I found myself searching for her name, staring at her photos, wondering what had happened. Longing. Disappointment. Anger. Then confusion. Why was I still so obsessed? She left me all alone, even when I needed her the most. When I suffered an injury while playing my sport, I thought she’d be there for me, but I was wrong. I admit, I reached out to her, sending messages here and there—but maybe that was just my vulnerability talking. In the end, it didn’t matter. The lowest point of my life wasn’t even worth her time.

And then, there she was. Standing in front of me. But she was... different. Not in a good way. Something about her seemed so out of place. Her whole aura had changed. What happened to her?

It’s been a week since that first encounter, and I’m running errands for Drew. I roll my eyes—he’s got the audacity to ask me to get ice cream for him. As I’m perusing the different flavors, out of the corner of my eye, I see him.

Steve.

The shock is immediate, but the look on his face is worse. He’s more stunned than I am. But why is that? Am I not supposed to see him anymore?

"Paige? Long time no see! What are you doing here? I thought you were in Connecticut?"

My heart skips a beat. He keeps tabs on me?

"I’m on a break. Gonna head back tomorrow though, classes start soon. It’s good to see you again, Steve." I try to sound calm, but it’s hard when my mind is still reeling. "How’s Emma?"

His face contorts, and I see a flicker of pain—something I haven’t seen before, and it sends a sharp pang through me.

"Emma’s gone. Just three months ago."

The words crash into me like a wrecking ball. What? Emma’s dead?

I don’t know what to say. My mouth goes dry. "Oh my god. I’m so sorry. How are you holding up?"

"We’re fine now, I guess. But the last three months have been hell. Losing Emma... and then having my daughter almost..." He trails off, his voice cracking. "I’m just thankful my daughter got lucky."

My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"

"I came here with my daughter. You haven’t seen her yet?" he asks, and the words send a shiver through me.

Oh, I've seen her, but then she disappears again for the rest of the week.

"But maybe even if you did, she won’t remember you," he adds, his voice tinged with sadness.

I freeze. What?

"She’s suffering from a temporary memory loss from the accident, Paige."

She forgot me? She forgot about us?

The ice cream Steve is holding shakes slightly in his hands, and I suddenly realize I’m staring at it. "Is that for her? That’s her favorite."

"Yeah. I’m hoping it’ll help her remember, you know?" Steve’s voice breaks, and it feels like the weight of everything is pressing in on me.

I don’t know why I say it, but it spills out before I can stop myself.

"I want to help. Make her remember."

I must be crazy.

He looks at me, surprised but grateful. "You would? That means a lot to me, Paige."

He pauses for a moment, his eyes a little distant, before continuing. "I’ve been thinking about it for a while now—about sending her back to school. The doctors think getting back into a routine could help her. They said it might spark something, help her remember what she loved." He exhales, his voice wavering slightly. "I’ve been struggling with whether or not it's the right time, but... I think it might be the only way."

I barely hear him as my mind races. "She can attend to mine. Transfer her. She can join the swimming team. She still swims, right?"

Or maybe I'm just out of my fucking mind.

"Yes!" Steve’s face lights up. "That’s actually a great idea. I’ll start processing her papers next week."

She needs to remember. Because when she finally looks me in the eye and says sorry, it won’t be some empty apology. It’ll be real.

She’ll remember me. She has to.

Chapter 4 setting's gonna be at Uconn. More interactions and stuff!! <3

Taglist: @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @0phantom0 @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj

[lilygaragee]

new year’s kiss

☆note: hii guys!! ive decided to create a new account here after a small break so please dont go harsh on me 🙏 english is not my first language but i tried my best so i really appreciate all of the support 🫶

☆warnings: mentions of alcohol, drug use, swearning, cheating(?), smuttish but not really smut, fluff

you were high out of your mind, watching a film on your couch with peter (your current boyfriend) you honestly hated him, you hated the way he treated you and the way you basically became a drug addict because of him.

as you two were laying in your apartment that obviously you pay for because peter is broke. Your phone vibrates from underneath your back, you silently lift your back to see who texted you without peter looking into your phone. It was sarah, you best friend since kindergarten saying that she hosts a party on new year’s eve and that you should totally come, you read the message quickly enough for Peter not to be able to and he immediately asks you „who is texting you again?” „oh its just my mom asking if i would want to come to spend new year’s with her” „i want to go to a club baby” he says giving you a small kiss on your forehead „ill go alone then” as a response he just hums and goes back to watching the film

☆☆☆☆

You have decidedto wear your favourite black dress with black thighs and shiny heeles, obviously you changed in the car so you didnt have to worry about fighting with peter that you look like a slut, he hates we you look good and you know it, he thinks that you will chase him for tne rest of his life, he hasn’t realised yet that you are so sick of him, his habits and just his entire personality, you want to kick him out of your place but you know that you dont have enough strength to do it alone.

„hey im here can you come out?” you stare at the text you sent and wait for sarah to respond or at least see the message but then you see her cherry red dyed hair running up to your car „girl cmon youre still scared to come to my house alone?” she says laughing, „im very scared of your neighbours” you respond to her looking over at the house thats right next to sarah’s

As you two were getting ready in sarah’s bathroom blasting music snd makeup just trashed everywhere you ask her „do you have a list who’s coming?” „yeah overhere” sarah passes you her phone with people’s name’s „who tf are these random people” „omg stop you literally know them” you still look at the phone confused as you try to recognise any of them as you notice a familiar name „who’s oscar piastri?” „oh he’s my friend’s friend or something like that, i dont really know the guy. What is he cute?” „i mean..maybe a little?” you still scroll through his pictures curiously „wait aren’t you with peter still?” „we broke up but he still says he loves me and wants to stay at my place but he gives me free weed do i guess its fine” trying to explain how you feel about peter is probably one of the hardest thing to do.

People stared coming to sarah’s house around 8pm and it was just a regular house party with people drinking, smoking or doing other stuff, you were looking out to see if the oscar guy that caught your attention was already here but you could not find him anywhere, after a while you just gave up, not having any hopes about seeing him, you came up to a random guy that was rolling joints and asked to borrow one he agreed after some negotiations and you went to the garden to smoke it in peace, you were sitting beside the pool smoking while a guy comes up to you and sits next to you, you were honestly shocked because wtf is he doing?? and then you notice the similarities between him and the guy that you were stalking on instagram „oh uh you want some?” you ask him shyly not confident at all like you planned in your head to be „yeah sure” he smiles and takes the joint from your hand. You’ve made the small talk while you were sharing the weed and you can already feeling it mess with your head and you can feel your mouth getting dryer by the second. „what your feeling it already?” said oscar laughing a little. „yeah” you said giggling „cmon lets go inside” oscar said standing up and reaching his hand to take yours to help you stand up, you stood up groaning, not wanting to go near people, but as soon you walked into the room full of people dancing to house music you slowly started getting more comfortable and more high. Oscar was right next to you all the time dancing and laughing with you, your just dancing your legs out of any strength at this point you feel so tired as you puy or head on oscar’s chest humming something while people around you are still dancing „hey are you ok? wanna go lay down” Oscar just see you nodding and takes you upstairs.

You were laying on Sarah’s bed in the only room that was left because people were probably having sex in all the other ones, but you weren’t there alone, you were laying on oscar’s chest listening to his heartbeat and listening to his monologue which didnt maks any sense, he probably doesn’t know what’s hes saying either. You never felt so connected and locked with anyone, you could feel his hands on your hair braiding them, you put your head up to look at him and you see his red eyes looking almost closed, you didnt have to look in the mirror guessing that you probably look the same, now your just admiring him and noticing the little moles he has and dimples when hes smiling. In the very awkward moment that Sarah catches you two just shouting fo everyone upstairs to comedown the stairs to watch the fireworks.

„How much do you want to stand up and go downstairs” oscar asks quietly „i have like zero strength left in my body so you would literally have to drag me there” „oh okay so..wanna stay here?” he asks smiling at you „yeah that would be nice” you said giving the smile back.

As you remember that you have something called a phone in your pocket that peter probably has been trying to get an answer for the last couple hours! he thinks your at your moms, you turned off your location so theres no way he’ll find you, you think „whatever all check later”

Oscar and you stood up to sit netxt to eachother while listening to people countdown seconds till new year, you take one more look at oscar and now he had probably noticed you admiring him for so long but he doesn’t do or wants to do anything about it

„happy new year” oscar says to you as he turns his head to you immediately catching eye contact

„happy new year oscar” you say back to him visibly flushed, you close your eyes as you feel his hand on your cheek pulling your lips into his, your tongue immediately started a battle with his fighting for dominance, you have really put all of your left strength into the battle but still lost to Oscar. At this point you two were out of breath and both broke contact, just for him to catch his breath and go back for even more. He picked you up from the bed, you wrap your legs around his hips while he carries you to the bathroom and puts you on the sink that you were getting ready in a few hours ago. Oscar stared to zip off your dress and you were left in your matching lacy underwear immediately teasing you, „you are so gorgeous baby” oscar whispered to your ear sending shivers down your spine while you responded with a moan. „We cant oscar…im sorry” you said quietly but loud enough for him to hear, „huh? why not” he reacted quickly, „peter would kill me if he found out, like literally” „is he your boyfriend or what?” „no, not really, were not together, but he says he doesn’t want to break up and now wont move out, hes like fucking insane” „what the fuck is wrong with the guy, i could never huty you” said oscar gently fixing your hair.

You and Oscar exchanged numbers and you told sarah everything, when you finally checked your phone you saw over 50 missed calles from peter trying to reach you without success, thank god you never gave him your mothers number even though he deemed that many times. you responded to him after few hours saying that you left your phone in the car and thought you lost it, he somehow believed it.

[etclouie]

heart to heart

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — summary; being fwb before he goes to jail, and it continues on after he gets out, but you have a heart to heart talk after visiting him (Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz x fem!reader)

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — warnings; aftermath of sex, talk of being naked, typical ‘what are we?’ scenario kinda, friends with benefits relationship, uh that’s it i think

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — word count; 1.2k

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 — a/n; i’m so in love with this man

misc masterlist | main masterlist like spooky? join my taglist !

since Oscar got out of jail, you’d been at his place a lot more. your arrangement taking a more serious turn than you had expected, but you weren’t entirely complaining.  

now, you were both laying in his bed. his arm around your waist to hold you tight against his side while your head lay on his shoulder, hand trailing across his chest absentmindedly. 

the remnants of your encounter still lingered in the air, bodies still sweat-slicked and warm. but the unresolved tension between you both lingered too, the unspoken words and the what ifs plaguing both of your thoughts. 

the steady beat of his heart was like a fleeting moment of peace, away from the troubles of everything— but Oscar couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last. 

the scent of your perfume lingered, filling his senses as he rested his chin on the top of your head. a soft sigh leaving him as your fingers traced across the crucifix around his neck, the gold pendant glimmering in the light. 

he couldn’t remember when you first started to toy with the chain, but he’d never stop you. it was almost ritualistic now, and he found it endearing. maybe it was the way you would look up at him when you did it, eyes soft, gentle and unburdened. a stark contrast to him. 

after a beat, your voice broke the silence, low and slightly hesitant. 

“you ever think about making things serious?”

you asked, almost absentmindedly as if the question had slipped out without you fully realising it. 

Oscar stiffened, his fingers twitching where they rested on your hip. he hadn’t expected you to go there, not now and especially not after everything. 

his mind raced, a thousand thoughts spinning all at once. 

serious? with you? with anyone?

he was no stranger to complicated relationships, hell he was the king of complicated. but something about you, the way you smiled at him like you understood the things he didn’t say, the way you made him feel lighter even on his darkest days — it made the idea of ‘serious’ seem less like a burden and more like a choice. 

but all of that didn’t mean he was ready to talk about it, not yet. 

his thumb brushed over your shoulder, a soft and casual movement that didn’t match the weight of the conversation. 

he kept his gaze trained on the ceiling, trying to collect himself. 

“serious, huh?”

he muttered, his voice gruff though there was no anger in it, just uncertainty. 

he never got angry with you, never let himself. you didn’t deserve to see him like that, even if this was only sex with a little extras. 

you nodded slowly, still playing with his crucifix. tilting the pendant and letting it catch in the light, before letting it lay against his chest again. 

“i know you’re not really all about that, but i like being around you Oscar. i like this”

you gestured between you both, the intimacy of your closeness and the silence that settled between you when words couldn’t express what you both meant. 

he let out a breath, trying to sound indifferent but it was hard to mask the edge of vulnerability in his voice. 

especially with the fact you called him Oscar, instead of Spooky. it was only you and his brother that called him Oscar, meaning he’d let you in more than he’d already thought.

“you don’t have to worry about that, we’re good. just.. keep it chil, yeah?”

your hand lay just below his chain, sighing and laying your head on his chest again. 

“i don’t know if i can keep it chill, Oscar. not when i feel like this”

absentmindedly, your fingers twisted the crucifix again. he let out another breath, pulling his gaze from the ceiling as you spoke again. voice softer this time. 

“i want more, not just.. what we’ve got”

Oscar swallowed, his chest tightening. the room felt smaller now, the air heavier. 

he should’ve been glad you were finally saying what he didn’t know how to ask for, but the fear of getting too close was a long standing habit. 

relationships were messy. and he didn’t have the kind of patience that came with putting in the work. 

but if he’d be damned, there was something in your tone that made him question everything he thought he knew. 

“more?”

he asked, voice hoarse as he balanced on the line of uncertainty on navigating the conversation. 

“what does that even mean to you? like.. what are you asking for exactly?”

you smiled, a soft and patient smile that made something inside him ache. 

he watched as you sat up, still as curled into his side as you’d allow. hand splayed across his chest, and just shy of covering his heart. 

“i don’t know,”

you admitted, sounding a little embarrassed before you continued. 

“i don’t need all of your attention all the time, or.. or a ring or anything, but maybe just the possibility of something real. something that isn’t just us messing around in the dark”

Oscar felt the knot in his chest tighten. real. he hated that word because it always felt like some sort of an invitation for disappointment, but damn it, he also knew that somewhere deep down a part of him was hungry for exactly that kind of honesty. 

starving for it even. 

he lifted his hand and pulled yours from his chest, holding it in his own while his thumb soothed across your knuckles. 

“you want serious, huh?”

he repeated, his voice a little quieter now, as if he was weighing the words before they left his mouth. 

“i ain’t perfect. i got a lot of baggage, and im not sure if i know how to be that guy.. you want me to be”

the last part came out quieter than the rest of it, embarrassed to have admitted the truth of what he felt deep down. 

you looked up at him, eyes soft but searching. lacing your fingers and running your thumb across his knuckles how he had just done with yours. 

“i don’t need you to be perfect, Osc. i just need you to be here”

there it was. 

that nickname you insisted on calling him. the one thing that had him crumbling quicker than your presence did, having to look away from you to keep the pink hue from painting his cheeks. 

his heart thudded in his chest and for the first time, he let the vulnerability show on his face. 

you were so damn sure of yourself and it made him question every he’d been telling himself about staying detached. 

he let out a long breath then turned his head to meet your gaze once more. his thumb brushed across your knuckles again, his grip tightening ever so slightly. 

“i don’t know what this is, ow what it’ll turn into. but i guess im willing to find out”

your smile deepened, and you leaned up to kiss him lightly on the cheek, as if to seal the unspoken promise between you both — before you caught his lips in an even softer kiss. 

for the first time in a long time, Oscar felt a glimmer of hope, a fleeting sense that maybe just maybe, real wasn’t so scary after all. 

reblogs are highly appreciated !

[yelenasdiary]

this might be weirdly specific but would you be able to write a fic where Kate Bishop is (fem)reader's best friend and she comforts reader after a breakup and it leads to romance? Could be fluff or smut, idrc

Take Your Time

Pairing: Kate Bishop x Fem! Reader (Platonic to Romance)

Summary: After dealing with a breakup, your best friend is here to help you get over you ex anyway she can.

Angst, Fluff, Comfort

Warnings: None, if there is any, please let me know | 1.4K

AC: I missed writing for Kate so much!! Thank you for sending this! I hope you enjoy x

It had been weeks since you and your ex-girlfriend broke up, but the heartache still lingered. You took some time for yourself trying to enjoy your hobbies once again, trying to not let the little things remind you of a love you once had. It wasn’t like you both ended on bad terms, but it still didn’t ease the feeling of your heart being broken into a million tiny pieces. 

The night was young, and the city of New York was loud and vibrant with its night life. Even with the light rain that trickled over the city, that didn’t stop the city from becoming a city of magic on a Friday night. While everybody was making it clear they were glad it was Friday, chit chatter from the street floated its way into your apartment by the open window of your bedroom, you were lying on the sofa with another case of red, puffy eyes. 

The throw pillow had a damp spot from your afternoon tears as trashy romantic movies played on the television, you knew it wasn’t going to help you heal but something drove you to just spend the afternoon binge watching the classics. Your phone would light up every now and then only to be ignored, your eyes not even moving from the television to see the who was trying to contact you. 

Your afternoon of self-torture was cut short when your best friend, Kate, let herself into your apartment. “Alright, let’s turn this crap off” she said, reaching for the television's remote and turning the screen black. 

“Kate! I was watching that” you groaned, slowly forcing yourself to sit up. 

“I know but” she paused, dropping her backpack to your feet and taking a seat next to you, making herself comfortable, “I think you forget that having friends around you in a time like this helps. So, here I am and in that bag is plenty of snacks, mostly your favourite ones” she continued with a soft smile. 

You sighed lightly, defeated by your friends kindness, “I guess you’re right” you said before reaching for her backpack. “Of course I am, you know who I am, right?” Kate joked, making you laugh for the first time in what felt like a very long time. “So, you’ve had a break from the world and now you’ve locked yourself away in this apartment. It’s time to have some fun!” She added. 

“Honestly, I’m not really up for… um, fun right now” you replied, your eyes stinging with every blink. 

“Fine,” she said dramatically, “then we’ll just sit here until you realize how amazing you are and how ridiculously terrible your ex was” Kate teasingly smiled.

A small laugh escaped your lips despite yourself, and Kate seized the opportunity as she nudged you with her elbow. “See? I knew I could get you to laugh more than once” she said proudly as you playfully rolled your eyes at your friend before opening up a bag of your favorite potato chips. “Okay, fine, you can stay but under one condition” you replied before munching on a few chips. 

“Go on?” Kate questioned. 

“We don’t talk about her, like ever” you muttered, your mouth still somewhat full. Kate let out a chuckle, “fine by me, I came over here to watch a bulk load of action and comedy movies, eat some pizza and tell you about this thing Clint did on a mission last week!” Your friend smirked as she reached for the television remote again. 

----

As the night went into the early hours of the morning, losing complete track of time as you watched movie after movie with your best friend. Your coffee table littered with rubbish of pizza boxes, empty soda cans and juice boxes, empty bowls of melted leftover sundaes, chop sticks along with the small take-out boxes from the Thai restaurant a few blocks over, it was truly a mess. 

You couldn’t believe that you allowed yourself to even for a moment to forget just how much fun you always had with Kate. Each movie you guys watched; she’d have you laughing to the point of tears by her like banter with the different characters. With both your stomachs full, the night life of New York City slowly fades from the chit chatter of pedestrians on the street to loud truck horns and trains on the train line. 

Not only did the city start to calm down but so did your apartment. Tiredness would soon start to hit you, reminding you just how late in the night it was. Gently, you rested your head on Kate’s shoulder, “thank you for making my day” you said softly, your eyes focused on the movie playing on the television. Kate smiled softly to herself, ignoring the way her heart skipped a beat at your actions. 

“You’re welcome” she replied, “I know break ups suck but you can’t wallow in it forever” she added. 

“I know, I guess…I guess I just hated not knowing what to do. You always hear stories of people growing apart, but I never thought I would relate to that” you admitted, sighing heavily to yourself. 

“You deserve so much better” Kate spoke softly, “I mean, who breaks up with somebody over text? To me, that kinda says they didn’t care too much. You deserve somebody who loves you for you, who’s stomach gets all twisted and full of butterflies whenever you walk into the room, you deserve somebody who’s face feels warm when you la-“Kate stopped herself mid-sentence abruptly and quickly reached for her drink. Her sudden shift made you frown ever so slightly. 

“Kate?” You said calmly, “are you okay?” You asked. 

Kate turned to you and smiled softly, “I’m good, I guess I just missed hanging out with you” she replied, feeling her stomach turn on her. Her eyes quickly moved back to the television, leaving you to watch her become slightly nervous. 

Gently, you placed a hang on top of her knee, allowing yourself to sit up right again. “Kate, come on, what’s going on?” You asked her. She took a sip of her soda to give herself that short extra seconds to panic on the inside before she nervously swallowed the mouthful of soda and looking at you once again, this time struggling to keep eye contact. 

“Please don’t freak out, I know things at too soon and look at me go, good one Kate! About to mess things up!” She rolled her eyes at her own frustration, “I never really liked you being with her becau-“ she paused once again as she looked into your eyes and saw nothing but care and patience as you gave her the time she needed to gather her words. “because I think you’re incredible and they never deserved you in the first place….and I think if anybody is going to spoil you and love you for who you are….I want it to be me” she continued. Her eyes dropped once again; this time worried for any form of rejection. 

Carefully you cupped her face with one hand, wanting her to look at you. She looked at you like a lost puppy who’d thought they had done something wrong. Her eyes making you smile softly at her as you crushed a lock of her long dark hair behind her ear, “you didn’t mess anything up Katie” you started, “I’ve always been in awe of you but in all honesty, I didn’t think you would ever look at me more than just a friend” you added, making Kate smile softly at you.

“Would it be awful of me to say that I’m so glad a broken heart pushed a confession out of me?” The archer asked nervously. Her words made you chuckle, “I’m starting to think of it more a of a bless of some kind. Maybe it this was exactly how things were supposed to go” you replied, your eyes sparkled from the glow from the television giving Kate another reason to admire your beauty without the worry of being caught. 

Kate took a deep breath, “so, what now?” She asked.

“We take our time, enjoy this new chapter... and see where it leads us,” you replied, “if that is something you’d be interest in of course” you quickly added, your own fear of rejection suddenly creeping in. Kate gently took a hold of your hand, removing it from her cheek “I’d like that, one moment at a time” she spoke softly. “Maybe next week I could take you out on an actual date?” Kate asked, feeling the warmth of your comfort embracing her as you gave her a soft nod, “it’s a date, Katie” you said before placing a kiss on her warm cheek.

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[genjenius]

Something More Besides You

Remus Lupin x Reader who are out after curfew on a winter night

wc: 721

a/n: I went ice skating and felt it was overdue, plus I need to have my moment like this

cw: fluff, winter/cold, bittersweet tone, friends but secretly pining, vague introspective thoughts, Remus and reader lying on ice, Remus's hesitation and thoughts

It was the heart of winter, the moon hung low, and the stars were scattered across the night sky, casting a gentle light across the Hogwarts grounds– which were covered in a thin layer of snow. It was far past curfew; the corridors were empty, and the night was quiet. 

You and Remus had slipped out of the castle. Both of you had barely spoken a word, but you didn’t mind it, the full moon was coming up and after knowing Remus for a few years, silence every now and then from him didn’t bother you. 

The both of you had reached a small pond not far from the castle. The water was frozen solid due to the low temperature, the surface gleaming under the faint moonlight. You took a careful step onto the ice, testing your footing. Once you saw its capability of holding your weight you walked a bit further, your hands tucked in the pockets of your coat and your breath coming out in visible clouds. 

You lowered yourself onto the frozen pond, flat on your back. The cold of the ice sends a sharp chill down your spine. You turn back to Remus who is standing at the edge of the pond, reluctant to follow you. 

“Come on, the ice is thick enough.” You insist, trying to convince him. 

“I don’t know, I’ve never really been good at this kind of thing.” He muttered; his voice uncertain as he pressed a foot onto the ice before quickly retreating back onto the ground.

“Not even for me?” You teased

“You’re trying to guilt trip me, it won’t work” He chuckled, even though he knew you were slowly convincing him.

“Suit yourself then, guess you’ll just have to stand there and watch me.” You shrug before turning to look at the sky. 

He watched you for a moment, the concern of whether this was safe or not never fading in his eyes, but he decided to trust you. You couldn’t help but smile as he finally took a step into the ice, his hesitation giving into your trust. After years of knowing Remus, you’d come to learn that he was very cautious when taking risks without thinking them through first, especially with you. 

He dropped to his knees, and carefully laid down on the ice, next to you. You both were silent for a moment, looking up at the stars.

“See I told you it’d be nice” You scooted closer to him, your hand slightly grazing his, feeling the cold skin against yours

“Well then, thank you for convincing me.” he said, a small smile threatening at the edge of his lips, “It’s peaceful.”

You both fell into a comfortable silence once again, but you couldn’t help glancing at him from the corner of your eyes a few times. 

He broke the silence, turning his head slightly to look at you with an expression you couldn’t quite read. “Do you think the stars remember us?” He paused for a second, his gaze still staring intently at the sky, “I mean, we look at them often, but do you think they ever look down and remember us the way we remember them”

“Maybe they do, maybe just the ones who want to be seen” Your brows furrow a bit, “But maybe it doesn’t matter, even if they do, I won’t.”

He turned his head to look at you, a curious look on his face, waiting for you to elaborate on your answer. 

“I’ll remember. Even if things change, I’ll remember you.” The words come out before you can even stop them, your heart heavy. At this point you’re not sure if you are even talking about the stars or about something else entirely. However, you meant it.

Remus is thankful that it’s a cold night, as he feels his face growing hot. You turn to look at him, his eyes were a bit tired, but your heart melted a bit when you saw the smile that stretched across his face. You two looked at each other for a moment, before you broke contact and looked back up at the sky.

“Plus, I’m quite unforgettable, if I do say so myself.” You laugh at your own words, your breath coming out in small clouds. Remus also laughed but couldn’t help but agree.

[natasaa13]

"You’re trouble" ft. Choso Kamo

Part 4

18+ minors do not interact!!!

Previous

"You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The air had taken on the distinct crispness of late October, carrying the faint smell of fallen leaves and wood smoke. The park, one of Musa and Choso’s usual meeting spots, was alive with the vibrant hues of autumn—fiery reds, burnt oranges, and golden yellows. They walked side by side, their footsteps crunching against the leaf-strewn path, the faint sound of distant laughter from children playing nearby filling the air.

It had been a month now since Musa and Choso’s relationship began, their moments together tucked into the cracks of their carefully constructed lives. Whenever Suguru was with Shoko, Musa would slip out with the excuse of catching up on schoolwork at the library. Other times, Shoko would cover for her, giving her the freedom to meet Choso at random cafés or quiet corners of the city where no one would think to look.

She had learned a lot about Choso during their secret meetups. He wasn’t just the quiet and mysterious guy Suguru called a friend—he was far more complex. Through their conversations, she discovered he had two brothers: Yuuji and Sukuna.

Choso lived with Sukuna, though he admitted his older brother was rarely home. Sukuna split his time between school and boxing, leaving the apartment eerily quiet most days. Yuuji, on the other hand, lived with his friends Nobara and Megumi but visited Choso whenever he could. The way Choso spoke about his brothers made Musa’s heart soften—there was an unspoken protectiveness in his tone, even when he joked about Sukuna’s endless energy or Yuuji’s goofy antics.

And then, there were the little details she hadn’t expected to learn, like the fact that Choso had a tongue piercing. The first time she noticed it, a brief flicker of silver as he spoke, she’d been caught completely off guard. How much more attractive could one man get? It was almost unfair.

“Hey,” Choso said, breaking the silence. He glanced at Musa, his dark eyes warm against the cool backdrop of the season. “You’ve been quiet. Everything okay?”

Musa nodded, pulling her cardigan tighter around her body. “Yeah, just... thinking about how fast this month has gone by.”

Choso’s lips curved into a small smile. “Good fast or bad fast?”

“Good fast,” Musa replied, her voice soft. She turned her head to look at him, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “Definitely good fast.”

Choso chuckled, his breath visible in the cool air. “I’ll take it.”

They walked a little further, the world around them peaceful in its autumn stillness. Choso broke the quiet again. “So… Halloween’s coming up. Big plans?”

Musa shrugged. “Not really. Suguru and Shoko might do something, but I haven’t heard anything solid yet. Why?”

“Satoru’s throwing a party,” Choso said, kicking at a stray leaf. “You know him—loud music, questionable decisions, and probably some over-the-top costume. Should be fun.”

Musa laughed. “That sounds like Satoru.”

Choso grinned. “You should come.”

Musa blinked, her laughter fading into surprise. “Me? At one of Satoru’s parties? That’s... not exactly low-profile. Remember what happened last time?”

“Think about it,” Choso said, his tone light but persuasive. “Big crowd, plenty of distractions. Shoko can keep Suguru busy, and we can just… blend in. Get lost in the chaos for a bit.”

Musa hesitated, her gaze dropping to the ground as she considered it. “I don’t know, Choso. What if someone sees us? Or worse—what if Suguru sees us?”

“ He won't, won't worry too much okay?" his tone is soft and reassuring

“I’m serious, though,” Choso said, his voice softening. “You deserve a night to just… have fun. No sneaking around, no excuses. Just us.”

Musa looked up at him, her heart swelling at the sincerity in his gaze. “Okay,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso smiled, his expression lighting up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Musa said, returning his smile. “But if this backfires, it’s all on you.”

“Deal,” Choso said with a laugh. “Now, any ideas for costumes?”

“Something subtle,” Musa said firmly. “We’re supposed to blend in, remember?”

“Subtle,” Choso repeated, his tone teasing. “Got it.”

As they rounded a bend in the park, the distant hum of the city blended with the rustling of leaves. Musa’s thoughts were already racing ahead, the idea of sneaking off to Satoru’s party equal parts thrilling and nerve-wracking.

“Got any ideas?” Choso asked, glancing at her curiously.

She paused, tapping a finger against her chin as she thought. “How about… Pucca and Garu?”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “Pucca and Garu? Like, the cartoon characters?”

Musa grinned, her excitement bubbling over. “Yeah! It’s perfect. Pucca’s always chasing after Garu, and Garu’s… well, he’s quiet and kind of mysterious. It fits.”

Choso laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “So, you’re saying you’re Pucca?”

“Obviously,” Musa said with a mock-serious tone, crossing her arms. “And you’re Garu. It’s not even a question.”

Choso shook his head, still smiling. “Alright, Pucca. I’ll bite. What do I need for this costume?”

Musa’s eyes sparkled with excitement as she clapped her hands together. “Okay, so here’s the plan. You’ll need black pants, a black shirt, red gloves, and—oh, a red heart on your shirt.”

Choso raised an eyebrow. “A red heart? Is Garu secretly a romantic?”

“Of course,” Musa teased, grinning. “He’s just subtle about it. And your signature pigtails are already perfect. You don’t even have to try.”

Choso ran a hand through his hair, chuckling. “Guess I’m a natural ninja, huh?”

“Something like that,” Musa said with a laugh. “And for me, I’ll wear a red dress and put my hair in buns. Simple and cute.”

Choso tilted his head, his eyes softening as they lingered on her. “You’ll look perfect.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she quickly waved him off. “Focus, Garu. We’re talking strategy here.”

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Black shirt, red heart, gloves, and my hair. Got it.”

Choso leaned closer, his smirk softening. “You really thought this through, huh?”

Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she held his gaze. “Maybe I’ve been wanting to dress up as Pucca for a while. You’re just my perfect excuse.”

“Glad I could be of service,” Choso teased, his tone light. “Alright, Pucca and Garu it is."

------------------‐---------

Musa stepped into the house after her “study session,” the cool autumn air still clinging to her jacket. The soft hum of the TV filled the space, and she spotted Suguru lounging on the couch, his long hair tied back as he flipped through channels.

“You’re back,” he said, glancing up with a small smile. “How was the library?”

“It was good,” Musa replied, setting her bag down by the door. “Caught up on a lot.”

Suguru nodded, stretching slightly. “You hungry? I was just about to make something.”

Musa’s stomach rumbled at the suggestion, and she laughed. “Yeah, sure. I’ll help.”

The two moved to the kitchen, working side by side as they prepared dinner—a simple stir-fry with rice. It wasn’t long before they were seated at the dining table, the warm aroma of their meal filling the room.

As they ate, Musa hesitated for a moment before bringing up her idea. “So, um, I heard from Shoko that Satoru’s throwing a Halloween party.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, his chopsticks pausing mid-air. “Yeah, I know. Not even surprised.”

“Well,” Musa continued, her voice carefully casual, “would it be okay if I tagged along? Shoko mentioned you guys are going. Well obviously since Satoru is you best friend.”

Suguru frowned slightly, his protective instincts flaring up. For a moment, he considered saying no, but then a thought stopped him: Maybe I’ve been too overbearing. Maybe that’s why she’s been acting distant.

He sighed, setting his chopsticks down. “Yeah, okay. You can come with us. Just… be careful, alright? And stick with Shoko.”

Musa’s face lit up, her excitement unmistakable. “Really? Thanks, Suguru! I promise I’ll behave.”

Musa twirled her chopsticks in her hand, the warmth of the meal and Suguru’s rare relaxed demeanor easing her nerves. She leaned back in her chair, her smile lingering. “Honestly, I’m surprised you’re letting me go. I thought you’d say no right away.”

Suguru raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock-offended look. “What, you think I’m some overbearing tyrant?”

“Well...” Musa teased, dragging the word out. “You do have your moments Suguru.”

He smirked, shaking his head. “Can you blame me? You’re my little sister. It’s literally my job to keep you out of trouble.”

“I’m three minutes younger!” Musa protested, playfully glaring at him.

“Still younger,” Suguru countered with a smug grin, taking another bite of his food.

Musa huffed, crossing her arms, but the amusement in her eyes betrayed her. “You act like I’m some reckless kid. I can handle myself, you know.”

“I’m sure you can,” Suguru said, his tone softening. “But I’ve barely seen you this past month. You’ve been running off to the library or Shoko’s all the time. It feels like you’re avoiding me.”

Musa froze for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She quickly recovered, forcing a casual tone. “It’s just schoolwork, Suguru. Midterms are no joke.”

He nodded slowly, but his dark eyes studied her carefully, as if trying to read between the lines. “Maybe. Or maybe I’ve been so caught up with Shoko that I haven’t noticed what’s been going on with you.”

Musa’s guilt tugged at her, but she pushed it down, smiling brightly. “You don’t need to worry about me. I’m fine, really. Besides, it’s nice to see you happy with Shoko. She’s good for you.”

Suguru’s expression softened, a rare vulnerability flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, she is. She keeps me grounded.”

Musa chuckled, leaning forward. “And by ‘grounded,’ you mean she puts up with your nonsense and calls you out on it.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said with a grin, not even trying to deny it.

They both laughed, the sound filling the kitchen with an ease that hadn’t been there for a while.

“What are you planning to dress up as?”

“Pucca,” Musa declared, grinning. “It used to be our favorite cartoon, remember?”

Suguru laughed, the sound warm and nostalgic. “Yeah, I remember. You used to run around the house chasing me, yelling, ‘Garu!’”

Musa laughed along with him. “Well, I’m bringing her back for Halloween.”

“That suits you,” Suguru said with a smirk. “Shoko and I are going as a priest and a nun.”

"Seriously, a priest and a nun? That’s... a choice.”

Suguru chuckled “Shoko’s idea. She thought it’d be ironic and hilarious. Who am I to say no?”

Musa shook her head, laughing. “You two are something else. It’s so dark, but I kind of love it.”

“You should’ve seen her convincing me,” Suguru said, leaning back in his chair. “She said it’d be the talk of the party. ‘Suguru Geto, the rebellious priest.’”

Musa laughed harder, almost choking on her rice. “She’s got a point. You do have the vibe for it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Suguru said, rolling his eyes but smiling.

After a pause, Musa tilted her head, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. “So, what’s Satoru’s costume? Do I even want to know?”

Suguru groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Honestly? I don’t know. He says it’s a surprise, which scares me more than it should. You know how he is—he’ll probably go all out just to make a scene.”

Musa grinned. “Now I’m intrigued. I mean, it’s Satoru—how bad can it be?”

Suguru gave her a deadpan look. “You remember last year’s toga party?”

Musa winced. “Oh, right. The golden laurel crown. The glitter. The... extremely short toga.”

“Exactly,” Suguru said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he showed up as, like, a vampire with a 12-foot cape or something equally ridiculous.”

They both dissolved into laughter again, the conversation flowing effortlessly. For the first time in weeks, Musa felt a sense of normalcy with her brother—a reminder of the bond they’d always shared.

As dinner wound down, Suguru glanced at her, his tone soft "You know I love you right sis?"

“I love you too Sugu,” her smile softening.

And for a moment, as they cleaned up the dishes together, everything felt almost perfect

------------------‐---------

Halloween night approached, Musa stood in front of the mirror in her room, her red dress laid out neatly on the bed. She ran her fingers through her thick black hair, sighing in frustration as she tried to gather it into buns.

“Suguru!” she called out, her voice carrying through the house.

A moment later, her brother appeared at her door, leaning against the frame with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Musa turned to him, gesturing at her hair. “I need help.”

Suguru blinked, looking mildly confused. “Help with what?”

“My hair,” Musa said, exasperated. “It’s too thick, and I can’t get the buns right. You’re the only one here, so congratulations—you’re my hairstylist tonight.”

Suguru sighed dramatically but stepped into the room. “Alright, Pucca, let’s see what we can do.”

Musa handed him a brush and some hair ties, sitting down on the stool in front of her vanity. “Half down, and the other half in buns. You think you can handle that?”

“Of course I can,” Suguru said, feigning offense. “I’ve mastered more complicated things than this.”

“Uh-huh,” Musa replied skeptically, watching him in the mirror as he picked up the brush.

Suguru stared at her hair for a moment, muttering under his breath, “You have way too much of this stuff,” before starting to brush it out.

“Hey!” Musa protested, laughing. “It’s not my fault I was blessed with amazing hair. Anyways your acting like yours is shorter than mine”

“Sure, let’s call it a blessing, plus mine isn't as thick nor wavy” Suguru teased, sectioning her hair.

As he worked, carefully parting her hair and securing half of it down, the usual teasing fell into a comfortable silence. The sound of the brush gliding through her waves was soothing, and for a moment, it reminded them both of simpler times—times when they were kids and used to help each other out without hesitation.

“Thanks for doing this,” Musa said softly, breaking the silence.

Suguru glanced at her reflection in the mirror, his expression softening. “Of course. You’re my little sister—it’s my job.”

Musa rolled her eyes but smiled. “Three minutes younger doesn’t make me that much smaller, you know.”

“It’s enough,” he replied, smirking as he twisted the first section into a neat bun.

They fell into silence again as he moved to the other side. Once he was done, Suguru stepped back, admiring his work. “There. Not bad, huh?”

Musa turned her head slightly, her eyes lighting up as she admired the hairstyle in the mirror. The buns were perfectly even, and the loose waves framed her face beautifully. “Wow, Suguru, you’re actually really good at this.”

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said with a smug grin, crossing his arms.

Musa stood and gave him a quick hug. “Seriously, thank you. I owe you one.”

“You owe me about ten,” Suguru quipped, ruffling her hair slightly just to mess with her.

Musa swatted his hand away, laughing. “You’re the worst. Now I have to fix that!”

“Better hurry up,” Suguru said, heading for the door. “Shoko’s already texting me, saying she’s ready to go.”

“Alright, alright!” Musa called after him, shaking her head as she adjusted her hair.

For a moment, Musa stood there, the warmth of their shared moment lingering. Despite everything, Suguru was still the brother she’d always looked up to.

She quickly finished adjusting her hair, smoothing out any stray strands. As she turned back to her bed, she picked up her long-sleeve red dress, slipping it on carefully. The fabric hugged her chest and waist snugly before flowing out softly, the hem stopping at mid-thigh. She added knee-high black socks and wedge boots, completing the look with a satisfied glance in the mirror.

The outfit perfectly captured Pucca’s playful yet bold style, and Musa couldn’t help but smile.

Suguru’s voice echoed from the hallway. “Musa! If you don’t hurry up, we’re leaving without you!”

Rolling her eyes, Musa grabbed her phone and stepped out of her room. In the hallway, Suguru and Shoko were waiting. Suguru, dressed as a priest, looked his usual composed self despite the irony of his costume, while Shoko, dressed as a sexy nun, was grinning mischievously.

“Hury, we're already late,” Suguru said, crossing his arms.

Musa struck a playful pose. “Worth it, though. I look amazing.”

Shoko nodded in approval. “You do. Pucca never looked so good.”

“Thanks,” Musa said with a grin. “And you two look... disturbingly good. Very morbid. I love it.��

Suguru smirked, adjusting his collar. “We’re stealing the show tonight. No contest.”

“You might have some competition,” Shoko teased, nudging him. “I hear Satoru’s costume is going to be... something.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m mentally preparing for whatever nonsense he’s planned.”

The three of them stepped outside, the cool autumn air greeting them as leaves crunched beneath their feet. The faint smell of woodsmoke lingered in the air, adding to the Halloween ambiance.

As they walked toward Suguru’s car, Musa couldn’t help but feel a mix of excitement and nerves. The night promised to be unforgettable—and full of risks.

“Let’s get this over with,” Suguru said, unlocking the car. “The sooner we deal with Satoru’s antics, the sooner we can all just enjoy the night.”

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

The drive to Satoru’s house was lively, the car filled with the hum of conversation. Shoko sat in the passenger seat, fiddling with her phone, while Musa leaned back in the rear seat, gazing out at the glowing orange streetlights lining the road. The autumn evening was crisp, the occasional breeze stirring the fallen leaves.

Suguru, ever the careful driver, had one hand on the wheel and the other resting casually on the gear shift. “Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, glancing at Shoko. “If Satoru starts anything tonight, you’re on damage control.”

Shoko smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement. “What makes you think I can control him?”

“You’re the only one who even tries,” Suguru retorted, rolling his eyes.

Musa chuckled from the back seat. “Honestly, I think we should just let him run wild. It is Halloween, after all.”

Suguru groaned. “Don’t encourage him, Musa. The last time we ‘let him run wild,’ we ended up explaining to campus security why there were goats in the library.”

Shoko burst into laughter. “That was a good one. Admit it, though—you had fun.”

“I had a headache,” Suguru corrected, though his lips twitched into a small smile.

Musa grinned, enjoying the banter. Despite her nerves about sneaking around with Choso, being with Suguru and Shoko always felt like home.

As they approached Satoru’s house, the faint thump of music became audible even through the closed windows. The sprawling property was lit up with strings of orange and purple lights, fake spider webs covering the hedges, and carved pumpkins lining the walkway.

Suguru parked the car, and the three of them stepped out into the cool night air. Musa adjusted her dress, smoothing the fabric, while Shoko tucked a stray lock of hair back under her nun’s headpiece.

“Looks like we’re early,” Suguru said, scanning the driveway.

“Early?” Musa asked, raising an eyebrow. “There’s already a crowd inside.”

“That’s not a crowd,” Suguru replied dryly. “That’s the warm-up group.”

Shoko looped her arm through his. “Come on, Priest Geto. Let’s see what chaos awaits.”

As they walked toward the house, Musa hung back slightly, her heart pounding in anticipation. She knew Choso would be here—he’d promised. They’d already coordinated how to find each other without drawing Suguru’s attention.

They stepped into the house, greeted by the booming bass of the music and the chatter of partygoers. The air was warm and filled with the smell of cider and faint hints of sugary treats. Satoru, dressed in an over-the-top vampire costume complete with a dramatic cape and fake fangs, immediately appeared at the door.

“Welcome, welcome!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “My favorite trio has arrived!”

Suguru sighed. “Do you have to announce us like that?”

“Absolutely,” Satoru replied with a grin, his fangs gleaming. His eyes landed on Musa, and he raised an eyebrow. “Well, look at you. Pucca never looked so terrifyingly adorable.”

“Thanks, Dracula,” Musa quipped, her confidence returning.

Satoru laughed, turning his attention to Shoko. “And my favorite nun! Forgive me, Sister Shoko, for I have sinned.”

Shoko smirked. “Don’t worry. Your penance will be delivered later.”

As they moved further into the house, the energy of the party surrounded them. Suguru immediately gravitated toward the quieter corner where some of their mutual friends were lounging, while Shoko slipped away to grab drinks.

Musa scanned the room, her eyes searching for a familiar figure. Her heart skipped a beat when she spotted Choso leaning casually against the far wall, his Garu costume unmistakable with the red gloves, heart-emblazoned black shirt, and his signature pigtails.

Their eyes met briefly, and he gave her a small, knowing smile. Musa felt her cheeks heat up, but she quickly schooled her expression, focusing on maintaining her cover.

They found themselves gravitating toward one of the main living areas, where couches and beanbags were scattered around a large television. People were mingling, drinks in hand, and the buzz of conversation filled the space.

Suguru leaned against the armrest of a couch, his casual stance at odds with his priestly costume. Shoko handed him a drink—a dark, bubbling concoction Satoru had labeled “witch’s brew.” Musa declined when Shoko offered her one, opting to stay sharp and keep an eye on Suguru’s movements.

“Is it just me, or has Satoru outdone himself with the decorations this year?” Shoko asked, gesturing to the fake cobwebs and glow-in-the-dark skeletons that adorned the room.

Suguru snorted. “That’s what happens when he discovers Pinterest. He’s been sending me mood boards for weeks.”

Musa laughed, imagining her brother enduring Satoru’s hyper-enthusiasm. “I mean, it does look good. But did we really need the fog machine in the kitchen?”

“The better question,” Shoko interjected, “is whether we needed two fog machines in the kitchen.”

They all laughed, their voices blending with the surrounding chatter. For a moment, Musa felt a pang of guilt. Here she was, sneaking around behind her brother’s back, and yet these moments of normalcy with him and Shoko felt so comforting.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Suguru said, turning to Musa. “What’s on your mind?”

Musa blinked, caught off guard. “Oh, nothing. Just soaking it all in.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t press. Instead, he took a sip of his drink and leaned back. “You know, it’s nice having you out like this. Feels like old times.”

Musa smiled softly. “Yeah, it does. I’ve missed it.”

Shoko tilted her head, watching them both. “We should do it more often. Minus the fog machines.”

“Agreed,” Suguru said with a chuckle. “Though I doubt Satoru would tone it down to something simple”

As if on cue, Satoru appeared, his dramatic vampire cape billowing behind him. “Are we talking about me?” he asked with a grin, sliding into the empty seat beside Shoko.

“Unfortunately,” Suguru deadpanned.

“Good,” Satoru said, ignoring the sarcasm. He looked at Musa. “You’ve been mingling, right? It’s not a party unless everyone knows you’re here.”

Musa raised an eyebrow. “I think your party is doing just fine without me making rounds.”

“Nonsense,” Satoru replied. “You’re the Geto Pucca. You’re obligated to make an impression.”

“She’s doing just fine blending in,” Suguru interjected. “Don’t make it weird.”

Satoru threw his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. But if you change your mind, the karaoke machine is in the den. You’re all welcome to serenade us later.”

“Please tell me it’s broken,” Shoko muttered, earning a laugh from Musa.

“It’s not!” Satoru declared, already heading toward his next victim.

Suguru shook his head, sipping his drink. “This party is going to get out of control.”

“Isn’t that the point?” Shoko teased.

Musa watched them, a sense of warmth settling in her chest. Even with her secret relationship lingering in the background, moments like this reminded her why she cared so much about keeping things peaceful. Suguru deserved his good mood, and Shoko was always the glue that kept their group lighthearted.

Still, her gaze drifted back to the far wall where Choso lingered. He was talking to someone now, but his eyes flicked toward her for the briefest moment. Her heart quickened.

She tore her eyes away, forcing herself to stay engaged in her brother’s conversation. After all, the night had only just begun.

Musa caught Shoko’s eye, it was a brief glance, but the small, knowing nod Shoko gave her was all she needed. Taking a steadying breath, Musa excused herself from the group and slipped through the crowd, weaving between costumed partygoers until she reached the quieter, less crowded side of the house.

Choso was already there, leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed. When he saw her approaching, a small smirk tugged at his lips.

“Was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” he teased, his voice low and smooth.

Musa rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t hide the grin spreading across her face. “Suguru was hovering. I had to wait for the right moment.”

“And let me guess,” Choso said, pushing off the wall to stand upright, “Shoko was the distraction?”

“She’s the best wingman I could ask for,” Musa replied, stepping closer. “You should really thank her.”

“Maybe I will,” Choso said, his smirk softening into something more sincere. His eyes flicked over her, taking in her Pucca-inspired dress. “You look amazing, by the way.”

Musa’s cheeks flushed. “You’ve already said that.”

“And I’ll keep saying it,” he shot back, the teasing edge returning to his voice.

Musa shook her head, laughing softly. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible, huh?” Choso stepped closer, his tone playful. “Well, in that case, you’ll just have to dance with me to make up for it.”

She raised an eyebrow, pretending to consider. “Hmm, I don’t know. You don’t strike me as the dancing type.”

“Guess you’ll have to find out,” he said, offering his hand.

Musa hesitated for only a moment before slipping her hand into his. Choso led her back toward the main room, where the music was louder and the energy palpable. The dance floor was packed, but he found a spot in the middle of the crowd where they could blend in.

The music shifted to a bass-heavy beat, and Choso turned to face her, his hands settling naturally on her waist. “Ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” she replied, placing her hands on his shoulders.

They started to move, swaying to the rhythm of the music. At first, their movements were small, hesitant even, but as the song picked up, so did their confidence. Choso’s hands gripped her waist a little tighter, guiding her closer until there was barely any space between them.

Musa felt her heartbeat quicken—not from the music, but from the way Choso was looking at her. His dark eyes seemed to burn with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. She felt like everyone else in the room had disappeared, leaving just the two of them in their own little world.

“You’re not bad at this,” she said, her voice light despite the nervous flutter in her chest.

Choso chuckled, leaning in so she could hear him over the music. “Neither are you.”

Their movements became more in sync, a natural rhythm forming between them. Musa’s hands slid from his shoulders to his chest, her fingers brushing against the red heart on his shirt. Choso responded by pulling her even closer, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “You’re full of surprises tonight.”

Musa smiled, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. “So are you.”

The next song was slower, its sultry rhythm setting a different mood. Musa’s heart pounded as Choso’s hands moved to the small of her back, his touch firm but gentle. She let herself relax into him, her cheek brushing against his shoulder as they swayed to the beat.

For a moment, it was just them—the music, the closeness, the unspoken understanding passing between them.

When the song ended, Choso leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”

She nodded, her pulse quickening as he took her hand once more. Instead of leaving the house, Choso led her through the crowd and up the stairs to the quieter upper floor. The hum of the party below faded as they stepped into the dimly lit hallway, the noise muffled by the thick walls.

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

Choso leaned against the wall, his smirk returning as he watched her. “You’re really good at sneaking away.”

“Years of practice ” Musa winked, leaning against the opposite wall.

“Lucky for me,” Choso said, stepping closer. His voice dropped lower, softer. “So, what now?”

Musa’s breath hitched as he closed the distance between them, one hand coming to rest against the wall beside her. His other hand brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, his touch lingering against her cheek.

“This,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Choso’s lips curved into a soft smile before he leaned in, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and electrifying. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her closer as the kiss deepened.

Musa’s fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, her knees weak as the world around them seemed to disappear. She could feel the faint chill of his tongue piercing, adding an intoxicating edge to the softness of his lips.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, both of them breathing heavily.

“You’re trouble, you know that?” Choso murmured, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and affection.

Musa laughed softly, her hands still resting on his chest. “You’re not exactly innocent yourself.”

“Fair enough,” he said, his smirk widening.

The kiss between Musa and Choso lingered, the moment between them so sweet, so private, that they both almost forgot where they were. But just as their lips were about to meet again, they heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Before either of them could react, the door at the far end of the hall creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was Satoru Gojo—his tall figure framed by the dim light of the hallway. His vampire costume, complete with a dark cloak and sharp fangs, made him look both intimidating and oddly regal.

Musa’s heart dropped into her stomach. “Satoru!” she gasped, pulling away from Choso in a panic.

Choso, equally shocked, quickly straightened, glancing nervously from Musa to Satoru, who stood there with his usual smirk, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Guess I’m not the only one sneaking away from the party,” Satoru said, his voice dripping with amusement.

Musa immediately stepped in front of Choso, trying to block Satoru’s view, her face burning with embarrassment. “Satoru, please… Don’t tell Suguru,” she pleaded, her voice trembling with urgency.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, studying her with an expression that suggested he was weighing his options. “Musa,” he said, his tone turning serious, “you’re taking a pretty big risk sneaking off like this. You know Suguru could show up any time, right?” His gaze flickered to Choso, and a knowing smile curled on his lips. “And you two, well…” He shook his head, a slight chuckle escaping his throat. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous tonight.”

Musa’s face was flushed with anxiety, her mind racing as she tried to figure out how to handle this. She knew that Satoru wasn’t the type to keep secrets for long, but something in his expression suggested he was giving her a chance.

“Please,” Musa said again, her voice softer now, pleading. “I can’t have Suguru finding out like this. I’ll tell him soon, I promise. Just don’t tell him yet.”

Satoru stared at her for a long moment, his lips still twitching with a mischievous grin. “I can’t exactly lie to my best friend,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But... I guess I’ll keep my mouth shut for now.”

Musa exhaled in relief, her shoulders relaxing for the first time since Satoru appeared.

Satoru continued, his voice shifting to something more playful. “But you should tell him sooner rather than later, Musa. The longer you keep this a secret, the more awkward it’s gonna get. Trust me.” He gave her a teasing smile. “And don’t make me come up here again, okay? You’re making this whole thing way too fun.”

Musa nodded quickly, her face still flushed but thankful for his understanding. “Thank you, Satoru. I’ll tell him soon.”

Satoru's expression softened just a bit. “Now go back to Shoko and Suguru before they start wondering where you went. I’ll stay here and have a little chat with Choso.”

Musa’s eyes widened, but she nodded again, stepping toward the stairs. “Thanks again,” she muttered, her heart still racing as she made her way back to the party.

Once she was out of sight, Satoru’s smile faded, and he turned his full attention to Choso, who was still standing against the wall, arms crossed, clearly trying to figure out how to handle the situation.

“You and I need to talk,” Satoru said, his voice becoming more serious, his eyes narrowing slightly as he approached Choso. Choso’s eyes flicked to the door where Musa had just disappeared, then back to Satoru. “You’ve always got something to say,” he muttered, clearly uncomfortable under Satoru’s gaze.

“You're playing a dangerous game” Satoru began, his voice low but firm, “She’s Suguru’s sister, if he finds out you're messing with her ..actually he will find out then you'll be dead”

Choso remained silent, his jaw tense as he weighed Satoru’s words. Satoru wasn’t wrong—Suguru was a force to be reckoned with, and if he found out about this... well, it wouldn’t end well for anyone involved.

“I know,” Choso said quietly, running a hand through his hair. “But I’m not trying to make trouble. I really like her.”

Satoru’s eyes softened for a moment, though his smirk never fully left his face. “I can see that but you’ve got to think about the consequences, not just the fun.”

Choso nodded, though he still looked a little conflicted. “I’m not trying to hurt her. I just—it’s different this time, she's different. I don’t want to play with her, it's something I haven’t felt before" He paused, looking down for a moment.

Satoru raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Choso’s words. “You guys going to have to tell him soon. Suguru may be angry with you at first but he'll ease up eventually. ”

Choso gave a short, sharp nod. “I know.”

Satoru took a step back, his hands back in his pockets as he flashed a quick grin. “Well, I guess I’ll leave you to figure that out. Just... don’t cause too much chaos, alright?”

Choso watched as Satoru turned and made his way down the hall, back toward the party. He leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair as he mulled over Satoru’s words.

Suguru will find out soon enough, he thought, the weight of the decision pressing on him. But for now, all he could think about was the way Musa looked at him when she asked him not to tell.

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

Musa made her way back down to the party, feeling a little light-headed from the conversation with Satoru. As she walked toward the living room, she spotted Suguru and Shoko sitting on the couch, sipping on their drinks and laughing. Their conversation was lively, but when they saw her, their expressions softened.

"Hey, Musa," Shoko called out, a teasing smile on her lips. "You find your way to the bathroom okay?" she asked, her voice laced with a hint of amusement.

Musa smiled awkwardly, trying to shake off the tension from the hallway. "Yeah, all good. Just... needed a bit of air," she said, her voice sounding a little too forced.

Suguru noticed her discomfort and raised an eyebrow, though he didn't press the matter. "Well, you're back just in time," he said, holding up a beer. "We were about to play a round of beer pong. You want in?"

"Yeah, come join us," Shoko added, her grin widening. "It’s going to be girls versus boys, obviously."

Musa’s stomach twisted for a second as she remembered the recent encounter with Satoru.

Before she could answer, a familiar voice interrupted. "Don’t leave me out!" Satoru said, strolling over with his signature playful smirk.

Musa’s heart skipped a beat. She had just spent the last few minutes with him, awkwardly navigating their brief conversation. Now, here he was, joining the game like it was no big deal. She tried to hide her discomfort, but the way Satoru’s eyes briefly flicked toward her gave her away. He knew what had just happened between her and Choso, and that made everything a little more complicated.

"Great," Shoko laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "The more, the merrier. Boys versus girls it is, then."

Musa managed a smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Sure, I’m in."

She sat down on one side of the table with Shoko, as Satoru and Suguru took the opposite side. The game quickly kicked off, and the atmosphere lightened as the cups were filled, the ping-pong balls bouncing from one side to the other.

Musa found herself gradually getting into the game, her earlier discomfort slipping away as she focused on the competition. Shoko was always an expert at beer pong, but Satoru and Suguru were no slouches either. There were a few good-natured jabs thrown back and forth between the two teams, with Satoru mocking her aim and Suguru pretending to be shocked every time she scored a point.

"Nice one, Musa!" Shoko cheered, laughing when Musa made a perfect shot, sending one of the balls into one of the cups.

Musa’s competitive side kicked in, and she playfully teased, "I don’t know, I think I’m carrying the team here."

Suguru smirked, leaning over to Satoru. "Don’t let them get ahead, or they’ll never let us hear the end of it."

As the game went on, Musa felt the tension between her and Satoru gradually lessen. His teasing comments weren’t about her being caught earlier, and she appreciated that. Instead, he was focused on the game, making the whole situation feel more normal again. Still, she couldn’t help but occasionally glance at Choso across the room, wondering what he was thinking and hoping their secret would remain safe, at least for tonight.

Eventually, the game ended in a close victory for the girls, with Shoko giving a dramatic cheer as they claimed their prize of a round of shots. Musa’s mood lightened as she laughed with her best friend, the unease from earlier nearly forgotten. She was starting to have fun, despite the chaos in her mind.

After the game, Satoru raised his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright, we lost fair and square. But just know, I’ll be getting you back next time, Musa."

Musa grinned, relieved that the tension between them seemed to have dissolved. "We’ll see about that," she teased back, as Shoko winked at her.

Musa felt more at ease now that the night had settled into a familiar rhythm,.

The night was winding down, and the atmosphere at the party was slowly settling into a more relaxed vibe. The sound of chatter and laughter echoed through the house, but at the beer pong table, it had become clear who the true champion was.

Shoko, ever the skilled drinker, had effortlessly outlasted Suguru in the drinking game, and now her best friend was slumped on the couch, looking a little worse for wear. Suguru’s face was flushed, and his movements were slow and sluggish. He'd been drinking a little too much, and it was starting to show.

Satoru, always the responsible one (when he wanted to be), had moved to help him. With a playful smirk, he slung Suguru’s arm over his shoulder and started guiding him toward the stairs.

"Guess I’ll be taking my best friend to my room for the night," Satoru said with a grin, glancing back at the girls. "You guys can crash here, or if you want, I can call an Uber to take you home."

Shoko, looking more than a little tipsy herself, gave Satoru a wave. "We’re good," she said, already making her way to the front door. "Call an Uber. No need to stay here, especially if Suguru’s going to be sleeping it off in your room."

Musa nodded, grateful that she wouldn't have to spend the night in the same house as her brother in his current state. She followed Shoko toward the door, her mind still slightly clouded.

Shoko stopped and turned to Musa with a sly smile. "You should call Choso," she said, her voice a little quieter now that they were alone.

Musa blinked, taken aback by the suggestion. "Are you sure?" she asked, her voice low and cautious, though a hint of excitement bubbled beneath the surface. "I don’t want to make it too obvious, you know?"

Shoko gave her a knowing look, a slight grin tugging at her lips. "Of course I’m sure. You’ve been sneaking around this whole time, and now is as good a time as any for you two to have a little more alone time. Besides, you’re not going to keep him waiting forever, right?"

Musa felt a wave of nerves and excitement wash over her. Shoko was right, of course. It had been a while since she and Choso had been able to spend any real time together, and tonight had been full of so many distractions. She took a deep breath, her heart racing a little.

"I guess you're right," Musa said, nodding with a small smile. "Okay, I’ll call him."

Shoko gave her a playful wink before continuing to walk "Good girl."

Musa pulled out her phone the call Choso letting him know they're leaving and to meet her outside.

As they stepped out of the house, she noticed Choso leaning against his car just across the street, his figure illuminated by the dim streetlight. His eyes lit up when he saw her, and he stood up straight with a casual smile, his hands in his pockets.

"Hey, there you are," Choso greeted her, his voice warm and inviting.

Musa smiled back, feeling a sense of relief wash over her at the sight of him. She was finally getting the time alone with him that she'd been craving, away from all the distractions and pressures of the night.

"Hey," she said softly, walking toward him.

Before she could say anything else, Shoko, who had been waiting by the side walk gave a playful wave to Choso. "You know, Choso," she called out, "you should take Musa home first. I’m good, the Uber’s almost here."

Choso turned to her with a raised eyebrow, offering a polite smile. "I could do that. But it’s no trouble, I can wait and—"

"No, no," Shoko interrupted with a dramatic wave of her hand, a mischievous grin on her face. "I’m fine. Go have fun, you two. I’ll be okay. The Uber will be here in a minute, and I’ll be home in no time."

Musa glanced between them, a little unsure. "Are you sure, Shoko?"

Shoko flashed her a wink and a teasing smile. "Absolutely. You two have a good time. Don’t keep him waiting, now."

Musa let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Alright," she said, though a part of her was still a little nervous. "Thanks, Shoko."

Choso opened the passenger door. "Shall we, then?" he said in that low, teasing tone that made her heart flutter.

Musa nodded, a smile tugging at her lips as she slipped in the seat of the passenger side. "Let’s go."

Shoko gave them a final wave before climbing into the Uber that just arrived, leaving them with nothing but the cool night air and the promise of some much-needed time alone.

Once they were inside the car, Choso started the engine, the soft rumble of the car filling the space. The drive was quiet, but comfortable—neither of them feeling the need to fill the silence. Musa leaned back in her seat, her mind racing with everything that had happened tonight, from the Halloween party to the kiss they had shared earlier.

Choso glanced over at her, his expression softening. "You okay?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Musa met his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah," she said, her voice quiet but sincere. "I’m good. Thanks for waiting outside for me."

Choso chuckled, a hint of mischief still in his eyes. "I wouldn’t have left without you. You know that."

Musa’s heart skipped a beat at his words. There was something about how he said it, how serious he sounded, that made her feel both a little lighter and more nervous all at once.

The drive continued with an easy, unspoken understanding between them. Musa wasn’t sure where they were headed exactly, but she was content to simply be in Choso’s presence, away from the chaos of the party and her family. Tonight was theirs, and for the first time in a while, she felt like she could breathe freely.

As the car came to a stop, parking into the driveway. Choso followed Musa to the front door, the quiet night only addig to the anticipation. Once inside, they both paused for a brief moment as the door clicked shut behind them, the stillness of the house amplifying the tension building in the air. Musa's heart was beating so loudly, she was sure Choso could hear it too.

She didn't say anything, with a glance at Choso she stepped closer, hands sliding up to his chest. Choso didn't hesitate - quickly closing the distance between the two, immediately leaned down to capture her lips. The kiss was slow at first but quickly became more urgent and hungry for desire. Musa’s hands roamed too his neck, pulling him impossibly closer as the intensity of the kiss deepened, igniting something in her that she couldn’t quite control. He licked her bottom lip, asking for entrance which was granted without hesitation. Their tongues fought for dominance and the little metal ball making Musa slowly lose her mind.

Choso’s hands moved to her waist, gripping gently but firmly as he slowly began leading her backwards. Neither of them broke the kiss, and soon, they were navigating through the dimly lit hallway toward her bedroom.

The air between them thick with tension, both of them knowing exactly where this is heading, yet neither of them in a hurry to rush it. Choso’s movements were deliberate, guiding her every step without breaking their connection, as if everything in the world outside of them had faded away. The moment their bodies brushed against the doorframe of her room, he leaned her against it briefly, his lips never leaving hers, before he gently nudged the door open with his foot.

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

Once inside, Choso pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. "You sure?" He asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.

Musa’s answer was immediate, her hands tugging at his shirt to pull him closer again "I'm sure" she breathed out.

And with that the kiss resuming, with renewed passion. Choso’s hands found the zipper on the back of her dress, slowly zipping it down and slipping it down her body ever so teasingly. He gently pushed her down on the bed, guiding her down onto the soft sheets as he hovered over her. His hands were carefully caressing her body, never rushing as if savoring every second of this moment with her.

Musa’s heart raced, hands moving to tangled in his hair. Every touch sending jolt of electricity through her, she couldn’t think of anything else but him.

She couldn’t help the small noises that left her lips, the moment getting more intense by the second. Her hand trembling slightly but filled with determination, found the hem of Choso’s shirt. She hesitated for only a moment before tugging gently, signaling for him to take it off. Choso noticed her movement and pulled back from their heated kiss, dark eyes locking with hers. Without a word, he grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head with one swift motion, tossing it to the side.

Her breath hitched as her eyes traveled over his toned chest and arms, the piercing on his tongue now matched by the faint glint of a small barbell on his nipples. Choso’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile as he caught her staring. But when his gace dropped back to her, his breath catching in his throat.

Musa layed before him, her long black hair fanned out over the pillows, her baby blue eyes filled with a mixture of nervousness and desire. She was clad in delicate lingerie that hugged her figure perfectly, her skin glowing in the soft light of her room. The black lace contracted her beautifully against her complexion, and the knee high socks added a touch of innocence that only made her look even more enchanting.

Choso exhaled slowly, his voice low and filled with awe. "You’re perfect" his tone so sincere that it made Musa's cheeks flush even deeper.

Her gaze flickered away, "Don’t say thay" she mumbled, though the small smile tugging at her lips betrayed how much his words affected her.

Choso leaned down, cupping her cheek with one hand, his thumb brushing over her heated skin. " I mean it, you are perfect Musa, every single part of you"

Before she could respond, his lips where on her jaw, placing soft, lingering kisses along the curve. His free hand rested slightly on her waist, grounding her as he continued his tender exploration.

Musa let out a soft gasp when his lips trailed lower brushing against the sensitive skin of her neck. Choso paused for a moment, his warm breath fanning over her collarbone. He placed gentle kisses over it, careful not to leave any marks.

She couldn’t control the little moans escaping her lips, each sound making it harder for Choso to control himself.

He was treating her as if she were the most delicate thing he'd ever held, and yet there was an unspoken promise in the way his lips lingered against her skin - a promise that he wanted to worship her, to show her how much she ment to him.

Choso pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against hers as he looked into her eyes " Tell me if I'm going too fast, okay?" He whispered, voice filled with concern and affection.

Her hands finding his, fingers interlocking together. "Okay" her voice was soft, filled with trust and she leaned up to kiss him again, pulling him back into the moment.

Choso’s lips never left hers as his hands slid down her back, his fingers deftly finding the claps of her bra. With a soft flick , he unhooked it, the tension of the fabric realesing instantly. Musa froze for a moment, her breathing uneven, "Relax Princess" he softly whispered.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze locking with hers, giving her a chance to stop him if she wanted. When Musa didn't protest, he carefully slipped the straps of her bra off her shoulders, discarding the fabric to the side. His eyes roamed her body with a look of awe, his hands moving to gently cup her breasts.

"You’re beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with admiration. His thumbs brushed over her sensitive peaks, and Musa gasped softly at the sensation.

He leaned down, his warm lips leaving soft kissed along her jaw, trailing lower until his pierced tounge flicked over her nipple. The cool touch of the metal sent a jolt through her, and she arched into him, one hand quickly flying to his hair and the other gripping the sheets below her.

"Choso..." she whispered, her voice barely audible, her body reacting to every flick and swirl of his tounge.

He took his time worshipping her with his hands and mouth, one tongue-twisting sensation after another building the heat between them that she could no longer ignore. Her thighs pressed together instinctively and she could feel the growing ache pooling low in her stomach.

Choso trailed his lips lower, kissing down her sternum and across her stomach, his movements slow. When he reached the waistband of her panties, he paused glancing up at her for permission. Musa nodded, her cheeks flushed and Choso smirked softly below pressing a gentle kiss just above her belly button.

Hooking his fingers into the side of her panties, he began to slowly, ever so teasingly pull them down. He loved how she squirmed under his touch, his eyes fixed on her face, to capture every reaction. Once the fabric slid down her legs, joining the pile of clothes on the side, Choso slightly leaned back to admire the view.

"You're perfect" he said softly

Before Musa couldd respond, Choso grabbed her legs, gently placing them on each side of his shoulders. He pressed a kiss inside her thigh, then another and another, inching closer to her core. Musa’s breath hitched as he finally dipped his head, lips brushing over her folds in the lightest touches.

Small noises of pleasure escaped her lips, and Choso groaned quietly against her skin, the sound vibrating through her.

When his tongue made contact, she gasped, hand flying to his hair. He started slow, his pierced tongue exploring her carefully.

"Choso, you're teasing..." she moaned, her voice high and breathless, hip bucking involuntarily.

"Patience princess, I want to enjoy every second"

His hands gripped her thighs firmly, holding her in place as his tongue delved deeper, alternating between long, languidly strokes and and precise flicks over her most sensitive spot.

Her body grew hotter with every movement of his tongue, her moans getting louder. She couldn’t think nor speak, only feel as Choso worked her over with a skill that left her trembling beneath him.

"God, you taste so good" he murmured against her, voice muffled.

She gripped the sheets tightly, her knuckle turning white while her other hand slightly tugging at his hair.

He shifted, angling his tongue just right while one of his hand slipped between her legs, teasing her entrance with a single finger. The combination of sensations was overwhelming and Musa’s back arched into his touch, her cries becoming more frantic.

Hearing her like this only encouraged him more.

"You're close aren't you?" He smirked

" Let go for me Musa, I want to feel you come on my tongue."

His voice was enough to send her over the edge, body tensing as the pleasure washed over her. Choso didn't let up, his tongue continuing it's ministrations to draw out every last tremor of pleasure until she was left panting and trembling beneath him.

When she finally relaxed, he pressed gentle kisses along her thighs before lifting his head, his lips glistening as he looked up at her. Musa couldn’t form words ,her body still tingling from the aftershock. She watched with hooded eyes as Choso stood and began to undress. Her eyes flowing his movements, glued to his body, down to his happy trail ever so slowly. When he slid his pants and boxers off, leaving him bare Musa’s eyes widened. God he's huge.

He leaned over her again, hand brushing her cheeks as his gaze locked with hers, "Are you sure?" he asked softly.

" I trust you"

"It might hurt a little at first, but if you want to stop at any point, just tell me."

Musa nodded and smiled nervously. His eyes flicked down to her knee high sock, a smirk tugging at his lips.

" I'm leaving these on, way too sexy to take it off of you."

Musa let out a nervous laugh, her face heating up even more.

Choso kissed her softly, his body settling between her legs as he slowly positioned himself. He interlocked his fingers with hers by her hand, as she lightly squizzed it signaling she's ready.

His other hand gripping her waist as he slowly inched himself inside of her warmth, allowing her to adjust to the unfamiliar sensation.

Musa gasped, her body tensing as she felt him strech her. Choso immediately paused, forehead resting against hers.

"You're doing so well," he whispered softly " Just breathe for me princess"

Her breathing slowed, giving a small nod, encouraging him to continue. Choso pushed further, bottoming her, he stilled, his own breath ragged as he fought to control himself.

"You okay?" He asked softly, his dark eyes searching hers for any sign of discomfort.

Musa opened her hooded eyes, small smile playing on her lips despite the painful strech.

"I'm okay"

Choso kissed her forehead tenderly as he pulled back just enough to set a slow rhythm. His thrusts were deep and measured, his focus entirely on her and how she responded. He wanted to know every inch of her.

Musa couldn’t control the soft moans that left her lips as the initial discomfort faded, replaced by a building pressure that had her gripping Choso’s shoulders.

"Cho..." his name leaving her lips like prayers.

"God, I love it when you call me that"

His pace getting faster, sinking deeper inside of her, drawing moans after moans out of her and each getting louder.

The room filled with the sound of their bodies moving together, their shared breath fogging the room.

Her soft cries of pleasure, the way her body arched to meet his every move to meet his thrusts almost drove him to edge, but he held back to savor this moment with her.

"Cho it feels...ah...s-so good,"

He groaned low, lips vibrating against her neck as he pressed kisses against it. Her legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer, bodies melting into each other as she was getting close. He noticed how her body's reacting, clenching down onto him, her moans getting louder, he new she was close and so was he.

"Let go princess, I got you"

His words encouraged her as she reached her climax, she cried out his name. Her body trembled, her walls tightening around him making him cum in an instant. He held her close, his arms wrapping around her as he rode out his high, breath ragged and uneven. The two of them layed intertwined, their body still trembling from the aftershock. "You’re amazing" pressed a gentle kiss on her cheeks.

Choso gently brushed a strand of Musa’s hair out of her flushed face, his thumb softly tracing her cheek. “Stay here,” he sat up and grabbed his discarded boxers.

Musa watched him with a tired but content smile, her heart fluttering at how thoughtful he was. He slipped on his boxer and disappeared into the bathroom, returning moments later with a warm, damp cloth.

“This might be a little cold,” he said softly, sitting beside her and carefully wiping her down, his movements tender and deliberate. Musa’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t shy away, appreciating his gentleness.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice soft and a little shy.

Choso offered her a small smile. “You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his tone warm. After ensuring she was comfortable, he discarded the cloth and helped her pull on a loose shirt she’d grabbed from the edge of her bed.

Once she was settled, Choso slid under the covers beside her, pulling her close. Musa nestled against his chest, her head resting over his heart as she listened to its steady rhythm. His arms wrapped securely around her, one hand gently running up and down her back in soothing strokes.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his voice a quiet rumble in the dimly lit room.

“Very,” Musa mumbled sleepily, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on his chest. “You’re really warm.”

Choso chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Good,” he murmured. “You deserve to feel safe and cared for.”

Musa tilted her head up to look at him, her baby blue eyes meeting his soft gaze. “I do with you,” she said honestly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Choso’s heart swelled at her words, and he leaned down to press a gentle kiss to her lips before pulling her even closer. “Get some sleep, Musa,” he said softly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Within minutes, Musa’s breathing evened out, and she drifted off to sleep, her body relaxed in his embrace. Choso watched her for a while, marveling at how peaceful she looked, before closing his eyes and letting himself be lulled into sleep, the warmth of her presence grounding him.

The night passed quietly, the two of them lost in their own little world, safe and content in each other’s arms.

[oleandequill]

You know, it drives me crazy to know that technically there’s two (at least in terms of prominence cause I think there’s also a TFA one though it doesn’t seem as talked about) canonical Shattered Glass continuities: the one made by FunPub and the IDW reboot.

Cause the thing is, those two comics have vastly different Megatrons and Optimus Primes.

Like we have FunPub Megatron who is a mathematician and Optronix who was a librarian that backstabbed his way to the top.

Then we have the IDW versions where Megatron is a miner/civil activist who keeps getting tossed into jail and Orion Pax who is a senator in this version.

And what fascinates me is that in the FunPub version, Optimus actually lives (though he becomes Nova Prime). Meanwhile, in the IDW version, I think he dies (?) or well his fate is much worse in comparison to FunPub!OP.

Also what’s up with both Megatrons having a fakeout death? FunPub!Megatron does get killed by Cyclonus but he comes back as Galvatron. Meanwhile IDW!Megatron gets defeated by OP and is momentarily thought to be dead (he just went into self-exile).

There’s not actually a lot of difference between the two OPs (cause honestly they both seem insane), though I guess one could interpret FunPub!OP as much more depressing cause the only reason he’s evil is cause he saw life as meaningless unless history remembers you and when he becomes Nova Prime, he’s still a little jerk but he’s tamer so I assume that was his original personality. IDW!OP just wants total power and only initially hides behind a nice facade.

The two Megatrons are vastly different though in my opinion. Cause FunPub!Megatron really was just some guy who predicted civil war and was good enough to want to stop it (this Megatron wasn’t affected by the caste system, he just genuinely saw something wrong was happening and chose to do something about it). IDW!Megatron was someone who was affected by the caste system and was trying his best to bring attention to it. FunPub!Megatron is also very nice (like not overly nice but he’s genuinely such a nice guy and this is why he’s my favorite aside from him being a nerd lmao). IDW!Megatron is a bit more jaded (which is fair cause the caste system is horrible and his “friend” is an asshole).

Even the relationship between OP and Megatron are different in both continuities. I’m pretty sure in FunPub these two never interacted before the war, where OP gets pissed that this random mathematician is opposing him. In IDW, OP and Megatron were “friends” with OP even bailing Megatron out of jail, though their “friendship” was already toxic even before the war cause Megatron seemed to really see through OP’s BS.

All this to say, there should really be a crossover between both continuities.

SGFunPub!Megs and SGIDW!OP meeting would be kinda fun and dangerous, especially if they meet each other before the civil war broke out. Megatron wouldn’t know who OP is while OP would see another version of his Megatron who he could possibly trick. Also this has the added bonus of a hilarious scenario where Megatron predicts OP is the cause of the civil war through math and that pisses off OP cause genuinely tf you mean you computed that through math. This one is more dangerous though as OP genuinely wants power and will not be swayed by whatever Megatron says.

SGIDW!Megs and SGFunPub!OP might honestly end up the happier version ngl. Cause OP clearly has an existential crisis that Megatron can probably fix by convincing him that OP can still be remembered in history by doing the right thing… such as being a civil rights activist. Like… I’m just saying maybe FunPub!OP needs therapy (and unlike IDW!OP, he actually gets a canonical redemption arc so he’s not completely lost).

.

.

.

Anyway, will I write this? Maybe (I really shouldn’t though cause I have a series and two writing requests to finish lmao). Because I am officially employed now and thus have a fixed schedule unlike the previous weeks where my schedule was erratic (which is not good for my OCD as I need a fixed schedule or I will be very upset sksksksk) as I had nothing to do but read, play video games, and exist lmao

[ehatnow]

Linzer and Crème are so exes that get back together and it works out

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[introspectivememories]

sometimes i wonder what was the source of the obsessiveness between lewis and nico, knowing each other since childhood? i was always curious about lewis acting "no homo" when it came to nico?? is there an answer? i don't really want to have what they had. sounds intense

i'm sorry i'm not answering any of your other questions but "i don't really want to have what they had" is sooo fuckin funny to me

[faaun]

i feel rly sad and conflicted abt one of my best friends on earth but idk who to ask for advice bc i usually would have consulted her in this situation lmao

[brittlebutch]

a lot of people seem to use Entry #61 as 'proof' for the crux of the "Brian didn't care about Tim, he was Taking Advantage of Tim's conditions and Forcing him to work as part of totheark" thing, but honestly when you think about it there's no possible way Brian could have possibly orchestrated that series of events, like you almost have to interpret that as a baffling group of coincidences

[deadandphilgames]

oversharing in the tags time :)

[swollenwithangst]

i hate my uncontrollable need to analyze everything. my inability to only partially devote myself to things that will never be a constant. being too little or too much, exacerbating or not quite enough. i have roused myself with the guise of our friendship, acknowledging now that's all it can be. rejecting my kindness, while bringing tenfold your own. like magnets we push and we pull, all based upon the way in which we chose to orient ourselves that day.