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prael · 1 month ago

Text

Day 5: Comfort

Newjeans Hanni x male reader smut

words: 9,650 12 Days of Praelmas Masterlist

Spotting a face in a crowd is like watching lightning. There's a moment that captivates you and then it disappears. You're not even sure where to look for it. It happens in an instant, but when that instant is over, you're not sure if it ever really happened at all.

That is life with Hanni.

She might well be sitting here now, on your couch, with her knees pressed against her chest and a mug of hot cocoa in her hands, but in another moment she will be gone and you will be alone again. The warmth of her body will linger on the cushions beside you. You will press your hand into it, but it will fade. And then there will only be her image in your mind and the memory of her voice.

She is always so busy, and you are always waiting.

"I need a break," she says, and this time, her voice is not in the past, but in the present.

You blink, pulled from your thoughts, and look up at her. She's watching you, her dark eyes soft. She's smiling. You don't know how long you've been staring into space. "Sorry," you say, "what?"

Hanni laughs softly, reaching out and taking your hand. Her skin is soft, unblemished, and her nails manicured. Her fingers are slim and dainty, but there's a surprising strength in them. "I said I need a break," she says, and then she squeezes your hand. "So let's go somewhere."

You don't have to think about it. "Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know," Hanni says, and her smile grows wider. "Anywhere."

Anywhere.

The thing about the coast, the beach, the sea, is that it really goes well with sunshine and especially poorly with the winter. There is something about the ocean and the beach in the winter that is a bit depressing, and yet at the same time, that makes it feel more comfortable, more like you can imagine it as your own. You can walk on the beach without the crowds of summer. The waves are high, the water is cold, the sand is wet and hard, and the wind is sharp and biting, but there's a sense of adventure to it.

"It just doesn't seem to end," Hanni is explaining as you walk side-by-side, wrapped in padded coats and gloves, with thick hats and boots, "It just never seems to stop. It just keeps going. It's the same thing every single day. I wake up. I go to work. I do what I'm supposed to do. I go home. I sleep. I do it again the next day."

You nod, though you can't even pretend to understand it.

"Do you want to know what the worst part is?" she asks.

You nod again. "Of course," you say.

"The worst part is that I'm not even unhappy," Hanni says, looking at you with a smile that bears mixed emotions, "I love it. I just want something more."

"I think that's normal," you say. "It's like how when you finish a book, or a movie, or a TV series, you're sad that it's over, but you're happy that you finished it, and then you start thinking about what to watch next, or what to read next. It's like that."

You wonder if that makes sense.

Hanni nods slowly, and thoughtfully, as though she's taking the time to consider your words. "Yeah," she agrees, and then she laughs, "but sometimes I don't know if I want to finish the book. Sometimes I just want to skip to the end, so I can see what happens, you know?"

You don't. Maybe it's because life is much simpler outside of the spotlight. You don't have to wonder what happens next. What happens next is the same as what always happens. Work. Salary. Bills. Responsibility. It's the same thing, over and over again.

Actually, the only days you get to break the mould, are the days that Hanni is there with you. That is what happens next.

You don't tell her that. You don't think she would be all that impressed with your answer, given what she had said. So you don't say anything at all.

Vacationing in temperatures nearing freezing is hard, and the later it gets, the harder it becomes. Yet, the sky is so clear that the stars shine like a million little diamonds, and the moon hangs low and fat in the sky, casting a pale silver light over everything. In that, there's unmatched beauty. On this rooftop cafe, you can almost see the universe in full.

It took a little convincing for the owner downstairs to even open the roof. He called you a few variations of insane for not wanting to cosy up inside the warmth of the cafe. But you, and Hanni, are nothing if not determined. So here you are, on the roof, on the balcony, looking at the sky, at the stars, and the moon. It's a beautiful night, and there's no better place to be on earth.

"I like this," Hanni says, leaning into your side. "You're always good at coming up with ideas."

"I don't know if this is really an idea," you say with a laugh. "It's just sitting on a roof."

"Yeah, but that's the best part. It's just sitting on a roof." Hanni looks at you, her dark eyes glittering in the moonlight. "It's not fancy. It's not expensive. It's just us, on a roof."

"Okay, that's a fair point," you say, and then you laugh again.

You look out over the city, at the twinkling lights, at the stars, at the moon. You take a deep breath of cool air and let it fill your lungs.

"Hey," Hanni says, "I have a question."

You glance back at her. "Shoot."

"Why are we friends?" she asks.

"Wow, deep question," you joke, trying to lighten the mood, but Hanni doesn't laugh. "Um," you say, "Well, I mean, we grew up together, didn't we?"

"Yeah, but we're not kids anymore," she says. "We're adults now. We have lives. Jobs. Responsibilities. I'm an idol and I disappear for months on end. And when I come back, I always just drop in on you and expect you to be there for me, and you are. Every time. Why is that?"

"I don't know," you admit. "I guess I just... I just like you. I always have."

"You don't get sick of me?"

You shrug. "Sometimes, when you do that thing where you hum real loud, I want to strangle you."

It brings about a shared laugh. That right there; if you capture that moment and bottle it, you would present it to her as the reason. Because no matter how long she's gone, and no matter what happens, when she's here and you are laughing together, it feels like home. You don't need to be anywhere or do anything in particular. It's enough just to be.

Hanni shuffles closer, leaning further into your side. "You're my best friend, you know that?"

You nod, your heart swelling. "Yeah," you say, your voice quiet, "I know."

You've always been a sucker for romance, but you also recognise that the real world doesn't work that way. Romance is the domain of fiction, of books, of movies, of the stage, of the screen. In the real world, things are messy and complicated and sometimes they don't work out. And that's okay. It's not a tragedy. It's not the end of the world. It's just the way things are.

It's why you can spend time with a girl who's beautiful and talented and smart and funny, without getting caught up in the fantasy that she's going to fall in love with you and sweep you off your feet and carry you into the sunset, or whatever. You've seen enough romantic comedies to know how those stories go, and you know how they end. In the real world, the best you can hope for is friendship, and even that is something to be grateful for. Especially when it's Hanni.

"Which book is that?" Hanni asks as she steps out of the bathroom, wrapped in a towel and followed by a plume of steam. Her hair hangs wet and heavy around her shoulders, dripping onto the floor. The hotel room is nice, but it's nothing too fancy. You're sure Hanni is used to better.

You look at her for a moment, then close the book in your lap. It's in these pages, that those romance stories play out, or so you tell yourself. "It's nothing," you say. "Just some trashy novel."

She sits on the edge of the bed, her eyes on you. "Is it any good?" she asks. You're not sure if she's interested or just making conversation, but you answer anyway.

"I mean, it's not great literature or anything," you say, "but it's entertaining enough."

"I wouldn't have taken you for the type of person to read romance. I remember you being obsessed with... um... Who was that one author? Michael Connely? It was all detectives and crime."

"Guilty pleasure, I guess."

"What's it about?" Hanni asks. "The book."

You glance down at the cover, which shows a young woman in a flowing dress standing on a cliff, overlooking the sea. The title is in a fancy script, and the author's name is printed beneath it. You shrug. "It's about a girl who's an artist, and she meets this guy, and they have this whirlwind romance."

"And then they get married and have kids and live happily ever after?"

You laugh softly. "No, not quite," you say. "They have a lot of sex, but then they fight all the time and it's messy and dramatic."

"Then what?"

"I don't know, I haven't finished it yet."

"I bet they get back together," she says. "That's always how these things end, right? They have a big fight and then they get back together and it's all sunshine and rainbows."

"I don't know," you say. "Maybe. Probably. It's fiction."

Hanni laughs, shaking her head. "You're so cynical."

"I'm not cynical," you protest. "I'm just realistic."

"Right, right, of course." She stands, moving to the bag of clothes at the foot of the bed, and begins to rummage through it. She pulls out a pair of shorts and a top. "I'm going to get dressed," she says, and then she disappears into the bathroom again, closing the door behind her.

When she emerges, she's wearing a pair of tight black shorts that hug her hips and a white tank top that clings to her curves. Her hair is still damp, and it falls around her shoulders in dark waves. She looks good, and you can't help but admire her. She's beautiful.

You can tell she's aware of the attention, but she ignores it, instead flopping onto the bed beside you and letting out a sigh. "What are we going to do tomorrow?" she asks.

"I was thinking we could just drive up the coast," you suggest. "Maybe stop off in some of the little towns along the way, and see if there's anything interesting."

"Sounds good," she says, and then she rolls onto her side, her head propped up on her hand, looking at you. "You know, you're the first person I thought of when I said I needed a break."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I don't know why, but I just knew that if I could get away with anyone, it would be you."

"Thanks," you say. You're not sure how to respond to that, but it makes you feel warm inside. "I'm glad I could help."

The small towns are wholly uninteresting, but Hanni seems to find something to enjoy in every one of them. There is something about seeing the world through her eyes that makes even the most mundane things seem magical. A little store selling handmade trinkets and cheap souvenirs becomes a treasure trove of hidden gems. An old man playing guitar in the park becomes a musician worth listening to. An old, crumbling building becomes a palace of mystery and intrigue. The world comes alive when Hanni is around, and you can't help but be swept up in it.

You're on the last leg now, and you agreed to drive her home. It's late in the afternoon, the sun is low in the sky, and the horizon is a watercolour painting of pinks, oranges, and purples. It's a beautiful sight, and it makes you think of the painting that Hanni bought earlier. You're not sure what she saw in it, but she seemed to love it, and that's all that matters. She's asleep beside you, her head resting against the window, her breathing slow and steady. She's exhausted, and you don't blame her. She's been going non-stop for the past few days, and you're glad that she finally has a chance to rest.

You pull up outside her place and gently shake her awake. She stirs and blinks up at you, her eyes still heavy with sleep, and she smiles. "Hey," she murmurs, and her voice is soft and husky.

"Hey," you say. "We're here. You're home."

Hanni sits up, rubbing her eyes and stretching. "Already?" she asks. "I didn't mean to sleep the whole way."

"It's okay," you assure her. "Part of taking a break is getting some rest."

She nods, but she doesn't look happy. "I know, but I feel like I missed out on something." She looks at you. "Thank you for driving me home. I'm sorry for being such a pain in the ass."

"It's okay," you assure her. "You're always a pain in the ass. I'm used to it by now."

She laughs, but there's a tinge of sadness to it. "Yeah," she says, and then she glances away. Her voice is soft and hesitant. "Are you going to come inside?"

"I can help you with your bag."

"I was thinking more than just that." Her eyes meet yours. "Stay for a bit. I don't want to say goodbye just yet."

"I don't want to intrude," you tell her, knowing that there are four other girls in her place and it's their place as much as it is Hanni's. "Besides, it's getting late."

She reaches over and takes your hand, holding it tightly. "Please."

"Okay," you say, and you can't help but smile at her. "I'll stay for a bit."

It's the first time you've seen the inside of this place, but it's a lot nicer than your little apartment. It's spacious and modern, with a large kitchen and a living room that opens onto a balcony with a view of the city. It's the sort of place you would never be able to afford, but Hanni seems to fit in here perfectly.

There's a girl sprawled out on the couch, eyes closed, earbuds in her ears. You recognize her, from posters and interviews and magazine covers, and music videos. Her name is Minji, and she's got long, dark hair that falls in waves down her back. She's tall and pretty, with a slim build and a face that's both elegant and expressive. She looks like a model, but she's also an idol, a singer, and a dancer. It's a little intimidating.

"Better not wake her," Hanni says. "She gets cranky when she's tired."

You nod. "Right."

"Come on, let's go to my room. We can talk there."

You follow her down a hallway and into a bedroom that's big and bright, with a view of the city. It's tastefully decorated, with a bed that's bigger than yours, a dresser that's bigger than yours, and a desk that's bigger than yours. Everything is bigger here, and you can't help but feel a little out of place.

"I like it in here," you say. "It's nice."

"Thanks," she says, dropping a bag in the corner and you follow her by placing the two you were carrying.

There's a faint sound coming through the wall. Music that you can't quite make out, but it sounds upbeat and peppy. You can hear the bass thumping, and the occasional high-pitched voice singing along.

"That's Dani," Hanni says, sitting on the edge of the bed. "She's always playing music. It drives Minji nuts."

You laugh, leaning against the dresser. "It's kind of cute."

"Yeah, it is. She's a sweetheart." Hanni leans back on her hands, looking at you. "I can't believe this is the first time you've seen where I live."

"It's a nice place," you say. "I'm sure you're comfortable here."

"It's not bad." She shrugs. "It's not really mine, though. I mean, it is, but it's also not. You know what I mean?"

You don't, but you nod anyway.

Hanni sighs, running a hand through her hair. "You should visit more," Hanni says while taking off her jacket, reducing her clothing back down to just that tight white tank top now that she's back in the warmth of her room.

You can't help but look at her, admiring the way her body moves, the way her skin glows in the light. You can't help but want to touch her, to feel her warmth. "I don't know," you say. "I would be kind of out of place."

"You wouldn't be," she says, and her voice is firm. "I miss you."

"I miss you too," you say, and it's true. You miss her all the time, even when she's right here in front of you. You miss her smile, her laugh, her scent.

She looks up at you, her eyes wide and searching. "Do you think about me when I'm gone?" she asks.

"Of course," you say, and you can't help but smile. "All the time."

She smiles, and it's like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. "Good." She stands, walking over to you, and you can smell her shampoo, her perfume, her skin. She reaches out, touching your face, running her fingers over your cheek. "I'm glad," she whispers, and then she leans in and presses her lips to yours.

It's a gentle kiss, soft and sweet, and it lingers for a moment before she pulls away. You're frozen in this moment, unable to think, unable to speak, unable to breathe. You're not sure what just happened, or why it happened, or what it means, or what you should do next.

"I'm sorry," she says, stepping back. "I shouldn't have done that."

"It's okay," you say, and it is. It truly is. You don't know why, but it is. You want to kiss her again, to hold her close, to feel her warmth.

"I just... I don't know," she says. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and I just... I don't know."

"It's okay," you say again, and you reach out and take her hand, holding it tight. You look into her eyes. "I'm glad you did."

She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and searching. "Really?"

"Really." You squeeze her hand. "I'm glad."

"Good," she whispers, and then she leans in again and kisses you. This time, you kiss her back. You wrap your arms around her, pulling her close, holding her tight. You can feel her heart beating against your chest, and it's a steady, reassuring rhythm. She tastes of strawberry lip gloss and you can't get enough of it.

You've known Hanni for years, and you've been friends for years, and you've been best friends for years. But it's never been like this. It's never been this close, this intimate, this real. You've never been able to touch her like this, to kiss her like this, to hold her like this. And it feels amazing.

You're not sure how long you stand there, kissing, holding each other, but eventually you break apart and look at each other, smiling.

"What are we doing?" she asks, her voice low and husky.

"I don't know," you admit. "But I like it."

"Me too." She smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. "Can I tell you something? It's been on my mind for two days now."

You nod, and she takes a deep breath before continuing.

"I've been thinking about you a lot lately," she says. "A lot. I mean, I've always thought about you, but now it's different. Now it's like I can't stop thinking about you. Well, I can, but not for long."

She's stumbling over her words, and you can't help but find it cute. You reach up and brush a strand of hair out of her face, and she smiles at you.

"I don't know what it means," she says. "I'm not sure if I want it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm ready for it to mean anything. I'm not sure if I'm even ready to think about what it might mean." She laughs, and it's a nervous laugh, and you can tell she's struggling to find the right words. "I guess I'm just saying that I'm not sure what I want, but I know that I want to be with you. And I'm not sure if that makes any sense, but it's how I feel."

"It makes perfect sense," you say, and you mean it. You know exactly what she means. You've felt the same way.

"I'm scared," she says. "This feeling is new. It's exciting. But it's scary, too. I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to ruin our friendship. But at the same time, I want more. I want to be with you. And I don't know how to do that."

"It's okay," you tell her. "We'll figure it out together."

She smiles, and it's a shy smile, but it's genuine. "So you're not going to run away?" she asks.

"No," you say. "No, I'm not."

"Good," she says. "Because I don't think I could handle that."

You laugh, and she laughs with you, and it's the most natural thing in the world. You can feel the tension between you start to ease, and you relax into each other, holding each other close. You kiss her again, and this time it's a little less hesitant, a little less unsure. You kiss her, and you let yourself fall into her, and you let yourself forget about everything else, and you let yourself just enjoy the moment. You kiss her, and you feel her arms wrap around you, and you feel her body press against yours, and you feel her warmth, and her softness, and her strength. You kiss her, and you feel your heart race, and you feel your blood rush, and you feel your skin flush, and you feel your head spin.

And when you finally break away, breathless and dizzy, she's looking at you with a mixture of wonder and desire and something else that you can't quite put your finger on. But it's a good look. It's a look that makes you feel happy, and excited, and scared, and alive.

"So what now?" you ask.

"I don't know," she says. "I've never done this before."

"Neither have I," you admit.

"Well, uh..." she trails off, looking away. "I guess we can just keep doing what we're doing, but like, over there." She points to her bed, and you can't help but chuckle.

"I like that idea," you say, before pulling off your jacket.

"Woah, what are you—?"

"It's just my jacket, I'm not..."

You both laugh and Hanni does that thing where she covers her face with her palms and shakes her head.

"Okay, I'm an idiot," she says, before throwing herself backwards onto her bed.

You approach her, but you're still nervous. You place a knee on the bed, move closer to her, and lean over her. She looks up at you, and her eyes are wide and bright, and full of emotion. You lean down and kiss her, and this time, there's no hesitation, no fear, no doubt. This time, it's a kiss of passion.

You sink into her as the kiss deepens, and you feel her hands on your back, pulling you closer, pressing you against her. You feel her tongue slide against yours, and then you taste her mouth, and it's a taste that you want more of. You taste her, and you smell her, and you feel her.

All you can do is what comes naturally, so next you're moving your hand from the bed and onto her hip, and slowly moving it along her waist, sliding it under her top. Her body tenses slightly as the palm of your hand touches her soft, warm skin.

"Are you okay?" you ask between kisses.

"Yes," she says, and the look in her eyes tells you the same. "Don't stop."

So you don't. You keep kissing her, touching her and exploring her. Your hand moves up her side, feeling the curve of her waist, and the rise of her ribcage. You brush the edge of her bra and hesitate, but then her hand reaches for yours and guides it under the fabric. You feel her breast against your palm, soft and warm and firm, and you feel her nipple, hard and erect, and you feel her tremble beneath you.

"You're beautiful," you whisper to her.

She blushes and smiles before you slip your tongue against hers again.

You never allowed yourself to appreciate Hanni for her beauty. It's not like you were blind to it. It's just that you didn't let yourself see it. Maybe deep down you knew that if you did, you wouldn't be able to look at her as just a friend anymore. So you suppressed that part of yourself. But now, with her lying here beneath you, you can't help but appreciate not only how pretty she is, but just how hot her body is, especially as your hands explore her. She's toned, but soft, and you can't get enough of her.

Her own hands are busy, too. They're running up and down your back, and then they're slipping under your shirt, and you can feel her nails scratching lightly against your skin.

"Can we take off our tops?" she asks suddenly, breaking the kiss. The question is kind of awkward, you both feel this, there's this shared twinge of embarrassment that you can sense in each other. It's not romantic, it's not sexy, it's just a bit silly.

"Sure," you say, and you sit up and pull your shirt over your head. You look down at her and suddenly feel so exposed, even if she is the one in tight shorts and her legs on either side of your hips, you're the one that's topless.

Hanni sits up too, and pulls her top off, revealing her light blue bra. She's moving a little erratic as she reaches behind her back, so much so that she fumbles the clasp twice before unfastening it. She lets the straps slide down her arms and throws it aside, quickly crossing her arms over her chest. Her face is a deep red.

She's embarrassed. You've never seen her like this before. You've seen her nervous, shy, even scared, but never embarrassed. And it's adorable. You're sitting just a few inches from each other, yet she's still looking down and to the side.

"Hey," you whisper, and then she looks at you. "You're beautiful."

She smiles and uncrosses her arms, and your eyes move down from her face to her breasts. You've seen her in a bra, but not like this. Never this close, never bare, never with the intention of touching them.

So, you do. You place your hand on one of her tits, and then she's leaning into you and you're kissing again. She fits so perfectly into your hand, and you can't resist gently massaging it. Instinct takes over. You're not thinking anymore, you're just doing what feels right. So you break the kiss and move your head down to her other breast. You start kissing around her nipple, and then you take it in your mouth, and you hear her moan. It's a sound that sends shivers down your spine, and then she's tangling her fingers in your hair, pressing your face into her chest.

You spend some time like this, alternating between her two breasts, licking, sucking, and nibbling on her nipples. It's a little clumsy, and you don't really know what you're doing, so you just follow what her soft little moans tell you. You love the feel of her tits against your face, the taste of her skin, the sound of her breathing.

And then she's pulling you back up and kissing you, and you're lost in the sensation of her lips on yours, her tongue on yours, her body against yours. You can feel her heart beating, and it's beating fast.

"You're so hot," you whisper, and she smiles and blushes.

"So are you," she says, and then she's pushing you down onto the bed, rolling on top of you. She kisses you again, and then she's kissing your neck, your collarbone, your chest. She's kissing her way down your body, and you're not sure what to do, so you just lie there and let her explore. You become more aware of your own body, and the sensation of her wet kisses against your skin. You become more aware of the discomfort between your legs. It's only now, in this moment of respite from kissing her lips and her tits, that you realise she must have felt it. The whole time. Since you started kissing her, and you laid yourself against her. She must have felt the bulge in your pants pressing against her crotch. You're mortified. You can't even look at her, you just stare up at the ceiling with an embarrassed smile on your face.

"Hey," she whispers, and you look down at her. She's kneeling between your legs, looking up at you. Her eyes are wide and bright, and she has a big goofy grin on her face. She looks so cute. "Did I do this?"

She's not looking at you. You follow her gaze down to the bulge in your pants.

"Uhhh..." you're not sure what to say. "Yes. Probably. I think so. I'm sorry."

She giggles, a mischievous grin forming on her lips. "It's okay," she says. "It's nice. I, uh, I like it."

You laugh nervously, and she laughs with you, and then she's unbuttoning your pants, and you're not sure what's happening. You feel like you should say something, but you can't think of anything, so you just lie there and let her do it. You lift your hips so she can pull down your jeans and underwear in one motion. Although you can't bring yourself to look down, the feeling of being exposed is overwhelming. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling as if it's the most interesting thing in the world.

"I've never done this before," she says. "I mean, I've seen one before. On TV, or in a movie, or something. But I've never... I don't really know what to do."

"It's okay," you say, your voice shaky, and you almost don't recognise it. "You don't have to—" Your breath hitches in your throat as you feel her fingers touch you.

"I want to," she whispers, and then she's gripping your shaft in her hand, and you can feel her fingers wrapping around it.

You're hard, and she's touching you, and it feels incredible. It feels incredible and wrong and exciting and scary and confusing and perfect and you can't think straight.

"Is this okay?" she asks, and her voice is soft and hesitant.

"Yes," you reply, and you can't keep the desire out of your voice.

She starts to stroke you slowly, and you can feel her fingers moving up and down your length, and it feels so good. Her touch is so delicate, so gentle, so loving, so careful, and you can't get enough of it.

You can't help but look down at her now. She's staring at you with a mixture of fascination and desire, and you can see the way her eyes move as she takes in every inch of you. That's Hanni, right there, and you can't believe that she's doing this to you.

"I've never seen one this close before," she whispers, and then she's leaning in, and you feel her breath on you. "I didn't realise it would be so warm. Or that it would feel so... alive."

She's still holding you, and you're still looking at her, and then she's looking up at you, and your eyes meet. Her expression is a mix of curiosity and lust. It's an expression that sends a shiver down your spine.

She kisses the tip. It's a gentle kiss, and it sends a jolt of pleasure through you. She looks up at you again, and there's a smile on her lips.

"Do you like that?"

"Yes," you breathe, and you're surprised by the huskiness in your voice.

"Good." She kisses you again, and then she's running her tongue over the tip. "It tastes funny," Hanni laughs gently and smiles. "I don't know if I like it yet, but I think I do."

She licks you again, and then she's kissing you, and then she's licking you, and then suddenly she's doing both. Her lips part in one of her kisses and she takes the head into her mouth so her tongue can work uninterrupted. She's licking around the head, and then she's taking you deeper, and you can feel her tongue exploring your shaft. It's incredible. It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. You've seen this before, on screen, or in magazines, or whatever, but nothing could have prepared you for the sensation of having her mouth around you.

"Oh god," you groan. "Hanni..."

It's all encouragement for her. A signal to her unsure mind that yes, this is exactly what you want and it feels as good as anything that you could have imagined. You're already sensitive, so every little movement of her tongue sends a shockwave of pleasure through you. You can't keep your eyes off her, watching her lips slide down your shaft, her tongue flicking at the head, her cheeks hollowing as she sucks you, her eyes looking up at you, checking that what she's doing is right.

She's breathing heavily from her nose, and the hot hair is kissing your skin. You can't believe you're seeing her like this, that this is the girl you grew up with.

"Hanni..."

She doesn't respond. She's too focused on the task at hand, on making you feel good. And she's doing a good job of it. A very good job of it.

"Hanni..."

Her eyes flick up to meet yours, and she stops moving her head. "Is something wrong?" she asks, her voice muffled by your cock. She pulls her head back, letting you slip out of her mouth, and a string of saliva connects the tip to her lower lip.

"No, no, no," you say quickly, "nothing's wrong. I just... I don't think I'm going to last much longer." You're embarrassed. You've never been in a situation like this before, and you're not sure what to expect, or what you're supposed to do. But you know that you're close to cumming, and you don't want to do it in her mouth.

"That's okay, just don't let the other girls hear us," she says, and then she's smiling at you, and then she's taking you in her mouth again, and then she's moving her head up and down, and then you're watching her cheeks hollow as she sucks you. Tongue running patterns over the underside of your length, you can't take much more.

"Oh god, Hanni, I'm going to—"

She doesn't stop. She doesn't slow down. She doesn't even flinch. She just keeps going, and you can't hold back any longer. You can feel the orgasm building inside you, and you can't stop it, and you don't want to, and you're not sure if you should, and you're not sure what to do, and—

You cum, and it's the most intense orgasm of your life. You can't help but cry out in pleasure, and you feel your hips buck involuntarily, and you feel her tongue continue to lap at the head as your cum spills out of her mouth. She doesn't pull back, she doesn't stop, she doesn't do anything to stop you from cumming in her mouth, she just keeps going, and you can feel her swallowing some of it. Some pools on your skin.

"Oh god," you say, and your voice is a whimper, and you're still trembling with pleasure.

Hanni pulls away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She looks up at you, and there's a mischievous grin on her face.

"Wow," she says, and then she's giggling. "I wasn't expecting that!"

"Are you okay?" you ask, and your voice is shaky.

"I'm good." She smiles and crawls up so she can rest her head on your shoulder, half draping her body over yours, your bare skin touching. She kisses your neck, her breath tickles your skin. You put an arm around her, holding her close. "I didn't know that would be so fun. Can I do it again?"

"Not right now," you say through strained breath. "Maybe later."

"Okay." She's looking up at you, and she has that same goofy grin on her face. "Was that okay? I've never done it before."

"It was more than okay," you say, and you can hear the awe in your own voice. "That was incredible."

"Really?" She sounds pleased with herself. "I wasn't sure what I was doing."

"It was perfect," you say, and then you kiss her forehead, and then you kiss her lips, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours. You can't believe that you're here, that you're doing this, that you're with her.

"I'm glad," she murmurs, and then she's looking at you again. "So, what now?"

"Can I try?" you ask. "With you, I mean. Can I... use my mouth on you?"

"You don't have to," she says quickly, but then her voice trails off. She seems unsure.

"I want to," you say. "If you want me to."

Her smile is wide and her eyes are bright. "I do," she says. She kisses you on the lips, and then she's rolling onto her back.

You lean over her, and your hands are shaking, and your heart is racing, and you're not sure what to do, or where to start, or if you're going to be any good at this, but you want to try. You want to make her feel as good as she made you feel. You want to taste her, to explore her with your tongue, to learn what makes her moan, what makes her gasp, what makes her squirm. You want to make her feel as good as you do.

So you start where you began earlier, at her chest, and you spend some time just appreciating them. Kissing them. Running your tongue over her nipples. Squeezing. Massaging. Listening to her breathing change.

"I love these," you mutter. "They're beautiful. You're beautiful."

Hanni doesn't respond with much more than a pleasured hum, but she doesn't need to. You can tell she's enjoying this, enjoying the attention. And it's a good thing too, because you have no intention of stopping. Not until she tells you to, at least. You keep kissing and licking and sucking her nipples, and you can feel her arching her back, pressing herself into your mouth, and you can hear her breath growing heavier, and her heart races.

Hanni gives a deep, full-bodied moan, the loudest she has so far. You take it as a signal to descend, and you trail kisses over her stomach, which makes her giggle and squirm. You feel the heat radiating off her body. Her scent is strong—intoxicatingly so.

When you reach the waistband of her tight black shorts, you pause for a moment, and then you hook your fingers under the elastic and pull them down. You're not even sure what to expect underneath, but whatever you had in your mind, the reality is so much better. Her black panties are lacy, and they hug her body perfectly, accentuating every curve, every dip, every contour. They're so sexy, so beautiful, that you can't help but stare. Your mouth hangs open and you can feel your dick stirring back to life already. You can't believe that you're here, that you're seeing her like this.

You take time to admire her. Her thighs and her hips and the delicate apex underneath the wet panties. Then you look up her body, taking in the way her wide hips give way to the curve of her waist, the way her breasts rise and fall with each breath, the way her hair frames her face, the way her eyes shine in the dim light, and they stare at you, accompanying her smile.

"What are you thinking?" she asks, and her voice is barely a whisper. "I know that face. You always have that look on your face when you're thinking about something."

"You're the most beautiful girl in the world," you say, and you mean it, and you're not sure why you've never told her before.

Her smile widens and she laughs, covering her face. "You're so cheesy," she says, but you can tell that she likes it, that she appreciates it, that she loves it.

"Can't help it," you say, and then you lean down and kiss her stomach again, the muscles tense under your lips, and her breath catches. You kiss your way down to the edge of her panties, and then you pause.

"Is this okay?" you ask, and you're not sure why, but you feel like you need her permission, even having come this far.

"More than okay," she replies, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire.

You smile, and then you kiss the edge of her panties again, and then you start to pull them down. You can feel the fabric stick to her skin as you peel them off her body, revealing her pussy. The sight of it takes your breath away, and you can't help but stare. It's beautiful, of course, but it's also more than that. It's Hanni. It's the most intimate part of her body, the most vulnerable, the most sensitive, the most private, and it's right there in front of you, and she's permitting you to touch it, to taste it, to explore it. She trusts you.

You place your palms on her thighs and spread her legs. You move your head between them and you plant the most delicate of kisses on her wet skin. Her body twitches. Another kiss, and another, and another, and you can feel her legs tremble. You can feel her body tense.

"You're so wet," you say, and you can't keep the awe out of your voice. You can feel her juices on your lips, and you lick them off, tasting her for the first time. It's sweet yet musky, and it's a taste that you want more of. You lick her now, a few tentative ones over her lips and then one from bottom to top, ending at her clit. She reacts more to that last one. So that's the spot, then. You repeat that pattern a few times.

"Oh god, that feels so good," Hanni moans, her head tilting back and her eyes closing.

"I can do better," you whisper, and then you focus on the peak of your previous licks, pushing your tongue between her lips where she's most sensitive. Hanni gasps, her hips bucking involuntarily, and her thighs tense, her hands gripping the bedsheets, and she's so responsive, so sensitive, so receptive to your touch, that you can't help but smile. You keep licking, flicking your tongue over her clit, teasing it, circling it, and you can feel her thighs tremble, her hips rock, and her breathing grows heavier and heavier.

"Oh, oh, oh," she murmurs, and her voice is a whimper, and it's so cute, and so sexy, that you can't help but moan into her pussy, the vibrations sending shivers through her body, and she whimpers again.

Now it's your turn to lock your lips against her, enclosing around her sensitive nub. You suckle on her clit, running your tongue over it, and she's rocking her hips against every movement of your tongue. It's the sexiest thing you've ever heard. All the gasps, whimpers, and moans. You could listen to it all day.

In a moment of realisation, you worry if the others can hear it. If they're in their own rooms, then probably not, but you know that at least one of them is asleep in the living room. Your head is buried in your best friend's pussy. What if someone knocks on her door? How would you explain this? What if—

"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Hanni cries and her voice is louder than before, and you can hear the desperation in her tone, and you can feel her body tensing, her back arching, and her hands gripping the sheets tighter and tighter. "Don't stop, don't stop," she moans.

Her thighs clasp around your head and all your worries about being caught are washed away with a new fear. You're trapped between her thighs. Your head is being crushed by the muscles you were just admiring. You're going to die here, between her legs. It's a pretty good way to go, though, so you accept it. At least you got to eat her out.

But then, as suddenly as it came, the pressure is released. Her legs go limp, and her body sags, and her breathing slows, and her hands relax, and she's lying there, panting, and trembling, and whimpering.

"Holy shit," she whispers, and her voice is hoarse, and you can't help but feel a sense of pride. You made her cum. You made her cum hard. "That was amazing," she whines. "I didn't know it would feel that good."

You smile, and you kiss her pussy, and then her inner thigh, and then the crease of her hip, and then you move up her body, kissing her stomach, and her breasts, and her neck, and finally you reach her lips. You kiss her, and she kisses you back, and then you're both laughing, giggling, and smiling, and holding each other close.

"That was incredible," she says, and her voice is soft and breathy, and she's looking up at you with wide, sparkling eyes. She kisses you again, and then you're lost in the sensation of her body pressed against yours.

"I didn't know it would be that good," you admit. "I thought it would be nice, but not like that."

"Me neither," she whispers, and she's looking at you with a mixture of awe and adoration. "I've never felt anything like that before."

You smile, and you kiss her again, and then you're both lying there, holding each other, basking in the afterglow.

"So," she says, after a few moments. "I don't want this to be over. I want to keep feeling like this."

"What do you mean?"

She smiles, and her eyes are full of mischief. "You know what I mean."

"Are you sure?" you ask, and you can't keep the excitement out of your voice.

"Yes," she whispers, and her voice is soft and breathy, and full of desire. "I've been thinking about it for a while. There's, uh, things in the top drawer."

"Things?"

"Just open it, dummy," she laughs, and you do. Inside, there's a sealed pack of condoms. You pick it up, and you can feel your heart racing, and you can feel the blood rushing to your cock, and you can feel the excitement building inside you. You turn back to her, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. Her eyes are full of anticipation, and she's biting her lip.

"You've thought a lot about this, haven't you?" you ask, and you can't help but grin. "You've had these just waiting here?"

She blushes and looks away, but then she looks back at you and smiles shyly. "Maybe."

You take one out and kneel back on the bed, between Hanni's spread legs. You know what to do. Simple. But the way that Hanni is looking at you, with a mixture of anticipation and excitement, is making it difficult to focus, and your hands are shaking.

You manage it, though. You roll the condom down your shaft and look at her. Her smile is wide and bright, and you can't help but smile back. She reaches for you and pulls you down on top of her.

"I can't believe we're doing this," you say.

"Me neither," she giggles, and then you're kissing again, and it's a hungry kiss, full of passion and desire. You feel her hand move between you and take hold of your cock, and you feel her guide it to her entrance, and then you're both pressing forward. The kisses are replaced by shared gasps, and your forehead comes to rest against hers. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you have to pause for a moment, just to catch your breath, and she does the same, her eyes closed, her brow furrowed in concentration.

"Are you okay?"

She nods quickly and then tells you, "Keep going."

So you do. You push forward, slowly, carefully, and she takes you, inch by inch, until you're fully inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both trembling, and you're both holding onto each other, and it feels incredible.

"Wow," she whispers, and her voice is a whimper, and you can't help but smile.

"Yeah," you breathe, and you're smiling too, and then you're both sharing a laugh. "Doesn't it hurt? I thought it was supposed to—"

"A little, but don't worry," she tells you. "I'll let you know if it gets too much. Just... take it slow, okay?"

"Okay," you say, and then you start to move, slowly, and carefully, and her body responds to every movement, every thrust, every inch. Her hips rock against yours, and her hands grip your back, and her nails dig into your skin, and her lips press against your neck. She's so unbelievably tight.

"Hanni," you whisper, and your voice is a low growl, and you can't help but groan as you feel her muscles clench around your cock.

"Don't stop," she whines, and her voice is a needy whimper, her body is pressing against yours, and her legs are wrapping around your hips, pulling you closer, keeping you deep inside of her.

You pick up speed, but not too fast. You don't want this to end, you never want this to end, but you can't help yourself. It feels so good. It feels so right. It feels perfect. It feels like everything you've ever wanted.

"Oh god," you groan, and you plant your hand against her—half on her thigh, half on her ass. You grasp her soft flesh as you try to bury yourself deeper. Her body tenses in response. She likes it. "You're amazing."

"Mmm... more..." she moans, and you can't help but smile.

You start to thrust harder, faster, and her hips start to rock against yours, and you're both lost in the sensation. Breathless whimpers are broken by raw moans, which you try to stifle with kisses so no one can hear you, and then you're both lost in the rhythm, the back and forth, the ebb and flow. You're both in sync, both moving together, and it's the most beautiful thing in the world. You can feel the pressure building inside you, and you can feel her body tensing, and her breathing quickening, and you're both so close.

Hanni brings her hands to your head, running her fingers into your hair and pulling your ear to her mouth. She lets out a moan right into it, before telling you, "Take it off." You're not sure it's a good idea, but she's insistent. "I want to feel you. All of you. Please. Take it off."

"Hanni... I don't think—"

You're cut off by her moving her hands to your shoulders and pushing you onto your back. Hanni leans over you and looks down at your throbbing cock. "Let's do it properly." She reaches down and rolls the rubber off your shaft, leaving it bare. Your stomach clenches in a mix of excitement and fear. She throws the condom aside and then she climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, and her pussy hovers above your cock.

"Hanni, we shouldn't—" you start, but she cuts you off again. She takes hold of your shaft and rubs the tip of your cock along her wet folds. Her juices coat your cock. Her warm pussy teases the tip. Your eyes roll back in your head.

"It's okay," she whispers, and then she pushes your tip inside her, and she gasps, and you moan, and then she's sinking onto you, and you're sliding up inside her, and you're both breathing heavily, and you're both moaning, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"Oh god," you moan, and you can't help but grab her hips and pull her down, and you can't help but thrust up into her. You're bare. You're inside her, skin-to-skin, and it's the most incredible thing you've ever felt. The way she rocks her hips drives you insane. She's so warm, so wet, and so tight, that you're not sure how long you can last.

"Don't cum," she whispers, and her voice is a needy whimper, and she's looking down at you with wide, pleading eyes. "Not yet."

"I'm not sure I can—"

"You have to," she says, and she's looking down at you with desperate eyes, and you can't help but nod. "Please," she says, and she's grinding her hips against you, and she's riding you, and she's fucking herself with your cock, and she's moaning, and whimpering, and gasping, and you're both lost in the sensation.

"I'm close," you warn her. "I can't—"

"Wait for me," she whines, and you can feel her body start to tense, and you can feel her walls clench around your cock, and you can feel her start to tremble. "I'm—"

With a loud moan, her body tenses and cuts her words off. Her pussy clenches, and her hands grip your chest, nails digging into your skin, and her eyes squeeze shut. Her whole body quivers as her orgasm washes over her, and you can't help but thrust up into her, pushing yourself as deep as you can go. She cries out in pleasure, and you feel a heat in the pit of your stomach.

You thought nothing would be as intense as when you burst into Hanni's mouth, yet just half an hour later, you realise that was nothing compared to this. The rush is so powerful, so overwhelming, that it almost knocks the wind out of you. You can't breathe, you can't think, and you can't stop the flood of cum that's filling her. You can feel it, and she can feel it, and it's so hot, and so thick, and so wet, that you can't help but groan.

Pulsing and throbbing inside her, Hanni keeps riding you, her hips rolling, her thighs trembling and her cute little tits bouncing. Your cum spills out of her, and the mess is pooling beneath you both. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You can't help but smile as you watch her. She's so perfect, so beautiful, and you're inside her—the reason she's cumming.

She collapses on top of you, her head on your shoulder, and her body limp. She's breathing heavily, and you're both covered in a sheen of sweat. You wrap your arms around her and hold her close, and she does the same, her fingers running through your hair, and she's kissing your neck, and your cheek, and your lips. You kiss her back, and it's a soft, gentle kiss, full of love, affection, and gratitude.

"I can't believe we just did that."

You can feel her smile against your skin. "I can't believe I let you cum in me," she giggles. "It felt so good, though." She lifts herself up and looks down at you, her smile wide and her eyes sparkling. "Did I do okay?"

"You were incredible," you say, and you mean it.

"Maybe next time we could—"

"Next time?" you ask, making sure you heard her right.

"Yes," she says, and her voice is soft and shy, and she's looking at you with a mixture of love and lust. "I want to do that again. And again. And again."

"Me too," you say, and you can't help but smile.

She's asleep. You're lying in her bed, watching her. She's so beautiful, and you can't stop looking at her. You can't stop thinking about her. About what you've done. You're not sure how you're going to get to sleep. She's snuggled up to you, her head resting on your shoulder, and her legs tangled with yours. Her breathing is slow and steady. She's peaceful, and you're so happy. You can't remember the last time you were this happy.

You can't remember the last time you felt so content. It's strange. It's like you've been living your life in a fog. You've been drifting, and you've been lost, and you've been searching for something, but Hanni has been right here. She was right in front of you, all along.

You just didn't realise it, until now.

#Hanni smut #Newjeans smut #male reader #kpop smut #m reader #Hanni x reader #praelmas #smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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miss-fanfictions · 8 months ago

Text

Sundays at the Library

Part Two

Pairing] Spencer Reader x glasses wearing! shy! librarian! fem!Reader

Synopsis] Spencer talks to the sweet librarian at his new library and slowly Sundays become his favorite day of the week.

Warnings] Cursing, creepy guy, misunderstandings (but its cute I promise), written from Spencer's POV

Word Count] 8.9k

Author's Note] This is my first fic here! I'm planning on doing a few more parts to this, so this is only the beginning 🙃

The first time Spencer saw you, the encounter wasn’t anything special.

If he wasn’t working, he was reading, and because he can read 20,000 thousand words per minute, he needed new books often. Not even his FBI salary could afford the amount of books he consumed in a month and his cozy apartment certainly couldn’t contain them all. Already his bookcases were spilling out onto nearby surfaces. So to quench his constant need for new books, Spencer borrowed books from the library. However, since the one near his apartment closed just a week ago, he had to find a new one. That led him to drive to the library ten minutes away.

It was larger than the one down the street from his apartment—it had a full three floors. Beyond the double doors, he followed two velvet rope barriers onto the main floor of the library, wandering past a grand front desk to his left to where the room divided into two sections and the barriers ended. In the left section, beside the desk, there were a couple computers set up, as well as two printers and a side wall dedicated to DVDs. In the other section there were tables and chairs set up for quiet studying, as well as more comfortable lounges for reading. Behind those two sections started the book shelves, nearly ceiling high and organized via genre and then further alphabetized. When he ascended the staircase at the back of the main floor, he found the upper levels were fully dedicated to rows of shelving containing books, interspersed with a few tables and lounges for reading.

He spent approximately 45 minutes getting the layout of the library, as large as it was, and finding the books he wanted to read. Of course, he got a range of books. Two books on psychology, a mathematical textbook, and another two books based in the sciences. A bit of light reading, really, just to occupy his time at home during a busy caseload week.

He balanced the heavy books awkwardly in his arms as he made his way to the front desk, practically dropping them onto the counter. His lips twisted up in embarrassment, glancing around to see if anyone was disturbed by the loud clatter. When his eyes turned back to the desk, they met the bespeckled ones of you, the librarian, seated behind the counter. They were wide behind the frames, doe-like and startled by the noise. He winced and stuttered out an apology.

Too often he embarrassed himself due to his clumsiness. Over the years, Spencer got a lot better at the shooting range, but he still couldn’t run a mile without tripping a few times, or be able to participate in sports, and he didn’t even want to think about his driving. JJ often compared the experience of being in his passenger seat to riding shotgun with her senile grandmother. No matter what he did, the awkwardness crept in and all he could do was apologize. He didn’t mean to startle the nice librarian who he would seeing every week for the foreseeable future.

“It’s fine,” your voice was a gentle whisper, perfect for the quiet of the library. You closed the book on your lap and placed it out of sight under the counter, standing up to help him. That’s when he could take you in completely, with your long flowy skirt and oversized sweater. Perhaps a shy attempt to battle the chill running through the library, or maybe a purposeful effort to hide yourself away from prying eyes. He could tell—despite your attire—that you were his age or maybe a little younger. You lacked the wrinkles, grays, and even the weathered dullness associated with age. Your hair was done up messily, effortlessly, and his eyes tracked your chewed up fingernails as you tucked a few strands behind your ears, out of the way of your eyesight.

He thought you were plain and shy. The soft pastels and neutrals that colored your clothes and the fact the garments covered you so entirely, made you blend into the background. Had he not needed to speak to you directly, he might not have noticed you tucked behind the desk, folded up in your chair with your nose deep in a book.

“Can I check these out for you?” You asked him, and he almost missed it due to both his staring and your airy cadence.

“Oh, uh, yes,” he said, then quickly added. “And a library card, please. I’m new to this library.”

“I’ll just need an ID then,” you held out your hand while he rummaged through his wallet for his state ID, and when he placed it into your palm he was careful not to touch your hand. It was less about you as a person as it was his disdain for germs.

You went about clicking and typing at the computer to the side of the desk, face plain as if whatever you were doing you had done a thousand times. Your nimble fingers only stuttered when you glanced back at him, catching his eyes as he watched you before he darted them away from your face, caught. Quickly, you grabbed the mouse, clicking only three more times before handing back his ID. He was careful not to touch your hand or meet your eyes as he took it back.

He didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with his staring, he had a habit of it, always trying to profile. But you were just a meek librarian, and there was no reason to take note of your behavior. You went about printing out a physical copy of his new library card, and he opened one of his books to occupy himself as you did so.

When you turned back to him, you scanned a plastic card before offering it to him with a small smile. “Thank you,” he mumbled as you went about scanning the books on the counter with the same barcode reader. You were on the fourth book when your brows creased and you looked back up at him.

“Are you studying?” You asked, the words sudden as if you couldn’t hold the thought off your lips.

“No, this is just some light reading,” he answered politely, because it was. Though he forgot that was maybe not normal, because you giggled at his reply.

The sound brought his eyes to your lips, the way they parted to let the breathy noise out. It was a unique giggle, though he supposed everyone’s is, but something about it suited you so completely. It was soft, and when he glanced around the library to see that no one else had heard it, he thought it was also just for him. There was no taunting, just joy that you emitted in the most delicate of sounds. If only he could understand what he did to extract it from you.

“Right,” You said jokingly, and then he thought maybe you didn’t believe him, but he didn’t get a chance to assure you he was being truthful before you finished checking out the books. “Here you go, have a nice day, Spencer.”

He hesitated, thrown off by your use of his name, but cleared his throat and collected his books nonetheless. He thanked you and mumbled a brief goodbye as he did so, not looking back as he rushed out of the library. When he got to his car, he used a pack of disinfectant wipes on the books and set them up in his passenger seat, thoughts of the little librarian withering away to the casework waiting for him at work tomorrow.

—

He finished the books quickly, in only two days actually, but thankfully most of his time was taken up by his work. In his remaining free hours, he resorted to rereading a few books on his shelves. On Sunday, he collected his library books and drove the ten minutes back to his new library, exactly one week since his last visit.

The inside was chilly and smelled like old paper and leather. There weren't many people he could see on the main floor, a few of what looked like college students spread out studying and some preteens huddled on the computers, whispering snarks and giggles. He walked up to the front desk, following the rug and the velvet rope barriers that led right to it from the entrance. This time he didn’t pass by the desk, but stopped at it to place down his books—quietly.

Your familiar framed eyes looked up at him, just as doe-like as surprise crossed them right before a smile took hold. Again, you closed the book in your lap, though this time Spencer caught a glimpse of its orange and yellow cover before you hid it from sight. He couldn’t make out the title. “Back so soon?”

It had been exactly a week since he’d seen you, and though he had not thought of you much since then, Spencer was incapable of forgetting a face. You looked just as you did last week—messy updo, baggy clothes, bare face. It seemed that was your natural state, or at least what you wore to work, but what Spencer wore to work was pretty much his normal wardrobe and he worked in the FBI, not a library.

“Yes, I need to return these books,” he told you, returning your smile with a quirk of his lips and placing his library card on top of the stack of books.

When your eyes roamed back down from his to the five books, your brows furrowed. “Give up on studying then?” You asked, scanning the books back into the system.

For a moment, Spencer was confused, then he recalled every word of your last interaction, and realized you still thought he checked the books out to study them, likely for some graduate classes, given his age. “No, I wasn’t studying them. I just needed a few books for casual reading after work.”

You paused once you turned to the computer, looking at him down your glasses. “Casual reading?” Your eyes went back between the thick books and his face, a smirk of disbelief growing. “You read all these books in a week?”

“Yes.” He shrugged.

“For fun?” You had a skeptical eyebrow quirked.

“That’s what casual reading normally implies.” Spencer furrowed his brows at your line of questioning. Maybe most people wouldn’t read such topics simply for fun, but why would he lie about that?

At that, you giggled again, a bird’s song, and resumed clicking at your computer. Your gentle laugh tickled something deep in his chest. Again, there was no malice or ill intent to it, not any that he could see behind your genuine eyes and smile. You simply thought he was a funny guy, and no one ever thought that of Spencer. He was too awkward, or too serious, or even too annoying to be fun.

You took the stack of books in your arms, the pile reaching right up to your chin, and walked them to a cart behind you. When you turned back, you were still smiling sweetly at him. “Your light reading has been checked back in.” You slid his library card across the counter.

He plucked the card back off it with a thanks, tucking it into the pocket of his sweater vest. For a moment, he debated telling you about his PhDs, his eidetic memory, and maybe even his genius IQ because Spencer always felt the need to prove himself—to state facts—because he wasn’t the funny guy. He was very serious and all the things he was telling you weren’t just silly jokes. Then he worried he might wipe the smile right off your face, and he couldn’t let himself do that. So instead he gave you a stiff nod and continued into the library.

. . . Only to spin right back around, fist awkwardly pressed against his lips. “Oh, also, what is the maximum amount of books I could have checked out at once?”

You had just cracked the spine of your book again when you looked back up at him, a swirling look of confusion on your face. “Ten books, but you don’t have any out so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

Spencer gave another nod, spinning back around on his heels and taking himself right up to the second floor of the library. He spent approximately 37 minutes collecting books from around the library, setting them aside at tables as he weaved through the rows of bookcases for the different genres. A wealth of knowledge in all areas was useful for his job, and also just for him personally. He found great pride in knowing many things, as annoying as others might find his incessant info-dumping.

When he finished, he took a stack of books from the table and carried them down from the second floor, slowly stepping down the stairs and craning his neck around the stack to watch his steps. He could be uncoordinated at his best, so there was no need to tempt fate into sending him tumbling down the staircase by not paying attention.

After successfully making it down, he took long strides to the main desk and set the stack down on the counter. Of course, you looked up at him again, however skipped surprise and jumped into an inviting smile. You closed your book and stood up, taking in the books he set in front of you. “Another five to check out then?”

“No, actually, I’ll be right back.” He turned away so fast he almost missed the way your smile faded and you leaned over the counter to watch him ascending the stairs again, spindly legs taking them two at a time.

He grabbed hold of the second tower of books, nearly dropping the top one in his haste to get back to you. After that he continued to take the stairs carefully even as he felt your eyes on him. Maybe especially because he felt your eyes on him, because if you watched him fall down the stairs he’d have to drive an additional ten minutes away to find another new library, because he certainly wouldn’t be able to look you in the eyes anymore.

Beside the first stack on the counter, he set the second, then placed his library card between them. “This is it, I promise.”

Again, you glanced between him and the books, eyes bugging behind their glass shelter. After a moment or so, as if you were making sure he was serious (he was), you began scanning his card and the books. Despite the larger quantity of books, you were slower as you ran the barcodes on the back, taking the time to read the titles and authors.

“Are you a graduate student?” You asked, looking at a book on human genealogy.

Spencer twiddled his thumbs. “No, I’m finished with school for now, but I might go back for another PhD in the future when I have more time,” he answered honestly, the words flowing out quickly, even though he wasn’t sure why he was telling you that. Only about two percent of the U.S. population has a PhD, and an even slimmer percent had more than one. So it was an unusual thing to say.

He thought you might laugh again, or even question him, but you simply hummed and moved onto the next book, chewing your lip. “I’m in a graduate program for poetry,” your voice was quiet, as required by the library environment, but more so than usual, like you seemed embarrassed to share that information.

It made sense you were a graduate student working in a library while earning your MA in writing. He wondered if you had plans for your degree beyond getting a slight pay increase as a librarian. There was a career as an author, or maybe you wanted to be a teacher or a professor, he could see you doing that, standing in front of a class in your skirts and sweaters pointing at a chalkboard with a ruler, though that image was outdated. More likely you’d be in front of a white board or presenting from a projector.

“That’s interesting. I find myself reading a lot of nonfiction recently—it helps more with my job, though I also just enjoy facts and statistics—but I’ll always have a special appreciation for fiction. I’m fond of poetry in particular because it’s created for multifaceted analysis,” even in his own whisper, the words were breathy and fast. He had to catch his tongue between his teeth when he caught your eyes trailing back up to him. “What do you plan on doing with your degree?”

“Write poetry hopefully,” the words came out in a gust of wind and your eyebrows quirked up, as if you didn’t believe even your own dream. “Maybe you can analyze it one day.” You finished scanning out the books, putting them back into two neat piles as you did. You went about clicking at your computer, making sure the books were grayed out in the system, avoiding his eyes.

So you did want to be a writer then. He could easily see that as well. Though he got the sense you didn’t believe your aspiration was attainable, and it likely wasn’t due to lack of skill. He told himself he wouldn’t profile you, but he did it practically subconsciously. Your lowered gaze, modest clothes, shy smile, and even chewed nails all pointed to a lack of confidence in yourself. He wasn’t sure why. You were pretty in your own right, and were clearly intelligent and hard working if your pursuit of a masters degree said anything. If you needed a little encouragement, the least he could do was give it to you. “I look forward to it,” he said, and he was just as sincere as he always had been.

It only seemed to increase your embarrassment, causing your face to shy further away from his gaze. “Thank you, Spencer.” Even if you couldn’t look at him, your tone was of genuine appreciation, and if he tilted his head just right, he could see the wisp of a smile on your face.

He nodded with a tight lipped smile, staring at you while he waited for the conversation to continue, only to realize you’d finished with his books and it was over. His hands stuttered to gather up the first heap of books, muttering about how he’d be back. However he only got a few paces when he heard you say his name again, feet stopping dead.

“Would you like me to help you carry these out?” You were already trying to get a hold on the books.

Quickly, he shook his head. “No,” the words came out abrupt and firm, louder than he’d ever spoken before in the library, and you flinched.

“You shouldn’t be following anyone out of here to their cars. This library has a disturbing lack of cameras and an abduction, even in a public area, can happen in less than ten seconds. It’s safest for you to remain in the library and follow the good practice of having someone walk you to your car after your shifts.” Spencer felt obligated to warn you strictly, because your distinct quietness and sweetness made you the perfect prey for the killers he hunted daily.

Though he almost regretted it as he watched the way your hands retreated from the books, crossing around yourself, and the gentle smile became forced. “Oh. I–I guess I’ll keep that in mind.”

Spencer nodded and hesitated, but didn’t linger much longer before exiting the library and heading back to his car. He was quick to toss the books into his car, your tangled smile stuck in his mind. Was it an odd thing to say? He was only trying to warn you, to keep you safe. But the look on your face, you didn’t seem at all grateful for the advice. Spencer took brisk strides back to the library entrance. You were standing there behind the front desk, arms still crossed, a distant look on your face. When you heard him approaching the counter taking in breath just a little faster from boardline jogging back, you barely spared him a glance. He scared you a bit, he realized, and he didn’t want to leave you like that.

He paused beside his leftover books, wetting his lips. “I didn’t mean to scare you with what I said before.” He finally caught your eyes and you seemed to hear him out. “I work in law enforcement, for the FBI actually, and all too often I see cases of nice girls like you who go missing just because you want to help people. Unfortunately it’s a pretty common ruse. So, I—I didn’t tell you all that to make you worry, but because I want you to be safe,” he admitted, and your face softened again, your hands falling back to the counter. It brought a smile to his own face to see you relax your guard again. “It’d also be awful if my librarian went missing. Who will check out the heap of books I keep bringing you?”

You giggled, your lips pulling into a toothy smile. “It’d definitely suck, but I’d hope you’d put those FBI skills of yours into finding me.”

Spencer chuckled, ducking his head into his chest to quiet the sound as he pulled his books into his arms. “Of course I would, and I wouldn’t stop until I did.” He was good at his job, he never stopped until he found their victim, their unsub.

You bowed your own head, hand holding your glasses to keep them from slipping down your nose. “Goodbye, Spencer.” You gave him a small wave with the other hand, ending the conversation with averted eyes, but he still noticed the growing color in your cheeks.

He fumbled with his own wave under the stack of books, really just an outward flash of the fingers he could manage to peel away for a second, and he was glad you weren’t looking at him with how awkward it was. He turned on his heel, pink growing in his own cheeks, and exited the library again for the final time today. The gears in his head grinded the whole way to the car and continued as he grappled to get into it and wiped the books with disinfectant.

You lingered in his mind longer than a librarian should have. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to warn you, to explain himself to you, or even comfort you. There was something about you, as meek and bashful as you were, that he found charming. Perhaps he saw himself in you, the insecurity. Or maybe it was how different you were from his job, where he was met with the most wicked minds and evil acts. You in comparison were the very image of innocence and life, in your pastel purples and yellows, lively eyes magnified behind glass, and your—your laugh. He liked your giggle. Even though he suspected at times it meant you didn’t fully believe him, he let you find him unserious, just so he could continue to hear that sweet sound tickle his ears in a way that scratched an itch inside him.

He was sitting in the parking lot staring out the windshield lost in his thoughts of you. When someone walked by, he found himself clearing his throat and finally putting his car in drive. You dissipated from his mind as he pulled out of the parking space because his Sunday at the library was over.

—

It took five days for him to finish the ten books from the library. The team was in California from Tuesday through Thursday, but he took four books with him to read during his down time and while on the jet. He still ended up with spare time that he spent shopping with Penelope and babysitting Henry for JJ and Will’s date night. It was for this reason he was glad to be back in the library on Sunday.

Inside he was hit with the familiar crisp air and the vague smell of paper and coffee. The tables to the left had quite a few more students than usual, though there were not very many to start with previously. He wondered if a bout of exams were coming up. As Spencer neared the front desk, he could smell something else, a faint vanilla scent maybe.

You were there as always, standing this time, and almost leaning over the counter to see the door. You smiled when you saw him and he realized that you must be wearing perfume, because around you the vanilla air became thicker.

“Sunday at 11am. You're more reliable than my alarm clock,” you hummed cheekily.

Spencer set the books he held in his hands on the counter, his messenger bag following them up. “Having a routine is actually really good for you. It’s been proven to reduce anxiety and stress and also helps people to cope with certain mental illnesses,” he told you, pulling the rest of his books out of his bag.

If you were thrown off by his fact telling, you didn’t show it. “That makes sense. I like having a routine, but I’m pretty sure my friends think it makes me boring.”

Spencer dug around in his vest pocket for his library card, brows furrowing. “Why would you think that?”

You plucked it from his fingers, bringing it to the barcode reader without breaking your eye contact. “Because they say it to me all the time.”

“Oh,” Spencer snorted a little and clutched the strap of his bag closer. There’s something different about you today. You’re much more talkative and playful, but it’s also in your appearance too. Your glasses are still perched on your nose and your face is bare as it always is, but your updo is more put together, less stands fall away into your face. You wear another long skirt, but it's tighter, less flowy, and he can nearly make out the shape of your legs through it. You’re wrapped in a cardigan too, but where one side falls open he can see your tank top underneath and the sight of your skin has him clearing his throat and bringing his eyes back to your face.

“And how was your recreational reading?” You’ve started to scan the books back into the system. “You must have been pretty entertained with ten books in seven days.” You state it like a fact, but your tone has a whimsical disbelief to it.

“Actually I finished them in five days,” he corrected with an incline of his head.

You reply quickly, like the words were primed in your mind. “Then you should have come back sooner.” Under the teasing, you sound serious, looking up from the books at him, lashes fluttering against their glass encasement.

“I would, but I’ve been pretty busy at work.” He was too. He would spend hours in the library reading if working at the BAU didn’t take up so much of his time. He loved his job of course, and he wouldn’t have it any other way, but what is someone with his talents to do but hole himself up gorging every book he can get his hands on. Spencer had a thirst for knowledge, that’s why he wanted to be in the library so much.

“Well, that’s too bad then. What do you do for work?” Your head tilts with interest and he almost mirrors the movement, brows furrowed.

“I told you—I work for the FBI. Specifically, I’m an agent in the Behavioral Analysis Unit.” He has an eidetic memory which means he can remember every word you’ve said to him and every word he’s ever said to you, so he knows he’s told you this before. Of course he knows people forget things, but they also normally remember when he tells them he’s in the FBI.

Your face falls a bit and you chew your bottom lip, brows creasing. “Oh. . . right.” You finish scanning the last book quickly, gathering a couple into a pile to carry to a cart behind you.

Spencer’s not exactly sure what he’s done to upset you, but his fingers twitch with the itch to fix it. Unfortunately, he’s got the idea his job is what makes you so uncomfortable. It wouldn’t be the first time someone was unsettled by the fact he carried a badge and gun, or that he had the authority to arrest people. But you had joked about it last week, possibly were soothed by the fact he was a cop after his blunt and maybe eerie warning. So why were you suddenly so upset with him?

The thought occurred to him then that maybe it was because you didn’t completely believe the things he was saying. Not only that, but you were no longer finding whatever game you think he’s playing by telling you those things to be funny. As you carry the rest of the books back to the cart, he fidgets with his fingers, wondering if it was time to show you proof of what he’s been saying. Or did you really even care? Maybe he was wrong and you would be even more frightened by him presenting you with his badge. Was it odd to flash his FBI credentials at his librarian? That was all you were after all. He didn’t even know your name.

You were back to clicking at the computer when you glanced at him. “They’re all checked in.”

Spencer froze as you pulled him out of his thoughts, his hands locking in the joints before dropping to his sides into fists. That was your cue for him to leave. “Right, thank you.” He went to walk away, but his feet were stuck. “. . .thank you, um, I just realized I don’t know your name.”

You didn’t have to tell him, you could have brushed it off. You were just the librarian and one didn’t need to know the librarian's name, but you looked back at him again, eyes studying his face. Then, you murmured your name so softly he almost leaned in to hear it louder. Soundlessly, he let your name ghost over his lips.

He used it as he thanked you one last time, certainly overkill but it seemed like the only correct way to exit. Although he only got a few feet before he heard you call his name.

“Spencer, wait!” You didn’t yell, he’s never heard you yell, but your voice was the loudest he’s ever heard it. You always spoke in a whisper or a hushed tone, but your voice was nearly normal when you called him back. The urgency of it had him back in front of you in just two strides.

You dipped beneath the counter and when you came back up you placed a basket on it. “When I used to go on picnics to read in the park, I used this basket. Well, I haven’t gone in a long time actually, but I thought maybe you could use it for all the books you check out,” you were bashful, tilting your head down and only sparingly meeting his eyes. Spencer was in shock, all he could think about was how this was one of the nicest things someone’s ever done for him. You gave him whiplash with how quickly you seemed to forgive whatever trespass he committed against you. He wondered even if he exaggerated the interaction in his head.

The basket was woven, made from wicker, and had two handles at the top. It was rectangular in shape, pretty deep, and large for a picnic basket, he thought, big enough for fruits, pastries, sandwiches, and maybe more. It was a very nice basket, and the thought that you were giving it to him made his heart ache the most. You’d considered him, truly sat down and thought about him and then decided you were going to gift him a solution to his awkward problem. Not often did people solve his problems, it was always the other way around.

“Wow,” his finger grazed the side, considering the cost such a nice piece must be. “Are you sure? I really couldn’t take your basket it’s—”

“I don’t use it anymore,” you interrupted him for the first time. He realized that you never cut him off, you had always listened to him. “You can have it. . .” Your face was kind, then suddenly dropped into a panic. “Only if you want it of course! You don’t have to take it. I guess it’s kind of silly, carrying a picnic basket in a library. . .” You started to pick your nails, not meeting his eyes.

“I don’t think it’s silly,” he assured you quickly, leaning just a bit closer so he could catch your eyes again. “Thank you so much. Now I don’t have to worry about falling down the stairs or taking two trips to my car.”

Your smile returned with a breathy chuckle. “Yeah, you kind of made me nervous going down the stairs like that with all those books. You don’t strike me as very. . . coordinated.”

“Ouch,” Spencer said, though he smiled back at you. You’d read him there, he was not very coordinated at all. Knowing physics was one thing, existing smoothly and with grace on the physical plane was another.

“Sorry,” you shrugged half heartedly.

“No, you’re right. Thank you for the basket and uh, I’ll be back,” he waved you goodbye as he walked toward the stairs and you fluttered your fingers back at him.

Spencer took exactly 52 minutes and 34 seconds adding books to his new basket. He got a few stares and side glances as he toted it around, mainly from a group of teenagers huddled at a miniature table and chair set in the children’s section. They snickered as they peeked up from their circle at him, but it wasn’t anything Spencer wasn’t used to. All his life people had laughed at him for a variety of reasons—he was too scrawny, too small, too bumbling, too nerdy—the list was miles long. All he could do was grow thicker skin, and he had. So he didn’t let it bother him as he wandered the library, adding books to his basket.

No, the reason Spencer took so long to pick books was because each time he slipped one into a wicker embrace, he thought of you. He blinked and saw your face like a phantom burned into his retinas. The way the corners of your mouth twisted in your smile when you were so excited to give him the basket flashed and faded in his vision. Sometimes he cursed his eidetic memory because he’d memorized your face in its entirety with all its most miniscule details and peculiarities—and he didn’t even mean to. He would find himself staring into the empty space in the basket and have to drag his brain clawing back into reality.

His watch had ticked past 12 when he made his way back down the stairs to the main floor, lugging his basket in his right hand. It was heavy, weighed by two textbooks and eight other decently thick books, but the woven willow held strong.

At the landing he could see across the library that you were already checking someone out. He meant to add himself to the queue, but pivoted to a lounge chair between two bookcases just as he got close enough to hear your voice. Immediately he felt wrong, a churning disgust with himself in the pit of his stomach. It was weird, wasn’t it? To watch you from afar just to gauge your behavior? But he had to know, it burdened his brain to wonder if you were just so saccharine it spilled out to everyone around you or if particularly you poured your sugar onto him.

You didn’t see him duck between the shelves to the lounge chair, not in any way that he could tell. With a tranquil neutral face you scanned the book that the college girl at the counter placed in front of you. The interaction was done in comfortable silence, even when you finished the transaction and she said her thank yous, you merely mumbled a “you’re welcome.”

It was different from how you interacted with him, he realized. You were much more playful and chatty with him, but he wasn’t sure what exactly inspired it in you. You were clearly shy, maybe anxious, but in some moments it faded when you talked to him. He didn’t think he said anything particularly special, but thinking you saw something in him that made you so comfortable, so cheerful, made his stomach flip in a way he couldn’t understand.

The next man in the queue placed his book on the counter. He was the only other person waiting. You asked him absent-mindedly for his library card. He was older than you and Spencer, mid to late 40s if Spencer had to guess, but it gave him an idea about how you interacted with men as well. Which was just as bland as your interaction with the college girl before you. Spencer had a fleeting thought that maybe—just maybe—you liked him. Why else would you be so inclined to laugh with him? To be so shy sometimes you couldn’t meet his eyes? He’d read books, watched movies, and he knew the signs. He was just not used to spotting them in women interacting with him.

He cleared his throat as if to shake off the idea. It was vain, and in all likelihood an arrogant over analysis of the little interaction he’s had with you. He was about to get up and put himself in line behind the man when he heard his lurid voice croak out.

“How about you give me a smile, pretty?”

Spencer froze in place, white knuckle grip engraving the grooves of the entwined handle into his palm. Something like anger flared in his chest. It grew hotter as he saw the way you bowed your head even further from the man's sight, pulling your cardigan closer around your body.

“Um, yeah, could I just get your library card?” You squirmed under his leering gaze, lips faintly curling into the most awkward half-smile you could muster.

Despite the way you clearly showed you were in duress, the man leaned closer over the counter. “My name’s Todd.” He slid his book across the counter to you like that tidbit of information helped any. “I’ll take this book and your number, baby.” Spencer’s jaw clenched.

His body tingled with the readiness to step in, to tell this Todd fucker to leave you be because obviously you weren’t interested. But his mind, the logical side of him, stopped him because Spencer also respected you and your autonomy. He was not an expert on women, but he knew quite a few strong women in the BAU who would be offended if he stepped in to defend them when they were capable of doing it themselves. He definitely didn’t want to offend you if you were able to brush off Todd on your own.

The uncomfortable smile dropped to a grimace. “If I could get your library card. . .” Your hand hesitantly reached for the book only for Todd to grasp your wrist in a tight hand.

“Stop asking for the damn card,” his voice dropped into a growl. “Baby, I’m just trying to talk to you.”

Your arm fought to pull your hand back behind the counter, but Todd’s grip tightened and pulled back to keep you close. “Sir!” Your voice pitched higher, eyes widening almost too big for their frames. “Sir, please let go—”

Todd huffed, face screwing up in frustration. “Why’re you being so difficult?”

“Sir, you’re hurting her and you need to let go now.” Spencer practically flew over to the front desk. It was his instincts as an FBI agent kicking in. The need to de-escalate and protect was driving him. This man was now hurting you and he was not going to allow it to go any further.

Todd’s scowl looked Spencer up and down, assessing whether or not he could take him. He must have come to the conclusion Spencer was not a threat because he puffed up his chest and continued gripping your wrist. However, he was so distracted by Spencer, you were able to yank your arm away, rubbing at your wrist with your free hand. Todd shot you a similar glare before leveling his even angrier gaze back on Spencer.

“We’re just having a conversation here, asshole. So why don’t you get back to your books,” Todd barked at him so loud they had now attracted all the eyes in the library. But Spencer was only looking over at yours—your creased brow and the watery worry the glass highlighted.

“Spencer, it’s—” You didn’t get to finish as Todd whirled his head between you and Spencer.

“Spencer? No fucking way this wimp is your boyfriend.” Behind the rage, Todd looked almost smug.

But Spencer wasn’t. He hit his own boiling point and was passed asking politely. He pulled his credentials from his pocket and flipped them open in Todd’s face. “No, I’m the FBI agent who is going to arrest you for harassment, assault, and public disturbance if you don’t get out of this library right now.”

Todd’s head reeled back at the badge in his face, eyes squinting between the lettering and Spencer’s face. Realization of how much shit he was in passed briefly over Todd’s face before reverting to his glower. He must not have wanted trouble with the FBI though, because he started taking steps backwards toward the exit. But he couldn’t leave with a completely bruised ego.

“Whatever man. If you want the uppity bitch so bad you can have her!” Todd slammed open and closed the door as he made his grand exit. The entire library watched it, listening to him as he got his last dig in and fleeing before Spencer could make him eat his words. He didn’t have his cuffs or gun on him, but he’d dealt with enough unsubs to know he didn’t need them to handle Todd.

When all the eyes slowly went back to their business, sure that Todd wasn’t coming back into the library, Spencer’s gaze returned to you. Your eyes were dinner plates, mouth agape, still clutching your wrist.

Spencer frowned, whispering your name. “Are you okay?”

“You’re an FBI agent. . .” The words slipped out of you in one shocked exhale. His brows furrowed. He just rescued you from an arrogant asshole and that was what you were stuck on, something he’d told you several times.

“Yes? But I told you—”

“You were serious?” Your head bobbed forward in disbelief. So you really hadn’t been believing what he was saying.

“Of course, why would I lie about that?” Spencer was confused and deep down a little hurt. It was such an odd thing to lie about to a stranger, he didn’t understand why you thought he wasn’t truthful.

“I–I don’t know,” your eyes bounced around in a panic. “I thought you were just trying to impress me. I mean—you don’t really look like an FBI agent you’re. . . young? I don’t know, I thought you were flirting with me so I—” Your hand clasped over your mouth. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry, sir—agent—”

“Spencer.”

“What?”

“Call me Spencer,” he gave you a tight lipped smile, a near look of pity on his face. Your complete panic reassured him you were just as embarrassed over the miscommunication as he was. “Technically it would be Doctor, since I have three PhDs—but you can just call me Spencer.”

“But—But I didn’t. . . you were being serious the whole time and I. . .” You stuttered, shaking your head in confusion. “I was so unprofessional. . .”

Spencer chuckled, unable to hold it back. “Unprofessional? Just because I’m an FBI doesn’t mean I can’t like to talk to people. And I like talking to you, you don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” His disappointment dissipated quickly. Your shyness and embarrassment was so genuine and charming he couldn’t find the space to be upset with you beside all his amusement.

You crossed your arms, somehow becoming even more bashful. “You’re sure it's okay?”

“Of course it's okay.” Spencer grinned.

A small sigh of relief breezed past your lips. “Okay. . . I should—I should definitely apologize for not believing you.” You meet his eyes then with such profound remorse. “Because I am really sorry. It’s just. . . your accomplishments seemed so amazing they were kind of hard to believe, especially for someone so young.”

It was Spencer’s turn to become bashful. His head ducked and he laughed quietly. “I guess they can be hard to believe. Especially when you aren’t meeting me at work. I just thought maybe all the books helped prove it.”

You let out a shaky laugh, eyes wandering back down to the countertop. “I kinda thought that was also to impress me. I didn’t really think you were reading all of them.”

“Well. . . I do.” He shrugged, figuring you had to believe him now. As you smiled at him, he realized he left his basket and books back at the chair. “Speaking of reading, I’ll be right back.”

You eyed him as he retrieved the basket and set it on the counter in front of you along with his library card. “Oh, were you sitting over there?” You looked curious. Certainly you hadn’t seen him sitting there today or anytime before.

Spencer coughed into his fist. “Um, just for a second.” He moved on quickly, removing the books from the basket. “Thank you for this again, by the way, it’s so much easier to carry all the books.”

You hummed, eyebrows jumping up. “Yeah. . . I’m having trouble believing I really gave an FBI agent a picnic basket to carry books in.” You started swiping the books over the barcode scanner, adding them back into the basket once they appeared on the computer screen next to you.

He cracked a half smile. “I think you watch too many movies. We’re not as serious as you think we are.” Hotch’s face flashed in his eyes and he thought maybe they were pretty serious, but not off duty. Hotch could also be serious enough for the whole team sometimes, so maybe he wasn’t a very good example. “And I like the basket. It was nice of you to think about me.”

Your eyes caught on his for a moment, glazed over in thought, so deep you bumped the basket as you went to set the book you held into it. It snapped you back into reality and you watched your hand as you tucked away the book, clearing your throat. “You’re sure it’s not weird?”

Spencer’s head tilted to the left, considering you. He didn’t know what he could do to pull you back from this rut of self-consciousness. He was starting to regret ever pulling out his badge because now you seem standoffish in a way you never were with him before. He wanted to go back to when you laughed and smiled at him and didn’t find him intimidating. “Of course it’s not,” he paused a moment, wetting his lips. “And this isn’t weird either, y’know? Me being in the FBI? I’m still Spencer.”

You looked back at him again, eyes searching his face. “I know that. I’m. . .” You stared at him a second longer, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a smile. “I’m letting it sink in.” You continued scanning the books quietly, not meeting Spencer’s eyes as he absentmindedly picked at a loose string in his pocket.

His thumb brushed against his FBI credentials and the encounter just before this revelation came flooding back. He glanced over at the double doors as if to make sure Todd had not come back, though Spencer already knew he didn’t.

“Are you okay?” You met his eyes, brows pulled together. “About before—with that guy?”

“Oh.” You shrugged, rolling your wrist unconsciously. “Yeah, I’m fine. We get one of them every now and again. Normally they’re pretty harmless.” A glimmer of realization passed over your face. “Um, thank you! I should have said that before. Not everyone would have done that.”

Spencer shook his head, waving off your thanks. “Of course. I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” He was again reminded of the fact he was not a woman, and even though his job was to put away serial killers—monsters, creeps, pervs—he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be in your shoes. You shook it off well, but he didn’t doubt you were scared in the moment. Probably wondering how far he would take it, whether your reaction was appropriate, if your employer would be angry at you. He was just glad he was there to step in.

Slowly, you finished scanning all the books, tucking them neatly into the basket in an organized order he thoroughly appreciated. Heaviest books sat at the bottom and lighter books were stacked on top of them. You paused, flipping through the last book in your hand, a biography of Max Born, a German-British physicist.

“So. . . you really do read 20,000 words per minute?” You had a cheeky grin as you peeked up at him from beneath those frames, and suddenly you were back. Spencer smiled.

“Yup. I also have an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal.

You giggled, nodding along. “Right. Well then I guess this isn’t even enough books for you.” A finger waved over at the basket.

“It depends on work, actually. I’m usually busy, but I often have to travel too and then I become really busy so I don’t have time to read,” he explained. When he did sit down to read, he could get through one to three books, depending on their volume. “But yeah, ten books in a week is kind of light.”

You tapped the book in your hand with your thumbs, thinking. “Okay.” Suddenly you dropped the book into the basket, dipping below the desk to set another book in front of him. Examining it, he realized by its orange and yellow coloring it was the same book you had been reading the last time he was in the library. It was The Poetry of Pablo Neruda and from the look of its creased spine and faded orange cover, it was well loved. “You should read this too then.”

Spencer turned the book over in his hands, looking at you with a twisted face of confusion. “But the check out limit is ten books?”

You shook your head, gesturing for him to add it to the basket. “It’s not a library book,” when he still looked puzzled, you continued. “It’s my book. You can borrow it from me.”

Your kindness and generosity was both shocking and overwhelming. Spencer wasn’t sure how he was to thank you for being so gracious to him. He could only think of one thing. So he quickly fumbled his wallet up onto the countertop. “You have to let me give you something for this—”

“Spencer,” as you said his name, your hand covered his as he dug for bills to give you. “You don’t owe me anything.”

He shook his head, bewildered. Not only was your kindness startling, but so was the feeling of your hand on his. He had to stop his body from flinching at the contact. He was mostly uncomfortable at the thought of people touching him, but your palm was warm, soft, and offered the most comfort he’d felt in a while. “The basket and the book? It’s too much. I mean. . . you’re too nice.”

Your lips spread into a bright smile, flashing him your teeth. “Just bring me back your analysis. I’d love to hear what an IQ of 187 can cook up. Deal?”

Spencer laughed, ducking his head as he nodded in agreement. “Deal.”

When the laughter faded and his head came back up, he looked at you for a while longer, just feeling the paperback cover underneath his fingertips. You met his eyes just for a few moments, twiddling your own fingers. “So um, see you next Sunday?” You asked. He dared to see hope in your eyes.

“See you next Sunday,” Spencer agreed again. He hesitated putting the book in his new basket then finally left the front desk, waving you goodbye as he did. He watched over his shoulder you return his wave as he exited through the double doors.

Spencer walked back to his car practically swinging the basket, so in his head he didn’t even realize he still had a smile on his face. He set The Poetry of Pablo Neruda aside as he disinfected his books and wondered what he would do the rest of his day off. What he was sure of, deep in his chest, was that he was excited for next Sunday.

Part Two

#spencer reid x reader #spencer Reid x y/n #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x shy!reader

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igotanidea · 8 months ago

Text

Haircut: Jason Todd x reader

Inspired by the post from @pop-culturereference about what Jason's fans really want from DC (link here)

***

„AH!!”

An involuntary scream left her mouth the second she came home. Jason was not used to his girlfriend being so expressive, but protective instinct kicked in as he jumped off the couch he was reading a book on and immediately rushed to her side.

“Y/N! Love, what happened?” his hands found hers, squeezing them gently, trying to ground her in reality and assure her that whatever scared her so much was no match for him.

“What happened to you?” she sobbed, not even trying to stop the tears running down her cheeks.

“Huh?” Jason frowned “Look, I know I’m not exactly model handsome, but—”

“WHO DID THIS TO YOU?!” she wailed as if someone was tearing her heart out or squeezing her lungs.

“What are you--?” he tried again, quite taken aback by the intensity of her emotions. She wasn’t ever crying this much when he came home bloodied and bruised. She never let a single muscle on her face twitch while patching him up. But when he was okay, just chilling and for once – not getting into trouble she got into a waterfall mode. “Y/n? Look at me. Look at me!” he grabbed her chin and forced her eyes on him.

“I AM!”

“Then you can see I’m all good. It’s all good! Come on baby, whatever fear took over your brain, you have to wake up from this!”

“Your hair!” she broke into crying fit again

“My hair?” he instinctively ran his fingers through his strands. “What about them?”

“WHERE IS IT?”

Oh.

Oh, so finally they were getting to the bottom of the problem.

He cut his hair shorter than she was used to and clearly she didn’t like it.

“Look, I just thought-“

“Was it Roy? I’m sure it was Roy. I swear to God, I’m gonna kill him! How is it that I leave you guys for a few hours and you always end up causing trouble.”

“It was not—”

“Then who was it? Dick?”

“Ugh! As if I would ever let him anywhere near my head!”

“Then who helped you did this atrocity?” she pressed, taking a look at his inch-long strands.

“I did it myself.” He responded, almost sounding proud.

“You-you-yourself…?” Y/N’s eyes grew wide as she stuttered. Her bag was dropped to the ground with a concerning sound of rattling, but neither of them care about the possibility of something being crashed. They had more urgent matters at the moment. The sense of betrayal slowly started creeping inside her heart.

“It’s just hair—”

“Just hair?! Are you insane?” she snapped at him “You should have asked me what I think first!”

“But—”

“Do not argue with me, Jason! You’re my boyfriend! It is not just about what you like! You can’t just act on whims without finding out my approach to the matter!”

“It’s just hair—” once more, the poor attempt at reaching her reason failed.

“How am I supposed to run my fingers through it now? And how am I supposed to live without your mop tickling me when we cuddle?”

“Y/n…” he smiled softly, cupping her cheek, meeting her eyes

“I liked them longer… I’m sorry if that hits your insecurities, but—”

“It does make me a little unsure, not gonna lie.” He chuckled. “But only a little. Cause what I’m hearing now, is that you liked my wilder look. For example when I was taking the hood off and have my hair all ruffled? Or when I was –”

“I see what you are trying to do here, Mr. Todd and I’m not falling for it.” Y/N read right through his intentions to invoke an innuendo and tried to step back.

“Come on, baby.” Jason quickly grabbed her waist, circling arms around her like two snakes, preventing her from backing out. “Admit it. You liked the bad boy image I had. It turned you on, didn’t it?”

“Well it doesn’t anymore—“

“Guess that only means, I’ll have to try twice as hard… Cause too bad for you, sunshine, my hair is gonna stay like that for a while. So you have to like it. “

“Oh really-?”

“Most definitely. In fact, I think I’m gonna ditch the longer hair for good. This kind of haircut is so much more practical, you know. No strands sticking to my forehead when we get sweaty. None of them in my eyes when I fight only in the domino mask, no tangles and all that stuff-“

“You’re terrible!”

“Yeah, yeah I am, and what are you going to do about it baby?” he smirked and leaned forward, giving her a teasing look “you love me either way, we both know it.”

“Well maybe I should cut my hair too.” Her eyes glistened with mischief “you know- to match your new style.”

“What?” Jason turned a little pale. His princess was going to get rid of her perfect locks?! Over his dead body! (Even if that meant dying again.) “You are not!”

“Too bad for you I already made that decision. In fact I’m gonna go to the hairdresser first thing tomorrow—”

“I won’t let you out of here! You can’t just make such important decisions without talking to me first!”

“But I just told you.” She fluttered her eyelashes innocently.

“And the answer is no!”

“It was not a question.”

“You are not cutting your hair. It is not only yours! It’s mine too! We’re a couple, practically like one being!”

“Well maybe if we attach some of mine to your head we can both have what we want?”

“I got a better idea. I’ll keep you trapped here for as long as mine grow back, how about that?”

“And what shall we do for so many months Mr Todd?” she hummed with a glint in her eyes.”

“Duh! I’ll make sure to convince you that the length of my hair is not the one that should be of your concern, baby…” Jason smirked letting his hoarse tone reveal what was on his mind.

Was he acting like a hypocrite? Yes.

Did she care? No.

Cause one thing that was absolutely sure about Jason Todd that there was only one like him in the world. Capable of twisting the words in a way that always turned the situation a little less serious. And whatever hairstyle he was sporting, she was not going to change him for anyone else.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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captainsophiestark · 4 months ago

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Don't Believe Everything You Read

Anthony Bridgerton x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2024!

Fandom: Bridgerton

Day Three Prompt: "I know you better."

Summary: A wannabe Whistledown is posting some awful rumors, but luckily for Anthony, his wife knows him well enough that she doesn't believe them.

Word Count: 1,247

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

I sighed, tightening my hands on the book I was reading and trying to refocus on the words. I'd been having a nice, peaceful morning in Bridgerton house (a truly rare feat) until Eloise and Benedict had started some commotion near the door to the sitting room.

I'd married Anthony almost a year ago now, but I still hadn't learned how to block out his siblings quite as well as he did.

I managed to finish another paragraph before the commotion at the door distracted me again. I glanced at the pair out of the corner of my eye, and found them having a whispered argument, both glancing in my direction every few moments. I sighed. The rest of my story would have to wait until later.

Slowly and quietly, so as not to draw too much attention from the Bridgertons by the door, I makred my page in my book and set it down on the couch. I stood, drifting over toward Eloise and Benedict. Eloise had something in her hand, and it seemed to be the genesis of hers and Benedict's hushed argument. I got a little closer and recognized the shape and style of a scandal sheet.

Eloise and Benedict had gotten steadily more heated in their argument, and when Eloise flailed the paper in my direction, I snatched it out of her hand.

She and Benedict both whirled in my direction, but I'd made it halfway across the room before either of them got a chance to take the paper back.

"Don't read that!" Benedict shouted, chasing after me.

"You have a right to read it, but you might want a bit of a heads up first-"

I cut Eloise off by darting well out of their reach and reading one of the headlines of the scandal sheet.

Viscount Bridgerton Stepping Out On His New Wife?

I snorted and rolled my eyes. I quickly scanned the rest of the article, which went on to talk sensationally about all these rumors surrounding Anthony and a mysterious new mistress. Not a word of it was believable, of course, and at least one of the reports of Anthony strolling at night with a strange woman was just me, wearing new clothes the rest of the Ton hadn't seen yet. I barely made it to the end of the article before I started laughing.

I looked up to find Eloise and Benedict looking at me warily. I just shook my head.

"This is certainly no Lady Whistledown, is it?" The pair raised their eyebrows at me, still tensed like they were worried the laughter would turn to tears. I rolled my eyes. "Oh please, both of you. I know Anthony, I know this is ridiculous. Clearly whoever's writing this nonsense has too much free time on their hands. Or maybe not enough, since they couldn't come up with anything more realistic than this."

"So... you're not upset?" asked Eloise.

"No, El, I'm not. I know the man I married. This," I waved the paper around in my hand, "is just funny."

She and Benedict let out massive sighs as one.

"Well, that's certainly a relief," said Benedict. "I suppose Eloise and I were getting worked up for nothing."

"And likewise, you interrupted my reading for nothing," I said. "You're welcome to stay if you're quiet, but otherwise, I appreciate the laugh, but would appreciate more the return of my peaceful reading space."

"You have chosen the sitting room as your peaceful space," Benedict said. "That might not offer you the highest chance of remaining undisturbed."

"You make a fair point, but you also seemed to want to keep this scandal sheet from me completely, so I think today I can kick you out."

"Fair enough. Eloise?"

"I was supposed to meet Penelope before I found the scandal sheet with the mail. I'm already a bit late," she said with a wave over her shoulder as she headed out of the room. Benedict gave me a teasing bow, then followed his sister out of the room.

I sighed, then settled back in to my original place on the couch. I made it through another few pages before the door of the sitting room went flying open, the door making a loud bang as it slammed into the wall. I jumped and whirled around to find Anthony, looking like an absolute mess as he crossed the room in just a few strides before sliding to his knees before me. His hair stuck up at all angles and his clothes looked disheveled. He took my hands in his and started speaking before I could get a word out.

"My love, it's not true. Not a word of it. I love you, you must know that. I would absolutely never, ever go behind your back, would never even dream of spending time with anyone else-"

"Anthony, my god! Take a breath, what are you talking about?"

"I saw Eloise. She told me you'd read the scandal sheet sent out this morning. But you must know, it was a lie."

"Did you happen to wait for Eloise to tell you my reaction before you raced in here?"

"No. I worried... I didn't want to waste a moment before speaking with you. I promise, I would never do that to you. There's no one else and there never will be-"

"I know! Anthony, believe me, I know." I slid to the ground along with him, chest to chest as I kept his hands held tight in mine. "You think I'd believe some ridiculous wannabe Whistledown telling me you're a cheater? I know you better. I know you best. I know you would never do that to me, that I can trust you, no matter what. Even if Whistledown herself had reported it, I wouldn't have believed a word."

"...Truly?"

"Absolutely! We're rock solid, Anthony. I honestly wouldn't have married you if I didn't trust you."

He sighed, all the tension easing from his body as he slumped forward, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my shoulder.

"I cannot tell you how relieved I am to hear that."

"I'm glad we got your worry cleared up quickly," I said. "Although, if you had paused to talk to Eloise for another moment, she could've told you I started laughing the minute I read those ridiculous reports."

Anthony picked his head up to look at me, pulling me closer to him as he did.

"I'm much happier to have heard it from you directly. Especially since it means I can do this."

He leaned in, a grin on his face, and kissed me. I ran my hands up his back and into his hair, but pulled away after just a moment. Anthony moved to follow me, but I put a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Anthony, we are in the sitting room! Anyone could walk in on us at any moment."

"Good. Then they'll know the rumors are just that, and that nothing could ever come between the two of us."

"Anthony."

"Fine. This is an easy fix as well."

With that, he stood, picking me up and carrying me out of the room. I laughed, not even bothering to mention my book that now lay forgotten on the sofa. Anthony and I had other plans for the rest of our morning, it seemed, and I couldn't say I minded them. Anthony and I were happier than I ever thought we could be, and nothing was going to interfere with that, especially not some ridiculous gossip rag.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Bridgerton Taglist: @cherrybb-ily

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raggedyflowers · 1 year ago

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“When you try to rizz them up”

summary: one piece character reacting at you (trying) to rizz them up. it’s my first time writing smut so … don’t look at me I’m shy (may delete later)

character: Ace, Law, Sanji, Zoro x female reader

cr: NSFW 🔞, heavily flirting, suggestive words, semi public sex

Ace:

Drinking with Ace was not a smart idea ‘cause while the alcohol went directly on your brain, it seemed that Ace burned it as soon as it touched his lips. So it’s not a big surprise when at the end of the evening you were drunk, but he was perfectly fine. “So” you smirked at him, with a courage you usually didn’t have. “You catch fire only to the fist or even up the elbow?” it was such a dumb line that you should’ve feel embarrassed even if drunk, but Ace found it endearing. “You are so out your mind right now, y/n” he told you, helping you get to your room. “You make me out of my mind” you kept going, ignoring his laughter. “Whatever you say” he respond to you. “Usually I’m better at flirting” you mumble to yourself. “You’re going great, why don’t you try when your sober?” he asked you with a smirk, leavening you at the door at yours room without words. The next time you hanged out together, Ace kept an eye on you. “Try to remain sober this time, y/n” he winked at you. “I really wanna satisfy your curiosity”.

that night he did satisfy your curiosity… and not just that

you two found your way to Ace’s room and then he showed you how fast he can warm up the situation

He let you sit on his face and he spent the night eating you out

Law:

Your relationship with Law has always been private and even if someone could have said that he was cold with you, you know behind closed door Law was nothing but a loving and caring partner. It didn’t stop you to try to rizz him up in front of the rest of the Heart Pirates. You loved seeing him blushing, but most of all you loved what did come after. “You don’t need to use your devil fruit” you said to a confused Law. “You already have my heart”. You look satisfied the red cheek of your boyfriend who shock his head. “Why are you like that, y/n-ya?” he asked talking over the laughter of your crewmates. “Like what?” you asked innocently. “I just want you to shamble my organs with your dic —” you never finished the sentence since Law grabbed your arms and took you away.

“You already stopped being a brat, eh y/n-ya?” he asked after pinned you at the wall as soon as you two have entered in his room

You could’ve just bite your tongue for keeping your moans low

“Ah-ah” he said while slowly tracing your entrance with his tattooed fingers. “Don’t stop talking now. Let everyone hear you like before”

And then he push his fingers inside of you and you couldn’t do nothing but scream his name

Needles to say your organs were actually shambled that night

Sanji:

“You should wear the burgundy suit more often” you said to Sanji taking him aback. “Mmh?” he asked you, stopping cutting the vegetables. “I need something pretty to look at”. You always said things like that to him, joking mostly, but not entirely. And you loved seeing his cheek turning red after you called him pretty. “Move please, pretty boy” you said one day passing near to him and grabbing his waist to move him. “Y/n ~ ” he mumbled covered by your laugh. “Pretty, really?” he asked you and you cupped his check. “The prettiest” you said to him. “Not as pretty as you, my love” he told you back. “Wanna show me how much pretty you can be for me” you asked him with a mischievous smile.

he did show you how pretty he is

with his red cheek and sweet smile while he pounded into you

“you are the prettiest” he said you groping your breast while he kept his pace. “taking my cock so well”

but really he was the prettiest boys, especially when he lowered himself and started eating you out

Zoro:

One of your favourite activities on the Sunny was watching Zoro work out. You pretended to read a book but your eyes couldn’t help but to lingering on his sweaty body. “Your book is upside down” he said to you with a smirk. “Really?” you asked, without an ounce of shame. “Are you training on the forth swords styles?” Zoro looked at you with confusion. “You know, the other sword in your — ” you pointed at his pants. He smirked. “Wanna found out?” he smirked again.

he actually spent all night “practicing” with his forth sword

you never been more happy to indulge him

“do you like my sword style?” he asked you while keeping the brutal pace pounding into you

you wanted to say yes, but couldn’t form a single thought

#one piece #straw hat pirates #trafalgar law #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar one piece #one piece fanfiction #roronoa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji one piece #ace one piece #ace x reader #ace d portgas #one piece smut #reader insert

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fairyhaos · 6 months ago

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how seventeen act with their writer s/o

requested by anon ^^

masterlist

seungcheol

he is begging. he is on his knees BEGGING you to pls let him buy you a new laptop because the one you use is literally on its last legs and makes ominous sputtering n whirring sounds like a dying cat stuck in a vent every time you start it up. you don't let him tho bc “no cheol the memories :(((“ cuz you've had it for years but he is nearing the end of his tether and who knows. in a few days ur laptop may mysteriously disappear forever and you'll be forced to let him buy a new one

jeonghan

he's like the pet cat you don't own who likes to slink into the room and make inquisitive noises as he watches you work. drapes himself over your shoulders and makes distressed huffs when you try to dislodge him. he's never usually noticeably clingy, but when you try to write, the clinginess always springs out and you can't go five minutes without jeonghan poking his head into the room to check up on you and see what you're up to

joshua

your biggest fan. buys every single novel you write, puts on his glasses, and reads them very seriously in one go on the very evening it's released with the lamp on beside him. he looks so serious every time, but he'll always peer at you over his glasses and then give you a big grin, telling you how much he loves it. gets you to sign a copy for him and brags to everyone he knows that he has your signed novels with special messages just for him that no one else can have

junhui

he's your personal general knowledge bank. when you're searching up obscure things and slowly losing hope on finding an answer, just ask junhui and he'll either a) know the answer or b) knows someone who knows someone else who knows someone else else who knows the answer. don't ask him how to spell words tho bc he's like. hopelessly bad. blinks at you going “what's an [insert word]” before you give up and google it yourself

hoshi

alwaysssss wants to know what you're working on right now. gets all whiny when you get possessive of your work and refuse to show him before it's finished bc come on, it's surely perfect already, why are you trying to hide it from him?? loves helping you do, like, the non writing stuff. writing out plot? nooo. building fantasy maps, figuring out political systems, getting lost on a tangent on figuring out the price of beans in the 1800s? hell yeah sign him up!!!

wonwoo

knows all the grammar rules in the world. you can ask him stuff like “hey wonwoo can i put a comma here or no” and he'll amble over to peer over your shoulder and tell you whether you can or cannot, in fact, put a comma there. helps you curate all your writing playlists for the different moods you have. gently reminds you to get back to writing whenever you end up scrolling on instagram for too long

woozi

you're even more of a workaholic than he is when in the zone, so he gets to realise how unhealthy it is to be sat in front of a computer for hours straight with no break. you get to act as each other's “let's act like a normal human being now” reminders, depending on which of you is going through a work fixation. you guys both go on runs together in the mornings even though it kills you bc at least it gets both of yo brains kickstarted to spend a day being all creative in ur respective fields

minghao

you value his opinion above anyone else's. above your beta reader's, above your agent's, even above your editor's bc those are more like advice, not opinions. but knowing that minghao likes your work, and knowing which parts in particular he really likes, is so important to you because ultimately, you want the person you love to also love the things that you create.

mingyu

brings up the fact that you're a writer in every conversation he has with anyone ever. “oh my god look, this menu has writing on it. speaking of writing, my s/o writes actual books as a job!!!!”. your agent made him sign a contract similar to an NDA bc he just keeps yapping about your books even when they haven't been released yet. loves the noises you make whilst you're writing. thinks it's the cutest thing ever when you make overjoyed “AHA!!” sounds when you finally realise what the plot is doing

dokyeom

more than willing to be your rubber duck and let you talk at him until u figure out your own plot holes. he could be in his room scrolling on his phone but the minute you call for him, he's leaping up and bounding over to you and pulling up a chair in an instant, more than willing to let you bounce ideas off him. sits there doing nothing but looking all pretty as you talk at him and work out the tangle you've gotten yourself into. beams and gives you a big kiss when you manage to figure it all out.

seungkwan

he buys you a biiiig wheely whiteboard and a bunch of coloured board pens to help you plot your novels. when you get stuck, he comes over and stares at the board with his hands on his hips, very gravely considering your dilemma and what would be the best way to get you out of it. you two talk about plot holes like it's the most serious thing in the world and he just nods like a proud father once you both find a solution

vernon

at this point he's like. a professional tea and coffee and biscuits supplier due to the amount of snack runs he does for you. has walked in on you lying face down on the floor during a meltdown one too many times to bat an eye anymore. also great at helping you block out actions during scenes like. he's the perfect doll. lets you maneuver him into the weirdest positions in the world with zero complaints. he just loves helping you however he can, really.

chan

reads through your drafts whilst you're in the middle of writing, accidentally gets hooked and is begging you every day to finish the novel bc he really wants to know what happens next. he's the best at spotting inconsistencies and plot holes in ur writing so before you even send it off to your beta reader, he gets to have his hands on the manuscript to check for any changes needed. also bc he needs to read the ending asap otherwise he'll probably combust.

request guidelines

reactions tags: @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @newgirlygirl @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @wonranghaeee @yonabutnotyuna @crackedpumpkin @wqnwoos @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @icyminghao @valenhui @sweet-like-caramel @odxrilove @kyeomyun @chansburgah @pepperonijem @jeonride @kellesvt @kikohao @astrozuya @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @all-american-fangirl @f1uffyjun @sea-moon-star @nonononranghaee @isabellah29 @mcu-incorrect @hrts4hanniehae @suraandsugar @pan-de-seungcheol @dokyeomkyeom @melodicrabbit @bananabubble

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fanfics-i-find-here · 2 months ago

Text

Do I know you? Part 2

Jason Todd X Reader

Synopsis: Jason, not Red Hood, “checks” on you. Cue the shortest/ longest conversation you have had with the man.

Or in other words, is this flirting?

Notes: There is no planned plot for this if anyone can tell. Just running on vibes.

Part 1, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Masterlist

Your presumption of a long night was regrettably accurate. The annoyance of it all makes you want to chuck your alarm against the wall. But alas, being an adult mattered more and you need money, so work it is. You pray for it to be a busy day so you can forget your embarrassment from the night before.

Clocking into work makes you confident in the fact that it will be busy. You slide into your routine as a waitress at Jackie’s Books and Coffee, greeting customers and delivering drinks and pastries to them. You chat with a few of the regulars as they come in, and you listen as they yap about their lives. As you make another round, you greet another regular.

His name was Jason and that’s all you really knew. He wasn’t like many of the other customers who liked to talk about anything and everything to you. He usually only got coffee and read a book. The one time he did actually talk to you was when you mentioned you had never read a Jane Austen book. It was like that was the only thing that mattered in the world. He ranted at you for 15 minutes about it and you didn’t have the heart to step away. He was cute when he was passionate.

He sat down at his usual table and pulled out a book. You went to work with his order, he always got the same thing. You sat the cup in front of him and asked, “What’s the book for the day?”

You try to glance at the cover but find the front cover blank, a fancy hardcover. Not finding the answer there you meet his gaze to wait for his response. You're startled for a moment by the familiarity of his features. Of course, his features were familiar to you, he was a regular but there was something different this time around. A scar on his lip and his cheek-

“Dracula” your thoughts are cut off by his voice, suddenly strangely familiar too, and you focus in on the conversation.

You smile, “I actually have read that one.”

You are half tempted to add, might be better than Jane Austen, but you decided you still want to work for the next half hour. You settle on, “Hollywood definitely got that one wrong, so much for the undead being sexy.” You joke.

His laugh comes out a little startled and you’re proud of the accomplishment. He usually looks so sullen in his corner booth, although that might just be because he’s so focused on his book.

“I don’t know, Hollywood might be onto something.” He says it like it’s an inside joke, but you feel like you missed the punchline.

“Maybe,” you say with a polite laugh, “Did you want anything else?” you ask.

He shakes his head. Not a huge shocker, he never wants anything but his drink and his book.

“Just let me know if you do.” You walk away slowly as you try to push down the weird familiar feeling you’re having all of a sudden. You check in with a few customers and, with a lull in commotion you settle into a chair next to the register. Bless Jackie for having one, your feet slowly starting to ache as the end of your shift draws near. Darla, one of the other waitresses comes to stand close to you. She leans in with a conspiratory look.

“So, you get his number?” she questions, her Gothamite accent heavy. Your head whips to look at her and you almost knock noses.

“What?” you try to keep your tone neutral, but your tone pitches up. Her lips twist into a grin and you’d think it evil if you didn’t already know her. Darla was nearly 50 years old, and she reminded you of a self-proclaimed “Fun Aunt” who liked to be in on all the gossip and had no sense of personal space. She had been goading you to date someone, anyone, just so she could be all up in your business. Because according to her, you were the most boring person she’d ever met.

“The hottie, did you get his number?” she asks again as she pulls out a compact mirror to brush some fly-aways from her face.

“First of all, I still don’t know who you’re talking about.” You do but that’s neither here nor there. “Second, you can’t just call customer’s Hotties, Darla, that weird.”

She scoffs and snaps her compact closed. “All right, Scarface over there. Did you get his number?”

You practically jump at her to cover her mouth. “Darla!”

She pushes your hand away with a grin. “Don’t worry Baby doll. It makes him look hot in a rugged way.”

“Darla, I swear-“you're cut off by a throat clearing. You turn to see a college student awkwardly waiting at the register. Your face flushes and you drop your hands from Darla and through on a customer service smile.

“Hi, sorry about that. How can I help you?” You manage to stay away from Darla for the rest of your shift, checking on customers probably more than necessary. It's 5 o’clock when your shift finally ends. You brush by Darla to clock out and she follows you.

“You gonna answer my question or not?” Ever persistent for an older woman.

“No, Darla, I did not get Jason’s number” You pointedly use his name, so she won’t use Scarface or Hottie again.

“Oh, First name basis.” She teases.

You roll your eyes and pull off your apron to hang it up. You turn and look at her.

“Goodbye Darla,” you say sweetly with a too cheesy smile. It's her turn to roll her eyes as she goes back to work. You collect your purse and jacket and head for the front door of the shop. The early fall weather not having kicked in yet, you carry your jacket on your arm. Focused on pulling your purse over your head, you nearly run into a mass.

“Oh Sorry,” you say as you take a step back.

“No, you’re okay. I shouldn’t have bullied my way in front of you.” A deep voice speaks. You look up and meet blue-green eyes. Jason.

“I hardly think someone so passionate about Jane Austen could do any Bullying” You see Jason flush a little at the comment but don’t say anything. He holds the front door open for you. You thank him as you hurriedly shuffle through the open door. He follows you out onto the warm sidewalk. Assuming your conversation is done you head down the sidewalk with your arms crossed in front of you holding your jacket. As you walk you become very conscious of the man next to you. You glance at him curiously but don’t comment.

You take your time walking with him silently. You're not in a rush to get home, darkness still a few hours away. You should be worried. You’re not though. Jason has never struck you as a bad guy. Call it energy or vibe or what have you (ranting about Jane Austen). He just wasn’t bad. Intimidating? Yes, but not bad. As you walk you give some subtle side glances. He was very… Large. You didn’t know how else to describe him. Nearly a whole head taller than you and muscular. Yeah, he could definitely pick you up and carry you. You flush, not that that mattered. Your eyes get drawn back to his face. You know those scars; you swear up and down that it's not just because he’s a regular. They’ve never stuck out to you like this, and you can’t figure out why. In your (not so) subtle side-eye, you meet his gaze. He’s already smiling at you, but you don’t linger on it dropping your gaze to the concrete.

“Heading home?” He asks, tilting his head toward you.

You look up to meet his gaze, intense in the stare and unsure if he's just like that or dissecting you. This is the longest amount of time you’ve spent actually near him without tending to customers.

“Uh, yeah?” you ask yourself. Of course, you're going home; where else would you go? But why would you tell him that? You don’t think Jason would do anything bad to you; he is still, at most, an acquaintance, and you don’t really know him. (Not that it matters considering you let a literal stranger into your home the night before.) If he senses your hesitation and worry, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I wish I was.” He admits but quickly adds on, “Going to my home, not yours. That would be weird, I don’t really know you.” His voice drops quieter as he trails off. He rubs at the back of his neck, a light flush on his cheeks. The man in a flustered state must give you some courage.

“Yeah, that would be weird,” you tease, “Although maybe not a bad thing.” You quiet for a moment and think is this good flirting?

“If you're not going home, then where are you going?” You ask both curious about the answer and if it’ll explain why he's still walking with you.

His flush darkens and he mumbles for a moment and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Leather Jacket…

“Family required dinner,” he says it like it’s the worst thing in the entire world, sitting next to nuclear weapons and climate change.

“That sounds fun” You try to keep a neutral tone because a family dinner does sound fun, to you, but he, apparently, thinks otherwise.

“Oh, loads of it,” he says with a scowl.

You decide a variety of things at that moment. First, he was unfairly attractive. Scowling should not look that good. Second, you want to stop him from scowling, a sadness sitting just behind his eyes. Thirdly, Darla was, unfortunately, correct. You should get this guy's number.

“at least tell me there's dessert.” You ask teasingly. Your inquiry is enough to chase away the scowl and you smile at the fact.

“Only the best homemade cookies in existence” he responds with a smile.

“At least there's something good.” You slow your walk as you come to the corner where your apartment building sits. You don’t want to give away that you live here, but you don’t want to start wandering around the streets of Gotham with him either. As it turns out, your overthinking is unnecessary.

“This is me.” He states as he walks to a parked motorcycle right in front of the building. You can't help but stare.

“Will you make it home safe all alone?” he asks like he already knows the answer. It takes you a moment to answer, distracted as he pulls a helmet out of the back seat of the bike, preparing to put it on. The leather made more sense now.

“Oh, yeah, yeah, it'll be no problem. I don’t live far.” You gesture further down the street, where you definitely did not live. He nods and smiles knowingly as he slips the helmet on.

“Okay see you later, sweetheart.” He says as he slings a leg over the bike, starting. You stare, again, at the denim of his jeans stretching over his legs nicely. He gives you a wave before taking off down the street, turning a corner. You stand and stare at the spot he had just been for much longer than you should have. You let a quiet “Bye” leave your lips despite him being long gone.

You finally turn around to your apartment building. How convenient that was. You pet one of the stray cats that sit on the steps as you climb them and enter the building, thinking Am I missing something?

Other Note: Thank you for all the love for the first part. It inspired me to keep going. I hope this makes some kind of sense.

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #fanfics-i-find-here #Kandywrites #do i know you?

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tiredofthehumanlife · 2 months ago

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Honey(s) I'm home and very sad!

Barbie dolls: Roommates! Rosekiller x gn!reader

Word: 2.6k

Summary: uh you have a rlly rlly bad day and your lovely roommates make you feel better with cuddles and ice cream

Warnings: uh Barty dresses slutty?, eating mentioned and particuly described (ice cream), undefined retaliationship you're roommates but also crushing but also affectionate but also not talking Abt it idk stop asking, I lost like three hundred followers bc I was super depressed so to those three hundred people you suck I think🫀 so actually I take that back new information has come up and turns out its a Tumblr glitch my bad, you sleep in Evan and Barty's bed for like three seconds, Evan smokes, Barty hates fiction books and reads self help and nonfiction instead, Evan's very cleanly, Barty's very not that, idk do you guys actually rlly even like me or whatsittoya, kisses very cutesie, you cry, uh extremely brief mention of fighting

Hard days were never something that you truly expected. Sure you could picture all the worst possibilities and know that something bad will happen but you still never catch the full feeling of your reaction until you're sitting in it. You don't particularly want to show your upset but at the same time, you haven't turned your lips up in hours. The whole day just went downhill from the start. Once you start to think of the specifics you feel tears well up in your eyes. You just needed to get home. That's all.

You weren't going to cry on the way home you'd do it in the safety of your own walls. You hoped your roommates, Evan and Barty, were in their room. You couldn't face them like this, you needed to hold on to the last bit of dignity you still had with them. You could never keep a hold of yourself with them. You snorted in your laughter even though their jokes weren't that funny. You fell over your words and came away from your conversations wishing you could try again. You stared too hard and ended up getting caught. You'd share too much information in an attempt to impress them.

All you wanted was to go home, curl up in your blankets, and cry until you felt like a raisin. You felt the weight of your day double as you slipped your key into your front door. You hooked your keys onto the key holder on the wall. You shrugged your coat off, throwing it at the coat tree. You felt your tears building up as your walls slowly slipped away. The familiar home relaxed them even then you wanted to hold strong until you got to your room. You couldn't toe your shoes off fast enough, getting so frustrated you reached down and yanked your shoe off. You flung it at the shoe rack, ignoring that it wasn't anywhere near the other one you had slipped off.

As you left the foyer, stepping towards your bedroom, Barty and Evan’s door opened. Barty leaned against the frame, crossing his arms over his chest. His sweatpants were riding low on his hips, showcasing his happy trail. His shirt was butchered and jaggedly cut along the bottom of his rib cage.

“Hey baby, have you ever tried that cake-” Barty paused when he saw the anger and tears pulling at your face. He straightened up, dropping his arms to his sides.

“What's the matter?” Barty asked. You shook your head and waved him off. You could easily slip away now, get to your room before Evan found out. Barty could let something like this slide but not Evan. Evan must've been summoned by your thoughts because just as you thought you could get away scot-free Evan’s hand slid over Barty's shoulder. His form appeared after that, slipping next to Barty past the doorframe. He furrowed his eyebrows at you. You grumbled incoherently as you realized you weren't going to be able to get out of this one.

“Are you okay?” Evan asked. You hated how easily Evan was able to massage away your wall with just his tone. You had been holding the tears back so well too. Just a few more minutes and you could’ve made it to your room. You wanted to just say ‘yes’ and to retreat your room. You wanted to swallow your tears and act mature… by hiding your feelings, obviously. Unfortunately what you wanted and what Evan's presence caused was something entirely different.

Something about him just broke your walls so easily. It wasn't his tone, it wasn't his words, it wasn't his charming attitude, it was just him entirely. Evan could just lay his eyes on you and you were falling apart at his feet. You wondered if maybe Barty felt the same.

Your throat tightened with sadness and your eyes welled with tears. You shook your head, looking away from him. Evan’s breath hitched and covered it up with a hum. He stepped around Barty and held his arms out for you. You didn't bother fighting the urge to hide in them. You wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek into his shirt. Evan’s arms warmed your back, it pushed you closer to tears. Evan hummed, the vibrations comforting you.

You felt Barty's hand join at your back, rubbing up and down. You let the tears go, crying into Evan's sleep shirt. Barty’s hand continued its comforting circles. You let it all go, all the frustrations of the day. Evan and Barty didn't stall for a second. They let you choke it all out, your shoulders shaking with tears.

A few minutes later, your tears slowed. You sucked in a breath, pulling away from Evan. Evan drew his hands away from your back, cupping your face instead. Barty didn’t move his hand, continuing to rub circles on your back. You steadied yourself with your hands on Evan’s waist.

“Do you want to lie down?” Evan asked, raising an eyebrow at you. You nodded, feeling the urge to slink back into his arms again. Evan released your face, slipping his hand into yours. He tugged you towards his and Barty’s room. You ignored the gnawing feeling that you were intruding. Barty stayed back, the sounds of him shuffling towards the kitchen behind your head. Evan nudged his bedroom door open with his foot, dragging you after him.

You were rarely in Evan and Barty’s room. How frequently did one really need to be in their roommates’ bedroom? Not very. You’d ventured in once or twice before when Barty asked you to get something, or when Evan overslept and you had to nudge him awake so he wasn’t late for work. Though Evan rarely overslept anyway.

Some nights you’d wake up with a deep desire for water, wandering for the kitchen with your eyes closed. You pull down a glass, fill it, and take a sip before noticing Evan’s presence. You still have your lips on the edge of the glass, halfway through the motion of tipping it up.

Evan was frozen on the windowsill, a lit cigarette still half between his fingers. The moonlight made his eyes shine like the way you’d catch a marsupial stealing your garbage in the middle of the night. His thumb flicked, making the bright cigarette bounce and the dark ash fall outside the window. You raised an eyebrow, lowering your glass. Evan sniffed, pulling his hand to his mouth again. He sucked in a deep drag of his cigarette, the end’s color glaring in the dark room. You kept your eye on him as you chugged the rest of your glass, finishing off the water completely. Evan stuck his hand out the window again, tilting his head back as a plume of smoke floated above his head. You set your glass in the sink deciding to wash it in the morning.

“You know if you wake up in the middle of the night with intense thirst, it means you’re dehydrated,” Evan said, his voice still quiet from his distance. You groaned, flipping him off and shuffling back to bed. You ignored his chuckle behind you, still too tired to think of a good quip.

Evan dropped your wrist, dragging your attention back to the moment. Their room was messy, but not terribly. It was a little obvious who was the messy one. The clothing on the floor you had only seen Barty wear and the large pair of black boots thrown at the foot of the bed were definitely his too.

Evan’s shoes were precisely set next to the door. The dresser shoved in the back corner seemed like his too, with multiple books stacked on top. All fiction, Barty couldn’t stand fiction novels.

You could easily deduce which side of the bed was whose, the right, closest to the door, had a pillow on the floor, and the blanket was skewed and clumped. The left had a pillow tilted but on the mattress and the blanket was set straight. The nightstand on the right had a tented book that appeared to be a self-help book on romantic relationships and a knocked over cologne bottle, the cap missing. Barty seemed to be about three chapters in, if that. You raised an eyebrow, slowly turning to Evan. Evan pressed his lips together and shrugged.

“Barty’s a little messy. I’ve learned to live with it.” Evan muttered, his hand flying out to set the tipped-over cologne bottle on Barty’s nightstand upright. You hummed, still glued in your spot. Evan ignored it, stepping over Barty’s boots to get to his side of the bed. He slid under the blankets, smacking the mattress next to him on Barty’s side. You joined him, picking Barty’s pillow off the floor on the way there. You tossed it onto the bed, laying down and dropping your head on it. Evan let out a huff through his nose and gently brought his hand to your face, tracing the lines of your face. You closed your eyes and let your mind and body rest now that you were finally home.

It probably wasn’t a good thing that you associated your sense of home with your roommates. It’s an obvious connection but maybe not to this degree. Your apartment didn’t feel whole without them.

At some point, they were going to pack their bags and move, or maybe you would, either way, you’d be without your two very peculiar roommates. You’d miss their strange habits. You weren’t sure you could find another roommate who would walk around the house on all fours if he got too sleep-deprived and your other roommate who would use stares as a form of communication. You weren’t sure if you could move on from your freaks of shared living quarters friends. They made you feel free and utterly comfortable. You knew they wouldn’t judge you for any of the slightly odd things you did because they did far worse things.

You shouldn’t feel so attached to these two and yet here you were, snuggled up in their blankets. You weren’t going to even think of the strange urge to lean forward and kiss them both that washed over you far too frequently. Evan’s hand slipped away, instead pulling your hand away from your chest to hold onto it himself. You felt sleep pulling at your mind, his soft fingertips on your skin slipping away. Your lungs filled and released like a rocking wave with ease. Your body stopped moving, joints going rigid with sleep.

And then Barty slammed open the door, the doorknob knocking back into the wall. You jolted, your rest shattering like a glass vase. You sat up on your elbows, looking back at the door. Evan sat up straight, annoyance weighing his brow down.

“Barty!” Evan chided, staring at the man in the doorway with disbelief. Barty turned around with three bowls cradled in his arms. A spoon was held between his teeth, his foot jutting out to find the edge of the door. He hooked the back of his heel over the edge, kicking his leg back to close the door. Barty tried to respond, the spoon in his mouth making it choppy. A few strings of guttural sounds slipped out from behind his teeth, making the general shape of a sentence. You let them stir in your head for a moment, trying to decipher them.

Evan shook his head, not understanding a lick of what Barty said. He turned to you, to see if you caught it but you doubted you could’ve caught it if there wasn't a spoon in his mouth. You threw a hand up, giving up entirely. Barty let out a scoff, joining you two at the side of the bed. He set down one of the bowls on his nightstand, next to his book. He leaned down over his bowl, tilting his head to the side. Barty opened his mouth, letting the spoon clatter inside the bowl. You sat up, looking inside to see his favorite ice cream inside. Barty stuck the other two bowls out to you and Evan. You gently took it from him, looking between Evan and Barty.

“I didn’t have hands, it’s hard to be quiet when you’re opening a door with no hands,” Barty said. His hand flapped, silently telling you to scoot over. You scooted into Evan’s side, leaning back against the bed frame. Barty flung himself into the mattress, making you and Evan bounce up and down for a moment. You stared at Barty in displeasure with your rather cold bowl in your hands. You pictured the moment from outside your view, Barty’s relaxed and stretched frame on the bed. You and Evan glaring while bouncing with your bowls held away from you. You would’ve laughed if your nap hadn’t been rudely interrupted. Barty sat up, pulling his bowl off his nightstand into his lap. He stuck his spoon into his ice cream, bringing the spoonful to his mouth. He looked up and paused in his eating.

“What?” His words were muffled by the ice cream in his mouth. You sniffed, turning to look at Evan. Evan shook his head at Barty.

“We were peacefully sleeping, Barty,” Evan said, still accepting the ice cream and pulling his spoon up to his mouth. You decided they had no problem with eating in their bed, scooping out your own bite.

“Yeah in my bed. That I paid for, thank you for your service, Barty. We love you, Barty. You’re so sexy, Barty. Please, Barty, let us repay you for your kindness. That’s what I want to hear out of your mouths right now, not complaints.” Barty said, tipping his voice up to mock your voices. You glanced at Evan to make sure you heard right. You kept your eyes on your ice cream as you readied another mouthful.

“I’m not saying that.” You muttered before taking a bite into your mouth. Evan hummed in agreement.

“You must’ve forgotten to take your pills this morning because I would never say that.” Evan frowned, licking his spoon clean before taking another bite. Barty quickly swallowed his scoop before faking a gasp.

“You don’t love me? Wow okay, I see how it is.” Barty joked, a smile playing on his lips. Evan froze, staring at the blanket to run back through Barty’s words. He dropped his spoon into his bowl.

“Well, no. I do love you. I take back what I said.” Evan said, keeping his eyes on Barty to make sure his point was taken seriously. Barty cooed, leaning forward over your lap. He puckered up his lips and you leaned back. Evan met him in the middle, pressing a kiss to Barty’s lips. You stifled a groan at being trapped both between and under them.

“Gross. I have feelings too, you know.” You muttered, trying to look anywhere but the kiss between your two rather attractive roommates. They pulled back from each other, returning to their original seats. You felt your shoulders relax, knowing the discomfort was finally over. You looked down at your bowl, stabbing your spoon into your ice cream again. You are startled at the feeling of their lips pressing against both your cheeks in two brief kisses. They pulled back returning to their ice cream.

“We love you too,” Barty muttered before taking another bite of his ice cream. You hummed, swallowing down the true feelings you could bring up. Barty was the first to finish his bowl, setting it on his nightstand. He took the silence as a sign for him to tell you both about his day in extreme detail. You didn’t mind it. Barty was entertaining and it distracted you from your terrible day. You actually enjoyed laying in bed with them, eating ice cream, and watching Barty fling his arms about to explain his day. At one point he got up to act out how’d he‘d pummel Evan’s boss if he didn’t give Evan a promotion soon.

#evan deserves that promation dont get it twisted #rosekiller x reader #rosekiller #barty jr #barty crouch junior #barty crouch jr #barty crouch jr x reader #barty x evan #barty crouch x evan rosier #barty x reader #evan rosier #evan rosier x reader #marauders era #marauders #the marauders #the marauders era

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magical-reid · 2 months ago

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The Rings We Keep Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!FBI!Reader

Genre: fluff

Content warnings: none

Word count: 2.2K

Part 1

Two months had passed since the case ended, your team was spending more and more time assisting the BAU with their cases, and you were still adjusting to being known as Mrs. Reid. The BAU’s teasing had mostly subsided, but Penelope couldn’t help herself, sending you daily texts with variations of “How’s married life treating you, sugarplum?”

Spencer, of course, was blissfully oblivious to half the jokes. You envied his ability to compartmentalize. For you, the line between personal and professional felt increasingly blurred—especially when you came home to find him sitting on your couch, flipping through one of your dog-eared mystery novels like he belonged there.

“Hey,” you greeted, setting your go-bag on the floor.

“Hey,” he replied without looking up. “Your landlord called earlier. The leak in your bathroom should be fixed tomorrow.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, thanks?”

Spencer finally glanced up, his expression innocent. “It’s easier if they call me. You don’t always answer your phone.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Easier, huh?”

He shrugged. “Legally, I’m your emergency contact. Makes sense.”

Your chest tightened a mix of irritation and something warmer that you weren’t ready to name. Spencer had a way of making the most unconventional things seem logical—like casually fixing your plumbing situation as if it were just another bullet point on his to-do list.

You crossed the room, plopping onto the couch beside him. “You know this is weird, right?”

“What is?”

“This,” you gestured between the two of you. “Being married but… not married.”

Spencer tilted his head, considering your words. “It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s not weird. We work well together.”

“That’s not exactly the foundation of a marriage,” you pointed out, though your tone lacked bite. “Shouldn’t we—I don’t know—try to figure out what this actually is?”

Spencer’s brow furrowed. “You mean, like dating?”

The word hung in the air between you, heavy and full of possibility.

“Maybe,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm. “I mean, it might help. Get to know each other outside of work. Outside of… whatever this is.”

Spencer nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. “That’s logical. We could schedule something.”

“Schedule?” You laughed, the sound half nervous, half amused. “Spence, you don’t schedule a date. You just… go.”

His lips quirked in a small, sheepish smile. “Right. Of course.”

The First Date

Three days later, you found yourself sitting across from Spencer at a cozy little café near the library. He’d insisted on picking the place, and you hadn’t protested—it was quiet, intimate, and felt like him.

“I, um, wasn’t sure what you liked, so I ordered a variety,” Spencer said, gesturing to the spread of pastries between you. “There’s a 73% chance one of these is your favorite.”

You bit back a smile, reaching for a chocolate croissant. “Good guess.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, and you realized he’d been nervous—an unusual look for someone so confident in every other aspect of his life.

“So,” you began, tearing off a piece of croissant. “Do we talk about work, or is that off-limits?”

Spencer shook his head. “It’s not off-limits, but we could talk about other things. Like… hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” you repeated, amused. “You mean like your extensive knowledge of obscure trivia?”

“Or your knack for solving puzzles,” he countered, a rare teasing tone in his voice.

You laughed, the sound drawing a faint smile from him. For the first time, the awkwardness began to fade, replaced by something warmer—something that felt almost like normalcy.

Navigating New Territory

Over the next few weeks, your dynamic shifted in subtle but undeniable ways. Spencer started leaving his favorite books on your nightstand, claiming they were “better than the ones you usually read.” You, in turn, introduced him to your guilty pleasure TV shows, relishing the way he tried (and failed) to resist getting invested in the drama.

But it wasn’t all smooth sailing.

One evening, as you cooked dinner together—a rare occurrence, considering your busy schedules—Spencer reached for the salt just as you turned to grab a spoon. The collision was minor, but it left you both frozen, faces inches apart.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, stepping back quickly.

Spencer’s cheeks flushed. “No, it was my fault.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken tension. You busied yourself stirring the sauce, your mind racing. Was this what it felt like to be in a real marriage? The constant push and pull of closeness and uncertainty?

“I’ve been reading about communication in relationships,” Spencer said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence.

You raised an eyebrow. “Of course you have.”

“It says physical proximity is important,” he continued, his tone serious. “Small gestures, like holding hands, can build intimacy.”

You stared at him, torn between exasperation and affection. “Spence, are you saying we should hold hands more?”

He nodded, his expression earnest. “It might help.”

You sighed, setting down the spoon. “Alright. Let’s try it.”

Tentatively, you reached for his hand, lacing your fingers together. His skin was warm, his grip firm but careful.

“How’s this?” you asked, half-joking.

Spencer’s gaze met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you.

“Good,” he said softly. “It’s… good.”

A Step Forward

One night, after a particularly grueling case, you found yourself leaning against Spencer on the couch, too tired to care about boundaries. His arm was draped around your shoulders, and you realized with a start that it felt… nice. Comforting.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice low.

“Yeah,” you murmured, closing your eyes. “Just tired.”

He didn’t move, didn’t press for more. Instead, he simply held you, his presence steady and reassuring.

In that moment, you realized something had shifted—not just between you, but within you. This wasn’t just a marriage of convenience anymore. It was becoming something real, something worth fighting for.

And as you drifted off to sleep, Spencer’s voice echoed softly in your mind.

“I’ve got you.”

You believed him.

The Unspoken Shift

It was late one night when the shift finally happened when everything you and Spencer had been tiptoeing around finally came to a head. The case had been grueling—intense, dangerous—but in the end, the team had solved it. The adrenaline had faded, leaving an unfamiliar silence in its wake.

You were sitting on the couch in your small apartment, your mind still racing from the day’s events. You’d barely had time to think about anything beyond work in the past few weeks, but now, with the threat neutralized, everything came rushing back.

Spencer, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by the chaos. He was curled up in the armchair across from you, his laptop open in front of him, but his eyes weren’t on the screen. He kept glancing over at you, his face unreadable, as if there was something he wanted to say but didn’t know how to say it.

It was in moments like this that you found yourself wondering what this was between you—this odd marriage of convenience that had slowly morphed into something you couldn’t quite define.

We work well together, Spencer had said once, so casually that it hadn’t quite clicked at the time. Now, though, as you caught him looking at you again—this time with a sort of tenderness that made your heart skip a beat—you wondered if he meant more than just work.

You shifted on the couch, trying to distract yourself. You couldn’t allow yourself to think too deeply, not with everything that was still unresolved. But Spencer’s voice cut through the silence.

"Y/N, I... I think I need to apologize."

You froze, unsure if you had heard him correctly. "Apologize? For what?"

He hesitated, his fingers hovering over the keys of his laptop, but he didn’t look at the screen. Instead, his gaze lingered on you, serious and a little vulnerable. "For... for how distant I’ve been. I know I’ve been focused on the cases and... well, on myself too much." His lips tightened, as if he regretted the words before they even left his mouth. "I’ve been pushing you away without even realizing it. And I’m sorry."

You blinked, taken aback by his honesty. Spencer was never one to admit when he was wrong. He was always so logical, so composed. But tonight, something was different. There was a rawness in his voice that made your chest tighten, and you realized with a jolt that maybe you had been pushing him away too.

"You haven’t been distant, Spence," you said softly. "You’ve just been... you." The words felt heavier than you intended, but it was the truth. Spencer had always been focused, and driven, and even when he was there, he seemed so far away, locked in his own world.

"I know," he said, his voice low. "But that’s not an excuse. I—I should have been there more for you. You’ve been doing this alone, and that’s not fair."

You stared at him, processing what he had just said. Spencer Reid, always so sure of his intelligence and his work, was admitting—without words—that he wasn’t sure how to be a partner in this unconventional marriage. And as much as you wanted to brush it off, you couldn’t. You had been struggling with the same doubts.

“I didn’t ask for any of this,” you said quietly, motioning between the two of you. “This whole… marriage thing. It’s not what I expected, either. But that doesn’t mean I’m not trying.”

Spencer’s eyes softened, his expression vulnerable in a way you’d never seen before. “I know you are,” he said. “And that’s why I don’t want to mess this up. I don��t know what this is, but... I don’t want to lose it.”

There was a long pause as you both let the words settle. You felt the weight of everything that had been building up—the awkward moments, the shared glances, the near-kisses that you’d both avoided. But in that moment, you realized something: you didn’t want to keep avoiding it.

“I don’t want to lose it either,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Spencer inhaled deeply, his hand moving hesitantly toward yours. When his fingers brushed against yours, your pulse quickened. The touch was gentle, uncertain—but it felt like a promise, one you hadn’t even realized you were waiting for. The space between you seemed to shrink as if the universe itself was holding its breath.

"I think I—" Spencer started, but the words hung in the air, unspoken, because neither of you could say them aloud just yet. Instead, you reached for him.

You moved slowly, carefully, but when your lips met his, it wasn’t cautious. It wasn’t calculated. It was everything that had been building between you for the past two months. It was vulnerability and longing and the quiet admission that you couldn’t keep pretending anymore.

His lips were warm, soft, and he didn’t pull away, as if he was afraid you might disappear if he did. The kiss was tentative at first, but it deepened as you both leaned into it, the world around you fading until it was just the two of you. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you felt right. Not because the kiss had solved everything, but because in that moment, you finally felt seen.

When you pulled back, you rested your forehead against his, both of you breathing heavily. Spencer’s hands were still lightly touching your arms, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with them, but you didn’t want him to move. You didn’t want to break this moment of rawness between you.

“I... I’ve wanted that for a while,” Spencer said, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, your heart racing. “I think I have too.”

For a moment, you simply stayed there, sitting together, breathing in the same air. You didn’t need to talk, didn’t need to say anything more. Everything had shifted, in a way that felt both terrifying and liberating at the same time.

You were no longer just coworkers. You weren’t just a married couple in name. In that kiss, you had taken the first step into something more. Something real.

And for the first time, you believed Spencer when he said he didn’t want to lose this.

The Quiet Moments After

The days after your first kiss were a mix of confusion and excitement. There was still tension between the work you did and the lives you were building together, but somehow it felt more manageable now. You and Spencer began finding ways to open up to each other—slowly, carefully, but with more and more honesty.

You would catch Spencer looking at you with that same soft expression as if he was still trying to figure out the person sitting beside him, but there was no hesitation anymore. No pulling away.

He didn’t say much, but his actions spoke volumes. Whether it was bringing you your favorite coffee when he knew you were having a rough day or simply sitting beside you on the couch, his presence had started to mean more. And with each passing moment, each new shared experience, you felt your connection deepening.

Maybe this wasn’t the marriage you had expected. But maybe, just maybe, it was the one you needed.

Part 3

#Spencer reid #Spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #Spencer reid self insert #Spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds self insert #magical-Reid

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mrsstarkey1 · 2 years ago

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found you - rafe cameron

this gif makes me FERAL

SUMMARY: you help rafe one night. he was in a bad position, you helped him out of it. you thought that was the end of the story. does rafe think the same thing?

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: none

A/N: check out my most recent rafe fic

You sat on the couch on John B’s porch, legs rested on Pope’s lap. JJ and Kie sat together sharing a cigarette, and John B was sitting on the high edge of the porch.

“So, where were you last night y/n? you said you were gonna stay here,” JJ asked you as he got up to get himself a beer.

You put the book that you were reading on your lap, shrugging your shoulders, “just out. You guys know I have other friends right?”

They all gave you a ‘really?’ look, and you avoided all of their eyes. You were obviously lying, but no one pressed it any further.

You started to read your book again as the rest of them engaged in separate conversations. Your eyes moved across an entire page just for you to reach the bottom and not remember a thing you just read. Your mind was clearly elsewhere. It kept going back to the events of last night.

you were sitting on the beach, enjoying the dark sky and the fresh air. the time was nearing midnight, so there was no one on the beach but you and your thoughts.

you sat for about 20 minutes, sipping a beer very slowly. and you were just about to stand up and walk back to your car when you heard footsteps on the steps leading to the beach, and then a small thud followed by a groan.

you ran toward the source of the sound, finding a man laying in the sand, curled up, looking very much in pain. you dropped to your knees next to him, turning him around so you could see his face. “rafe?” you said softly, not even to him, but to yourself.

you hadn’t spoken to rafe cameron in a very long time. not since your freshman year of highschool. even then, you weren’t friends, just acquaintances.

he had a small cut on his forehead, and he reeked of alcohol. “rafe? can you hear me?” he was breathing, but his eyes were shut.

rafe let out a soft moan, giving you his answer. you helped him stand up after a couple minutes of staring at him. “ouch,” rafe held his side, and scrunched his nose up in pain.

“come on, let’s get you to my car. i can take you home, okay?”

rafes eyes widened and he shook his head violently, trying to break free of the hold you had on his hand, “no- no, i don’t want to go home. please, i cant go home. y/n please i-”

“hey, hey it’s okay. you don’t have to go home. i’ll take you back to my place,” you said softly. you were confused by the outburst, but you weren’t going to press him for information, especially in the state he was in.

he let out a breath and his hand relaxed in yours. you led him to your car, and opened the front door for him. he sat down and leaned his head back against the seat, and put his hands over his face. when he stretched back, he winced, hissing from pain.

you leaned into the car, putting your hand on the hem of his shirt, “can i?” he nodded.

you pulled the shirt up to reveal a giant cut right on his stomach, “oh my god.”

“i must have landed on a rock when i fell,” he said, obviously in pain. the numbing of the amount of alcohol hes had was wearing off, and he was feeling all the pain.

“i can stitch it at my house,” you said, closing the door and getting in the drivers seat. you had a first aid kit for all the times you had to stitch up jj.

you drove to your house in silence, though you had so many questions for him.

once you got to your house, you opened rafes door for him and wrapped your arms around his waist, helping him walk, careful to not make contact with his cut. he seemed like he’d gotten 10 times more tired in the short time you’d been in the car.

you led him to your bedroom, and had him sit down on the bed. he was sitting up, but his eyes were closed tightly. “i’m going to take your shirt off, okay?”

he simply nodded and you pulled the shirt off over his head, taking a better look at the cut. “this is going to sting,” you poured alcohol over the open wound.

he winced a little, but took it like a champ. you stitched the wound shut, and helped him put his shirt back on. you moved the covers, so that he would have a place to get under them.

“i can sleep on the floor,” he said quietly when he realized what you were doing.

you shook your head, “no no, it’s okay. please, sleep on the bed. you look like you could use a good nights sleep.”

he gave you a soft smile, “thank you.”

he slipped his shoes off and moved to the other end of the bed, getting under the blankets. you grabbed a pillow and a blanket from your closet and began to put it on the floor. “y/n?” rafes small voice caused you to stop.

“yeah?”

“can you lay with me?” he asked, so quietly you could barely hear him.

the pure sadness and what you could only think of as fear in his voice broke your heart. “sure, rafe.”

you turned the lights out and slid under the the blanket, next to rafe.

“what were you doing on the beach so late?” he asked you, and you felt his breath on your shoulder. you hadn’t noticed how close you were.

“i was just thinking. it’s so quiet and peaceful at night. i don’t get much of that anymore,” you said turning to look at him, “what about you?”

he closed his eyes, like he was thinking hard about something. “honestly, i don’t remember. i was so wasted, i think i was just walking without even being aware of it. i dont even remember falling. but thank god you were there, y/n. i don’t know what would have happened if you werent,” he said, and you noticed the glossiness of his eyes.

you put your hand on his arm, “i’m just glad that you’re okay.”

rafe hesitantly wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him and resting his head on your shoulder, “thank you.”

you just nodded your head a little, and traced circles on rafes back until his breathing steadied, and he drifted off to sleep.

when you woke up in the morning, rafe was gone, and there was a note in his place.

thank you for everything

The sound of a motorcycle pulling up next to the chateau brought you back to present day. You squinted your eyes to see who was under the helmet.

JJ and John B shot up from their seats when they realized who it was, and you did the same.

“Cameron, what the hell are you doing here?” JJ yelled, practically running down the steps and straight toward him.

Rafe held up his hands, “I’m not here to fight, I swear to god, I-”

“Yeah right, like we’re supposed to believe that,” JJ got in Rafe’s face, just as you made it to where they were standing. You held your arm out and made contact with JJ’s chest, motioning for him to stop.

“Hey, chill out JJ. Let him talk,” you said calmly, not wanting to witness a fight.

“I’m here to see y/n,” Rafe said in a calm voice, making eye contact with you. He looked different from last night, probably because he wasn’t drunk this time.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you, giving you looks of confusion. You didn’t want to begin to explain this to the group.“It’s okay guys, just go inside. I’m going to talk to Rafe.”

After a couple minutes of protesting, they all went back inside, probably still watching from the window. “Are you alright?” you asked, not knowing why else he would be coming to see you.

He shifted on his feet a little, “yeah, I’m okay. I just wanted to see you. I had to go to the country club with Topper and Kelce this morning, that’s why I left. but I- I wanted to stay,” he said quietly, not meeting your eyes.

Your lips twitched into a small smile, “do you want to go for a drive?”

He let out a small sigh of relief at your offer, nodding with a smile. You led him to your car. You already knew what everyone inside was thinking, so you sent a quick text to your friends.

i’m getting in this car willingly, don’t worry about me

You switched off your phone and got into the drivers seat. “Where do you want to go?” you asked, turning to look at him.

He thought for a moment, drumming his fingers on the car door, “I’m kind of hungry,” he said with an asking smile.

“Me too. I know a good place about a half hour from here, if you don’t mind the drive.”

He shook his head, “I don’t mind.”

You figured that you would spend the ride in silence, but Rafe was feeling especially talkative. He asked you about a thousand questions about yourself, and the only question you could think to ask him was, “why do you want to know so much about me?”

He shrugged his shoulders, “I just want to get to know you,” he said nonchalantly, and you smiled a little.

You answered all of his questions until you pulled into the parking lot of the little diner. You spent the rest of the afternoon in the diner, just talking. Talking to Rafe somehow felt so normal, so easy.

After you finished eating, you were prepared to end the day you’d spent with rafe, which was admittedly one of the best days you’d had in a long time. You savored the ride home, as you thought it might be the last time you were with him.

You had just made it back to obx when Rafe suggested going back to your house to watch a movie. “Not sick of me yet, Cameron?” you said jokingly, with a hint of seriousness. You really weren’t sure why rafe wanted to keep hanging out with you, but you wouldn't be caught complaining.

You handed him a blanket and a bowl of popcorn before sitting down on the other side of the couch. Rafe frowned at your preferred seating, “can’t you sit over here?” he patted the fabric of the couch directly next to him.

Rafe’s undeniable need for physical touch at all times became very clear in the last two days. Of course, you didn’t mind. You really were the same way. You sat down next to him, your legs touching. His arm snaked around your waist, and his head rested on your shoulder.

You pressed play on the movie, but you found it hard to focus on the film and not the man practically on top of you. “Rafe?” you whispered, and he turned his head a little to look at you.

“Yeah, y/n?”

“Why are you here with me right now?” he gave you a confused look, “I mean, why aren’t you with your friends. You’d barely even spoken to me until yesterday. Do you feel like you.. owe me? Or something?”

“No, no that’s not it at all,” he said quickly, changing his position on the couch shifted so he was sitting up more. He took a breath, clearing his throat, “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s just, after last night... I couldn’t get you out of my head. I mean you helped me more than anyone ever has, even though you know what kind of person I am. I mean I mess with your friends all the time, which I do plan to stop doing. I don’t know, but there’s just something magnetic about you, y/n,” he spoke the whole monologue in a soft voice, not meeting your eyes. He gave you the impression that he didn’t express his feelings much, which made you feel warm inside, knowing he expressed them to you.

“That was deep, Rafe Cameron,” you said softly with a small smile. He let out a breathy laugh with a small shake of his head. You became more serious, “of course I helped you, Rafe. It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, everyone deserves redemption. And surely no one deserves to bleed out drunk on a beach.”

Rafe stayed silent, only looking at you with a look of admiration that he didn’t believe he’d ever given anyone before. You grabbed his hand in yours, rubbing circles with your thumb on his soft skin and gave him a soft smile. You put your head on his shoulder, and he hesitantly placed a kiss to the side of your head.

“I was really glad when you showed up at John B’s today,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “And I’m really glad JJ didn’t start swinging. I wouldn’t want to have to stitch you up again so soon.”

taglist: @withbeautyandrage

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cosmicalily · 2 months ago

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"love (and caffeine) on the brain" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist and outline here

month 13: more than memory | barista!kim seungmin x psych major!reader

author's note: i just needed to create another fic within my procedural memory universe (and be a psychology nerd). also i finally started a taglist !! please send me an ask if you'd like to be added xx

The windowpane you sat by was frosted and cold, but the cafe was warm, especially the particularly cosy corner you’d always sneak yourself into. It was right by the heater, a soft blue coloured sofa with a low mahogany table in front of you. The cafe walls were dark green, and the space was dimly lit, inviting and familiar. For the past few months, you’d brought in a book to read, and would lounge on the sofa as if it was your own apartment, sporadically receiving honey chai in miniature teapots and oat matcha lattes from your sweet boyfriend, Seungmin. Other days, you’d sit yourself at a table near the barista counter, and he would test out new coffee blends and teas, giving you little samples and asking for your advice.

However, today was not a day for reading or tea-tasting. Your university had started back up a few weeks ago, and somehow you had been lucky enough to receive an assignment due by the end of the week. Which, you’d just realised upon waking up, was tonight.

Throwing on a navy cable knit sweater and knotting a pale pink scarf around your neck, you’d sprinted, or rather stumbled, out of your apartment in your uggs after Seungmin, who was heading out to open up the cafe.

“It’s 7:30,” Seungmin had said to you, quickly reaching forward to catch your laptop before it slipped out of your grasp as you locked the door.

“I know. I have to get an essay done by tonight, so I’m heading into the office with you,” you replied, tucking your hair behind your ears and taking a quick breath to regain your composure.

Seungmin smiled. “And by office, you mean the blue sofa in my cafe?”

“You know I do, baby.”

The two of you walked along the route he always took to the cafe, fingers entwined. As per usual, Seungmin paused to pet every dog you met along the way, asking for names, ages, breed types and temperaments as he scratched ear after furry ear. As per usual, you would take a moment to glance into the little vintage store adjacent to the cafe, seeing if there was anything new in the window.

As Seungmin began setting up the coffee machine for the day, you set up chairs, wiped tables and turned on lights. Felix, Seungmin’s best friend, stopped by to drop off the day’s delivery of pastries and cakes, and you helped him set them up in the little glass cabinet on the benchtop. Once everything was done, you and Seungmin took turns taking bites of an almond croissant, and you left him to serve his first customer with a kiss on the lips and a mug of hot chocolate.

With a stretch of your wrists and a deep breath, you put on your glasses and sat yourself down, periodically taking sips from your hot chocolate as you formulated research, cited sources and structured paragraphs. At ten-forty-five, he made you an iced latte with the vanilla flavoured oat milk he kept specifically for you, leaning down to meet your eyes and giving you a smile. At half past twelve, Seungmin brought you a sandwich from the deli next door and a chamomile tea, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead and rubbing your shoulders. At quarter past two, he swapped your plate and empty cup for a strawberry matcha latte, and you wrapped an arm around his waist, leaning into his chest for a moment as you took a breather.

“Don’t work yourself too hard, yeah?” he said, more like a statement than a question.

“I promise,�� you replied, kissing him lightly on the lips before resuming your work.

At three, when he shut off the coffee machine, he heard you sigh in relief and close your laptop, and turned around to see you stretch your shoulders and slide down the sofa. He approached you slowly, then threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms around your waist and shoving his face in your shoulder as you giggled.

“You big baby,” you chuckled, running a hand through his hair and sitting up, resting your head on his shoulder as he wrapped an arm around you.

“Since when is it illegal for a guy to be proud of his girlfriend for smashing out an essay in a day?” he huffed, but leaned in closer. “What was it about?”

“A comparative analysis of two contemporary studies on the psychological process of memory,” you replied. “A lot of work, but it was really interesting. The whole concept is so fascinating.”

“Yeah? Tell me about it.” The same way you loved watching Seungmin make coffee, the love in his eyes and the subtle confidence in his work, he loved to listen to you talk about your study; there was something captivating about you in your element, so passionate about what you were learning and writing about.

“Basically, the whole point I covered was implicit memory. The kind of stuff that we don’t consciously retrieve, it just comes back involuntarily. Like muscle memory and emotions. It’s so cool, and it’s so interesting when I can see it in real life. Like how now, you don’t even have to do the measurements properly when you make me a strawberry matcha, because it’s just natural. And like how I still get butterflies when I come here, because it’s where we first met. It’s honestly so beautiful.”

You loved the explanation behind normal human nature; learning why and how we did things, what made us who we are. How this complex little process occurring deep within your brains made up your love for each other.

“That really is.”

“Yeah. I really hope my amygdala keeps encoding the feelings I have when I’m around you,” you smiled up at him.

“I sure as fuck hope my basal ganglia doesn’t let me down someday and I forget how to make your strawberry matchas. I don’t think you’d forgive me.”

“It’s okay, because if my neocortex somehow loses the information, I won’t remember it even happened,” you giggled. “And how did you know that?”

“I know you. You think I don’t read your notes and your essays? It’s so interesting, especially seeing it all from your eyes and reading all of your raw thoughts.” he replied casually, although his cheeks tinged pink. “I hope that’s not like, an invasion of your privacy. But whenever I see your notebooks out with all your little diagrams and comments, I just want to see what’s going on in your head. And know what you’re talking about half the time.”

You squealed and stood up, shifting yourself onto his lap and pressing your forehead to his. “Kim Seungmin, you are the love of my life.”

“Even when your hippocampus starts to deteriorate with age and you forget our old memories together?” he asked, eyes sparkling.

“Even when,” you confirmed. “Although I hope it never does.”

“Me neither.”

You brought your lips to his.

taglist: @hyunjiiza @zelinkcrossing @velvetmoonlght - send an ask to be added :)

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idlerin · 8 months ago

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EACH WORD FELL INTO PLACE

celebrity!akaashi keiji x f!reader

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

the ikarus incident (band au)

+ word count: 8.6k

content — best friend's brother/sister's best friend trope, established relationship (in the other fics especially, this one eventually), can be read as a stand-alone ig, very fluffy hihi enjoy! (i certainly enjoyed writing it)

to love and be loved by akaashi keiji, a treasure not many get to behold.

AKAASHI KEIJI never thought he would be the type to experience the kind of love that was heart-racing, mind-clouding, immense, and overflowing. A love that makes you lose all sensibility and makes you ponder on how to function like a proper human being. Such acts included breathing normally, blinking in the usual manner, and even thinking when the person beholding the affection is near. The kind of love that existed and repeated in countless romance novels, movies, and shows. Fictional. Unreal. Untrue. It’s not like he was much of a pessimist to think that he would never find love, more like, it was unbelievable for that kind of love to exist in reality as it frankly didn’t make any sense. How could someone lose all rationality because of one single person?

Keiji could vaguely remember his father talking about the day he met his mother, how, when he first saw her it felt as if he was shot in the heart. Not by an arrow, but by a bullet. How he was hit with a myriad of emotions, love and adoration above all. A burning sensation settled in and what left was the thought of needing to get to know their mother more, absolutely sure she was the one for him.

Keiji simply didn’t get it though, at the ripe age of ten, he didn't understand how a person could fall in love with someone they didn’t know well (which is why he thinks the notion of falling in love at first sight is impossible, you can feel attraction at first sight but surely not love). He soon discovered that love could sprout differently for people. His aunt and uncle for one fell in love after years of being friends, it didn’t hit them immediately that their bond would turn into something more and yet it did. His uncle described it as one day seeing the sun shine high up in the sky and realizing how bright it makes the world.

The blinding kind of love was simply one of the many ways people express their affection for one another. In the end, he concluded that the heart-racing, mind-clouding, immense, and overflowing kind of love wasn’t something he would ever be subjected to.

He grew curious about the subjectivity in an objective reality, this curiosity turned into an interest in writing. Which then turned into an interest in poetry and eventually, lyricism. He had found a love for literature that young kids usually don’t, this then had been a turning point in his life that wasn't abrupt but impactful, who knew rummaging in the attic looking for his nana’s old books would lead him to discover an abandoned guitar?

Just like his view on love and everything else, music was something that slowly but surely made its way into his heart. A passion begins to thread and twine to the fate directing his life.

And then he was hit by a bullet.

Unlike his father, it didn’t come abruptly and immensely after he laid eyes on you. It was slower, gradual, and not anything he expected at all. He’s known you for years, being his little sister’s closest friend. You were a constant presence in his home and you were even there to listen to his band when they were merely four kids having fun and following a dream. You were always the sweet type, and it blended well with his sister’s fierce attitude. Along the way he started thinking of you as a friend too, he could confide in you and you both shared easy conversations, how could you not be friends? You practically spent every single day in his house, you were more familiar than some of his cousins.

“I just want to graduate, why is this so hard?” you whine, a pout befalling your face, “Keiji, I swear you explained it really well, maybe something’s wrong with my brain!” your eyes were wide, looking at him as if you were truly worried something was wrong with you. It was one of the many days you spent in his home, and he offered to help when he noticed you kept glaring at a piece of paper on the counter. He asked where his sister was and you said that she was taking a nap, but you couldn’t give yourself the same pleasure without finishing your worksheet.

“Maybe you need to take a break for a moment,” he suggests, smiling idly at your expression. The pout didn’t rest and he reached out to pat you gently on the head, something he got used to doing. It’s not like he saw you as a child—he was only a year and a half older—but he could never help patting your head whenever you acted in such a cute manner.

“What will that do?” your shoulders loosen and you look up at him prettily under your lashes. That’s when Keiji becomes speechless for a moment, your gaze pierces through him and he doesn't hear what you said at first. He hadn’t noticed that he’d been staring for too long, you had to get him back to his senses by uttering, “Keiji?”

“Yes? I–uhm right uh, rest will give you the energy you need to process new information easily,” Keiji suddenly felt the need to stand up, so he did. You were pretty, yes, that’s not anything new. You’ve always been pretty in his eyes so why is it that he’s now acting so weirdly about it? He’s long since acknowledged that you’re pleasing to look at. Yes. So what? Right. He didn’t get to ponder much on that afternoon because he was soon bombarded with work when his band got scouted by an agent, he had rehearsals to worry about and people to impress. Plus, you’d always be there, so he doesn’t need to rush and put a name on anything.

Budding feelings they may be. Keiji didn't know exactly what it was, but he wasn't dumb to not have a hint to what's happening to him. He just didn't let himself be too caught up in it.

Your presence in the Akaashis' lives was so prominent that you were even invited to family gatherings. His aunts, uncles, and cousins became as familiar with you as a regular family member would. He was so used to your presence on trips as well, his mother treated you as her own and his sister was more than happy to have her best friend on their outings.

“Is [name] not joining?” he found himself asking when he was carrying his bags to the car, his family and him were on their way to a beach trip and naturally, he looked for you. He just got back after weeks of juggling his second year of college and his band. His family greeted him with a resort getaway to “ease him up a bit” according to his sister who also just got home from her first year in university.

His father started laughing and Keiji was confused as to what was so hilarious, his father didn’t leave him wondering for too long, “Glad to know you were also used to her being here!” and laughed more as if this was the funniest discovery in the world.

“Dear, what’s so funny? Is it not obvious Keiji thinks of [name] as a sister as well? Of course he’d look for her,” his mom shook her head at his dad, “Now stop laughing and get the other bags, I’m too tired to walk back in.”

A sister? His mom thinks he thought of you as a sister? That was… he has never entertained the idea. You were always just you. No matter how much he thought about it, he could just never see you as a sister.

“Why is [name] not coming?” he could not take not knowing the reason and asked Kaiya who was looking like she was trying to bury herself in her hoodie.

“Because she's busy,” Kaiya shrugged, bringing out her phone and leaning on the car.

Busy? It was summer, you’re supposed to have fun during summer. Even he (someone who is dedicated to upholding responsibilities even during summer break) is taking time for leisure because it’s summer. What could you possibly be busy with that would make you unable to come and enjoy a getaway? Why wasn’t his sister reacting more to this? Usually, Kaiya would be the one most sulky about not being able to bring you along with us despite her grown age. Was Keiji the only one finding your no-show bothering?

“You’re not whining about not seeing her? You’re all grown up,” Keiji smiles, trying to get a reaction out of his sister.

“Of course I’m all grown up! Don’t act like you’re that much older than me,” Kaiya glares, “And I see [name] almost every day, I’ll see her after the trip,” she stuck her tongue out as if taunting. She smirked right after and Keiji had his suspicions that Kaiya must be trying to get something out of him as well. They think too alike, he adores his sister but he'd rather she not pry much right now when he's distraught and trying to compose himself because it shouldn't be too obvious that he's feeling distraught.

Kaiya could see you whenever she wanted, you went to the same university and lived on campus together. Somehow that gave him a bad feeling in his stomach, the reason is not that his sister specifically spends more time with you—that's a given because of your years of friendship—but because he couldn't spend much time with you. There was a clear difference.

He was feeling strange again, it was still a strange and unfamiliar feeling despite him not exactly being single his whole life. After months of being away for college and work, going home included seeing you and now that he doesn’t get to do exactly that is making him feel drowsy. He thought that he could sidetrack himself from further developing these feelings of his but it didn't work (he entertained a few people the past year because he was trying to get you off his mind—which was no use, you were always there and will always be there). Sometimes he'd think of you and he'd have the urge to message you (he gives in to his desire to talk to you most of the time), or sometimes he would look at old photos of you two—which was not much.

There was a time in the middle of band practice where he kept staring off into space because he remembered a time where you asked him to teach you how to play a few chords on a guitar and he remembered the way you laughed and how your skin felt when he was arranging your fingers on the strings properly. They had to start over and over on practicing a song because Keiji kept misremembering lines when the thought of you was making him flustered. Even Atsumu had started asking him if he would be alright performing for the gig they booked the following night. That was only one of the many instances you clouded his thoughts.

This feeling was driving him insane.

He took a deep breath to control himself because the thought of missing you was eating him away. He wanted to see you. You’ve exchanged texts and some calls over the past months but it wasn’t enough, you were one of the reasons he was looking forward to coming back home and he foolishly thought he would get to see you eventually because you’d always be there.

He’d like to take it back, it wasn’t like getting hit by a bullet per se, Keiji would equate it more to poison. The kind that slowly seeped in and made it so that it was difficult to breathe. To function. Keiji sighed and resigned himself to the irony that he was slowly ticking the boxes of the criteria that made him believe he was otherwise susceptible to the kind of blinding affection one could have towards someone.

Keiji didn’t know when exactly he entered the car, the whole journey sure felt enlightening with the way he could finally put a name to his actions towards you. He really couldn’t take it anymore and messaged you, asking why you couldn’t join the trip. It was better to hear it from you, and it also eased him a bit. Perhaps in a while, he could bring up meeting with you over the next weeks, that wouldn’t be too strange.

Fate was on his side and he got his wish of seeing you more frequently during summer break. You agreed to hang out with him and you spent it by usually going to the theaters, a museum, or simply eating out. He didn’t mind what you guys would do, he enjoyed even just passing by stores with you. Whenever Kaiya and you would hang out, you would drop by which would lead to conversations in the living room while waiting for his sister to get ready (Keiji knew his sister was also using him for a free ride but it’s not like he would complain since it means more time with you). The last week of the break was his sister’s birthday and he had enjoyed picking out gifts for her with your guidance, it did make him feel a bit empty knowing he’d have to spend months without being with you again.

Despite all his worries, he remained focused on the present. Him, Kaiya, you, and a few other of his cousins were splayed in a circle in the living room of the villa where Kaiya’s birthday was celebrated, playing a game of truth or dare. Keiji watched as Kaiya spun the bottle and as its momentum slowed, the tip of the bottle pointed at his cousin Hiroki.

A mischievous grin spread on Kaiya’s lips, she glanced once at you then back at Hiroki, “So, who would you say is your type? Answer honestly! It’s my birthday,” she slurred her words, the alcohol kicking in. If she couldn’t have been more obvious, she started clinging to you.

Hiroki looked like a deer in headlights, glancing at his sister Aiki beside him and narrowed his eyes at her, “You told her?”

“I did no such thing, you’re just too obvious,” Aiki stirred her glass of wine and winked at you whose smile was a bit strained, Keiji could tell you were starting to feel awkward. Are they trying to set you and Hiroki up? Keiji could easily put two and two together with how his cousins and sister were acting right now. He was a bit frustrated that he could only be a bystander along with his other cousins and a few of Kaiya’s other close friends, he was trying to suppress the urge to interfere.

“Answer now!” Kaiya pressed, shaking your arm while pointing a finger at Hiroki.

Keiji could only look at you. How would you react? Would you like that Hiroki feels that way about you? Keiji found himself clutching his drink. Would your cheeks warm? Would you feel light and fluttery? Would you feel the same way about Hiroki? Keiji was only giving himself pain with his train of thought.

Hiroki then quickly drank a shot of alcohol for liquid courage, “Fine, my ideal type is [name],” Hiroki then looked everywhere but you after exclaiming that to everyone in the room. The people around cheered and most started teasing you too.

Keiji locked eyes with you, he tilted his head as if asking a question, and of course, the only question coming to mind now was ‘What do you feel about Hiroki?’. It was how you felt that mattered the most rather than his disdain for the situation. Hiroki was nice enough, but surely you didn’t know each other that well for you to harbor any feelings for his cousin. What if you did? You knew of his cousin’s existence and saw him a lot (not enough). What if Keiji never realized you already had long-term feelings for someone else because he never liked to entertain the idea of you liking someone who wasn't him?

Keiji wanted to bang his head on the wall right now. He was thinking irrationally, but being selfish was natural because he liked you, right? It was okay that he was feeling like he wanted to grab your hand and run away to a place where it could just be you and him. He never tried asking you if you currently liked anyone so he could continue to live in the fantasy of the possibility that you liked him back.

You only blinked at him before you were distracted by his sister hovering over you and saying nonsense Keiji didn’t bother to listen to. It was getting very obvious that you wanted to escape the conversation, Keiji noticed how you fiddled with your shirt and the way your eyes kept wandering to the door. Keiji took it upon himself to pull his sister away from you, “Stop it, you’re making [name] and Hiroki uncomfortable.”

His sister looked up at him with an accusing gaze, “You!”

“Yes?” he successfully pried her away from you which earned him a small smile, the simple action from you felt as if a weight was removed from his shoulders.

“Stop taking my best friend away from me!” Kaiya states as Keiji lets her go, stomping back to her place beside you.

“What do you mean?” Keiji was honestly confused about what Kaiya meant, he would not be sorry if ever that would be the actual case though.

“Don’t you think I don’t know about you two hanging out without me!” Kaiya exclaimed, ah so that’s what she meant and here Keiji thought she had a hint about his feelings towards you, or perhaps she does? But Kaiya was too drunk right now to think coherently.

“Everyone knows Keiji actually has two sisters,” Aiki laughs, giving Keiji that distraught feeling once again. Does everyone in his family think Keiji treats you like a sister? Or do they think he could never feel that way about you? Why? What can he do to make them stop thinking like that? What if you thought you were like a sister to him? Keiji could feel nothing but panic.

Later that night Keiji found you alone out in the gardens of the villa, it looks like he wasn’t the only one who had a hard time sleeping.

“Can’t sleep?” he calls out, startling you. You turn to him with your shawl wrapped tightly around your shoulders, you visibly relax when you see that it was just him.

A smile spread on your face, “Yeah, you too?”

Keiji nodded and watched as you sat on the bench, he walked towards you and leaned on the tree beside it. He wouldn’t be able to think of the right words to say if he was sitting right next to you, he was still hung up on what happened earlier this evening.

“So… I have to get back to campus the day after tomorrow,” you broke the silence, sighing after you laid out your news.

“Ah,” was the only thing Akaashi could say to the reminder that your time together was limited, “I’m leaving the same day, the weeks sure went by fast.”

That’s not what he really wanted to say though, he wanted to question you about what you felt when Hiroki practically said he liked you. Keiji wanted to know if you would be alright with seeing him again in the near future, you didn’t have to waste money on commuting, he could drive to you. Perhaps you could even attend some of his gigs, it would be exhilarating to see you watch him again. He wanted to say a lot of things to you but the only thing he could say was, “I don’t think of you like a sister.”

“Huh?” you looked up at him under your lashes, the moonlight set its rays upon you and it was similar to that moment in his kitchen a year ago. The moment that made him realize he was feeling for you deeper than he should.

“I wanted to clarify that I don’t think of you as a sister, everyone seems to get the wrong idea,” Keiji took a deep breath, he was so near to telling the truth that he was finding it difficult to breathe again. He was staring right into you and if the truth didn’t spill from his lips, he wondered if you could see it in his eyes, “They were right about one thing though.”

As if hypnotized, you stayed in place as Akaashi couldn’t restrain himself anymore and reached for your hand, catching it firmly in his grasp, “You mean a lot to me.”

“I… you mean a lot to me too, Keiji,” those words that came from your sweet voice was similar to harmony in his ears, it brought out an overwhelming feeling in his chest and he wanted nothing more than to be close to you. He can’t do that yet though, it’s not the right time.

Akaashi Keiji never thought he would experience the kind of love that was heart-racing, mind-clouding, immense, and overflowing, but he was wrong. Every moment spent with you proved it wrong, what else could explain the loss of sense and rationality whenever you were near? But he was still him after all. So he would approach this in the only way he knows, slowly but surely. You were worth it after all.

That’s why it didn’t matter how long it took for him to profess his love for you, he needs to make sure that he’s shown you that his love deserves to be reciprocated. That he deserves someone as precious as you.

It was never easy, he never expected that it would just be easy. Yet the day came when he held your hand tightly in his once again, his nerves barely being suppressed as he told you the reason for his years of pining. How he liked you, he liked you so much he could barely remember how he was before harboring feelings for you. It was blissful, it couldn’t be anything else but. He could finally be with you, after all, he had the right to be with you and it made him extremely happy. He would always be caught grinning to himself, it was to the point that Suna started asking him if he was alright because of his weird behavior. Akaashi wanted nothing more than to show you off to the world.

Although, a certain request from you made it difficult to do just that. You had asked him if you both could keep your relationship a secret because of his growing fame and you didn’t want to be caught up in that world of his. He respected your decision and was willing to follow whatever you said. Your relationship lasted for many hours, days, and months. Even if he couldn’t spend a lot of time with you in the later years because of his job and there were rough times that occurred, his love for you outweighed. His resolve remained, that it didn’t matter how much time has or will pass, his love for you would never waver.

His heart felt as if it was pumping a hundred and twenty beats per minute, a single text from you got this reaction out of him. Even with years of being together, he could still never function normally around you. He had just gotten a text in the middle of his post-concert celebratory party with his bandmates and some of the other staff. It was a simple text—two words, six letters.

My Love 2:44 AM I’m here :) [insert picture of hotel lobby]

The familiar lobby of the hotel they were staying in for the week was clear in the picture. Akaashi was speechless, how could you be here? Was he dreaming? It was a thousand miles away from home but you’re here? For him? You were here for him?

He couldn’t leave his seat fast enough.

“Where are you going?” Sakusa asks. Akaashi didn’t think anyone would take notice if he suddenly left, but this was Sakusa here, he was simple enough to brush off, Atsumu would be more meddlesome.

“Hotel,” Akaashi started moving before he could be asked to elaborate, he couldn’t wait to see you already. He hurriedly put his cap on and passed by Sakusa once again.

“Hey, you’re still holding your dri–” Akaashi didn’t stay to hear the rest, he was feeling restless at the thought of you patiently waiting for him. He was out of the doors of the private room within minutes.

“Akaashi-san!” a hand was on his shoulder. Why does the world despise him at this very moment? He looked around and spotted Suna’s assistant. He should be glad that at least it wasn’t a fan, he loved his fans dearly but they would be more difficult to bypass. Turns out she was looking for Suna himself and couldn’t find the room. Akaashi quickly led her to the right place before rushing out again, he then realized he was still holding onto a drink and quickly left that on a counter. He should be walking faster so nothing else would stand in the way of him wrapping his arms around you and feeling your warmth after so many months of longing.

He was practically running towards his car, luckily he was still sane enough to drive properly. You would scold him for being reckless while driving, it was good that the hotel was only a few minutes away. Though it was a very agonizing ten minutes, the world was testing out his patience.

Finally, finally, he was in front of the doors which were the only thing separating him from you.

Once he gets inside, he sets his gaze on you immediately. Your shining eyes met his and you stood up from your seat, he hadn’t had a care in the world as he practically ran towards you and pulled you into an embrace. He should be thinking if his actions would earn him a trending article but he couldn’t find himself to care. The world will find out sooner or later how much you mean to him. He buried his face in your hair and hugged you impossibly tighter.

“Love, It’s a bit hard to breathe,” you pat him on his back, he can feel your grin on his shoulder.

“That’s exactly how I felt when you sent me that text message,” Keiji replies, hand clutching the back of your head, soaking in the reality that you’re actually here with him.

You fake a gasp, “So I deserve this?”

Akaashi gave a hum as a ‘yes’, “You deserve to be smothered with much more affection too,” he kissed the side of your head.

“Save that for later, please,” you say, warily looking at your surroundings, only the receptionist turning a blind eye was present.

He wastes no time and hesitantly lets you go in order to gather your suitcase, he intertwines your hand with his free hand. He leads you to the elevator and impatiently pushes the button to his floor. You, on the other hand, were leaning on his biceps as your eyes kept fluttering shut due to drowsiness from your flight. You left for your flight immediately after getting off work and you were tired from the hecticness.

Once you both arrived at Akaashi’s room, he spent no less than a minute putting things like his car keys and your suitcase away before pulling you towards the bedroom. He sat you down on the mattress and you had no time to protest (not like you would) before he placed all of his weight above you. With your back to the softness of the silky cover, you contentedly hummed and closed your eyes for a brief moment, “I need to change.”

“Five minutes,” Keiji then begins to caress your arms and bury his head on your chest, breathing you in once more.

Your hands fled to his hair, massaging the strands of raven and kissing the crown of his head, “I’ll only be staying for three days.”

A sound similar to a groan escaped from his throat, “That’s too soon.”

“I have a job too,” you laugh, “I was lucky enough to exchange with one of my coworkers so I could leave this weekend.”

“I miss you already,” Keiji practically whines, unlike his usual character.

“Don’t miss me while I’m still here,” you tugged at some of the strands on the back of his head, “And we’ll see each other again in three weeks, remember?” pertaining to their band’s final concert being held back in Japan, you would be watching the show alongside his family—who still don’t know about your relationship, the both of you have been having a difficult time bringing it up.

“Three weeks too long,” Keiji finally rose from half-suffocating you with his weight and instead started to look for clothes he could give you to change into, “You must be exhausted.”

“I’m not the one flying from country to country and performing for almost three hours every night,” you sat on the bed, using your elbows as support as you watched him shuffle through his luggage.

“Not every night,” Keiji comments before rising and handing you his clothes which you placed on your lap. He stood between your legs and used a hand to tilt your head up towards him, he was looking at you so intensely.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, squinting your eyes at him as you now only realize the slight haziness in his gaze. You knew he was in a mini celebration an hour before being here, but he said he hadn’t planned on drinking, “And you drove here?”

Keiji shook his head, drunk on you, possibly, “I barely had a glass, just to entertain the staff. I drove here safely, I swear.”

“You better have,” you give one more pointed look at him before falling back on the bed, you close your eyes. You were getting heavy-eyed, soon, sleep will win you over.

“You’re the one who said you had to change, only a few minutes have passed,” Akaashi chides you.

You groaned and opened one of your eyes and raised an arm, “Do it for me.”

Akaashi raised a brow, you were getting into one of your moods he was all too familiar with. Who was he to deny your request? He pulled you up to a sitting position once again, his hands on the hem of your shirt. Before he pulled it off you, he glanced up only to see you smiling languidly at him, “You love me so much,” you begin to tease.

“I do,” Keiji smiles softly at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey!”

“Hello! Attention to [l/n] [name].”

You look at Kaiya who has been trying to get your attention for the past minute, “Sorry?” you give her a sheepish smile, your thoughts were on the mini-vacation you let yourself have with Akaashi a month ago. You spent the past thirty minutes or so letting her family simply drag you around because you were distracted by the crowd at Ikarus’ concert. You were waiting outside because Keiji’s mother wanted to fall in line and buy merch. Kaiya complained that they could just ask Keiji for the items she wanted but her mother shushed her saying that wasn’t as authentic. Keiji’s mom was set on having the “full fan experience”.

“Why are you so dazed?” she tilted her head to the side, which awfully reminded you of Keiji (you started missing him even more). “Because you’re seeing my brother?” Kaiya scrunched up her face and made a gagging sound, “Did you not just see him a few weeks ago?”

You started looking around, sighing in relief when you saw that Akaashi’s father was with his wife, “Watch what you say,” you pouted.

Kaiya glanced at where you were looking, “When are you planning to tell them?”

“Soon,” you shrugged, you admit you were still nervous about telling them about your long-term relationship with their son. It’s been years and you know it’s been long overdue, you were ready to face the backlash that would come with hiding your relationship from them for so long.

Kaiya shook her head at you and then proceeded to take something out of her purse, she laid out the card attached to a lanyard to you, “Before I forget, your backstage pass,” you took it from her gratefully. The glossy surface of the card hits the rays of the sun, and you observe the words ‘All Access’ shown under the band’s logo. It wasn’t the first time you’ve gone to his concerts so you were already familiar with the processes, you were even friendly with some of the staff.

“You girls go on ahead, it’s a bit hot and your mother is going to take a while,” Akaashi’s father jogs to you both and nudges Kaiya to go, “She’s raving on and on about having to get that mini version of Keiji and I admit I kind of want to get that version of their album with lots of little things inside too, I want to test out my luck and see if I could get your brother’s picture on a first try—you know those little cardboards with pictures right?”

“So you would rather see him in pictures rather than going inside and meeting the real deal?” Kaiya comments.

“Yes, now go,” Akaashi’s father smiles at you before running back to Mrs. Akaashi.

“Oh, whatever, let’s go,” Kaiya saunters to the arena as if she owned the place and you trailed behind her looking at the crowds of people waiting outside, the concert wasn’t starting in another three hours yet there were already tons who were in line. You kind of felt a bit bad because you could just go inside without any worries. These were people who adored the man you were lucky enough to call your boyfriend, not as much as you—you like to believe, no one knows and loves him more than you—but that was your more selfish side talking.

“Kaiya, do you even remember where the common room is?” you asked, your memory and sense of direction weren't well. The last time you went here was their opening concert which was over a year ago.

“Uh, no, but we’ll see someone we know soon,” Kaiya was confident, walking in a straight direction as if she knew where she was going. A bunch of the crew arranging lights and holding boxes were walking around but no faces you were familiar with. It wasn’t long before we were blocked by guards on the way to a segregated part of the building.

“Are you looking for the green room?” the guard asked, eyeing your passes and affirming that you were actually allowed to be here but the both of you clearly looked lost. Kaiya kept looking around, you thought she was acting suspicious (and the guard must think so too) so you grabbed her wrist to make her focus.

“I’m looking for my brother,” Kaiya took out her phone. You wanted to just ask the guard nicely to direct you guys to the waiting room.

“And your brother is…?” The guard looked like they wanted to get this over with too.

“Akaashi Keiji,” Kaiya looked up from her phone, “He said we should go to the dressing rooms,” she pointed at her device. You do not recall Keiji saying any of that, he hasn’t opened his phone in a while, he usually doesn’t use it hours before a performance to focus. You looked at Kaiya, wondering what she was planning up her sleeves.

“Kaiya-san? [name]-san?” a soft-spoken voice interrupted, the both of you turned to see Rika, Sakusa’s personal assistant if you remembered correctly. The familiar face came to you both when you needed it, “Are you guys looking for Akaashi-san? You can follow me. I'm on the way there because my cousin needs his coffee to calm his pre-show nerves,” she rolled her eyes.

Rika nodded at the guard who let her and you both through, you smiled at them before following Rika.

“How are you, Rika-san?” you asked, taking one of her bags to carry it for her since she was holding coffee and a folder with her.

“Been better, my cousin’s being a huge headache to me because of… some things,” she shook her head as if she was shouldering the world's heaviest burdens, “How are you and Akaashi-san?”

“I’m fine—wait, what?” that caught you off-guard, it made you halt in your tracks.

“Uhm… was I wrong? Are you both not in a relationship? Kiyoomi thought you were together as well,” Rika started walking again and soon you saw more people in the hallways.

Kaiya began to cackle, “Aha! I told you it was obvious.”

“You’re not wrong, Rika-san but uhm is it really that obvious?” you start to heat up, your cheeks suddenly feeling warm.

“Well, he always has his eyes on you whenever you two are in the same room and after observing your interactions for the past years that’s what I concluded. If it’s a secret, I’m sure a lot of people don’t have a clue, this lot isn’t very observant after all,” Rika shrugged, “Anyways! This is the main sitting area, further back are the dressing rooms. The guys just got ready so they must be just lounging around somewhere alone, they’re all doing their pre-show rituals most likely.”

The both of you thanked Rika and you handed her bag back as she went on ahead mumbling about having to practically play hide and seek with how difficult Sakusa would be to find. Kaiya linked her arm with yours and dragged you once again to find the dressing room with Keiji’s name on it.

Once you both were in front of the door, Kaiya began her incessant knocking that is sure to give Keiji confusion and a headache all at once knowing his staff would never make such a ruckus, “I have a delivery for an Akaashi Keiji,” she was snickering in between her words while you shook your head at her antics.

It wasn’t long before the door opened and you were greeted with the sight of Keiji ladled with accessories he wouldn’t usually put on in day-to-day life, such as stud earrings you were really liking the look of. You looked up at him only to see his eyes which were decorated with a brownish hue on the lids that were already on yours. Perhaps Rika did have a point.

“[name],” he said breathlessly and was already holding your free hand that wasn’t being clutched by the other Akaashi on your side.

“I’m here too! You’re welcome!” Kaiya exclaimed, pulling you back so Keiji wouldn’t successfully get a hold of you.

“Hi Kaiya,” Keiji smiled at his sister, still not letting go of you too. Kaiya eyed that action and then looked up at her older brother who was looking at her blankly. Kaiya and you could both tell that Keiji was trying to tell her sister to leave, you were holding back your full-on grin.

“I accept thanks in the form of cash,” Kaiya patted your forearm before pushing you towards Keiji’s chest, the latter caught you in time and pulled you closer.

“Check your account after the show,” was Keiji’s only reply before bringing you inside and shutting the door.

“I feel as if your relationship has been turning transactional over the years,” you comment, finally letting out your laugh at the siblings’ antics. Kaiya meant well, of course, the monetary things were just a bonus. You looked around the room, spotting a guitar in the middle of the room and the mirrors on the walls which immediately caught your eye. A black settee was against the wall and a small glass table was on the side.

“I think she still holds a grudge against me for ‘taking you away’,” Keiji raises a hand to tuck loose strands of your hair behind your ear, “Because I was never sorry about it.”

His words gave you that fluttery feeling in your stomach that you’ve learned to become used to whenever you were around him, “Poor Kaiya,” you reached out a hand to cup his cheek, he buried his face in your hand and placed a feather-light kiss on your palm.

Keiji talked to you with his eyes, it was a question and a request all at once. You bit your lower lip as you observed his plump, gloss-stained one's part. Suddenly, it was all too suffocating and difficult to breathe if you didn't lean your face against his and capture the oxygen you badly needed. It seems he was thinking the same thing because he started leaning closer to you as if the urge to be nearer couldn’t be subdued.

But before he could relieve both of your longings, you took a step back, blinking and urging your senses to come back to normal, “You just got ready,” the staff’s best interest in mind.

Akaashi tilted his head to the side, that hazy look back in his eyes, “It can be fixed,” he held both of your arms in his grasp, caressing them in a way to ease and comfort you.

“Your stylist will hate me,” you pointed out, yet you were engrossed with the way he pulled you towards the couch. You had a slight feeling you were being tricked in order for Akaashi to get what he wanted at this particular moment, which was the same thing you were depriving yourself of.

Keiji sat down and his hands went down to your upper leg and gently nudged so you followed down, the plush of your thighs settled on his. You internally scold yourself for giving in, he knows all of your weak points, one of them was how you could be easily distracted by him, “I’ll take the scolding, my love.”

Your arms were wrapped around his neck, you tugged on the hair on his nape as you let your breath tangle with his. He was intoxicating, did he know he was intoxicating? Your eyes fluttered to a close because you couldn’t take it anymore and pressed your lips against his, he let out a satisfied groan on the back of his throat. You took in the woody scent of his cologne, the silken texture of his hair, and the pillowy almost velvet feel of his lips on yours. You should really be thinking of the consequences of your actions and the amount of people who will be burdened after this ordeal, yet, right now you could only enjoy the searing heat of his skin igniting with yours.

You felt one of his hands that held a grip on your thighs climb to your waist, he tugged on the material of your shirt before sliding his hand underneath. It elicited a small gasp from you which he took as an opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth.

That was when your phone started to ring to an all too familiar tune, in a daze you pulled away from him, much to his opposition, “That’s Kaiya calling,” you say, leaning your forehead on his.

Akaashi took your phone out from your pocket before putting it on the side, “She can manage to wait for a few more seconds,” he said, placing soft kisses on your cheeks and eventually capturing your lips in his.

You laughed at his reasoning before losing yourself in him once again, his hand was splayed on your stomach, caressing your skin. He pulled away and pecked you on the lips once more before leaving a trail of kisses on your jaw. You feel his teeth nip on your skin and a shiver runs over your spine.

The sudden opening of the door and a shriek made you freeze.

“Oh my!”

“Agh, my eyes!”

Akaashi’s reflexes were faster and more alert as he flipped you over so he would be hiding you from the door, he knew how you would be feeling uncomfortable with eyes on you and you were grateful his first thought was to shield you from further embarrassment. You glanced at his state, his messy hair and the stain on his lips smudged. You took it upon yourself to start fixing his appearance by wiping the sides of his mouth since it was your fault.

Keiji started straightening his clothes and patting down his hair as you did the same before he faced his parents and sister. You looked over his shoulder to see his mother frozen and you winced. Your heart started to race and not in the nice way Keiji made you feel, Keiji noticed this change in your demeanor as well and you felt him place his hand on yours in an effort to calm you down.

“This was probably why Kaiya was calling you,” Keiji mumbled under his breath, it was an effort to make the atmosphere lighter for you. He gave you a small smile before urging you to stand up. Keiji faced his parents and his sister who were all standing by the door, Kaiya was exaggeratingly fanning their mother who still wasn’t moving, with your hand still in his, he claimed, “[name] and I are dating, we have been for a few years now.”

A brief silence went over the room and it felt like an eternity for you when it was actually just a few seconds. Keiji’s father broke the smothering quietness.

“I knew it! You owe me, honey,” his father said with a loud cackle, his hand splayed out to Keiji’s mother beside him, “I told you our son’s feelings for dear [name] weren’t one-sided!”

“No!” their mother unfroze and put her hands in her palms.

You and Keiji were confused, even Kaiya stilled from her place.

“You bet on this happening?” Keiji asked, pulling you closer to his side so your nerves would rest.

“No, my son, your mother thought that you and [name] weren’t dating yet and that you were only pining for her while I said you both were already in a relationship. I had faith in you, son, I knew you had a backbone,” his father laughed in delight once more and swung an arm over his mother’s shoulders.

“We saw a picture of [name] in your room when we stayed at your penthouse a few months ago,” his mother tried to explain, hitting his father on the chest.

You recalled that very picture, you were wearing a sundress and were in the middle of looking back when Keiji took the picture. You were laughing and clutching your beach hat over your head in an attempt to not let the wind carry it away with the breeze. When you first saw it displayed in his room, you complained that there were a lot of better pictures of you but Keiji rebutted that this was the first one he took of you looking at him and that’s why he cherished it the most.

“Guess you guys were all worried for nothing!” Kaiya found herself and backed away from her parents, “I’d like to say that I was the original person who knew by the way, and I kept it in for so long. Not that they weren’t obvious,”

Akaashi clearly felt how you were being restless, he bent down to whisper in your ear, “Are you okay, love?”

You rub your wrist as you look up at him, “Well I’m honestly feeling a bit mortified.”

“You guys should've locked the door,” Kaiya said in a sing-song tone, “Imagine how I feel? I did not push you in this room for that. How could I possibly know you’d jump each other the moment you were left alone? I always thought you guys were rated G!”

You feel your face heating up once again and Keiji scolding his sister, “Perhaps you should go and call your stylist,” you suggest, trying to save some of your dignity.

Keiji eyes his sister and she got the hint and shuffled her parents—who were still arguing—out the door. You knew this wasn’t the end of it and a lot of explaining will have to be given to his parents (they wouldn’t leave you guys alone otherwise). With your eyes on the door, Keiji tried taking your attention by softly turning your face towards his.

“How do you feel?” he asks, smiling warmly at you.

“It’s… nice that we don’t have to hide it anymore,” you pressed your forehead on his chest, “I’m still feeling shy though.”

Keiji wrapped his arms around you and placed a soft kiss on your forehead, “How much time do you need to recover?”

“A minute and more of your hugs perhaps?” you ask, burying your face more in his chest. You should be urging him to go to his stylist already, but it wouldn’t be bad to keep him for another minute or so.

“I’m sorry they found out in an… unconventional way,” with your head pressed against his chest you could feel the rumble of his voice, the deep and lulling sound helping you calm down.

“Okay, I think I’m okay now,” you tried stepping away but he held you in your place, “Why?”

“I still need to recharge,” Keiji engulfs you in his warmth once more, “After this, it’s no more alone time. I’d have to wait another eight hours for that, so I need to get my fill now.”

Another round of silence baited and the only thing you could hear was the steady beat of his heart, it made you smile. Quiet moments with him came few and far in-between but when they did come, it felt as if the whole world was on your side and everything would always be okay.

“You’re so good to me, Keiji,” your voice cracks in the way of your emotions.

He responds by embracing you impossibly tighter, “What do you think about living together?” he drops the question, “It’s just something I’ve been thinking over, we don’t have to rush or anything but I just wanted to know what you think.”

It wouldn’t be too odd of a question, you practically spent every waking moment together whenever you both had the chance. That included staying over at each other’s places and spending most of your time together indoors. He’d love to spend more days waking up next to you, whenever you were there he felt nothing but peace and he wouldn’t mind for that feeling to stay with him for the rest of his life. The cheers of the crowd were exhilarating but the silence spent with you was more fulfilling.

“I’d love that,” you say, standing on your tiptoes and placing a kiss on his cheek.

You looked up at him under your lashes and Keiji felt that rush of intensifying feelings coming over him, his hands came to cup both of your cheeks as he placed a quick kiss on the tip of your nose, “I’d like to know of your thoughts in another matter that’s been on my mind,” he said in a hoarse voice.

“What is it?” your tone was light and airy. A few minutes from now you’ll have to give way for his staff to get him ready for the world. Right now you’d like to keep him to yourself, the world can wait.

“What do you think about marriage?”

HEADLINE:

Ikarus’ lead vocalist Akaashi Keiji announces he’s married!

leia @keijisrealgf I WAS SIMPING FOR A MARRIED MAN????? 4:20 PM · Jun 23 20XX

pia @ikarusavedme not even a girlfriend or an engagement.. but MARRIAGE 4:18 PM · Jun 23 20XX

kei @menexceptikarus he always gave family man vibes not surprised ngl 4:27 PM · Jun 23 20XX

a/n — alright so i went a bit overboard with this one JWBDEJXBDN ill say this is for taking so long to conclude akaashi's story lmao

general taglist + @luvrsthrist @cherries4denki @cloud-lyy @misscaller06 @noideawhothatis @wolffmaiden @rivaiken @wooasecret @Eclecticlandmughoagie @nicerthanu @sukunasrealgf @ris-krispie @seiamor @electriclovei @leeknowsarchive @todorokiskitten @rory-cakes @sexyandcringe @rinheartshyunlix @wh0zumy2k @iluv-ace @xiakyo @sanaexus @clyches @noble-17

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writteninlunarlight-years · 9 months ago

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Could I ask for an Alastor getting Hanahaki over Reader and everyone has to chip in to help him out? He's afraid of losing them as they're the only one who's never been afraid of Alastor (sure the Radio Demon part is creepy asf but Reader looks past it to befriend him) and would rather die alone then lose their presence.

The others figure out what Hanahaki is after finding him coughing up flowers one day and they each pitch in to help him through it; even Lucifer helps. And Charlie threatens Al with telling Rosie and Mimzy (you decide if they need to get involved)

Just everyone helping Alastor not second-die, him being confused as to why they're helping him and learning he has more friends then he realizes (and is nicer to them as it goes on) and also Reader being incredibly fucking confused as to what's been going on.

Sorry if it's a lot! And thank you in advance if you decide to write it ^-^

Hanahaki! Alastor x F!Reader

'A flower cannot blossom without sunshine, and a man cannot live without love." - Max Muller

Trigger Warning: mentions abuse, vomiting, near-death experiences, cringe obliviousness

Alastor knew he was feared among mortals and sinners. He was the equivalent of a boogie man, so to speak. He had no time for trivial things like love, relationships, or weakness. He had to be strong, always ahead of the game, and ready to take anyone who dared to oppose him. Well, that was till you came along. You were an enigma; he had heard about you when you appeared in the realm of sinners; however, you were fierce in the human world. Every man that wrongly touched a woman or attacked a woman was soon dealt with by your hand. You tortured them, strung them up, and ended their lives slowly. Alastor was impressed, to say the least.

However, when you turned up on the Hotel's doorstep six months ago, you were anything but scary. You looked innocent, almost too innocent. Alastor tried so hard to hate you to think nothing but the worst in you, but you had a grip on him. It's not every day that someone is entirely unphased by him. The day you two met was like nothing before; everyone in hell knew of him and his reputation. You even did, too; you had to have known of this since Rosie was the one who suggested you find refuge in the Hotel. Yet you looked up at him when he loomed over you and just smiled.

The Radio Demon was known for the catchphrase 'never truly dressed without a smile,' but somehow yours was just as off-putting as his, like you learned something no one else ever would. He enjoyed that about you. That you were so full of kindness and energy but also something so dark and twisted. Before Alastor knew it, he took you in as an apprentice. The end goal is to teach you his ways and your soul; well, that would be his. That was always the plan to create a powerful accomplice to assist in his dirty deeds, yet something changed over time.

Alastor didn't remember when he started protecting, defending, or even fighting for you. It all happened out of nowhere. He hated all of it, but he couldn't stop himself. Slowly, as time passed, he sought guidance for these newfound emotions, leading us to now.

Alastor made his way to the bookshop in town, the best place to get anything involving the damned and dead. These newfound feelings could be an ailment of sorts, perhaps. As he perused the books, he bumped into you, of all people. Shocked, he spoke, "Hello, doll, good to see you here. Are you catching up on some light reading?"

As he said this, he looked down at the book in your hand and noticed the book was covered in an arrangement of flowers. It's odd for being a book in hell for it to look so innocent and cheap. As he was questioning the existence of this book, you spoke up. "Alastor, what a pleasure it is to see you here! I was researching sicknesses and curses from the mortal realm when I stumbled upon this book. It's pretty, no?"

Alastor looked at you and the sweet look in your eyes and couldn't help but nod in agreement with you. God, if he truly existed, needed to help get him whatever cure was necessary for these stupid thoughts. Alastor took the book from your hands, observing the details, and flipped through the pages gently. He looked back over to you when he spoke. "Dear, why don't I buy this for you? If I remember correctly, you have a date with Ms. Rosie soon. I would hate for you to miss your confidential meet-up."

You nodded gently, smiling that same eerie smile as always, making your way out the door, not before leaving a generous tip for the demon at the counter. You were always kind and gentle to those who had done no wrong to you or your loved ones. Yet when someone wronged anyone close to you, they would coincidentally go missing. You were like a gorgeous rose with those incredibly thin secret thorns. Alastor went to the front soon after you and placed the books you two had found on the front counter. As the shopkeeper looked up to see the grinning radio host, he just ducked back down, minding his business. Alastor smiled, dropping some coins in the jar before returning to the hotel.

Once inside, Alastor made his way to his tower, ready to read the books that may cure these insufferable feelings he has been having towards you. The first book on the document, "Freudian Emotions," As Alastor read through the book, he couldn't help but be mildly disgusted and enamored with the literature. Who just openly admits they were in love with their mother? Who was the man who wrote this book? Deeming the book unsatisfactory, Alastor moved on to the next, "How to know understand your darker feelings". This book pertains to many of Alastor's emotions when he was in the mood to kill or harm. Only the chapter 'Lust' has mild insinuations of the random emotions he was suddenly feeling. Another dud he surely would need to pay that shop keeps another visit to request better literature.

As Alastor thought everything was lost, he noticed your book again. Taking a closer look at it, one would call it eloquent. The sage green cover was adorned with thousands of different flowers. The title reading, "Ancient Alments of the Flowers and Gods," piqued his interest greatly. As he skimmed through the pages, he saw countless excerpts about those who scorned the gods and curses placed upon them. One specific page really caught his attention, it was about an ailment called 'Hanahaki'. Someone with feelings of unrequited love would profusely vomit flowers till their feelings were requited. The other option was an intense surgical procedure that would leave the person affected loveless. Underneath a picture of a young girl with flowers around her and coming out of her mouth was a message. It was hard to make out; Alastor moved the book closer to his face.

Squinting closer at the message, Alastor mumbled, 'A Flower Can Not Blossom Without Sunshine, Just As One Can Not Live Life Without Love.' As those words left his mouth, his fate was sealed. A sudden urge to get sick overtook Alastor as he dropped the book on the ground and ran to the bathroom down the hall. There, he passed a confused Angel Dust, putting on more makeup in the mirror. Alastor made it to the toilet where he proceeded to get violently ill.....with......flowers. Flowers? Why flowers? As Alastor tried to process the turn of events, Angel Dust popped his head in. "Uh, radio man, you good? I don't think I have ever seen you get sic- Oh god, why are there flowers everywhere?"

Before Alastor could pop his head up enough to respond, he threw up more flowers. Standing up woozy, he washed his face in the sink before turning to the spider demon. "I don't know what's wrong. I read this book Y/N bought, and now I am seemingly throwing up flowers."

Angel nodded, lending a hand to the demon and helping him straighten himself out. The two started to head out of the bathroom when the woman herself appeared out of nowhere. "Hi, guys! Oh, Alastor, are you okay?" Concern was evident in her voice, and it was adorable when she worried about him.

Before Alastor knew it, though, he was pushing Angel towards the girl and returning to throw up some more. With some gentle words from Angel and a lot of persistence, finally Y/N left. Once she was far enough away, Alastor was freed from the clutches of flowers once again. Sighing, he turned to the spider demon, "Angel, good fellow, I need to find where I dropped that book."

Angel joined Alastor in the hunt for the book and kept Y/N away. Luckily, they made it back to the radio tower unscathed. Once the book was found, Angel and Alastor began digging into it. Nothing came of it except a simple smirk from Angel. "Alastor, do you have feelings for little Miss Y/N?"

Alastor looked at the demon, puzzled. What a stupid question to ask while he was here, vomiting flowers. Yes, he had some odd feelings he didn't understand right now, but nothing like what that stupid book described. Angel sighed, shaking his head, and went for the door. Alastor was in a panic, "Where are you going? Are you not going to help me?"

Angel turned to Alastor, "I'm going to get more help because you obviously don't realize what everyone has been seeing since the day that girl arrived."

Alastor looked at Angel quizzically as he left. Sitting on the floor of the tower, he thought about everything. He understood the explanation of the curse in that stupid book was about someone loving another who didn't return the feelings, but he had never experienced love before. Well, he had for his momma, but not another. Would he describe these odd feelings he had for you as love? While lost in thought, Angel appeared with Husk, Charlie, and Vaggie hot on his tail.

As Alastor was snapped out of his thoughts, a concerned Charlie appeared before him. "Alastor! Angel told us everything. Are you alright? Where is Y/N? Should she be here too?"

As the young girl's name left the princess's lips, the sick feeling happened again. He turned to his side and started to vomit more flowers. Everyone was in shock. When he was done, he turned and looked up at the others. Angel picked up the cursed book and handed it to the others for them to read. It clicked for everyone as soon as they got to the message at the bottom. Alastor was in love but didn't realize it.

Alastor sat weak and groggy, observing from the sideline as everyone huddled together. Rolling his eyes, he went to stand and go about his day when he was ushered into his seat by the group. Now, sitting in his hosting chair, everyone lined up before him. Charlie stepped forward, "Alastor, you are in love with Y/N!"

Again, as the name left Charlie's lips, Alastor doubled over, vomiting profusely. Flowers littered the room; all anyone really could think was that at least it smelt good. Angel placed his hand on the Radio Demon's shoulder and turned to Charlie, "Toots, I think we should avoid saying her name for now until at least we come up with a plan."

Alastor shook his head and looked up. "Where is she? I don't know what will happen if I see her again right now. Just her name is causing this. I would hate for it to be worse."

Everyone nodded. Husk said, "After Angel told me what was happening, I convinced her Rosie needed her." A sigh of relief was heard from everyone in the room. Alastor looked to the crew in front of him and spoke again, "I don't even know what love is, so why has that damned book cursed me?"

The group looked at each other and nodded, lining back up. Angel stepped forward first: "Exhibit A, When she who shall not be named appeared at the hotel, she was unafraid of you. You came to me later that evening and asked if your name was still prevalent in the demon community. When I confirmed it was, you stared at her for hours and kept mumbling, 'Fascinating, truly fascinating.'

Alastor blanched at the omission, not ready for the retelling of the last six months of his life. He couldn't deny, though, that having someone not immediately afraid of him was refreshing. Over the six months he had known you, he repeatedly tried to make you scared. Nothing happened, though. You always just smiled and went about your day with him.

Next up was Vaggie, "When we were all practicing for the war with the angels, and she was fighting with one of the cannibals, you asked me how her form was so perfect. You were enamored with her when I explained that she had to have been a fighter in one of her lifetimes. I don't think you stopped staring at her while she was practicing that whole day."

Alastor turned his head away from his friends, feeling a bit warm. He couldn't deny your fighting form was gorgeous. You were fierce on the field that day. Constantly slaying enemies, though you were beautiful in red, the Gold that adorned your face after you slew the angels was something else. Not to mention, you were the one who found him in the wreckage of the radio tower that day. You helped him and tended to his wounds before returning to the others during the rebuild phase. He vividly remembers how you were right there, so close yet so far.

Husk stepped up to the plate: "The night that she drank herself silly at the bar after losing Pentious, you sat with her the whole night while she talked. You never do that, and I would know. You even carried her to her room when she passed out."

It was confirmed that he watched you drink your heart out once the hotel was rebuilt. Crying profusely over the snake man. A part of him felt anger that you felt so strongly towards another, but it also hurt him to see someone he 'cared' for hurting. When you finally passed out, he realized how soft your features were. You were so calm and delicate but also so fierce and aggressive. He picked you up so delicately and carried you to your room across the hotel. When he laid you down, you gripped him and mumbled, 'Be safe, Alastor, please.' Hearing that, his heart was alight.

Finally, Charlie took center stage, " On top of all these instances, you've not once asked for her soul, nor have you made a deal with her, nor have you made any insulting comments."

Alastor stalled....was that true? He knew deep down it was. He continually lied to himself; he was only interested in you because he wanted your soul. Did he really want to force you into servitude, though? Everything came crashing down on Alastor so quickly. There was no way was he....was he...in love. As the pieces clicked for the Radio Demon he hunched over in the chair spilling his guts full of flowers out, this time they weren't just any flowers, they were Roses. He always compared you to roses, your beautiful soft exterior covered with those hidden thorns.

As the coughing of flowers ended, he looked at his friends. They all were smiling, waiting for him to admit it himself. Alastor didn't know what scared him the most: that he loved you or that all these people cared enough about him to remember such antics. Did these people actually have so little time in their dreary lives? "Thank you all for the trip down memory lane, though I understand I apparently love......her......how does this help my situation?"

The group looked astonished at the thanks but contemplated the weight of his words. It's great he understood, but how did you feel? You were an enigma to everyone, eager to help and lend a hand but keeping your heart close to your chest. Charlie, in all her wisdom, spoke, "Go to Rosies and profess your love right now! No woman can resist a sweet confession!"

Angel laughed, "Sorry, toots, but I would deny a man who went to tell me he loved me and then vomited on me."

Husk said, "At least the vomit is flowers that could be a plus if not mildly concerning for the girl."

Alastor listened to everyone's points; going to Rosie wouldn't do, and it would just be too much and embarrassing. He had a front to keep all these other demons in the realm, still had to know who was in charge. While everyone was deep in thought, the door to the radio tower opened. Everyone turned to the noise. Alastor, still sitting, couldn't see what was happening. "I heard from a little birdie's phone that we need a magical love confession!" Oh god not Lucifer, may an Exicutioner strike Alastor down now.

"Dad! Yes, Alastor needs an amazing proposal that won't be hindered by his uh issues." Charlie exclaimed.

"Oh, you are talking to the king of romance, baby! Here's the plan!"

~~~~~ Time Jump ~~~~~

A week had passed since Alastor came to terms with his feelings and realized he had more friends than not. However, this elaborate plan for each person in the hotel to try and get Y/N to confess she had feelings too was becoming too much. The symptoms of the Hanahaki were becoming too much. Her voice alone now was making him vomit. So far, each attempted love confession ended with the girl being overly confused and concerned about where Alastor was hiding. They usually were inseparable, but he had avoided her for a week since the bookstore.

This is where Lucifer's plan came to a head; see what he told everyone to do: get her to confess. In reality, he planted the seeds of worry and doubt in the young girl's mind. If she also loved Alastor, she would seek him out and confess herself. Maybe she was just as oblivious as the Radio Demon. The sweet, innocent young demon was starting to bear her fangs and claws, as luck would have it. Lucifer was an avid Kdrama stan. Of course, he knew how this troupe would play out and took the right amount of push from the group.

Alastor was also growing to miss you; the more he agreed with his feelings, the more he was worried about what you were doing if you hated him for disappearing, and if you were going to accept him. As the thoughts plagued his mind, a timid knock was heard on his door. Standing up and straightening himself out, Alastor opened the door. There you stood in all your glory. He could tell you hadn't been sleeping from the bags under your eyes, and you looked a little pale, probably from not caring for yourself from worry. He was so happy to see you, ecstatic that you cared! Well, till he started to vomit flowers again.

Panic ran across your face as you reached out to help Alastor; however, your touch only worsened things. The flowers were changing colors; rushing to sit him down, you noticed the book you had wanted to buy a week ago. Picking it up on the page it was on, you saw the term 'Hanahaki.' Reading through the page after noticing the girl in the picture had the same ailment as Alastor, you grew upset. He was in love with someone....who? You got to the part of the passage that has a message. 'A Flower Can Not Blossom Without Sunshine, Just As One Can Not Live Life Without Love.' As you spoke those words, Alastor grew worried. What if the same aliment that was affecting him now also affected you. Not only would he worry about your health, but he would know you didn't love him.

After a few minutes, nothing happened; Alastor didn't know how to feel. Were you not in love at all? While contemplating all these thoughts, the flowers came up again, so you didn't love him back; he would have to resort to some stupid surgery to be okay again. Coughing out the last flowers, Alastor stood, "I'll be fine, doll. Just leave me be."

"Who is she...or he...whoever?" He could hear the sadness in your voice. Why were you asking him who caused his ailment?

"Never mind....we should get you help.... or get you to confess something so you can live normally again." You were doing everything in your power to hold back the tears. Alastor reached out and moved some fallen hair behind your ear.

"Who do you want me to be in love with?" Alastor spoke timidly for the first time in his lifetimes since he was a child. He was afraid of your rejection, the illness, something, anything. You did so many strange things to him. As you looked up into his eyes and he saw the hints of tears forming, for once, he didn't feel like vomiting. Slowly inching forward, he placed a soft kiss on your lips. Gently, like at any moment, everything could be ruined.

When you kissed back, Alastor felt light. Once you two pulled away for air, he was prepared for more flowers. Your voice alone made him throw them up; he was worried about touching you. Nothing came. He looked down at you once more and smiled his signature grin. "Doll, I dare say, do you love me back? No wonder you didn't get cursed with the ailment when you read the passage."

You smiled softly at him, wrapping him in a hug. Things were back to normal again, and now, with you two together, hell had a whole new list of worries to deal with. Who knew the Radio Demon would only grow stronger once he found the love of his lifetime?

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koolades-world · 1 year ago

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Hello, I'm looking for some angst.

I would like to order an extra harsh reality of

"The brothers will pick their sister over Mc if given a chance"

And some side dish of "The undertables having to fight for Mc"

Thanksiiee!!

hi!! Sorry I took so long to get to this but I was so looking forward to writing this when I got it! slight mentions at nsfw but nothing is described or really directly talked about. also spoilers for lesson 16 and also also long!! much longer than I anticipated

everything I write turns into Satan pieces somehow lol

Took inspo from Harry Potter, specifically Tom Riddle’s diary in the Chamber of Secrets (don't @ me used to be a huge hp fan)

update: part two is out and can be found here :)

the dance of the haunted (part one)

It all started with a simple trip to the second hand bookstore. Satan always invited Mc, so they were together. He needed a hand carrying back his purchases sometimes and they always went someone to eat afterwards, Satan’s treat as he could never imagine asking Mc to pay.

They bookstore they visited today was a usual for them. It was close enough to walk, but far enough to avoid running into his brothers. Satan knew Mc really enjoyed old cookbooks and worn fantasy books. They also often searched for children’s books to read to local demon children as part of a school club. While he was initially concerned with them coming into contact with a cursed book, he grew more comfortable after seeing their magical ability and that they always carried an enchanted talisman that Solomon gifted them for that purpose.

Mc was over in the nature section, flipping through a book about creatures in the 3rd ring of hell. Satan found himself in the tomes section again. He, as usual, found himself rooting through the very back trying to uncover hidden gems. He was about to pick up a book he thought Mc might like to flip through it, when he froze. Just a sliver of this book was in his vision, but he already felt the magic oozing from it. It's a wonder he didn't sense it sooner. He put the other book in a hurry and pulled out the book from the back.

It was unlabeled, with a faded green cover and a golden ribbon attached to the spine. It marked a page close to the beginning. The magic radiating from it didn't seem bad in any way. It actually seemed quite positive. He was able to place it quickly after he felt the ribbon sticking out the bottom of the book.

This was most certainly a book infused with an angelic blessing at the very least, but how in the world had this ended up in a second hand book store in the Devildom, of all places. He flipped it over, looking for anything to go off of, but found nothing but a cursive golden letter L etched on the bottom right corner. He was a little afraid to open it, giving that it was in the hands of an angel at some point. After thinking it over, if anything happened to him, Mc would help him as soon as they noticed something amiss. Thanks to the pact, it would be almost instantly.

With the thought of Mc, he slowly opened the book. On the first page and on the inside of the front cover was handwriting that seemed oddly familiar. He struggled to read the words on the page at first due to the sense of familiarity. He suddenly got deja vu, as if he had held this book before. He closed his eyes for a moment to stop the world from spinning. When he reopened them, he felt like crying, and yet, he still wasn't sure why. Once he finally read what was written, he understood why.

On the inside cover, it read "Property of Lilith Morningstar" and near the bottom in large writing was a messy scrawl he recognized as Mammon's handwriting. It said "mammon waz here" with a little drawing of himself sticking his tongue out. A heart in a different color of ink enclosed the message and drawing. On the first page was a note seemingly from Lucifer. Satan would recognize his handwriting anywhere. It was a heartfelt message from Lucifer to Lilith, saying that he hoped the gift reached her well, and that he missed and loved her.

He closed the book for a second and suddenly felt faint. He sat on the floor, holding his head in his hands. He thought about what he had just read for a moment. The book that he had somehow found, maybe by chance or fate, belonged to his brother's late sister. It was a gift from Lucifer to Lilith while he was away. He realized that's probably why he felt his emotions raging. The Lucifer in him recognized the book, since he had seemingly picked it out himself to give to his sister. How had this ended up in a second hand bookstore? He theorized maybe it had been made in the Devildom and Lucifer had purchased it during one of his trips. But, angel Lucifer would have never done that. He was disgusted by the mere thought of even having to go down at the time, so the thought of him browsing shops was out of the question. Deciding to come back to that thought later, he decided to quickly flip through it, just to see what it was.

As he reopened the book, new waves of magic hit him. He didn't recognize them, but they felt as familiar as his brothers. He guessed their magic was also somehow within this book. But since it was all angelic magic, everything having to do with this book happened before the fall, before he even existed. Much to his dismay, everything beyond the first page was blank. He closed and opened it a few times, but nothing happened. He guessed it might be locked by magic in some way. The thought of trying to magically pry it open scared him again. He was a demon through and through, and since this was blessed by angels, he had no clue what might happen to him if he tried. He was certain whoever blessed this book did not accommodate for whatever he was, but he thought it to be unwise to test the limits.

"Satan. What are you doing on the floor?" Mc walked up to him, holding a few books in their arms.

"Oh, just looking at book on the bottom shelf. I got tired of crouching." He quickly placed the green book down on top of a stack of his other books.

"I get that. Just wanted to let you know I'm ready to be done when you are. Don't rush for me." They turned to walk away, but Satan stopped them.

"I'm done too. I was finishing up." He moved to get up. Mc turned back around to look at him.

"I made great timing then! Here, I'll carry some of these for you." They grabbed the first few books off his stack. He felt his stomach lurch when they touched the green book. He couldn't help but feel nervous with them handling the book, although he wasn't sure why. He didn't want to say anything about it to them, and again, he didn't know why. For now, maybe it was best he kept this to himself anyways. Mc’s expression didn't change and they continued to pile on the books until the green one was in the middle. There was nothing special about that book to them.

"Thank you." Satan made himself say. He picked up the remaining books and they proceeded to the check out together. Today, an older demon worked the register. She was familiar with the pair and had a soft spot for Mc.

"Is that everything for today?" She asked them as she counted the books. Between the two of them, they had thirteen books. Satan handed the demon the needed amount of grim, and waved them on their way. Satan insisted on carrying the bag of books home, since this time there wasn’t too many.

"Let's stop at a café on our way home. I'm dying for something warm to drink right now." Mc grabbed Satan's hand and pulled him in the direction they wanted to go in. He smiled and allowed himself to be dragged off. While they were enjoying coffee together, he was able to temporally forget about the book he had discovered. All of his thoughts were about Mc for the time being.

When they arrived home together, Mc loudly announced that they were there. Mammon came running to greet them. "Mc! I got somethin' for ya! Ya gotta come with me right now!" He grabbed both of the hands and began to pull them away.

"Thank you for the coffee and books, Satan. Tell me about what you bought at dinner tonight." They looked back at him before looking at Mammon again.

"I will. I'll drop off your books in your room. I had a great time." He lifted a hand at them, as a goodbye.

"Mc!" Mammon began to whine.

"Yes, yes. Let's go now." Mammon took off with Mc in tow, leaving Satan stewing in his thoughts again. He went back to his room with all of the books. The other books he had picked out were no longer interesting compared to the Lilith book. However, he didn't want to mess with it while his brothers were awake. The last thing he wanted was them finding out. While he felt bad keeping it from them, something in him was telling him not to show it to them yet. He had promised Mc he would tell them about the books he picked out. The only one he wanted to read was the one about cats. He could easily talk about it to Mc anyways, without having to worry about the Lilith book crossing his mind.

He read until it was time for dinner. Today, it was Asmo’s turn to cook. He was actually a pretty good cook, probably the best in the house. It always turned out well and was plated gorgeous on top of that. He came to the dinner table with the book he hand been reading, still reading. He took his seat across from Mc, not looking up just yet.

“Hey, is that one of the new books?” Satan looked over his book and saw Mc peering at him.

“Yes, actually. It’s a cat book! Cats are the best.” He happily pointed to the picture of a cat on the front. As they ate, the conversation began to drift away from books, and onto something that Satan thought was irrelevant. He tried to go back to reading, but found himself reading the same lines over and over again. His thoughts had reverted to the little green book sitting in a pile of books on his bed. He has buried it, just in case someone happened to walk in.

As Mc mediated yet another argument between Levi and Mammon, he couldn’t find it in himself to silently seethe and glare at his brothers as he usually did. He blankly stared at his book, picking at his food. He was stuck wondering why the book didn’t say anything. He planned what he would do once he got back to his room. He knew he had a book of protective spells somewhere in the house that he might use to protect himself before attempting to interact with the book more.

“Satan. Is everything alright?” Lucifer placed a hand on his shoulder, catching him off guard. The table was basically empty now, much to his surprise. It was only Beel, Belphie and himself still seated. Beel was still eating and Belphie was passed out next to him.

“Nothing is wrong.” Satan snapped back after a moment.

“Alright. Please don’t forget do the dishes.” Lucifer retraced his hand, and with one final, unreadable look at Satan, left the room. He was unsure about how to feel about Lucifer noticing something was amiss. He snapped his book shut. He wasn’t really reading it in the first place. He put the book down on the kitchen counter and began absentmindedly doing the dishes. He was lost in though about the book currently buried underneath about twenty other books on his bed.

He finished in record time. He grabbed his cat book, figuring Beel could wash his own dish once he was done. He retreated to his room. He was released to find everything just as he left it. He dug up the green book from his pile, placing all the other books on the floor for the time being. He sat at his desk, running his hands over the cover. Under his little desk lamp, it seemed to sparkle in a way that he hasn’t previously noticed. Once he opened it, he was greeted with what he has seen earlier that day. But, to his surprise, there was more beyond that.

Most of the pages in the front of the book curled from usage. At the top of each page, was a note of the date. Below this, was a diary entry of sorts. Sometimes, it was just a to-do list, or a recipe. Others, he found Lilith’s accounts of her day to day life. He decided to start at the beginning, reading the first ever entry. He hoped to gain a little context of what exactly this journal was and how it worked.

Lilith had written on the first page after the note from Lucifer about how he has sent her this journal while on a trip to the Devildom, stating it was made by a human according to the tag on the outside of the journal. He enchanted it himself to only allow her to see the contents of this journal.

Satan paused his reading for a moment. If it has been enchanted to only allow Lilith to read the journal, how was he able to read it just now? He wasn’t close to her. They never knew each other. As he flipped to the next page to hopefully skim it for context of any kind, the words in front of him began to fade. The ink retracted into the page, from the last letter she had written, to the first. He wasn’t sure what he could do to prevent this, so he just quickly read what he could. The next page was something about how Belphie had wanted to take a look at it and something about Beel. Once he got there, the words has begun to erase themselves. He watched helplessly as everything disappeared. Soon, he was just stuck with the plain book he had discovered that afternoon, and the cover no longer shimmered.

He sighed, flipping through it again. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for. He was about to check out the back cover again when he heard his door being pushed open.

“Satan! Thought I would find you here.” Mc greeted him.

“It’s my room. What did you expect?” He shut the book in a hurry.

“Well, I can just as often find you in the library.” They approached him, touching his face. They outlined his jaw and smoothed his cheeks with their thumbs. He reached for their wrists, touching them with an imploring look.

“What’s the matter?” He petted their hair. They sat down in his lap and placed their head on his shoulder. He couldn’t help but worry that the journal was right in their view now, but he hugged them close nonetheless.

“I just feel lonely.” They sighed and buried their face in his neck.

“Really? After all that time you spent with Mammon?” He laughed a little at their predicament.

“Don’t laugh! It’s not the same as when I’m with you.” They pouted and puffed their cheeks out. He chuckled a little more at the cute face they made at him.

“Alright, alright. I’ll stop. What can I do for you, my beloved?” He could get lost in their eyes.

“Give me affection! Just kisses will do.” They pointed to their forehead. Satan smiled at them, amused.

“As you wish.” He began to pepper their face in kisses. As Mc grew more needy, the more he satisfied them. One thing led to another, as they ended up in Satan’s bed. They stayed together for the rest of the night, the journal long forgotten.

Early the next morning, after their night of passion, Satan awoke abruptly. He looked around. He was in his own room, but his clothes were scattered around the room. A shirt was hanging by a thread off a tall pile of books. Mc was asleep next to him, their arms wrapped around him. His lamp light was still on. He reached over as far as he could to reach the off switch. Before he could hit it, he saw the journal. He glanced back at Mc. He didn’t want to wake them, but he felt the urge to open it. He reached out to touch it, and as soon as he did, he noticed it began to shimmer like it had before. He was amazed. He quickly flipped as best as he could to a random page with one hand. He could see lots of writing. He shut it again, taking his hands off of it. It remained shimmery.

He decided not to flip through it now, since he wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind to at the moment. Instead, he noted the time; 4:03 am. Once he woke up, he would check it again to get a rough idea of how long it would stay open for since earlier, he wasn’t sure how long it had been open for. He finally shut the lamp off and let the book flutter closed. He took his mind off the book, and laid back down. He tucked an arm around Mc as best he could without waking them, and drifted back to sleep.

He awoke for the second time that day. Everything was essentially the same as it was earlier except for the time and the noise outside his door. Mc was still asleep next to him, griping him tightly. It was 8:24 am now, and he could hear Lucifer pacing around past his door in the hall. He didn't make any noise. The last thing he wanted was to see his ugly mug first thing in the morning. Because of this, he decided not to leave him room just yet, but he also didn't want to open the journal either. He would, however, check if it was still "open" or readable. He flickered on his little desk lamp again, and was greeted with the shimmery cover. He didn't want to touch it, because he was almost certain he was able to set it off that morning. Once he was able to think clearer, he would revisit that.

Instead, he grabbed the first book he could get his hands on and began to read. He wasn't sure how long he was there, just reading, but eventually he felt Mc begin to stir. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” Satan greeted the bleary eyed person snuggled into his side.

“Good morning love. How long was I asleep?” They yawned, making no move to sit up. Neither of them were dressed at the moment anyways.

“A decent amount. Longer than I did anyways.” He shrugged, placing the book facedown on his desk, over the journal.

“Thanks for not waking me. You wouldn’t guess how many times Mammon or Asmo have woken me up way too early. Granted, it’s usually on accident. Asmo with his skincare and Mammon with… I don’t actually know.” Mc rolled on to their side to look at Satan better, throwing one of their arms over his torso. He felt himself growing shy under their sleepy gaze. He knew he wasn't the only one graced with that privilege, but the way they looked at him made him feel so special. He would give them every star in the sky if they asked.

“That makes me all the more grateful that they don’t dare enter my room. Makes it quite the sanctuary, don’t you think?” Satan chuckled.

“Mmm, yes.” They yawned again.

“What do you want to eat for breakfast, sweetheart? Or is it too soon to think about that?” He asked.

“Give me a few more minutes and then I’ll find an answer for you.” Mc closed their eyes again, potentially going back to sleep. He used that time to reflect. His thoughts grew a little grim as he let them wander. That journal kept finding it's way into his mind. How had he been able to find that? What were the chances of that happening? Maybe it would have made a little more sense if one of his brothers had found the book instead, since part of them seemed to linger between the lines. He was a different story, though. The magic within must had been much more powerful than he anticipated.

Even as he turned his head to the side to look at the book again, he saw the pages glimmer in the light that didn't exist. Something seemed... wrong. He hadn't noticed it before, maybe due to the excitement of simply finding it. The circumstances of which he found it in too was bizarre. As a powerful demon, he should have noticed the angelic energy as soon as he entered the book store. He dwelled on this idea. Perhaps last night's activities had had an affect on it. He coughed a little, covering up his embarrassment from the invisible audience. As he thought more, it really made no sense that he just happened to find it. Had it been planted there for him specifically, or was it the journal itself? Just what did this book know? He did consider himself exceptional, but not nearly as much as his brothers. Their story was far more interesting than his own. He was just the consequence of their actions. Whatever the case with this book, he felt the urge to get to the bottom of it, despite the creeping dread in his gut.

He spent the next few days of his reading time picking though every page of the journal. He was able to learn so much about his brothers' days in the Celestial Realm, far more than they had ever bothered to tell him. Perhaps they thought speaking about it might bother him. Whatever the case, he found it strange to refer to them as angels. Lilith wrote lots about the twins and Asmo. She wrote less about the older brothers but it was clear they were just as important to her. He had know Asmo was the Jewel of the Heavens, but the way Lilith described him made him sound like the most amazing thing the world had ever seen. The more and more he read, the more he saw the similarities between himself and her. He too considered Asmo a trusted confidant, and a close friend of his. He too found himself sneaking off with Belphie for mischievous reasons, or spending time with Beel for his quiet, comforting presence. He began to realize how difficult losing her might have been for them. In the past, he knew it was a sore subject, especially among the youngest, but now he could really feel their pain as Lilith wrote about their daily misadventures. What they missed. Would they exchange him for her if given the chance? He shook this thought off, not liking the implications it might have.

Her innocence was painted clearly for him on each page, yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He checked the book again and again for traces of demonic magic but found nothing. The strangest part was that he couldn't even find his own. There was traces of various angels, most of which he didn't recognize, likely from the far gone past. The journal continued to puzzle him.

As time passed, the entries grew more and more chaotic. From her new lover, to the growing tensions between Lucifer and their father. They grew shorter and less carefree. Even her handwriting differed. She seemed to understand the gravity of what she had done. He knew this is when the Celestial War was about to begin. Her last entry was about her lover, again about how enchanting she found them, and how one day she hoped to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter what. He paused for a moment, realizing this entry was written likely days, or even hours before he was born. After that entry, the pages were blank. There were some pages with stray pen marks, but that's all he was able to uncover. He knew the ending to this story. The silence told it all. He sat for a while, reflecting again about everything he had seen. As he was thinking, words began to appear on the page in front of him, in the same handwriting and ink color as he had seen in the entire journal. It was Lilith's. Satan paused. He could tell the journal held magical properties, but this was not something he expected to happen.

"Hello? Anyone there?" The words appeared suddenly. He continued staring at the page until more words appeared. "You can say something you know. Ink will do." Satan began to look around for a writing utensil at these words. Once he found one, he began to pen a response.

"Hello. Are you Lilith?" He wrote down underneath the previous words. He got his own response quickly.

"Yes, I am! How'd you know that?" Satan paused again, about to write more, but was cut off as Lilith began to write more. "Haha! Just kidding. This is my journal. My name is in it. It would be weird if this wasn't me. Who are you, by the way? I don't think I've ever had a visitor." Right away, Satan thought Lilith reminded him of Asmo. He was probably like this when he was an angel.

He stopped before bringing his pen down to the page again. He was unsure on how to introduce himself. During his visit to the past, he went by Sully, which was the stupidest name in his opinion. But, he also didn't want to lie to her. Would it be wrong to tell her his story, and what happened after the war? "My name is Satan. Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too! That's a pretty cool name. Interesting for sure." She wrote.

"I don't want to scare you away, but I want to make this clear as to not deceive you." He wanted to tell her the truth. He felt like she deserved to know. After all, he had always felt like she was supposed to be in his place. She even wrote in green.

"Oh, tell away then. I'm all ears. I won't judge, unless you're about to confess some sort of sin to me!" She wrote, most likely jokingly. That made him a little nervous at first, but he continued with the original plan anyways. Maybe this was his way of healing, somehow. He felt better after getting everything out. He told her almost everything. He omitted the part where Belphie murdered Mc. He didn't want to be the one to tell her, anyways. It felt wrong to tell her that her death had driven him to such an extreme. She stayed mostly silent, chiming in with a few questions and stray blots of ink on the pages near his writing, as if she was resting her pen on the page.

"I hope that wasn't too much to take in at once. Much has happened." Satan was still a nervous. He really hoped she wouldn't hate him. He was just the messenger. After all, without her, he wouldn't even exist.

"I won't lie, it was overwhelming at first. But, I'm happy to hear my brothers are doing well without me. It's comforting to know that they have you and Mc now." Lilith drew a little heart next to her message.

"Glad to hear. Sorry to leave so abruptly, but I agreed to meet Mc for an outing shortly, so I will see myself out." He wasn't lying. He had agreed to meet Mc, but it wasn't for another two hour.

"Alright. Have fun! Talk to you later." With that, everything she had said sunk into the page and left no trace behind.

"Goodbye." His words also disappeared. Just like that, their entire conversation was gone. He shut the book. He was glad she didn't object. He wasn't sure why he felt the need to leave early. He felt a little bad leaving her to stew in the information dump, if she actually existed beyond the book being open. Everything about the book confused him. Looking back at it, maybe he made a rash decision. Maybe he shouldn't have info dumped to her like that.

He decided to forget that for now to enjoy his time with Mc. They had an event to attend, and he had to get ready anyways. Later that night, he came back to the journal in order to study it. He opted not to talk to Lilith just yet. The sick feeling in his stomach had returned. Something was wrong with this journal, very wrong. It made no sense, even after chatting to her. She seemed sweet enough, but that wasn't enough to dispel that gross, nauseating feeling. He just couldn't place his finger on what. He felt as if he was losing his mind checking over and over again, for something, anything. But, he found absolutely nothing.

Eventually he got to the point where he was determining if he should burn it or not. He regretted even talking to her in the first place. He wasn't sure why, but he grew uneasy even having Mc in the same house as the journal. Somehow, it felt as if he was talking to someone else, as in not the Lilith who made the original entries. He placed the journal back on his desk, underneath his latest book finds, leaving to find Mc. He eventually found them by the door, putting their shoes on.

"Hey Satan. Good to see you!" They looked up at him.

"Hi, Mc. Where are you going?" He was relieved they were leaving the house.

"Purgatory Hall. I was invited over to play some games. Sol's idea." They began searching for their jacket. Satan noticed it hidden behind Lucifer's big overcoat. He grabbed it, and helped them put it on, thinking hard. "Aww thank you. You didn't have to do that." They beamed at him.

"I wanted to, it's no trouble." He paused for a moment, then continued. "Hey, do you think it's possible that I could come with you. I don't even have to play these games if that's an issue, I just want to be with you." He would feel even better if he was able to be with them, and get away from that journal for a while.

"Oh, of course! I'm sure they would love to have you. Besides, I've basically always got one of you brothers attached to me, they might find it weird if I showed up without one." Mc laughed. "I thought you were planning to read tonight, since I've been taking up almost all of your nights for the past week. Did something happen?" They seemed concerned, looking into his eyes.

"Thank you. Really, I can put off reading again. All time spent with you is precious. It's hard to be away from you, you should know. You're simply enchanting." He took their hand and spun them into his arms.

"Alright, if you say so! We should get going if we want to be on time. I can let them know if you need a little time to get ready?" Mc giggled, buying his excuse. They might have seen though him, but was glad they chose not to say anything.

"I just need my shoes and coat as well. I wouldn't want to hold you up, anyways." He only let Mc go in favor of getting ready. "You know, I'm honestly surprised you aren't already bringing Mammon or Asmo." He told them.

"Me too, actually. Asmo was busy, and Mammon was too distracted with his car repairs to pay attention to what I was saying earlier. I was almost held back by Belphie too. But, I'm here now and I get to spend this time with you." They stood beside him as he tied his shoes and shrugged on his jacket. As the two of them made their way to Purgatory Hall, Mc held his hand so tightly and gazed at him so tenderly, he was almost convinced they were the only thing in the world.

When they arrived, they had plenty of fun. Solomon had arranged a collection of games to play as a group that were randomly decided by drawing slips of paper. To nobody's surprise, Solomon and Mc ended up winning most of them because they were human games. Satan forgot all about the journal. That is, until, he received a phone call in the middle of one of their games. Mc was draped over him with their arms around his neck, also curious about who might be calling them at a time like this. It was Lucifer.

"I told them we were heading out. What could he need?" Mc reached for the phone but Satan stopped them.

"If the call is for me, it's probably to yell at me or something. I don't want you to be on the receiving end of that." Satan rolled his eyes, and brought the phone to his ear, planning to brush off anything he said. He was really only answering because Simeon was in the room, who would answer it for him.

"Come home. Now. You have explaining to do." Lucifer growled through the phone. At first, Satan wasn't worried. He got ominous calls from his older brother like this all the time.

"What is it?" He sighed. Mc laughed a little, causing him to smile. The others began to chat among themselves while he was on the phone. This was normal.

"You know exactly what this is about. On your desk in your room. Underneath three books. Your keys on the left. The pen you used on the right." Satan froze. The smile left his face. Lucifer always sounded serious, but this was one of the few times he sounded like he was about to rip his throat out. He had found the journal. Mc didn't hear what he said, somehow, but noticed his change in demeanor.

"What's the matter, 'Tan?" Mc brushed some hair off his forehead.

"Nothing, my love. Don't worry about it. It's the usual nonsense." He moved the phone away from his ear for the moment, and then back once he was done speaking.

"Let me speak to Mc. I want them home too. Now." The tone Lucifer used to dangerous. Satan knew that was unwise. He didn't know what his plan was, but he didn't trust him at all.

"No. I will come home, but I'm not bringing Mc. I will not needlessly involve them. This will stay between us." Satan began to grow angry. He couldn't help it. Typical Lucifer, complicating matters.

"If you don't come right now, I'll drag you both back personally." Satan knew he wasn't kidding. None of his threats were empty.

"Fine. Have it your way. We'll be home shortly." Satan hung up before Lucifer could respond. By now, the entire room was staring at him. He looked totally different than he had before. He was tense, his rage obvious.

"Are we leaving? What's the matter? Did something happen?" Mc looked at him, concerned.

"I'm heading home to take care of something, but you're staying here. I promise it's nothing serious." He lied through his teeth. He didn't know why Lucifer wanted Mc there, but he knew it couldn't be good. The journal was bad news, and they were involved in no way.

"Are you sure? Lucifer said he wanted me there, right? You know how good I am at sorting out issues in your family. I really don't mind, if that's the issues." They squeezed him a little. They were so caring. Too caring.

"I'm sure. I won't act out or anything. He's probably mad about chores or something. I wonder if Mammon sold his underwear while it was my turn to do laundry again." Satan smiled. They cracked a small smile back.

"Alright. Keep me updated. I'll be waiting for you." Mc pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing off of him.

"Simeon, before I go, can I have a quick word?" Simeon, who was comforting Luke, turned at the sound of his name.

"Of course." Simeon stood up, gesturing for Mc to take his seat next to Solomon. Luke was seated on the floor between them. Mc looked worried, but moved regardless. Solomon looked around the room, studying everyone's expressions. Simeon walked with Satan to the entry way. "What's the matter?" He asked, holding out Satan's coat for him.

"I want you to place a blessing on this building. Do not let any demon in under any circumstance. Including me. I don't care what they say. I don't have time to explain, but something is very wrong at the House of Lamentation and I don't want a single one of my brothers near Mc." He shoved his shoes on as he spoke. He hastily put on his jacket and turned to look at Simeon one last time.

"I don't know what could be wrong, but I trust you. Mc is safe in mine and Solomon's hands." Simeon let his hands fall to his sides, opening the door for Satan. He watched as he took off running in the opposite direction of the House of Lamentation. He could only stare and wait for him to be a good distance away, before shutting the door. He went back to the living room to find Mc hugging Luke, Solomon with a hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Solomon." Simeon said the sorcerer's name. He stood up and walked over to him. "Satan didn't tell me what the matter was, but I need you to do a quick check of the house to make sure nobody but us is in here. Satan requested I bless the house to keep his brothers out." The expression on both of their faces was grim.

"Of course." Solomon shut his eyes and waved his hand. Once he reopened them, Simeon knew he had completed the check. "Nobody but the four of us are here."

"Thank you. Normally I would ask Luke to help me perform the blessing, but I would prefer to leave him alone for now. Will you accompany me?" Solomon nodded. Simeon led him away, leaving the room together, leaving Mc and Luke along together on the sofa in the once full room.

"What's wrong, Mc?" Luke asked them. For once, they had no clue how to respond to the boy.

"I'm not sure. Simeon might know more, but for now, we just have to wait. In the meantime, do you wanna play some more of the games?" Mc hoped to take his mind of the ordeal.

"I don't really feel like it, sorry." He sighed, worried. He had always had concerns about Mc living with demons and them seemed to be coming to fruition.

"That's alright. Do you want to watching something maybe? Simeon made cookies that are cooling in the kitchen, right? We can get those." Mc tried again to get him in better spirits.

"Let's wait for Simeon and Solomon to get back. They might be worried if they return and we're gone." Luke admitted.

"Good point. I'll turn on a movie for now. What do you want to watch?" Mc got up, leaving Luke in their spot.

"Anything." He usually had more to say. Mc could tell Luke was very worried.

"Alright." Mc went through the various dvds Solomon had stored away near the tv. After finding one they liked, they put it on. The two of them watched this movie together since there was nothing better to do. Eventually, Simeon and Solomon returned with said cookies. Rather than sit on the free couch, they all sat together. They could all tell Luke was worried. The desserts remained untouched.

"I have a surprise that I think you'll like, Luke." Solomon spoke up. Luke picked up his head. "I was told that Mc could stay the night, so we can have a big sleepover together. Does that sound good?" Luke perked up.

"Oh, good. That sounds great! I don't want to send Mc back to those icky demons. Where are we sleeping?" Luke sounded excited, making the rest of the room smile.

“We can stay in my room.” Solomon watched as the little angel jumped out of the cuddle pile and ran to gather pillows and blankets.

“It’s nice to see him happy again. I honestly think he might be more concerned than me.” Mc sighed, reaching for a cookie.

“If we knew what was wrong, we would tell you. I just know Satan asked me to place a blessing on the house.” Simeon explains.

"I figured. It's fine. We just need to hope for the best..." Mc stares at the cookie, thinking about Satan and what he might be doing right now. They just hoped he was safe.

ty for putting up with me and not putting out anything for so long... and sorry for the cliffhanger lol. really wanted this out but a. not sure how much longer it will take and b. not sure what I want the ending to be yet! lol

part two soon hopefully sorry to anon for taking so long!!!!

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