#it’s a bunch of fluff you’ll love it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nereidprinc3ss · 2 days ago

Text

spring into summer

the highest highs and the lowest lows of your on-again off-again relationship with spencer reid, tracked through the seasons of a year.

18+ (smut, angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (spoiler tags at the bottom of post) reader gets drunk a few times, questionable consent (not between Spencer and reader), much codependence, softdom Spencer/sub reader, oral m receiving, finger sucking lol, deep pen piv/intense sex, mention of marks being left, praise tho dw he is soso nice and loves her, fighting/yelling/sex as reconciliation, general toxicity and lots of it DDDNE!! avoidant!reader, panic attacks, joke abt r being high off cough syrup when she’s sick and Spencer is taking care of her, implied trauma, IM MAKING IT SOUND CRAZY BUT THERE IS A LOT OF STRAIGHT UP FLUFF IN HERE GUYS PLS THEY ARE SO CUTE A BUNCH OF TIMES. wc 23k (!) longest nereid fic ever!also had to squish 167 lines together so the first half is a bit compact I apologize!! a/n: yeaaaah…. Thanks for being patient w me guys :”)) I miss posting sosososo much and I out genuinely probably days into this fic like once I was writing for 15 hrs straight. So. Yeah. I so so hope u enjoy and I love u miss u MWAH

February 17th

You don’t know when you last blinked.

Flickering blue and white light washes deep into the backs of your eyes as you stare at some old film without watching it. A knight atop his steed warps and stretches gruesomely under your apathetic observation, and whatever noble speech he’s giving turns to monotone slurry before it hits your ears—old-fashioned English smeared in 1960’s transatlantia. A buzzy drone in iambic pentameter. The sluggish pound and gush, pound and gush, of a failing heart.

Spencer said you’d love this movie.

“You okay?”

The question draws you from your fugue state, and you turn, eyes so dry they sting when you finally blink. He’s comfortable. You’ve been here for hours—enough time for his hair to tousle, enough time he decided to trade his contacts for glasses. When you look at him, there is only static.

You must be having one of those nights again. Something in your body refuses to succumb to the comfort his presence should offer, regardless of how many hours you’ve spent together. Or days, or months.

It’s awful because you fought to be here, sitting on his couch, sharing a blanket. You fought every instinct in your body for so long just to get to this point because you wanted it so badly, and now that you have it—now that you’ve had it, this weekend, and last weekend, and every weekend you haven’t been out of town on a case for months—you struggle to let it feel good.

Spencer is looking at you like he loves you. He doesn’t know how to look at you any other way.

Sometimes you don’t feel like this. Sometimes it’s easy.

That doesn’t make the guilt in the pit of your stomach any smaller when it’s not.

The only thing you know is that you’ll want it again. This is what you’ll want tomorrow morning, or in an hour, or the second he’s gone. You’ll want it so badly you’d humiliate yourself for it. And humiliation in front of him is a fate worse than death. So you find ways to want him in the present.

This is the right thing.

“I’m fine,” you promise. His brow flickers. The knight’s shining armor makes a glare off the lenses of Spencer’s glasses.

Before he can say anything, you lean into his side, dropping your head to his shoulder and settling your weight against him. Immediately he’s wrapping an arm around you like you knew he would, because he doesn’t have a choice. Not when it comes to you. You don’t give yourself time to feel bad about that. Instead, you press your lips to the bit of collarbone visible over the neckline of his shirt. A series of kisses litter the warmth of his throat. You take and take like an invasive species. A hand pushes into his hair.

There’s hesitance in the way he kisses you back as you sling a leg over his lap. So you take more. You kiss him harder. You need his hands on you, you need him to hold you by your thighs or your hips or your waist like he’s not afraid. At least one of you mustn’t be so scared.

Spencer only requires a few more moments before his will melts, and he grabs you how you knew he would. Like he’s going to make something of you. He’s going to make you his. He’s going to break you and put you back together stronger, and he’s going to tell you what you are. That’s all you need—you just need him to keep trying. This is a promise you need him to keep making.

“Pause the movie,” you breathe into his waiting mouth.

He’s warm. He keeps you safe.

March 9th

The heat in your apartment kicks on with a rumble that seems to shake the whole place. It’s the first noise in minutes.

Spencer is at your little wooden dining table, hair mussed, pajama pants rumpled, staring into a chipped mug half-full of black coffee. You stand in the kitchen, countertop digging into your hip as you watch him. Outside, the sky is still spilled winter ink. The only light comes from a lamp you’d bought with him months ago at an antique shop. The stove clock flicks from 1:31 to 1:32.

The ringing silence is killing you.

“Spencer—”

“I—” he stops and you watch his throat bob. “I don’t understand—”

“I explained it to you—”

“You explained what? That you—you don’t care about me as much as I care about you, and you want to be together, but you don’t want me to think of it as a real relationship, and you’re letting me know out of courtesy? What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Don’t twist my words. I do care about you. A lot. I just—when we started this a few months ago you knew where I was at with commitment, and we agreed we’d be honest and communicate about what we were feeling—and what I’m feeling is that I’m not ready for this to be more than what it is! You knew that was a possibility, I knew that was a possibility. It doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. It just means I’m not ready for… for labels, or telling the team, or—or putting pressure on ourselves to try and be something we don’t have the time to be right now.”

Spencer looks at you with something close to disdain. It’s sort of like a bullet to a flack-jacket—it won’t kill you, because you’ve made sure to protect yourself. But it hurts.

“I make the time. That’s what you do when you care about someone. I mean—where am I, when we’re not on a case? I’m here. I coordinate my entire life so that I can be here when you want me to be. Do you think I do that because it’s convenient for me? We have the same 24 hours. We have the same job. It’s not about time. Don’t insult me by saying that’s what this is.”

“I’m not trying to insult you.” The words come out an unsure waver—but it’s not because you don’t believe what you’re saying.

I coordinate my entire life so that I can be here when you want me to be.

Why? Why would he do that?

Spencer is not gracious in the face of your silence. Maybe he interprets your inability to put words together—the way you froze as soon as he casually admitted something that feels so oppressive and suffocating—I coordinate my entire life so that I can be here when you want me to be—as your silent way of admitting he’s right, and you don’t care about him.

But he’s not right. You just can’t breathe. Why does he care about you so much?

Someone would have to be looking very closely at you in order to care that much. To think you’re worth the trouble. But you’ve taken steps, your whole life, to ensure that nobody will ever be able to see you close enough. If they did, they’d notice all the structural flaws. The deep cracks and the sagging floorboards and the mold you’ve been covering in paint.

You feel your throat closing as he stands.

Yes. Leave. Get out. Don’t look at me.

March 13th

“Spencer.”

The name drips from your lips like melted sugar. Like a term of endearment. Just saying it makes you warmer. It’s maple syrup in your veins. You try to tug your dress down your thighs and stumble in place. The bartender holding your phone twists his wrist to speak into the microphone.

“Hey, man. Your girlfriend is wasted. Cabs aren’t running and you need to come pick her up before she throws up all over my bar or wanders into traffic or some shit.”

“I’m not—I’m not wasted,” you mutter, pushing hair out of your face. Neither of them are listening as the bartender relays your location and assures Spencer that an eye will be kept on you until his arrival. As soon as they’re done, you’re leaning forward over the bar. “Gimme him,” you whisper-shout, making a grabby-hand.

The bartender passes you your phone with raised eyebrows. “He’ll be here soon.”

“But he’s—he’s not on the phone?” You realize, closing your eyes and frowning as the heartbreak processes.

“Nah. Drink this and sit tight. And don’t fuckin’ throw up. Please.”

You sigh and sip on a lemon water, smearing lipgloss all over the rim of the glass and wiping a dribble off your chin after you swallow. “Spencer’s my boyfriend,” you tell the man, dreamily.

“So you’ve told me.”

“He’s so handsome… and smart… and we’re in the—the FBI. Can you believe that?” You cackle and slap the bar top. Mr. Bartender only hums an uh-huh as he focuses on making someone else a drink.

When Spencer does finally arrive, you’re elated. Glitter courses through your veins. More than that, you’re relieved—you catch his eye and light up, and when he makes his way through the throng to you, you’re ready to melt all over him. You haven’t spoken to him in days.

“You’re here!” You sing, hooking an arm around his back and resting your head on his bicep, looking up at him with big, bleary eyes. Spencer supports you with an arm and doesn’t let go even as he’s fishing out his wallet to settle the bill you racked up. “Wait, Spence—we should have one more drink.”

He’s not looking at you as he speaks. “Absolutely not.” And then, to the bartender, “Thanks, man.”

“Spencer,” you begin again, savoring his name on your tongue and admiring his profile as he walks you out of the bar. “I told everyone I met tonight that you’re my boyfriend.”

“I heard,” he says simply, scanning the street before you cross. Presumably the wind is whipping at your bare legs, but you don’t feel it. “Why’d you do that?”

“Because…” you hum thoughtfully. “Because I like you so much. And I liked thinking about you being my boyfriend.”

He doesn’t respond. Even now, even drunk as you are—a very small part of you knows this is cruel. Just last weekend you’d let him walk out of your apartment precisely because you weren’t willing to label things.

In the morning, that will still be true. But this is just play-pretend.

“Also, because—isn’t it—isn’t it crazy, that you’re the nicest, prettiest, smartest, best guy ever, and they believed me? I showed them pictures and told them about your degrees and everything and they still believed me. They believed—they believed when I said you’re my boyfriend. They didn’t even question it at all. Like, what? They thought I was good enough to deserve you.”

The sidelong glance he casts you then is like a grappling hook, and you stumble into his side. His brows are knit over eyes that have gone glassy black in the dark, illuminated only by the shifting reflection of each haloed street lamp you pass. It’s hypnotizing. “You think you’re not good enough for me?” He asks.

You hiccup and clap a hand to your mouth, stickying your palm with remnant gloss. “Oops. No. I mean, yes.”

He’s on the verge of replying when the smell of something fried and sweet has you perking up like a bloodhound. A blinking neon sign behind him catches your eye. “Oh my god,” you interrupt. “They’re—holy fuck, Spencer. That donut shop across the street—oh my god. We have to go. Please? Pleasepleasepleaseplease?”

One thing about Spencer you know to be true—and, perhaps the characteristic of his that defines your entire relationship: he has a profoundly difficult time telling you no.

Which is how you end up eating donuts in his bed. The ones you couldn’t finish end up in a paper bag on his bedside table—tomorrow’s hangover remedy—and you end up safely tucked under his comforter, in his shirt, smelling of his bodywash. His touch still burns everywhere, like the paths of his fingertips had etched glowing tributaries into your skin.

All of this to say, you couldn’t possibly be happier with the way the night unfolded.

It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the complete black of the room after he flips the bathroom light off on his way out, but you manage to track him nonetheless. You relish in the familiar dip of the mattress under his weight, the careful tug of the blanket as he gets in bed with you. As he pulls you into him, without hesitation, it’s like ecstasy. Everything is okay again.

It doesn’t take long for you to get close to sleep—it’s been days since you’ve been able to. Just before you go under, Spencer secures you to him. He presses his lips to your temple.

“I love you,” you mumble. You want to say it before you can’t.

He strokes your hip. And then you’re gone.

March 26th

“Did you mean it?”

You look up from the transcripts you’d been studying—the latest victims both had behavioral issues at school. Spencer is across from you, on the other end of the big glass conference table at the Memphis field office. Binders and notebooks and thick Manila folders form a sort of abstract frame around him as he leans back in his chair, gripping the plastic arms. His eyes are laser-focused on you. How long has he been staring at you, thinking about this?

“Did I mean what?”

“When you said you loved me.”

The door is closed and the blinds are shut. You almost wish this were more public so you could reasonably (and urgently) change the subject. Instead, you laugh awkwardly and cast your gaze sideways as if something in your peripheral vision could save you. “When did I say that?”

It is very clearly the wrong question to have asked. Spencer blinks and looks down through the table at nothing, brows knitting slightly like he’s accounting for new information and adjusting his frameworks accordingly. You swallow. The trouble is, you remember saying it with perfect clarity. You’d just been hoping he would let you off the hook for it.

“Okay,” he says, after a few eternal moments with only someone’s ringing landline in the office beyond to bridge the gap of silence.

“… Okay what?”

He picks up his pencil without making eye contact. Twirls it between nimble fingers. Pulls his chair close to the table like he’s going to settle back into his work. There are times where he is capable of immersing himself in whatever he’s reading completely and immediately, but you know this is not one of those times. The petulant flash of his eyebrows, the chin balanced on his fist to hide his mouth. And that perpetually tapping pencil. For all his genius and every one of his quirks, you know he can’t focus on reading and fiddle at the same time. You’re not a profiler for nothing.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

The immediacy of it is almost enough to have you wincing.

“I… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I asked you a question and you didn’t know what I was talking about, so it’s fine.”

“But you’re obviously upset.”

“I’m not obviously anything. You’re reading into it.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh my god. Says you.”

The pencil hits the table—as does the other hand. Spencer sits up straight and looks you right in the eye. Uh oh.

“You responded to my question with another question to avoid giving me a real answer because you think I won’t like what you have to say. Am I wrong?”

Your face goes hot as your mouth opens and closes uselessly a few times. A moment passes and you hate watching that vindication, that hurt, freezing him over, more solid with each second you don’t speak. Mostly you hate that feeling in your throat—it’s either bile or the truth. You’re not sure which one will come out when you open your mouth. But you have to try. He’s backed you into a corner. You swallow.

“Yeah. Yeah, actually, you are.”

Spencer blinks. “Oh.”

“Oh,” you huff mockingly, averting your eyes to the paper in front of you and strangling your pen as your cheeks positively burn.

More buzzing silence.

“Sorry,” Spencer tries, having softened considerably and now obviously remorseful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean… I’m sorry. You don’t have to… say anything before you’re ready. I shouldn’t have pushed.”

Still avoiding his gaze, you hum. It’s a manic, anxious sort of sound. The nail of your thumb wears away between your teeth before you switch to picking at the dead skin on your lip. Your foot bounces as you read the name of the victim over and over again, just to have something to do. Kelly Shelton. Kelly Shelton.

You don’t realize he’s rolled his chair over to you until there’s a gentle hand around your wrist.

“Stop,” he murmurs, not letting go even when you look at him indignantly. He produces chapstick from his pocket, because of course he does, and presses it into your palm. His eyes are so big and so brown and so warm, almost calf-like, that it’s very difficult to stay mad. “I’m sorry. That was unfair of me.”

“Yeah. It was.” You drop your eyes to where you’re fiddling with the lip balm. His hand still rests over your wrist. If he won’t let you pick at your lips, you’re at least going to chew on them—especially with the concession you’re about to make. “But… I mean… you held out for a while. I guess I’d probably be curious too.”

“So you do remember saying it.”

You look up at him with eyes that you hope effectively say don’t push your luck. At this, he has the audacity to smile—something smitten and stupid and cute. God, he really is easy on the eyes.

“If you tell anyone, you’re dead,” you warn, but it comes out all wrong when you’re fighting back a twisty grin of your own. “And they’ll never know it was me.”

“Noted.”

“Because I could really get away with it. Like, really. I know exactly how to throw off an investigation.”

“Easy, tiger. Put that on. I’m going to get you some water so maybe you’ll stop dessicating your lips.”

“Why are you so worried about my lips?” You ask his retreating back.

Spencer barely looks over his shoulder as he clicks his tongue, like you should already know. “Vested interest.”

You slink low into your seat and try not to be flustered.

April 15th

“That tastes like lawn clippings.”

You laugh at the face Spencer is pulling as he lets your gelato melt on his tongue. “No it does not! It’s so good! You seriously don’t like matcha?”

“Matcha is fine.” He points at your cup with his dinky wooden spoon. “That is grass.”

It’s the first warm night of spring, and you and Spencer weren’t the only ones who had an itch to get out of the house. Bars and restaurants have set up their sidewalk seating. Food trucks seem to dot every corner, and on this street alone there have got to be nearing a hundred people, milling about or seated, all talking and laughing. The two of you are ambling back toward his apartment. Efficiency has not been a priority of the journey.

“The lady said it’s one of their most popular ice cream flavors. It wouldn’t sell if it actually tasted like grass. You’re just delusional.”

“Not ice cream.”

You frown and suck on the wooden end of your spoon, looking up at him through narrow eyes. His hair is getting long. “What?”

“It’s not ice cream. Gelato and ice cream are fundamentally different.”

“How?”

“Gelato uses more milk, less cream, and usually doesn’t contain eggs. It’s also meant to be served at a warmer temperature. And they have entirely different regional origins. Thus, not ice cream. If your opinion is going to be wrong, you should at least try to get the facts right.”

Spencer is smiling at his cup when you shove against him. “If mine is so bad, let me try yours.”

“No,” he laughs, eating another pitifully small spoonful. “Because I know if you try mine, you’re going to realize it’s better, and then we’ll have to go back.”

“That is not going to happen. Just let me try! Please? I let you try mine!”

“Forced me to,” he mutters, smile still pulling at the corners of his mouth as he slows to a stop in front of a mostly-budded spindly tree. You stand toe to toe on the sidewalk as he scoops a bite for you and holds out the spoon. As soon as you lean forward to taste it, you realize he was completely right. His is infinitely better than yours. Spencer’s lips twist and his eyes sparkle at this recognition, and you’re pissed it’s so visible on your face.

“You’re making me go back, aren’t you?”

“… No. Yours isn’t even good.”

“Oh my god,” he laughs. “Come on.”

“Mm… okay.”

You turn around, and immediately freeze. There, at the edge of the crowd of food-truck goers, you see a distinctly colorful and familiar silhouette. Penelope Garcia is facing away from you, but even from the back you’d never mistake her for someone else. Those metallic green platform heels had very nearly crushed your toes in the elevator just this afternoon.

“We need to go.”

Spencer frowns when you turn right back around and he has to take a few quick steps to catch up when you feel no qualms about leaving him in the dust. “What? What happened?” He asks, craning his head to scan the crowd shrinking behind you. “Is that Penelope?”

“And Kevin,” you agree.

“Oh. You don’t want to say hi?”

At first you think he’s joking. But when you feel his eyes on the side of your face for a moment too long, you meet his questioning gaze. “No, I don’t wanna say hi.”

A familiar pause. The one that always comes right before he starts a fight with you. “You don’t want them to see us together?”

You sigh. “I—no. You know I don’t want the team to know yet. And if Garcia finds out, it’s gonna be the whole team. They’ll just… they’ll make it weird.”

“I think you’re making it weird right now. We’re allowed to spend time together outside of work. I sincerely doubt that if they had seen us back there Penelope’s first assumption would be that we’re together.”

We’re not, you want to say—but you bite it back. Because, even if not by name, in effect you are. The only reason to remind him of that at this point would be to hurt his feelings. And you’re not cruel. Or at least—you don’t try to be.

“I just—I’m not ready for that.”

“We wouldn’t have to tell anyone.”

“Can we please just drop it?”

You didn’t mean to snap. Luckily your brisk pace has taken you far enough away that the ambient sounds of the city will surely muffle your voices before they reach your coworkers.

Spencer is silent. Your gelato hits the bottom of a nearby trash can.

Back at his apartment, things remain slightly tense. You don’t like it—his reticence, the physical distance he maintains.

Spencer’s getting water in the kitchen when you wordlessly excuse yourself to his bedroom. A few minutes later, you emerge, padding quietly across the antique tile, and he turns around—eyes shamelessly scanning you up and down as he notes your lack of shoes. And pants, probably.

“I thought you were planning on going home for the night.” He sets the glass down on the counter when you don’t stop coming.

“Don’t feel like driving.” You wrap your arms around his middle and rest your cheek against his chest. “Can I stay?”

He’s quiet a moment. You don’t always reward him with overt, unapologetic affection like this. Especially not after the recurring what are we argument. “You know you can.”

“Thanks.”

After one more moment of hesitation, or reluctance, or something—his arms snake around you. You relax further into him, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m sorry about earlier. With Penelope.”

The thrum of his heart could lull you to sleep.

“Me, too,” he murmurs—and there is something like grief laced into the words. You pretend not to notice.

April 29th

“Sorry I’m late. Crash on the beltway,” you breathe as you blow into the roundtable room one morning, tossing your bag on the table and falling into a seat.

JJ nods, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, yeah. Spence got delayed, too. Maybe it was the same one.”

You clear your throat and focus on flipping open a file. “Yeah. Maybe.”

Spencer is holding back a grin so bright that you can practically hear the crystalline twinkling as it fights to be freed.

Later, you corner him by the coffee machine.

“You have to stop doing that,” you mumble.

He’s leaning against the counter, one hand in his suit pocket—your favorite suit of his—as he watches you smugly from behind his cup. “Doing what?”

The look you give him then could boil water. He maintains his innocence.

“Are you accusing me of something?”

“Yeah, asshat. Making us late,” you hiss, only after a proprietary scan to make sure nobody’s standing close enough to hear.

“Friday is statistically the most dangerous day of the week on the beltway in terms of vehicular collisions. But there’s nothing I can do about that. You look nice today, by the way. Had a good morning?”

The audacity on him. Your face burns as you try to think of a retort, but all the signals have been intercepted—playing clips from your rather leisurely morning in a hazy highlight reel that is most certainly not appropriate for the work place. But he doesn’t let you flounder for long. Instead, he’s pushing off the counter and standing too close, just barely resting a hand on the small of your back as he reaches up to grab your mug from a shelf and you try not get dizzy from the proximity.

“I’ll bring the coffee to you, sweetheart. Go sit down.”

The words, the gesture, are all too subtle for anyone else to notice. They turn you into a puddle of idiot. He’s never called you sweetheart. He’s never condescended to you like that before. You’re pretty sure you’re not supposed to like it so much.

A few minutes later, the mug hits your desk. With ten words, he’d reduced you down to something shy and nervous, and you look up at him as he slides the coffee toward you like he might do something else crazy and unreasonably attractive. “Thanks,” you murmur, accepting the drink and exerting excessive willpower in order to turn your attention back to the computer screen.

Rossi calls from the catwalk. “You do deliveries now? Fantastic. I’ll take a cappuccino.”

“Yeah. I’ll get right on that,” Spencer mumbles, and makes a beeline for his desk. You hope his face is red. Serves him right.

The rest of the day, you’re almost… clingy. At lunch, you silently slide your chair over to his and begin eating without a word. It’s not like you have anything to say, really. You just crave the comfort of his knee against yours. When he fleetingly rests his hand on your thigh under the desk, for the briefest of moments, you’re far too pleased.

Soon, JJ joins you, and then Penelope. But you don’t mind. Sometimes the nature of your relationship with Spencer and the secrecy of it all is a major source of stress for you—but today, it feels more like an alliance. Something special between the two of you that nobody else gets to share in.

You keep casting glances at him, just for the pleasure of the view. Hoping he’ll be looking back. The third time you make eye contact, he shakes his head subtly and smiles down at his salad. You bite back a grin of your own, and try to focus on the story Penelope is telling. Sometimes, keeping secrets is fun.

May 3rd

When Garcia said the case was local, you didn’t think you’d know the final victim. You didn’t think you’d have to watch her die.

After the EMTs clear you, Spencer takes you to your apartment. You don’t speak a word the entire drive. Not in the parking lot, not in the lobby or the elevator or the hallway. You don’t speak in the bathroom when he quietly asks if you want help getting out of your bloodied clothes. Gently, tactfully, he coaxes a nod from you, and then he’s unbuttoning your shirt. It’s not your blood.

The shower is started. Do you want me to come with you?

Another shake of your head. He respects your wish for privacy, but leaves the bathroom door cracked. You’d never tell him how much you appreciate that.

After the shower, after you’re dressed, Spencer brings you tea and sits on the bed with you. At some point he changed from work clothes into pajamas he’d left here, even though he didn’t ask if he could sleep over. You’re grateful. Maybe he noticed that you’d left all the lights off, and he doesn’t try to turn them on. You’re grateful for that, too.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now. But we can, okay? We can talk about it whenever you’re ready.”

Another morose nod. You stare into the amber depths of your tea. Not now. Not tonight. Maybe not ever.

“I just wanna go to bed,” you whisper. All the screaming has shredded your throat. The words come out like rice paper.

Spencer holds you until the room fills with milky grey dawn light. And though neither of you are speaking, he doesn’t fall asleep. You can tell from his breathing that he’s staying awake for you.

You’re supposed to take a week off, at the least. This is not something you want. Being alone for eight hours a day sounds like it’ll be the opposite of helpful—but so what. You can handle it. When Spencer calls to tell you there’s a case—that’s when the panic starts to well.

You pick at your lip, and then when you remember how he’d scold you for it, switch to pulling a loose thread on your sock, phone poised in your free hand. “I’ll come in.”

“You can’t,” he says, voice tinny through the speaker. “You cannot be in the field right now. You know that.”

You sit up a little straighter, nails biting into the skin of your ankle. “What am I supposed to do—just—just rot here for however fucking long you’re—you guys are gone?”

Spencer sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t want you to be alone. I’m… I’m considering sitting this one out, too.”

Your blood goes cold. “Spencer.”

A beat. “What?”

“You’re not staying behind for me.”

“I’m—”

“No. That’s not—that’s not what this is. That’s not what we do. You’re going to go do your job, and I’m going to stay here.”

“You just said—”

“I don’t care what I said! You’re not putting me ahead of the job! You’re not staying behind to check up on me. I’m an adult.”

“You don’t need to lash out. I’m just worried about you.”

“Worry about doing your fucking job. And don’t call while you’re gone.”

You hang up and throw your phone at the end of the couch.

Spencer gets home at the end of the week to find his apartment broken into. The first clue was that the culprit forgot to lock the door after they used their key. The second and third clues were haphazardly untied and dropped in the middle of the living room.

He finds you in the dark, curled up on his side of the bed under the blanket. Spencer drops his bag and rounds the bed to you, sitting on the edge and carefully taking your head into his lap, where, as if on cue, you begin to cry. For a long while, he doesn’t say anything—only pushes your hair out of your face with a gentle hand and fruitlessly wipes away tears. You’re not sure you’ve ever cried like this in front of him.

Eventually, you try to breathe, pushing the heel of your palm into your eye as if you could forcibly hold the tears in. “I c-can’t believe that she’s gone,” you gasp.

“I know, honey,” Spencer murmurs. “I’m so sorry.”

You sob harder. “It sounds so s-stupid, but I can’t—I don’t underst-stand how she’s dead! I saw her last week!”

“It’s not stupid. Human brains struggle with loss because we constantly function under the assumption that people are still there even when we can’t see them. Your brain is trying to contend with two incompatible realities, and it’s exhausting, and it hurts a lot. I know it does, angel.”

“I just—I saw it happen—I haven’t slept, because—” A cleaving cry pushes through your sentence, cutting you off. The air in the room is vacuous around your grief.

“I know,” Spencer whispers again. His voice is so tender it bruises more than it breaks. “I know. I wish you hadn’t. I’m sorry.”

The fact that you went days without talking or even exchanging a text goes unmentioned. Your outburst goes unmentioned. Still, Spencer wishes you had told him what was going on sooner. He would’ve come back in a heartbeat. You wish that, too.

May 20th

Spencer is sick. Over the phone he insists that you don’t come over. So you show up at his door and use your key. What is he going to do? Get up from the sofa and physically remove you? Not likely, in his state.

As soon as you enter the apartment, you see his head poke up from the couch. Then he groans, hoarse and congested, and drops back down. “I told you to stay away. I’m still contagious.”

“I brought you three kinds of soup,” you say, completely ignoring his bid to send you away as you breeze into the living room and sit on the coffee table across from him, paper bag in tow. “But I think you should start with this one. It’s chicken noodle with garlic, ginger, and turmeric.”

“Anti-inflammatories.”

You give him a dazzling smile. “Exactly. So you’ll get better quicker. I looked it up.” Spencer smiles at this too. Despite the sallow skin and the darker-dark circles, the brilliance of it still has the ability to fluster you—so you move right along. “Um—I also got—I brought honey-herb cough drops, like the ones you keep in your desk. Oh! And this immune-boosting tea. I don’t know if it works, but it sounded good. And… I brought you orange juice for vitamin C—and, okay—you don’t have to try this, but it’s one of those, like, immune-boosting shots? It’s just a tiny little bottle of ginger and turmeric juice, I think. It’ll probably taste bad. But I got one for me, too, so we can take them in solidarity. And maybe then I won’t get sick.”

Spencer just watches you for a moment. You smile awkwardly and pick at a thread on your jeans. “Sorry, I know this is a lot. Sorry if I overdid it. I can go, if you want—I just wanted to make sure you had—”

“Stop. This is amazing. You’re genuinely like an angel. Thank you.” Spencer reaches out and sets a hand on your thigh. The idea that he wants to show you affection but doesn’t want to risk your health is so endearing that you can’t help yourself—you slide to your knees in front of the couch and wrap your arms around him best you can. He chuckles and hooks an arm around your back, rubbing a few short lines over your shirt.

After a moment you pull back, and press a fleeting kiss to his warm forehead—but you stay kneeling in front of him for a bit longer. Unwisely close, most likely. His eyes are bleary, glazed with illness and watercolor soft on you.

“What are you gonna tell the team if you get sick?” he murmurs, gaze tracing your face in gentle lines.

You hum, wrapping your hand around his forearm. “We were doing mouth to mouth resuscitation?”

Turns out the immunity shots were a gimmick, because the next week, you’re sick as a dog. The team doesn’t ask any questions—it’s completely reasonable that Spencer could’ve infected you without getting his spit in your mouth.

“Guess what?” You ask from his couch as soon as he opens the front door, making a beeline for the kitchen to set down his groceries.

“What?”

“Penelope called me today asking why I wasn’t home. Apparently after work she stopped by to bring me soup. I told her I was at the doctor’s, and she was like, at six PM? And I was like, yeah, she’s a weird naturopathic doctor, and then she started naming all the naturopathic doctors she knows.”

“Technically you are at the doctor’s,” Spencer reminds you as he comes to sit on the coffee table, much like you’d done last week. “You still sound congested. Are you feeling any better?”

You lean into his touch when he checks your temperature with a cool hand to your forehead. “A little, maybe.”

Spencer frowns as he brushes his thumb across your febrile cheek, sporting that little worried line between his brows that you find so cute. “You’re not coughing. Have you been taking that cold medicine?”

“Plenty.”

A slow smile blooms on his face in spite of the concern. “Oh. So you’re high.”

“No!” You giggle, though you’re definitely a little loopy. “And hey—even if I was, that’s medical malpractice on your part. One, you should never share prescriptions, and two, you should never let the patient administer her own doses when she’s really sleepy and out of it.”

Spencer lets you grab his hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “Can’t leave you alone for even a day,” he scolds through a grin that oozes affection.

“You know what would make me feel better, Dr. Reid?”

“What?”

“A kiss.”

“Can’t risk it. The virus could have mutated. It might reinfect me.”

“It wouldn’t do that to me,” you promise. Spencer smiles even wider, squeezes your hand tighter.

“Yeah? Why not?”

“Because we go way back. Like to last week when you got sick.”

“Right. You’re getting cut off the cough syrup, Typhoid Mary.” At that he tries to get up, presumably to go make you dinner—but you refuse to let go of his hand.

“Hey, wait.”

Spencer, now standing and still holding your hand, looks down at you expectantly. Your head lolls on the pillow as you blink up at him. “Love you.”

He smiles, softer now, and kisses your wrist, right where the feverish blood flows closest to the surface. “I love you.”

After that, it’s hard to feel too bad.

June 6th

“Can you slow down?” Spencer follows you into the bedroom where you immediately begin yanking open drawers and shoving clothes into your duffel bag.

“No, because you’re going to try and fix it, and I already told you I don’t want—”

“Jesus Christ—I’m asking you to stop for one fucking second so we can talk about this.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But I do. There are two of us in this relationship, and I want to talk about it.”

“And I just said I don’t.” Half the clothes you’ve accrued here are on his floor because they wouldn’t fit into the bag. Both of you stomp carelessly over them toward the bathroom. You’re grabbing products at blind from the medicine cabinet.

“You are unbelievable. How many more times are you going to do this? How many times are we going to break up because you—”

You whip around, brandishing a toothbrush. “We’re not breaking up. We’ve never broken up because we have never been together. That’s the fucking problem—you always think everything means more than it does. You’re obsessive and clingy and smothering and so fucking exhausting to be around. If you want to talk about it, there. That’s why this is happening.” You shove past him and he tails you down the hall.

“You’re pathetic,” he calls. “Truly. This is pathetic.”

“Stop talking to me.”

“You know what your problem is? You know why we keep doing this? You’re a coward.”

“Oh my god. Great, yeah, this again. Let’s have this conversation again, please.”

“If you don’t like it maybe you should fucking listen to me this time!”

The yell rings. It might be hard for the average person to get him this angry. To you, it comes naturally. It comes like switching the shower water from hot to room temperature, washing cool down your neck and shoulders.

“Goodbye.” You’re making for the door, and you get so far as to open it—but then, Spencer has his hand in a vice grip around your wrist, and he’s slamming the door shut. You startle, almost jumping back into him and then whirling around. He’s so close you can see the freckle in his iris. “What the fuck is your problem?” you shout—when he goes low, you go lower. “Let go.”

“I am not going to keep doing this with you,” he breathes, and his eyes are so dark, so full of gravity and swirling with anger—that for the first time, you actually sort of believe him. “I will say this one last time.” Your heart is pounding as his tongue darts over his lips. You’re frozen. Battered silence hangs all around, waiting to be broken and put back together for the umpteenth time this week. But he keeps his voice low. “I have been patient with you. You were taught that the people closest to you are going to let you down and hurt you. It is not your fault that those lessons are biologically ingrained into your nervous system. I understand that sometimes it doesn’t feel safe to let someone in, and you’re just doing what you think you have to do. But you are an adult. I’m done letting you use me as a scapegoat for your own attachment issues. I love you, and I care about you, and I’m never going to punish you for caring about me. I’m not going to hurt you for it, ever. But I am not your doormat. So I need you to understand that the smokescreens and the manipulation tactics are not going to work anymore. If you leave, it’s going to be because you are afraid. Not because I’m clingy or obsessive or exhausting to be around. You’re going to take accountability for what this is.”

Your wrist flexes in his hold. The words are like searing fire in your veins, in your whole body—burning you clean from the inside out. This is the worst thing he could have said to you. The worst thing he could’ve done while he made you look into his eyes like this. You’d rather be stabbed. If you could, you’d play dead. But you have a terrible feeling that he’s ready to stand here, watching you, for hours. For as long as it takes you to move again.

“You need to let go of me,” you whisper.

And he does. For a moment, you stand there, afraid to move, watching him wearily like he’s going to grab you and drag you deeper into some cave—somewhere he can wrap you in a web and keep you there to poke at forever. But he doesn’t. Not when your fingers twitch at the doorknob. Not when you twist it open. Nobody chases you down the hallway.

He simply lets you go.

June 11th

The team doesn’t know about your most recent split with Spencer. They never do. No matter how many times it happens, no matter how many brutal arguments you get into, no matter how many disgusting things are said, no matter how many of his dishes you shatter—always, without fail, the two of you will go to work the next morning, stand peaceably next to each other in the elevator, and your coworkers will remain none the wiser. How could they possibly suspect a breakup when they never knew you were together?

It makes you feel insane. It’s like the relationship is a shared hallucination, and the only person who’d assure you that you you’re not going crazy is the one person you don’t want to talk to. And, of course, it puts you into situations like this. You and Spencer have been tasked with going to the medical examiner. Just the two of you. Aside from the hum of the wheels spinning against the wide road and the purr of the engine, the SUV is silent.

“Take a left up here,” Spencer eventually says.

You shoot him an irritated glance from the driver’s seat that he does not reciprocate. “The GPS is on, Reid.”

“Yeah, but you have it on silent. You keep missing turns. It’s rerouted three times.”

You grimace, glancing between the road and the mapping system several times. “Wh—and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Spencer doesn’t respond. It’s probably for the best.

Fifteen minutes later, car doors are slamming in almost-unison. LA is hot today—white sunlight bleaches the sidewalk and beams off the shiny car in death rays. You flip your sunglasses down over your eyes and breathe in the wind coming off the ocean, ruffling the towering palm trees and your shirt. You don’t wait for Spencer. All you can think about when you look at him is what he’d said to you against his door—how he’d laid out the truth bare and in turn made you feel stripped and humiliated. Little more than a specimen, belly up, for him to sink his scalpel into.

“Hold on,” he calls from behind. For decency’s sake, you do. After all, he is your co-worker. You don’t take your hand off the knob as you watch him coming up behind you in the door’s paned reflection against a wide, aggressively cerulean sky. He’s got sunglasses on, too—too many layers of glass between your eyes and his. You wait for him to speak. He takes his sweet time. “We need to be functional.”

“We are.”

“We need to be more functional. No more avoiding talking on the job.”

You open the door, baptizing yourself in the freezing rush of lobby AC. “That was a you problem. I would have vastly preferred if you hadn’t spent the first five minutes of the drive not telling me that I was going the wrong way.”

“I know,” Spencer agrees, holding the door open above your head. “Sorry. You’re just… kind of scary, sometimes.”

A probable understatement. The corner of your mouth twitches as you flash your badge to the receptionist, and she picks up the phone to alert the examiner of your arrival.

June 30th

The elevator door was sliding shut as you and JJ chatted about where the two of you were going for dinner—perhaps that new Mediterranean spot with the nice outdoor seating—and then, there was a hand. The door stopped and slid back open. Spencer clearly wasn’t anticipating that it’d be you and JJ, but only the briefest flash of hesitation is visible before he’s plastering on an awkward smile and stepping in.

“Oh, Spence! We were just talking about going out to dinner—do you have plans?”

You bite your tongue at JJ’s invitation and stare at the glowing panel of buttons. Spencer falters—you can feel his eyes on you.

“Uh—tonight’s not a great night for me, actually.”

“Are you sure? You cancelled on me last month. And the three of us haven’t gone out in a long time.”

That’s how you end up at a smooth wooden table in a stucco courtyard under a big blue umbrella, serenaded by the burbling of a central tiled fountain and some bouncy stringed instrument coming through a wall mounted speaker with JJ and Spencer. And then, because of course, JJ gets a call from Will—something about the kids throwing up—apologizes profusely, and then leaves. Leaves the two of you alone. Together. At a restaurant.

Silence hangs from the umbrella. You get impatient under the pressure of it. “Wow. We’re already having so much fun.”

The sarcasm does not go over Spencer’s head. “In my defense, I tried not to come.”

You sigh, cheek squished against fist and studying the way sunlight bounces off the splashing water as you slurp forlornly from a straw. “Not your fault.”

“Should we go?”

You turn your attention back to him, squinting and nibbling at the end of your straw. “I don’t know. We already ordered.”

“So… you wanna wait?”

A shrug. “It probably won’t be that long.”

And with that, a silent treaty is signed.

“You know,” you begin, fishing a strawberry from your glass, “JJ was right. I can’t remember the last time the three of us hung out.”

“September 24th.”

You nod. “Wow. So, like… eight months. We kind of suck.”

The reason you’d stopped going out as a group was as much the changing of seasons as it was the shifting in your dynamic with Spencer. Around that time you’d started to see him one on one a lot more. This truth goes clearly acknowledged, but unspoken, as he tracks a drip of condensation down your glass and then regards you with a cool sort of curiosity.

“Eight months is quite a while, huh?”

You eye him right back and lean down to your straw. “Basically forever.”

Later, easy chit-chat dots the short walk to your vehicle—it’s been hours, and you haven’t run out of things to say. You could keep going, you realize once you’re standing next to your car. A month without his company, and you’re brimming over with stories and anecdotes you’d been saving for him. He’s the first person you think about when you hear a funny joke or learn something new. That doesn’t just go away when if you’re not on good terms. It simmers. Waits for inevitable release.

The sky is a gorgeous cocktail of pink and purple and yellow. You tilt your head back and close your eyes, just briefly, breathing in, letting the setting sun soak through your skin.

“Beautiful,” you observe once your eyes flutter open again, tracing the wispy edges of rose-colored clouds.

“Very.”

You sigh, taking in just a bit more vitamin D—and then you’re looking back at Spencer. He’s already looking at you, gilded in the heavy aureate light. Studying, in that way of his.

“Are we good?” He asks, after a moment.

You blink. And then you offer him a small smile. “We’re good.”

July 13th

The trouble of being friends with Spencer is this: once you allow yourself a taste, no matter how small, no matter how innocent—you’re overcome with the desire to bite down. You want him between your teeth and on the back of your tongue. Messy, starving, gnashing, you don’t care. You want and want and want.

Victim number one of your relapse: the coat tree. It clatters to the ground and spills everything everywhere when Spencer stumbles against it, trying to walk backwards into the apartment after you blindly lock the door. Of course, he couldn’t see where he was going—he was too busy tracing the seam of your bottom lip with his tongue.

“Shit,” he breathes, nearly tripping again as winter coats and scarves, dormant for summer, wrap around his ankles and threaten to pull him down. You giggle breathlessly, slipping off your own shoes as he kicks at the heavy fabrics like they’re going to bite. Then he’s pulling you back into him, deeper into the apartment, tongues clashing. It’s been a long time, and he’s demanding. Not that you mind—not at all. Though, when he pulls you the opposite direction of his bedroom—toward his desk, in fact—you’re certainly confused.

“Bed?” You whisper against his mouth.

“Can’t. Rebinding books, they’re laid out on the bed while the glue dries.”

Okay. “Couch?”

Reluctantly, Spencer pulls away. You yelp in surprise when he grabs your hair and uses it as a handle to direct your attention toward the sofa. Also covered in books. It’s amazing, actually, the sheer volume of them when they’re not neatly tucked into the shelf. And he’s got them all memorized. You look back at him, a wave of renewed awe washing through your veins. He’s so fucking strange. You missed him awfully.

Pressing close enough is impossible, then, as you kiss him hard. There is a blatant, unapologetic hunger in his touch which completely ignores the border that the hem of your short dress presents, grabbing the back of your thigh in a bruising grip. Your breath catches against his mouth at the way his fingers dig into you like you’re wet clay and he knows best, he knows how to make you into something better, as the slow ache crawls up the back of your neck and furrows your brow. Spencer’s not afraid to touch you. He knows exactly how to make sure he’s got all your attention.

Nobody else has ever been able to do that. From other hands, when you’re forced to go begging for the cheap version of what you really want, it’s little more than untrained violence. Spencer knows how to make it feel righteous. Nobody is ever him. That hand comes to slide up the front of your thigh, thumb skimming the hem of your underwear while he dives back into your mouth and you let yourself be completely washed out in the riptide of his desperate affections. All that you’d been missing for months—you want it now. You want to show him how much you missed him.

“Spencer—” you gasp between kisses. He hums against your mouth, and you let your hand slide down his stomach to hook in his belt. “Spence, can I—please, baby—”

“You don’t have to beg me, honey. I’m gonna give you whatever you want.” Lips against your warm cheek, your forehead, as he lilts sweetly, breathily. “Anything.”

So you’re nodding, dizzy in your anticipation and your desire, wordlessly pleading for more of his mouth on yours while you take off a belt you’re intimately familiar with. The clinking metal wakes up a part of you that’s been asleep since the last time you’d had him like this. When you drop to your knees, he seems vaguely surprised, eyes soft and all love on you.

“Really?” he croons, hand already at your temple, already smoothing baby hairs. Already being the person you want him to be, because he’s been waiting, because it’s natural. Your nod, your eyes, the way your hands find his legs—it’s all enough for him. You get what you want.

The hardwood presses against your knees, shifting and squeaking beneath you. Spencer takes his time pushing your hair out of your face, gathering it between his fingers and holding it to the crown of your head with an impossible kind of tenderness as you move. He strokes your cheek, brushes his thumb feather-light over the soft line of your lashes, once, twice. The fabric of his trousers bunches in your hands where they rest on his legs—he’s so kind to you that it hurts, it makes you want to cry, it makes you want to stay here forever just so he’ll keep looking at you like that, so you never forget how his pinky feels against the nape of your neck or the heel of his palm feels against your temple as he plays and plays with your hair, as even when you’re the one on your knees, he worships you. Christens you his own little angel, angel, angel—whispered like he really believes it, like you’re a miracle. Spencer loves in a way that feels like soothing, that feels like an apology for all the bad things that have ever happened to you and a nullifying of all the bad things you have ever done.

Afterward you press your forehead against his thigh, mostly to hide the welling of your eyes when there’s no longer any good excuse—partially as a kind of supplication. Never let me go again. Please. No matter what I say. I’m sorry.

Spencer fixes himself, crouches to your level, drops your hair just to push it out of your face and make you look at him. Your chest rises and falls rapidly as your glossy eyes dart between his. But you don’t look away. You don’t want to. When a tear rolls down your cheek, he sees it, and there’s nothing you can do. And you realize you’re not sure you’d want to hide it after all.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmurs. “We’re okay. What do you need? What can I give you, sweetheart? Do you want to be done? Want me to move the books so we can sit down?”

“No, no—I don’t wanna be done. I just missed you so much. I was dumb before. I’m sorry.”

He softens impossibly at this, to the point where he’s hazy around the edges, melting into the warm ambient light. “You weren’t. You weren’t dumb. Come here, stand up. You’re never dumb—here, is this okay?” He’s sat you on his desk, shoving things aside to make room—casualties for a later consideration—and he’s already littering kisses over your neck. “I missed you too. I think about you all the time, angel, you don’t need to apologize, just… god, I missed you. Please let me touch you. Please.”

It’s hard to say no to that—what with the begging, and the pull of your lip between his teeth, and the heat of his breath fogging your brain. There’s not a lot of room to work with, but you manage to lean enough of your weight back that he can tug your underwear down your thighs. They end up on the floor, and you feel his hand sliding beneath your dress again, where you’re bare for him, and he doesn’t make you wait.

“Oh my god, you’re perfect,” he mutters upon discovering just how ready for him you are. You hiss as he slips past the initial resistance. Spencer responds with his lips pressed to your head, but he shows no mercy with the slow rock of his hand, the drag against where you’re softest and where you need him the most, the exact right place to touch you. Your arching, squirming, whimpering, doesn’t deter him in the slightest. When your thighs clamp shut and you shift back, he follows you. When you look up at him, brow furrowed, lips parted—in disbelief but without the words to say it—he’s already looking at you. “I know,” he assures you. “That’s it, huh? Right here?”

Rapidly you nod. His exhale is almost one of relief. “Yeah,” he sighs, knowingly. Melting closer to kiss you again.

It doesn’t bother him when your nails dig into his flexing forearm as you cum. Judging by the groan, you think he might like it.

You’re barely recovered by the time he’s lining himself up to you, but you find your bearings quickly. It’s a slow, bated burn, when he finally does it. You’re both silent, tense, hardly breathing in anticipation. What has at times been a slip feels now more like an endless push—it is its own kind of back-arching, toe curling, deep-in-your-spine ecstasy, as he breaks you open slow. Your legs part wider for him, and your hips yearn to push against his.

His words burst forth with the same expelling of pressure, at the same time, as your first sudden cry. “Fuck, angel. Jesus.”

There’s a stinging point of light inside you that he’s pushing against. You close your eyes and watch it flash and spark. “Feels so good,” you promise, nothing more than a whisper. Whatever this is, this pain and pleasure, it’s landed you in some divine plane. You never want it to end.

“Relax for me, honey. Let go a little.”

“I am, I am,” you defend on a quick exhale, looking down when he stops fighting to get in. “Please—why’d you stop? Please—”

“You’re not ready.”

“Yes, I am, fuck, please, Spencer!”

Something in you is desperate and starving and you need it now—you’ve needed it for a long time—but he doesn’t capitulate. Instead, he kisses you. Softly. Slow and sweet, like you have all the time in the world. You have no choice but to drown in it. It’s a short-circuit in your body when after a minute of this, after he senses the way you’ve dissolved, suddenly his hips are flush with yours. You gasp and a pencil cup clatters to the ground in your search for purchase. You’re little more than a pulsing, glowing star, lightheaded at the depth and the pressure and the way that band of resistance he’d pushed past aches around him in time with the pound of your heart. Spencer is leaning against you, gripping the edge of the desk behind you hard and breathing heavily against your neck.

Words have every opportunity to pass from your dropped jaw, but you’re actually speechless. Your heartbeat is a white flashing in your eyes. The only verbal expression at your disposal: “Spencer.”

For a moment time suspends like that, and you wonder how the fuck you could ever have made any decision that would take you away from him, away from this. This is so obviously the only right answer.

Slowly, he draws out, and you stop breathing. Come back. Come back. Your legs spell it out as they wrap around his hips. It’s just as slow on the uptake, and you loose a shuddering, rattling breath. Your body tenses and shifts, trying to pull you up and away from the feeling—but not because it hurts. It’s just so mind-numbingly fucking deep. Everywhere. The base of your spine, the tips of your fingers. Out. While you have a fleeting moment of sentience, you whisper his name a few times in quick succession. This successfully draws his attention and he lifts his head from your shoulder, pupils blown to hell as he’s already dragging back in. A too-honest, too-raw cry pulls from your soul, turns half disbelieving laugh as he presses against your deepest part and black spots dance in your vision.

His eye darts to the way your knee pulls up, clearly beyond your control—the way your body tries to make sense of him, tries to respond to what he’s doing to you. You watch as it happens—that flash in his eyes. That shift into a kind of determination that always ends with you dead asleep on his pillow, face streaked with dried tears borne of sheer overwhelm. Spencer fits his arm around you and pulls you flush to him, the other hooking under your knee and holding you open. He sets a new pace, and it doesn’t take long to get you gripping at the back of his shirt and tearing up on his shoulder, making due with gasping sips of air and having completely given up on holding in the keens and the pleases and the occasional sob that to the trained ear sounds much like his name.

You feel it coming—the searing heat, the pound of your heart, the drop of your stomach. It hits as hard as you knew it would.

Usually he’s a little more talkative—but that comes later. With you pushed over his desk, and his arm around your chest, and his lips pressed to your ear. Blindly you reach back for him—you need him, you need something—and without question he catches your hand, pressing it hard into the dark surface of the wood. His thumb strokes at your hand, his fingers curl with yours, and Spencer continues with those murmurings, like spells—things nobody who knew him would ever imagine him saying. Things that have you making promises, breathing uh-huh’s, telling him you love him. Things that have your vision going black and your throat tightening around choked moans. He’s never had you this vulnerable before. You’re dizzy, drunk on it. This time when the end comes, it’s a heavy crash. It pulls you under. It does whatever the fuck it wants with you and tumbles you in its current forever because he’s not stopping, still slowly closing in on his own peak. There are moments where it goes beyond good. It’s just complete and utter sensation, on all fronts—thoughts come as colors and textures instead of words. You don’t even feel tethered to your body anymore, your grip on reality tenuous at best.

Eventually all the crashing does end, and you whine brokenly, and he shushes you softly, and finally, finally, stills inside of you.

Slowly, you come back to yourself. It’s dark outside, now. You can hear weekend traffic on the streets below. His apartment is clean (aside from the shit that got knocked over and the books on the couch) and it’s sticky summer warm, and it smells like home. It’s safe. And everything is okay. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt so okay in your life.

Spencer adjusts his hold on you when your weight signals that you want to lie flat on the desk, face pressed against your forearm, catching your breath in the wood-lacquer darkness. He follows you down, arms braced on either side of your head. His weight on your back is a comfort, as are his lips at the nape of your neck.

“Okay?” he murmurs. Two gentle syllables, marked with exertion. You nod against your arm. “Not ready to talk?” Another nod. Another okay.

For a stretch of time, he’s pressed his face against the back of your shoulder. You’re still seeing dancing colors behind your lids.

The twinkly laughter comes as a surprise. “I don’t know where to put you, baby. All the places for lying down are covered in antique books.”

There’s not much air in your lungs. You spend it on laughter.

August 3rd

Spencer corners you outside the bathroom.

“Who was that?” He demands, eyes worrisomely clear on you, voice alarmingly steady. You glance around to see if any of your coworkers can see the way he’s practically got you up against the wall down the dark passageway. The way he’s looking at you. Like he owns you.

“Who was who?”

“I’m not willing to play stupid with you right now. Answer me.”

It’s easier to hurt your feelings these days. They’re closer to the surface. Sometimes it makes things feel really, really good. Sometimes your eyes sting at the smallest of provocations—things you would’ve brushed off without a second thought a year ago. You meet his eyes and swallow. “You’re being a fucking dick.”

Spencer is unfazed. His response is whip-fast and too loud, even among the chatter and laughter and music and clinking glasses. “Did you sleep with him?”

“What? What is your problem?” you hiss, pushing Spencer just hard enough to get some breathing room.

“Why won’t you answer the question?”

“God, are you—you know what? No. You are so fucking out of line right now. Fuck off.”

You leave Spencer in the hallway and emerge into the bar. It’s bustling tonight. The whole BAU is here, scattered around, but suddenly, you feel aimless. Your nervous system is rattled after being accosted as soon as you left the bathroom, on what had previously been a good night. So you stand there, looking around and fiddling with your bracelet.

It’s one Spencer recently gifted to you. A simple, delicate chain, but clearly well-crafted. The clasp is the only real ornamentation—two interlocking circles of equivalent circumference. There is no tail of wider chain loops to create an adjustable size—it is exactly what it is, and it fits you perfectly. To some, it’d be an underwhelming gift. No lavish stones, no poetic engraving, no garish costume-jewelry gold. But it means more to you than you could ever explain to somebody else. More than you’d ever feel comfortable explaining to somebody else. Spencer knows that. Two interlocking circles.

When he gave it to you, you had a panic attack. Jewelry felt like a big step. But you didn’t do your usual thing where you start a huge fight and then dump him, and he didn’t take offense to your overwhelm. He only comforted you, and when all was said and done, you held out your wrist, and he put the bracelet on for you, and kissed the back of your hand. You haven’t taken it off since. It’s quickly become something of a talisman—you worry at it when you don’t know what to do with your hands. Even now. When you feel like punching him in the face.

Did you sleep with him? What an asshole. What a fucking asshole. Spencer grovels and simpers and promises he’ll never hurt you, and then he goes and does something like that. The him in question—the one who recognized you when you were ordering a drink, and who held you up for maybe five minutes—is nowhere to be seen. That’s for the best. The recognition was not reciprocal. But rather than humiliate yourself in front of this man who knew your name by admitting you couldn’t place his face, you’d played along. Laughed awkwardly at his jokes like you knew who he was.

You don’t get why Spencer is so angry. He’s not the type to get jealous just because you spoke to another man. Sure, the man was perhaps a little over-familiar with you. He was flirty.

But Spencer is so overreacting.

Before you can stop yourself, you’re looking back in his direction.

He’s still in the dimly lit hallway. He’s watching you, hands in suit packets, and for all that you’ve seen his face, all the times you’d swore to commit every bit of it to memory—you can’t read his expression.

That only pisses you off worse.

You pointedly turn away, carving a path through the Friday night patrons toward the jukebox.

The machine takes your quarter, but there’s something of a queue, and you realize you’re in too much of a bad mood to stand around getting jostled by drunk people who are having way more fun than you are.

That’s how you end up out front, letting the rough stone wall bite into your bare arm and watching the cars go by, surrounded by patrons who’d stepped out for a smoke.

Maybe you shouldn’t let Spencer ruin your entire night because of some stupid outburst. But you can’t shake it.

Is that what he thinks of you? That you sleep around? That you cheat? Sure, the two of you haven’t explicitly had the commitment talk. But you thought it was pretty fucking implied.

The moon is a bright white spotlight overhead. Despite the season, a breeze nips at all your exposed skin, and you cross your arms against the chill. Earlier, in your classy-enough white minidress and blue pumps, you’d felt beautiful. Now you just feel gross.

Spencer comes out a few minutes later.

“They’re playing your song.”

You can tell by the way he stops a few feet away that his tail is between his legs. Your head rolls toward him.

“I can hear.”

It’s true—the buzzy, bouncy twang is distinctive even through a wall, and every drum beat is clear as day. So is the cheer that goes around as a bunch of drunk Generation X-ers and millennials recognize the synth riff.

Spencer narrows his eyes and searches for the words. “I can’t help but feeling it’s slightly… pointed.”

What? Playing a song called Love Will Tear Us Apart?

Pointed?

Surely not.

You don’t bother using your words—the exaggerated faux-bafflement on your face gets the message across.

Spencer nods, looking appropriately contrite as he steps closer. You let him.

“You were right,” he murmurs, speaking just for you now. “I was out of line.”

“Oh, really? Thanks for telling me. I hadn’t noticed.”

He says your name gently. You shut up and cast your glare sideways, watching a crumpled plastic cup make its way down the sidewalk.

“I’m sorry. I just—I know you’re beautiful. I know people notice you. But we’re not usually in environments where I have to watch it happen. Or… or maybe it just goes over my head. That’s entirely possible. Either way, I’m not used to seeing you get hit on, and I couldn’t tell if you knew the guy, or if… maybe you were just hitting it off, and—I—I panicked, because we’ve never really had that talk before. I know what you are to me. But I’ve never clarified what I am to you. I’m not going to push you on the labels thing. You know I’m not. We should be on the same page about this, though.”

You sigh. Fiddle with your bracelet and watch it glint. “Spencer, I swear that guy—”

“I don’t care about that guy. It wasn’t about him. I’m sorry. I just want you to know that regardless of what we call it, it matters to me that we’re not doing this with anyone else.” His voice takes on that intimate tone—just barely more than a whisper. You look down as he grabs your hand, and drags it back up to his heart. Your breath catches. “You are my person, and I need that to be clear. Is that okay with you?”

His sincerity has stunned you speechless, and the proximity isn’t helping either, so you can only let your fingers catch on his lapel and nod—quick, eager little dips of your head. Yes, yes, you think. I can’t say it like you can. But yes. Please. That’s what I want.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly, mirroring your nod and fondness twitching at the corners of his mouth.

What you want to say is, oh, god, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. It burns inside of me, all the time, and I don’t know what to do with it all. I love you I love you I love you.

Instead, you say, in your smallest voice, “Yeah. Yes.”

The way he slips his hand behind your neck and kisses you against that wall, under the full August moon and between clouds of cigarette smoke, cools your blood. It’s the only thing that works.

Later in bed, you watch him sleep, that same moonlight casting silver through his hair as you comb your fingers through it, again and again.

Before he’d fallen asleep, you’d asked him a question that had been on your mind since the bar.

Spencer?

Hm?

What am I to you?

It’d caught him off guard. He held your hand, pressed the circles of your bracelet just to your racing pulse on the underside of your wrist, and mapped your face with darting eyes, with an intellect that can’t read minds no matter how much he wishes it could.

Do you actually want me to answer that question?

You’d nodded.

Is the answer going to freak you out?

At this you’d shaken your head no—which was an assurance made in haste. But you were too curious. You needed to know.

Spencer weighed something internally for a long moment.

You’re like… a lens I see the entire world through. I can’t do anything, or make any choice, without thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you. When we’re not together, it feels like I’m waiting for my life to start again. Nothing really counts unless you’re there to experience it with me, you know? I think of you as… I don’t know. Everything. You’re why I know it’s all real. Why it matters.

It was so much, you had to hide in the curve of his neck. It made you nervous. The bigger it is, the harder it falls.

But, because it mattered so much to you—because he matters so much—you found the courage to whisper against his neck: Me, too.

It was a really scary thing to admit. Scarier than when you tell him you love him. He kissed you for your bravery.

Now, he’s asleep.

You trace the moon-glow line of his cheek.

Spencer lies sleeping next to you like a Renaissance angel as hot tears burn a scar down the bridge of your nose, and you bargain with god. Let me be good enough for him. Let me be someone else. Anything. I’ll do anything, just—please. Take this feeling away. Make me into a girl who deserves this kind of love.

God does not answer.

August 19th

Something is off.

It started when you and Spencer didn’t take the same car to the airfield.

Of course, that’s not unheard of—but it is uncommon. If it’s at all possible, he’ll slide in next to you. Today he didn’t even wait—got engrossed in a debate with Emily and followed her right into an almost-full SUV.

So you stood there, blinked, and climbed into the other car next to Rossi. You didn’t say a word for the whole fifteen minute drive, watching the muddy fields and warehouses roll by beyond the window.

Spencer isn’t doing anything wrong.

It’s just that it’s been nearly a week since you’ve spent a night with him. And it’s starting to make you feel restless. There have been crack of dawn doctor’s appointments, and nights where one or both of you are too tired to drive to the other’s place, and preexisting plans with other people. All valid reasons to raincheck.

But you’re not used to sleeping alone anymore. It’s not what you do. It feels like a really big deal to you that you haven’t had a sleepover for so long, and he hasn’t mentioned it, or given any hint that it’s bothering him the way it’s bothering you.

God, when was the last time you spent more than two or three nights apart?

The last time you broke up, you realize.

That is a sobering thought.

On the jet, it’s not much better. Again, Spencer doesn’t wait for you before boarding. You’re slamming the car door, and he’s already walking up the steps in animated conversation with JJ.

There is an old, familiar pang in your chest.

No. No, please—I’m past this. I’m too grown-up for this.

He loves me.

But there’s that old paradox, again. If nobody except Spencer knows that you’re dating Spencer—and he’s not acknowledging it—are you really even together?

By the time you get on, he’s at the table. The three seats around him have been filled. You eye each of your coworkers and try not to feel burning rage, because they didn’t do anything wrong.

Instead, you sit on the far end of the couch, and you pick your nails.

The whole first day at the precinct is pretty much the same story, though you’re able to engross yourself deeply enough into the job that it doesn’t bother you so much.

It’s only when the day is over, and you’re showered, and you’re sitting on your perfectly made hotel queen bed, that loneliness turns into gnawing, tearing panic.

You catch your breath as it hits you—as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up and dread washes out the shell of your body. It’s bad. Worse than you would’ve imagined.

What is wrong with you?

Why can’t you ever just be alright?

You don’t know if the solution here is to go to Spencer or to remain locked in your room like a psych-patient in a padded cell.

Panic makes you unreasonable, you think. Pushing off the bed to pace. Moving helps. Moving tells your body that you’re evading the threat, and the panic attack ends sooner.

Something you’d learned from Spencer, of course.

Spencer.

Unreasonable, right. You’re not entirely dependent on him for your mental stability. You have developed implicit expectations, sure—you’re used to being alone with him every night, so you can talk about your days and drink tea and be close. That’s not a bad thing. It’s a routine you’ve developed, and one you’ve come to rely on. Surely it’d be disregulating for anyone if it suddenly changed without warning. It’s not because you’re obsessive, or sick, or overly-needy. And it’s normal for couples to take a few days apart.

Not obsessive, not sick, not needy. It’s normal. This is normal.

This becomes your mantra as you pace the patterned carpet, eyes closed, lips moving, like if you stop the panic is going to catch you and swallow you whole.

For a few minutes, it works.

Then, for no apparent reason—it stops working.

And it’s like watching a dam explode from the valley below.

For a second you don’t know if you should run to the bathroom and throw up or go to Spencer’s door, and then you’re questioning if it’s late enough to go to his room, if maybe someone on the team might be out in the hallway—but your brain is screaming, if you do not go see Spencer, you are going to die. Who gives a fuck about your fucking coworkers.

You tap lightly at his door.

He doesn’t answer right away, and the brightly lit hallway seems to stretch on forever. You’re so profoundly anxious that there is a moment of hysterical, perverse humor. Look at you. About to die in a hotel hallway, barefoot and in pajama shorts, if he doesn’t open this fucking door. And of course. Of course he’s not going to open it. This is great stuff. Really, awesome material. Perfect.

Just as you’re gripping the door frame to stop the building from spinning, just as you’re really, seriously about to pass out—the lock clicks. The door opens.

Glasses. Sweatshirt. Spencer.

“Hey! I was just about to—” he stops. Perhaps notices your slumped posture, how you’re white-knuckling the door. Maybe the sheen of sweat on your face. “Hey, okay—come here.”

Spencer wraps an arm around you and helps you in, closing the door and then leading you to his bed.

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he mutters, laying you down carefully—ideally to get the blood flow back to your head. You blink.

“Uh-huh.”

“Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“I’m fine.”

You say it because you’re embarrassed. Spencer says your name with an edge that wants the truth.

“It was just a panic attack.”

This doesn’t satisfy him.

“Do you often pass out from panic attacks?”

“Um… not never.”

Your vision clears. Your ears stop ringing, and you push yourself up to sit against the headboard. Spencer has a bottle of water locked and loaded, holding it out for you as soon as you’re settled.

The way he’s watching you as you drink, with so much unabashed and scrutinizing concern in that knit brow, is almost too much. You look away and screw the lid back on.

“What triggered it?” He asks.

“I don’t know, I was just sitting there—I was literally just sitting there, and suddenly my brain was like, by the way, you have five minutes to live, and—and I don’t know. I tried walking it off and breathing and stuff. I’m sorry I came here. It’s not your problem.”

“You’re not a problem. This isn’t a problem. You should’ve come before it got this bad.”

When he sets his hand on your knee, you close your eyes and try not to let it feel like medicine.

It’s not his job to fix you. That’s not what he’s for.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

A pause.

“Why didn’t you come sooner?”

It’s clear he’s putting the pieces together. You sigh and fiddle with the bottle cap. Untwist. Twist. Untwist.

“I… don’t know. I was overthinking.”

“Overthinking what?”

You flash him a look, because he knows he’s pushing you—but he’s unrelenting.

Spencer’s hair is a corona of unruly curls. He hasn’t shaved in a few days. You don’t want to have this conversation—you want to put your head in his lap and fall asleep to the hotel TV.

“It’s stupid. It doesn’t make sense. I just—I don’t know, we didn’t talk all day, and—”

You take a quick, shuddering inhale, and close your mouth. Because you realize you’re about to cry. And now you can’t even soften the blow of your insanity—you can’t tell him, I know I’m being crazy, I know nothing is wrong, I know it’s okay for us to not talk for a day or to spend a few nights apart and it doesn’t mean you hate me.

But you can’t say any of that. It wouldn’t be true, anyways. You don’t know any of those things.

Spencer is observing you and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. You look down at your folded legs to hide your wobbling chin.

There’s no hiding the plunk of a fat tear as it hits the mattress, or the subsequent bloom of saltwater grey turning the sheet into a ghostly, sad little garden. You wipe your face with a furious, punishing hand, and speak hoarsely. “Sorry.”

Spencer catches your wrist before you can take out your own eye. “Stop.”

“I’m fine,” you insist, snatching your hand away though you desperately crave the contact. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I don’t know—I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Everything is fine.”

“Don’t say that. Don’t—you need to stop doing that. Minimizing everything all the time. If everything was fine, you wouldn’t have had a panic attack and you wouldn’t be crying now.”

“Everything is fine,” you assert. Anger—not at him—begins seeping through your tone, burning you at the edges. “Everything is fine, but I’m obviously not, and I’m sick of getting so fucking upset about nothing all the time.”

“Tell me why you’re upset.”

“Because I’m crazy! Because we haven’t been together all week, and you didn’t sit next to me in the car today, or on the jet, and—and ever since I actually stopped holding you at arm’s length, I’m so fucking involved, and I care so much, and I knew this would happen. Before, it wouldn’t have mattered if we didn’t spend the night together for a week, because I wasn’t all in, and I knew if I was always giving you just a little less than you were giving me that the dynamic would be in my favor, and I would never have to feel like I was the unwanted one. But I can’t do that anymore, because—’cause I let myself care all the way, and I was so afraid of this happening, and it’s happening. I don’t have any fucking control over myself anymore. I’m so worried, all the time—it’s like, I have a doomsday clock inside of me, but instead of the end of the world it’s measuring how close you are to breaking up with me at any moment. Which is fucked, I know it’s fucked. I know I can’t read your mind, but I don’t have any perspective anymore. And the worst part is that it’s like a self-fulfilling prophecy. I know the more insane and hyper-vigilant and codependent I get, the likelier you are to actually break up with me. It was never a problem before. It was never this scary because if I was the one who kept breaking up with you it meant I was in control, but I don’t wanna break up with you at all. I’m terrified of it. But it—it’s like my karma, I—”

“Okay. Slow down.” Your head snaps up—wide, teary eyes on Spencer. You almost forgot he was there. “Breathe. Just—take a deep breath.”

Fuck. You drag your hands to your face, fully prepared to curl in on yourself and die rather than face your own humiliation.

“No, no—look at me. Come on.”

“I’m going insane,” you sniffle as he peels your hands away and forces you to look at him. “I c-can’t say anything that will make me sound less crazy.”

“You’re not crazy. Your nervous system is just shot, and you’re probably exhausted. Did you eat? I didn’t see you have dinner.”

Guilty, you shake your head. You didn’t realize he was paying attention.

“I’ll call room service,” he decides.

“I’m really not hungry.”

Spencer ignores this and picks up the phone anyway. You sit back against the headboard and hug your knees to your chest, staring at nothing as he orders something you’ll like. Waiting for the click of the phone back in its cradle.

When the call is over, there is tremulous silence. A tension you’re not sure how to go about breaking.

Spencer does it for you—finding your ankle and carefully pulling your leg straight, so he can run the length of it back and forth with his hand. You watch it go, like waves rolling in and falling back on sand.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to spend enough time together this week. I missed you, too. I absolutely do not want to break up. Not one part of me wants that.”

“I should be able to know that without you telling me.”

“But you aren’t, yet. You’re going to learn.”

“But—until I do—you’re gonna have to—to reassure me constantly. I’m going to be exhausting and irritating and you’re going to get sick of me.”

He regards you.

“It makes me really sad that you feel that way. I think you severely underestimate how much I like you.”

“Why, though?” Immediately you’re rolling your eyes and throwing your hands up. “See? Fucking right there. Already. I’m already doing it.”

Spencer is holding back a smile when you look at him. You shrink.

“No, no—” he laughs, leaning in. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you.”

You end up nearly lying down, with him over you. Breathing in his mint and eucalyptus bedtime smell. The smile fades slowly, as he thumbs over your cheek, your lips. Your lids flutter at the relief of it all.

“I’m hoping… we’ll never have to do a week like that again. I didn’t like it very much, either.”

You lean into his palm, and don’t speak for a long while.

“Spencer?”

“Hm?”

“Can—” you swallow involuntarily. You’re scared to ask. But you know what the answer will be. “Can we… I know I’ve messed up a bunch of times, but—can I be your girlfriend? We don’t have to tell anyone, I just… I want to be your real girlfriend.”

The slow blossom of his smile is like a swell in your favorite song as he grins down at you.

“You’ve been my real girlfriend for a while.”

“I know, but… I want you to tell me that’s what I am. I want to know that when you think of me, you’re thinking about your real-life serious girlfriend.”

He hums.

“And am I allowed to tell other people that you’re my real-life serious girlfriend?”

You chew your lip. “Some of them.”

“Which ones?”

He’s angling for something, and you know what, but you’re not sure you’re ready for that particular step.

“I don’t know. We’ll find some.”

“I have a few in mind.”

“We can’t,” you murmur, hugging his arm to your chest. “Not yet. They’ll—it’ll change things. But… but maybe we don’t have to hide it quite as much.”

“Like… no running away when we see someone we know in public?”

You nod. “And I have a rule.”

He strokes your hair.

“What’s that?”

“You have to always save a seat for me in the cars and on the jet. Always. Capiche?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You tilt your chin up. He kisses you.

Now that you’ve got him, you’re not going to let go.

September 1st

“You’re delusional. Truly, you’re acting insane.”

“For wondering why you had to stay three hours late at work to review one interview transcript you could’ve done during lunch?”

Spencer drops his bag onto a chair and rounds the counter, pushing a hand through his hair. You remain leaning against the back of the couch, arms crossed.

“It is not that simple.” He insists. “You’re being paranoid and unreasonable. Again.”

“Or you’re being defensive.”

Spencer’s eyes narrow, like he’s just now seeing you for the first time since he got home. That is to say—his home.

“Am I being accused of something?”

Words catch in your throat. Normally you’d hurl a ridiculous indictment as a matter of anything being possible—but not this time. It would be abjectly absurd to accuse him of cheating at anything other than cards.

“No,” you huff after a weighty moment.

“So what? What’s the point of this? I come home after staying at work three hours late listening to a man recounting in excruciating detail how he killed and ate an entire family because nobody else wanted to do it, and as soon as I walk through my own front door you start a fucking fight with me? Over nothing?”

The sudden slope in volume is startling as it rings off the walls like a gunshot. Rarely does he raise his voice before you have the chance to.

For the few moments you’re stunned into silence, you take note of a few things you hadn’t before. The pound of his heart in his throat and just beneath his eye. Exhaustion evident in the strain of his voice and the mess of his hair, hanging over his face limp in some places and frazzled in others. The fragile glaze over his eyes, even as they widen and crackle with heat. It takes a lot out of a person to sit and listen to what he listened to for as long as he did. Even Spencer—even a man who can intellectualize and pathologize any human atrocity into microscopic pulses of electricity coursing through grey matter.

It gets to him like it gets to everyone. You know that.

Fuck.

The most embarrassing part is that you started this fight because you missed him, and you still haven’t quite figured out how to not be afraid of that feeling. Sometimes when you miss him it feels like a threat to your autonomy, and by extension, your safety. You sure as hell don’t know how to just admit this to him.

So instead you pick fights. Not as much, anymore, but sometimes when you’re in need of comfort and just can’t ask for it, you’ll start pushing your luck with inflammatory comments. You’ll trigger a meaningless argument. Spencer will eventually whittle your fighting words down to a simple, familiar truth. He will realize that this is your way of telling him you need something, and then you get the sweet after: where he rewards you for nothing, where he tries to apologize for a conflict you’d created with gentle touches and murmured words of comfort. Sun after a storm. It’s easy to accept affection and tenderness if you’ve intentionally scratched open all your old wounds—if you’ve earned it through trial by blood.

Tonight, he’s not having it. You sense no reality where this ends with a sweet kiss and whispers so soft you can hardly hear them.

Which means you need to backtrack.

So you swallow your pride and your shame and your fear. Choke on it, really. But the words come out all the same.

“I’m sorry.”

Spencer’s chest is still rising and falling quickly. The purple paisley silk of his tie catches your eye. It’s all astray. You want to fix it. He could breathe better if you took it off. And there’s no way he’s not bothered by his hair falling over his face.

How can you make this go away?

Could it go in the other direction these quarrels sometimes do? Maybe it could end with you achey and tired in his arms, after he kisses the marks around your wrists, the little purple splotches on your hips and the starburst clusters of broken blood vessels on your thighs. Here, too, he’ll end up being sanguine—there’ll just be more steps in between.

Just as you’re running scenarios in your mind, calculating outcomes and trying to chart the best plan of action, his tongue darts over his lips. It’s enough to stop you in your tracks.

Why hasn’t his brow relaxed? Those eyes, still darting over your face with a kind of urgency—is that hunger or dissatisfaction with what he sees?

“You should go.”

A beat.

This does not process instantaneously. You blink and shake your head as if you could clear it that way.

“What?”

Spencer’s eyes are a forge on you, but he diverts them to the wall. Sparing you from the edge of a glowing sword. You don’t know how you’d prefer it—cool to the touch and sharp enough to cut, or soft and burning and prolonged. He’s probably decided he’s being civil. Doesn’t realize it lasts so much longer this way.

“I think you should go home for the weekend.”

“Why?” It bursts from you, trembling and affronted.

“Because I can’t—” he stops himself. Shutters his eyes and takes a deep breath that doesn’t seem to do much of anything. “I am not in the right headspace for this. I need you out of here.”

“What do you mean, this?”

“You. This thing you always do. I do not have it in me to make you feel better about yourself right now.”

It would’ve been quicker to just kick you in the stomach.

For a moment you’re too stunned to speak as he blurs through a thick cloud of tears.

“You are such a fucking asshole.”

The words come out too hurt, too quiet.

Spencer is unfazed—leans in closer as if to make sure you understand. Lowers his voice, and the tremor there is not the kind that comes from hurt feelings. You don’t know what it is.

“Go. Home.”

It’s the kind of quiet that you’re afraid will culminate in a burst eardrum or something worse. He’s not like that, you know he’s not. Even at his worst. Even when you push him to his absolute wit’s end. But you can already hear it. Feel it. Ghost echos that have been rattling around in your head for years.

A part of you—a rather large part—wants to cover her ears hard and sink to the ground, or otherwise apologize and beg him to love you again.

But you are an adult. He’s asked you to leave.

So you do. With an awful pulling in your gut and a hollowing in your chest like a sinkhole falling into itself.

The static starts outside his door. The raking breaths. That awful warmth on the back of your neck and the greying of your vision.

You stumble to the stairs and cover your face, letting the waves of panic wash over your shoulders.

Was that a breakup? Does he still love you? Did he ever? If love can be so quickly taken away, was it ever really there? See, this is why—this is exactly why you’ve done what you’ve done, why you’ve been the way you have and treated him the way you did for so long. Because of this inevitability. Because of your nature, and what happens when a child tells himself he can enjoy a broken toy just the same as a regular one, until he keeps playing with it, and it keeps breaking worse and worse until it’s completely unusable.

Something snaps inside of you. Gears grind and groan. The static doesn’t go away, it only gets louder, and it sounds a whole lot like his name over and over again—so you’ll just have to drown it out.

It’s hot in this place, and it’s loud—so loud you can feel the throbbing techno beat in your teeth. The flashing lights wash over you like a tide of blood, rising and falling, filling your lungs.

Whatever is coursing through your veins is not enough to dull the ache. In the middle of the dance floor, and you’re still thinking of Spencer. Spencer. Spencer. With every beat of your heart. Not enough alcohol. Not enough anything.

It’s so hot in here—sweat drips down your spine and the room is spinning, but all the writhing, shadowed bodies prop you up as you stumble toward the bar. No chance in hell the bartender would keep serving you in the state you’re in, so you find someone to buy the drinks for you.

And you fall, fall, fall—chasing some wicked, Cheshire gleam at the bottom of that glass, and the next, and the next.

That gleam is, of course, an illusion. It will shine so brightly you can taste it. It will convince you to reach just a little further. And it will wink at you from the impossible end of a bottomless pit.

You don’t care. You tip over the edge and let the darkness swallow you whole.

Nothing but stardust, now.

You blow across the silent black ether.

September 5th

You’re practically dripping from Spencer as he locks your door.

“Help me out, a little?” he grunts as you make no effort to support your own body weight.

“Sorry sorry sorry. I’m up.”

He breathes a laugh and walks you deeper into the apartment. It’s a slow process.

“If I set you down on the couch… are you going to be able to get back up?”

“I don’t know,” you sing-song, stumbling, giggling, and grabbing onto him tighter. “Let’s find out.”

Your ankles threaten to buckle all the way across the room, but he holds you fast.

“Easy,” he murmurs as you slip your arms from around his neck and drop heavily to the cushions. You blink at him, exhausted, admiring the view. At some point, you’d managed to pull off his tie and undo the first few buttons on his shirt before he’d caught your hands and given you a warning look. Looking at him now, you have absolutely no regrets.

Spencer kneels in front of you, undoing the delicate ankle strap on your shoe. Your blood is pleasantly warmed as you let your head loll to your shoulder—warmer with every sweet way he handles you. Carefully. Like it’s an honor.

After he slips the heels off, he presses a kiss to the top of each knee. You lace a hand through his hair. “Excellent view.”

There’s a lazy sort of smirk on his face when he tilts his head back up toward you.

“I’m sure. Don’t get any ideas.”

You grin.

“Too late.”

Spencer slides a gratuitous hand up your leg, fingertips just brushing the short hem of your dress, and raises his other. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Easy. Six.”

He snorts, pressing his face against your thigh, and you melt into a puddle of giggles.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding! It was three. See—hey, you can make me say my ABC’s backwards, and I’ll walk in a straight line—”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

Even that sweet, placating kiss to your thigh isn’t enough to temper the immediate and profound disappointment you feel at his proclamation. “What? Why?”

“Oh—why am I not going to sleep with a woman who couldn’t get up the stairs on her own?”

“Nonono, I’m dead sober. Please?”

He pushes off the ground, towering above you once more, and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Sorry. You’ll have to go find someone just as drunk as you.”

You linger there, your head tilted up, so he hangs in your silence, suspended less than an inch above you.

“What?”

It comes out thin, with the crane of your neck. Quiet because your blood is frozen in your veins.

Spencer pauses only briefly and then drops one more kiss to your mouth. At the contact your eyes flutter, in spite of yourself.

“Nothing, baby. It was a joke.”

Then he’s up again, moving toward the kitchen.

“Why would you joke about that?”

Spencer stops at the end of the couch and gives you an odd look. “Did it bother you?”

“Yes. Don’t—you can’t say stuff like that.”

Why are you breathing so quickly?

Now you’ve really got his attention. He turns fully back toward you, slipping his hands into his pockets.

Spencer doesn’t say a word. His eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

There’s a long stretch of silence. You can hear a faucet dripping and try to match your inhales to each plunk of water.

“What’s wrong?”

One blink of hesitation and you realize your name is halfway signed on your own death sentence.

“Nothing.”

“Don’t say nothing, you clearly—”

“Oh my god, I said it’s nothing. Just let it go. Jesus.”

And that final utterance, that subtle roll of your eyes, was practically a flourish of the pen.

You haven’t gone the offense-as-defense route in a while.

Immediately, something about Spencer’s demeanor goes cold.

“Did something happen?”

The question is quiet enough to chill your bones and dry your throat.

“Nothing. What? Nothing happened. I just don’t think it’s funny to joke about stuff like that.”

Fuck. Fuck. There may as well be a giant blinking sign over your head that says I’m lying.

You watch it wash over him.

The worst part is that he doesn’t say anything. He stands there for a moment—and then he turns, walking toward the kitchen again. For a moment, you’re frozen. Then you panic.

“Spencer,” you call, and it breaks down the middle as you try to get up and sit right back down. He will not want to be followed. You take in a deep, grating breath, digging your nails hard into the sides of your legs and staring at the ground, willing the room to stop spinning. Willing your lungs to fill with air.

Your entire body waits in suspense, taut like a steel guitar string, for shattering glass, or splintering drywall, or a slamming door, or something. It doesn’t come. He’s still here. You know he hasn’t left.

But he’s going to.

This is it.

The unforgivable thing.

Maybe five minutes later, you hear movement. When he reenters the living room, you keep your head down, tracking him only with your eyes. A yawning chasm seems to open up between your spot on the couch and where he stands, across the room.

For a moment, neither of you speak—and then both of you try at once. More silence follows. You cover your face with your hands.

“We weren’t together,” you mumble into the cup of them.

“What did you say?”

His tone bites.

“We weren’t together.”

“In your mind we were never together, so I don’t really know what you mean by that.”

“No, we—we got in a really big fight—”

“When?”

You swallow. Because you work together, you should be familiar with this part of him—this relentless part, this I-will-run-you-into-the-ground part. But you’re not.

“Spencer…”

Spencer recognizes this type of quiet. This quiet which means things can only be worse than they seem. The punishing anger is quickly slashed and bled until you feel it swirling around at your feet like water waiting to be swallowed down the drain. Displaced by massive grief, so heavy that you hear the break. The word is small. Too small to be a real question—it is a plea for mercy on a dying breath.

“When?”

You try to inhale and choke on it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t think we were together—”

He snaps. “We are always together. You know exactly what we are. Take some fucking responsibility.”

“I didn’t mean to,” you whisper, desolate. “I didn’t.”

A tremulous pause. Your skin is crawling and you can’t get out of it.

“What does that mean? What do you mean, you didn’t mean to?”

Snippets come from a reel you’ve been working hard to bury. The blisters on your palms burn. There is blood and dirt caked into the half-moons of your nails, too heavy and too fresh.

A phantom ache has taken up residence in your bones. It throbs.

You only shake your head.

Spencer comes to you again. Gets on his knees for the second time this evening, sets his hands over your legs again in some backwards sort of supplication. Some bastardized retelling of a sweeter story from a few minutes ago. Like he’s pleading with you to recant, rewrite—to fix it so he doesn’t have to leave.

“What do you mean? Just tell me what happened,” he begs.

“I can’t,” you whisper.

“Why?”

The pain in his voice pounds at the base of your skull.

Words dance on the tip of your tongue. Because there is too much I don’t remember.

But something deeper in your gut keeps them tethered. Pulls hard. Shame, perhaps. There is no excuse for what you did. There is no explaining it away. No circumstance in which you are innocent. A girl goes dancing. Looking for something. She gets drunk. She chases the thing she’s looking for into dark corners and down alleyways. She needs to know what it is she’s chasing—she needs to hold it by the throat and squeeze, thumb against hammering pulse, until it doesn’t have so much power over her.

She wakes up in a stranger’s bed. That’s the part of the story that matters.

“I just can’t.”

The words are too quiet, but he hears. Your lungs burn in the pulsing silence that follows.

No solution.

He gives you a few minutes in the dark living room to change your mind, to say the right thing. It doesn’t come.

So he gets up.

“Wait, wait wait—” your heart is pounding as you stumble off the couch and follow him, barely avoiding tripping over your own feet. He’s at the door. How did he get there so quickly? You catch the wall just behind him. “Spencer, wait.”

The tear in your voice is desperate enough you flinch.

But it gets him to turn around.

He looks exhausted.

The pallor of his skin—the shadows exaggerating where his cheeks sink in and where the troughs beneath each eye get darker in purple half moons.

You fucked up so badly.

How much more of you can he handle?

Is this the one thing to push him over the edge, for good?

“I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I’m so sorry. It wasn’t—I can’t explain it, but it wasn’t right—I didn’t—” heat wells behind your eyes as you flounder and dig your grave helplessly, flexing and clenching your hands. “I’m never, ever gonna do that again. Something was—I wasn’t myself that night, and it’s not going to happen again, I don’t know why I did it. I was stupid, and I love you so much, and—please. Please, don’t go. I really need you not to go.”

Spencer regards you, gaze flickering up and down, swallowing. His eyes are all foggy and waterlogged. It makes you feel sicker.

“I know you’re sorry.”

Your chin wobbles.

There’s nothing to fight with in his words. There’s nothing to scratch or kick or bite or cling to.

“You’re gonna leave?”

A beat.

“Yeah.”

“Are you gonna come back?”

It hangs in the air between you for a very long time.

September 12th

When you see him at your door a week later, you’re not sure what to say. Spencer has hardly spoken to you at work. It’s not that he’s been cruel, he just… he’s been distant. Understandably so.

This lack of words, you realize very quickly, is not going to be much of a problem.

What he wants to do with you does not require a lot of speaking.

In fact, you start to suspect he doesn’t want to hear you talk at all. It would be hard to form words when he’s kissing you like this.

But you have to try, don’t you?

“Spencer—”

He pulls away, leaves you reeling and head sparkling with fresh oxygen. Disoriented. Desperate to have him in any way you can. A thumb presses against the seam of your lips and you open for him without hesitance.

He has you against the back of your door, locking it with one hand and pushing down on your tongue with the other thumb. You wish you could do more than let it happen. Do anything but suckle like a lamb. Make him talk to you. Fix it while you can.

But for the first time in a week he’s close and he’s looking at you like he wants you and you could cry.

“Here’s what we’re going to do,” he whispers, eyes darting rapidly over your face like he’s hungry for the sight of you. “You are going to listen to me. If I ask you a question, you can say yes, or you can say no. If we need to stop, or if something doesn’t feel right, you tell me. Otherwise, you don’t talk. Do you understand me?”

Your delirious nod is not enough for him as he slips his thumb from your mouth and grips your jaw, angling you carefully upward so as to look right at him through shuttered eyes.

“Do you understand me?” He repeats lowly, and your breath catches.

“Yes.”

Those eyes slow, taking you in, that gaze dripping from you like honey. Just barely, he strokes the line of your jaw. He ducks to kiss you again and this time it is not so urgent.

“Do you want this?” Spencer asks just shy of your own mouth, soft without warning.

The fabric of his coat bunches in your fist.

Only if you still love me, you want to say. But you know why he doesn’t want you to talk. So you can’t say things like that. So he doesn’t have to tell you of course I do. Please spare me the humiliation of admitting it.

“Please,” you whisper. A trembling breath. More than a plead for sex. You are asking that he be kind. Perhaps it’s more than you deserve, but you can’t do this if he doesn’t touch you like he loves you. Not with him.

You are asking for him to fix something big, something thus far unspoken and which you don’t totally understand yourself. It’s too complicated. He shouldn’t have to do this for you. He doesn’t owe you anything.

Erase it, you want to say. Make this feeling I can’t talk about go away. I know you love me enough to do it.

All this, with one please.

Spencer exhales. And he kisses you again.

Of course, Spencer’s not good with enforcing rules. Not when you’re opening up to him in this way. Even now he looks at you like you’re a marvel. Touches you like you’re a miracle. As soft and as careful as you could’ve asked for if you’d used the words—he may as well be tracing love letters into your skin.

All you can do is try and respect his wishes. You hurt him, badly, you know you did. Don’t add salt to those wounds. He needs you to be predictable right now. No sudden movements. No derailments. To the best of your ability, you are quiet and good and gracious and docile.

But you are only human. Those times you gasp his name under your breath, he just holds your hand tighter. A plead or two are lost against his skin or into the sheets. He takes pity on you—murmurs gentle questions just to give you an outlet. Kisses your teary cheeks as you give your shaky answers.

He loves me, you think, in absence of the words, over and over, until you feel it, until your whole body is buzzing with it. Until you’re buoyant and nothing is hard anymore.

Afterwards, his stillness is what draws you back. His heart pounds against yours, he’s exactly the weight and the pressure you need. But he’s still. The momentum of the passion is wearing off, and you can sense it.

So you allow yourself one quiet, distressed little chirp. One nervous bid for reassurance. Spencer comes to his senses and quells you with a chaste kiss.

And then he’s out of bed. The weight of all the air in the room, the heavy cold, comes crashing down—pressing into your skin, your stomach, all at once.

Suddenly you’re paralyzed, unable to look away from the ceiling as he dresses, grabs the glass from your nightstand and disappears into the bathroom. A few moments later he returns bearing a cloth and a full cup. The cup hits the nightstand. The edge of the bed dips. He slides one hand up your calf like always, and you acquiesce, letting the weight of your leg fall against him. A warm washcloth finds your inner thigh.

Your mind is screaming, deafening static.

“You okay?” Spencer asks gingerly after a few beats of silence. There is a hesitance, there. A feigned lightness, like he’s afraid of asking. Afraid of opening up this line of conversation and too good not to.

Your tongue is heavy in your mouth as he cleans up any evidence of his having been here.

“You got up pretty quick.”

More static. Something fights its way up your throat and you swallow it down.

“Yeah. An old professor of mine is town. We have dinner plans.”

You don’t know what to say to that as he retrieves a few things from your dresser and returns. Normally he’d slide underwear up your thighs for you and pull a shirt over your head, but today you’re grabbing the garments from him before he has a chance.

“I can do it,” you mutter, hurrying to yank the clothes on under his measuring gaze. Under other circumstances he might take offense to this. Might at least ask you about it. Now he only stands to give you space and pockets his hands.

Because he knows. He knew the whole time.

He’s not sticking around.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says. Dust particles swirl through thick beams of molasses light, pouring in from the windows and warming rumpled sheets. How long was he here?

You hug your bare legs to your chest and settle your chin over folded arms, mapping dust like stars in a galaxy. “Why’d you even come?” you murmur.

The world quiets down. Waits with you, holding its breath for his answer.

“I don’t know.”

Light glares off the floor in a blinding white pool. Sends shooting pains into the back of your eyes as you fiddle with your own shirtsleeve.

“Were you trying to… hurt me back, or something?”

“No.” The answer is firm and immediate. “No, I am not trying to hurt you.”

You say nothing. Wood creaks under shifting weight, but you’re not looking at him as he sighs.

“You have to give me some time.” Your name on his tongue is reprimand, a thing he shouldn’t have to tell you. “It’s been a week. I don’t have any of this figured out. I’m not thinking straight.”

“You were thinking straight enough to drive over here and tell me not to talk while you fucked me.”

“I—” he sighs. At a perpetual loss with you. “I told you it wasn’t well thought out. I’ve been spiraling. All week. I’m not sleeping, I’m not making good choices. I mean—you—you fucked me over!” The words burst out, the way they do when he curses. “I haven’t had anybody to talk to about this. You are the only person. Do you see why that would be difficult? You hurt me so much and I miss you and I’m furious and you’re the only one I can talk to about any of it. That’s insane, right? I think you owe me some grace.”

“Did I owe you that, too?”

You gesture toward the unmade sheets and then bury your face against your arms once more.

Humiliated. Like usual.

Spencer is stunned into silence for a moment.

“No. No, you didn’t. Did I—did I make you feel that way? If that didn’t feel right—”

“No,” you assuage tearfully. “I just wish you t-told me you weren’t going to stay, ’cause I wouldn’t have—I just can’t do that with you.”

“Can’t do what?” he asks, sitting on the bedside once more, hand twitching but ultimately leaving you be.

“I can’t have sex with you if you’re gonna leave after. I’m sorry, I know you didn’t know that. But, like—you are the one person who can’t—I just really really can’t do that with you, because—” you stop yourself and change course with a shuddering breath, pressing your palms to weeping eyes. “I’m sorry. I know this is literally all my fault. I don’t get to ask for things. I know that.”

Fireworks dance against the back of your lids. Spencer is quiet.

Then there are hands around your wrists. A thumb smoothing the delicate skin under your palm. You hiccup a gasping cry and melt toward him. It might be the most you get from Spencer, so you focus on the small touch until it burns. His voice is soft—a balm you don’t deserve.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”

“Don’t apologize to me,” you sniffle, hands falling an inch, then two, as you go lax under his touch. “You don’t owe me an apology. Just—I can’t do that with you again until… until we have things figured out.”

The stroking thumb stops, and then restarts.

“Okay.”

Finally, you open your eyes. Can’t make sense of the neutrality on his face.

“What?”

He only shakes his head. Nothing.

Too tired to push him, you let your hands fall to your lap, and he keeps hold on your wrists. Sweeping. The lines he makes entrance you.

“I’m sorry I put you in this position,” you whisper.

No response. Back and forth.

“I know you’re mad at me. You really, really have the right to be mad at me. I’m sorry for making you be nice to me. That’s so stupid, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for—”

“Angel.”

You bite your tongue and sink your gaze. What a ridiculous petname it is, now. How terrible of him to keep using it.

“Sorry.”

Afraid to tell him he can leave, and too ashamed to let yourself enjoy his presence while it lasts, you remain in limbo. His silence does not tell you exactly how much he hates being here, but you think if the tables were turned, you wouldn’t be able to stomach it. Is it really better, his lingering, if it’s not because he loves you? With each pass of his thumb, you imagine him hating you more. He loves me. He loves me not. He loves me. He loves me not.

“I’m not going to do this again,” he murmurs, jarring you from your obsessive contemplation.

Now, when you look up, he’s focused on your wrist.

“… I know.”

“No, honey. I mean… it needs to end.”

This sinks in slowly, with a heat in your face and the back of your neck and a sick tide rising in your stomach.

The first thing you feel is panic. Drops of adrenaline in your bloodstream like you’ve just realized you’ll need to run for your life.

“Why? Because—if this is because I said I can’t sleep with you until—”

“That was completely appropriate. You were right. It’s not good for either of us.”

“So why does that mean we can’t try again? I mean—I know you need time. You can have it. You can. We always do this, and then we get back together and it’s better. I already did the worst thing I could do—we’ll get better.”

The breath he takes is quiet, uneven and pronounced. The kind of breath you take when something hurts more than you thought it would.

“You’re asking me to get over something I haven’t even fully wrapped my mind around.”

You falter.

“No, I’m—I’m just telling you I’m going to wait, and you can have as long as you need—”

“Stop,” he says, more sad than angry. “You need to stop.”

“I can’t stop,” you whisper, closer to forlorn every second as you tear up and spill all over again. “I have to try.”

Spencer’s voice shakes as he speaks. “Do not do this to yourself. There is nothing you can say, alright? This needs to be over, so it’s going to be over. It’s not good for us.”

“But—but… you can’t just say it’s over, Spencer, we put so much—I’ve been trying so hard. I know I keep messing up, I’m sorry, I’m trying so hard. I don’t know what happened, I’m—I can do more, I know I can.”

“You can’t—this isn’t going to work. You can’t fix it.”

“But I love you. I want to be with you. I did it all for you, all the hard stuff, not for me, I just—I love you. I want you.”

You don’t realize you’re sobbing until he’s wrenching your hands from your face once more and pulling you into him.

“I know you love me. I wish we were better for each other, angel, I do. But it’s not supposed to feel like this.”

It’s not supposed to feel like this.

You shudder a cry.

“I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt you, really. I’m so sorry. I didn’t want that. You d-didn’t deserve it. I’m so, so sorry, Spencer, I ruined everything, I—”

“Shh. Just… I’ll stay for a little bit longer, okay? Just a while.”

And he does. Until the room goes dark, and the stars watch silently from above.

October 29th

It’s not going to be warm enough to enjoy the outdoors for much longer—but today, the beams of sun are still thick through the turning leaves, still gold when you close your eyes, and the sweet smell of autumn is enough to keep you out criss-cross on Rossi’s swing.

The seal on the glass door suctions open and then slides shut again, and Penelope is joining you. You accept the mug of apple cider, holding it carefully in your lap.

“What a gorgeous day,” she sighs, and you hum in agreement. “Probably one of the last good ones. I saw rain on the forecast later this week.”

“It begins,” you mutter.

“Yeah. And I haven’t even found a suitable mate to hibernate with yet.”

Your brow knits. “You’re not with—”

She pauses mid-sip as you turn to look at her. Right—you weren’t supposed to have seen her with Kevin last spring. Your face warms and you try to play it off. “Oh, right. You guys broke up forever ago.”

To her credit, she doesn’t actually confirm or deny. Instead, a quiet settles. Or—a sort of quiet. Down the yard, in grass that is still lush and green, JJ and Spencer are playing some sort of game with Henry and Michael. One that seems to invoke a lot of delighted screeches from the young boys as they run around and fall over and get back up.

“What about you?” Penelope asks.

Apple and clove melt on your tongue and warm your throat.

“What about me?”

“Are you hunkering down with anybody?”

“No,” you admit without fanfare. Garcia doesn’t respond—probably hoping to get more information out of you. You hesitate, and then go on. “I mean—I was seeing a guy. But it ended a little while ago.”

She speaks her pity gently, in a tone like the velveteen undersides of flower petals.

“You didn’t tell me.”

You shrug.

“It wasn’t… official.”

“How long were you seeing him for?”

“It would’ve been a year next month.”

This time, she’s silent for too long.

When you finally glance over at her, she’s not looking at you, as you would’ve expected.

She’s… looking at your feet.

You glance down, ready to be very confused—and then you see the problem.

Your jeans have ridden up. One sock is striped purple and green. The other, brown, dotted with horseshoes and cacti. They’re visibly too big for you.

Quickly you try to tuck them further under yourself. But you’re sure it’s too late.

You could explain this. You could say you forgot to bring socks on a case, and Spencer let you borrow a pair.

Before you can, she speaks.

“I worried that maybe you guys had split up.”

You flash her an alarmed look. “What?”

Penelope glances toward the house to make sure nobody’s about to come outside.

“I mean… honey, you guys weren’t very subtle. I don’t think anyone who lacks my perceptive genius and emotional intelligence would have noticed, but I noticed. Like, I really noticed.”

You swallow, opening your mouth before you’ve decided your plan of action. Deny?

“When?”

“Well, everyone always knew that you liked each other. But there was this one time—and this was a total invasion of privacy, and I will never do it again unless I have to—where, you know, you… weren’t answering your phone about a case, and I got worried, because no offense, but this team kind of has a track record when it comes to going missing, and so… I checked your location… and it pinged at Spencer’s apartment… who had just told me he didn’t know where you were. And then you both showed up. I’m so sorry, but in my defense, I was not trying to snoop—”

“Penelope, it’s fine.”

“Well—okay—and there’s this other thing that I haven’t told you about because it would’ve been mutually assured destruction, so I kind of don’t ask don’t telled it, which was… me and Kevin saw you guys on a date last spring. And me and Kevin were not supposed to be on a date. And you were not supposed to be sharing spoons—spooning, if you will—with Spencer. But I did see it. And I didn’t tell you and I felt really squicky about it for a long time and I’m sorry.”

You blink. Try to process.

“You didn’t tell anyone else?”

“No! God, no! I like to gossip, I don’t like to ruin people’s relationships.”

“Who’s ruining whose relationships?” JJ asks breathlessly, carrying a tuckered out Michael on her hip and holding Henry’s hand as she approaches. Your head snaps up. Spencer is trailing a few feet behind her, eyeing you.

Heat blooms in your cheeks.

“Theoretical conversation,” Penelope supplies quickly. “Are we finally ready to harass Rossi about dinner?”

JJ looks anything but convinced—and in typical fashion, lets it go.

“I think we are. What do you think Michael—pizza?”

“Pizza!”

Everyone cheers at that—aside from you and Spencer. Penelope hurries inside after JJ and the boys. Spencer lingers. You quickly try to get your shoes back on before he can tell that you’re wearing his—

“Nice socks.”

You sigh, pausing just a moment before you finish pulling your boot on.

“Sorry. I need to do laundry.”

You stand, and Spencer opens the door for you. “What socks you choose to wear are none of my business.”

Halfway inside, you pause, glancing up at him. “Do you want them back?”

He narrows his eyes thoughtfully.

“That’s okay. I have a pair just like them at home.”

This is the first time you’ve exchanged more than a few work-related sentences since he ended things for good.

It’s sort of ridiculous, after all the melodrama.

It’s sort of a relief.

January 1st

Garcia’s New Year’s party was a success. There’d been the most FBI agents you’ve ever seen crammed into her apartment at once. There was a chocolate fountain, three kinds of champagne, and an elaborate charcuterie setup spanning nearly the entire counter. At midnight, you’d popped a confetti gun and blew into a noise maker and cheered and jumped around and hugged your friends.

An hour and a half later, you’ve taken over as impromptu host—Penelope is decidedly out of commission, snoring atop her bed, still in heels and sequins.

“Bye, guys! Happy new year!”

You wave as the last stragglers head out the door.

When you close it, and turn around: “Holy shit.”You wade through confetti and streamers and napkins, kicking a few balloons out of your way. Any flat surface is covered in sparkly plastic cups and champagne flutes. “We trashed the place.”

From the kitchen, Spencer chuckles. “It’s pretty bad.”

You frown when you notice him stacking plates. “Hey, you don’t have to do that. I told Garcia I’d handle clean up.”

He checks his watch.

“The odds of being involved in a fatal car accident are up 208% percent right now, and they won’t be going down for a few hours. Plus, my own blood alcohol content is probably hovering around point zero four, which is well under the legal limit to drive, but I’d prefer for it to be zero flat.”

You shrug and make your way over to the record player, which had finished up A Night At The Opera a while ago. “If you want to ring in the new year by helping me clean, I won’t stop you. Blue or Abbey Road?”

“Neither?”

“Boring,” you accuse, and put on Coltrane. The jazz comes slow and crackly and warm through the speakers.

Spencer steps aside as you enter the kitchen and hunt for trash bags under the sink—compostable, because it’s Garcia.

When you stand back up, you’re unprepared for how close he’s going to be—barely an inch separates you and you stumble on your quest to pop backward. “Whoop—” instinctively, he reaches out and steadies you. You grasp onto his arms, eyes flickering up to his and laughing nervously. “Hey.”

Spencer’s gaze is warm and easy on you as he pulls a little smile of his own. “Hi.”

A stuttering inhale.

A moment that is just too long.

His fingers seem to relax against your arms, just fractionally, for just a split second. Like he could hold you. Like you could stay this way.

“Sorry,” you breathe, releasing your grip on him and stepping back.

“You’re okay.”

A lazy sax solo traces its golden fingers around your thrumming heart until your skin is buzzing. His eyes are the same color as the music. Just as soft. Just as leisurely as they vamp the distance between your own.

Bio-derived plastic dampens under your fingers as you flee to the living room.

The next fifteen minutes are spent kneeling in front of the coffee table, cleaning drips of chocolate and splashes of champagne, and trying not to think about the way his eyes caught on your lips.

Spencer doesn’t miss you. Not like you miss him. Apparently he even went on a date a few weeks ago.

And with the way things ended, you’re lucky that he doesn’t despise you. Being on decent terms should be enough. Letting your perpetually smoldering want trail its smoke under his nose isn’t fair. Not to you, not to him, and certainly not to his mystery girl. He’s trying to move on, and you don’t have the right to drag him down.

But, just—that one little moment. One touch, and you’re totally thrown off your game. Now, you’re reading into the silence. You’re wondering what he’s thinking about you. If he’s thinking about you.

Later—much later—the living room has been mostly cleaned. You’re taking the final trash bag to the kitchen when you notice something on the ceiling fan and pause, frowning up at it.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come here?”

He appears. “What’s up?”

You point at the fan.

“I think somebody put a cup up there.”

Spencer makes a face and reaches up to grab it. He reads the name Sharpie’d on the side and snorts, before showing it to you.

Kevin, scrawled next to the worst smiley face you’ve ever seen.

“How do you mess up a smiley face?” you laugh.

“I’m sure he’d be able to tell you.”

You suck your teeth. “God—do you think they’re together again?”

“Kevin and Penelope?”

The trash bag drops to the ground as you flop onto the couch, exhausted. Spencer crushes the cup and tosses it in, standing just in front of you, studying you as he thinks. “I don’t know. Wouldn’t entirely surprise me. They’re pretty good at remaining inconspicuous.”

You hum, slinking lower in the faux-leather. Maybe some friendly chit-chat is in order. Friends ask each other questions, don’t they? “Speaking of inconspicuous relationships… I heard you went on a date.”

He slides his hands into his pockets and picks his words in silence for a moment—you hate that. You hate feeling excluded from whatever internal conversation he’s having. Knowing that he’s measuring how much truth he’ll dole out to you.

“Who’d you hear that from?”

You track him with your eyes as he takes a seat next to you.

“Did you?” you ask, ignoring the question—more focused on the stubbled line of his jaw.

Spencer considers his answer for a moment, head reclined on the back of the couch, charting the glittery paper stars suspended from the ceiling.

“I did. Two, actually.”

Two dates? With the same person?

“How’s that going?”

He approximates a smile.

“You’re not being very subtle.”

“I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer.”

Spencer meets your eyes. Studies them in turns, like there’s a secret language etched into the fractals of pigment.

“I like her,” he decides. And your stomach sours.

“But you didn’t bring her tonight?”

Spencer rolls his head back toward the ceiling—and very nearly his eyes, as he dryly reminds you, “We’ve been on two dates.”

“If you like her, you should’ve brought here. You could’ve kissed her at midnight and sealed the deal.”

A ditch in the conversation. The perfect depth and width for hiding a body, as something in the air changes. Drops a degree or two. Thickens.

“What are you doing?” he murmurs, looking back at you and finally putting an end to your game. Your face gets warm. Oops. Too far, maybe.

“I’m being supportive.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am. Is that allowed?”

“You’re sure it’s not surveillance?”

“Yes!”

Even to you, you sound overly defensive.

“Fine.” A moment passes. He’s staring at you, in this lazy sort of way. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“You didn’t bring anyone either.”

“Well… I’m not seeing anyone.”

It’s embarrassing to admit. You pinch at the fabric of your skirt, worrying the glitter sewn into black like drops of silver. Stars, or beads of rainwater.

“Why not?”

“Do I need an excuse to be single?”

“Just curious. Is that allowed?”

Evidently the look you cast him then is not as withering as you’d it to be. Not if he’s so unfazed. Still reading you like a familiar book.

“God, this is frustrating,” he mutters, as if to himself, tongue darting over his lips and frowning like you’re a question he doesn’t have the answer to. Your own brow pinches, ready to be offended.

“What is?”

“I just… I thought I’d stop wanting to kiss you by now.”

Behind the safety of a bone cage, tucked where he can’t see, your heart does a somersault. It probably shows in the way your spine straightens, the catch of your breath.

“Oh. I’m… I’m… sorry.”

Spencer cracks a dry smile.

“You’re sorry? Why are you sorry?”

“Well—I don’t know. Because… I don’t know. it just seems like… the wrong thing to want. You have a girlfriend.”

The softening of his eyes, the tilt of his head, all spell pity. Like you’re naive.

“That’s not what she is, honey.”

Honey. You try to remember to breathe. To think.

“Then what is she?”

He hums.

“Not you. As much as I tried to tell myself that was for the best.”

Scratch somersault. Back handspring. Or maybe a round-off. You swallow. Pick at your nails.

Did you think this into existence? Was all your desire really so loud?

“Spencer…”

“What?”

“That’s… that’s not fair.”

His eyes are melting glass on yours, voice lowered in a way you’ve sorely missed. “How so?”

It takes you a moment to remember yourself. “Because I’m—I’m trying to be better. I’m really trying. I don’t want anyone to get hurt ’cause of me. So if this girl likes you—”

“Angel. Nobody’s getting hurt. She knew I had someone else on my mind.”

“You can’t call me that,” you whisper brokenly. But he’s close enough you can feel his breath. You don’t know how he got close like this—when you gravitated toward him, charmed as a snake by a flute. When the inevitable outcome limited itself to brilliant, disastrous collision. “We can’t do this.”

“Why not?”

“Because… because we’re not together.”

“When has that ever stopped us?”

All your air comes out at once. “This is so stupid.”

“You’re so pretty.” Delicately he cups your jaw. Strokes the tips of his fingers along the hollow of your cheek. “I was thinking about it all night. Noticed the glitter as soon as I saw you. Did Penelope do it?”

“Spencer, please.” Breathless. Pathetic. Desperate for him to put you out of your misery, one way or another.

His throat bobs. “Come here.”

So you do. You lean in, one hand balanced on his knee, the other on his shoulder, and your lips brush so softly it can’t even be called a kiss. Still it sends a high-voltage shock through your whole body. He tastes like champagne as you kiss him deeper, as his hand wanders to the back of your thigh and hoists you across his lap. The other roots in your hair and your head spins.

“Missed you so much,” he breathes into your mouth, not even bothering to pull away, or even to stop kissing you really. Mellow ivory and brass do a good job of concealing your soft breaths. Less so the undignified noise you make when Spencer shifts you roughly on his lap to pull you closer.

“This isn’t a nice thing to be doing on ’Nelope’s couch,” you gasp between kisses, gripping at the front of his shirt like someone’s going to try taking him away from you. He alters his course from your mouth to trail down your neck. Lets fingers dip just beneath the hemline of your skirt until you shudder.

“Then we’ll stop.”

Your jaw drops in a silent squeak as he nips at a delicate spot on your throat.

The problem is that with the two of you, there is never any stopping. Not definitively. Never permanently. You can say it as emphatically as you’d like. You can even sort of mean it. But the cosmos has other plans.

Outside, silent snow falls from a blue-black sky. There is nothing but the headlight glare from the occasional passing car. The popping and crackling of distant fireworks set off by the over-imbibed, ringing twelve o’clock in hours after the bloom of the new year. It must be midnight somewhere, you suppose.

It’s just like you and Spencer, to be in the wrong place at the right time. It’s like you to slip through time-space cracks until you find each other in the accordion folds of the universe.

It’s basically tradition.

spoilers: reader kinda cheats on Spencer but the consent there is questionable seeing as she was incredibly intoxicated

if u read this far WOW ily I hope u liked it :D I put blood sweat and tears into this bad boy. also shout-out @aliteralsemicolon for helping me so much with this fic she is a very helpful and willing consultant I think this never would've seen the light of day without her!!! ALSO THIS FIC WAS INSPIRED BY LIZZY MCALPINE’S SONG OF THE SAME NAME and each line corresponds to one of the dates of the scene!!! Read that here!!

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic

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haikyuubby · 3 months ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐡𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞!

short imagines featuring: bakugo, midoriya, todoroki, kaminari, kirishima, shinso, and monoma!

part 2 to my valentine’s series!

❀ - fluff, gender neutral reader

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨

“you’re asking me to be your…what?

you hold out a pink card, the words “will you be my valentine?” printed on it.

“you’re asking me to be your…what?” bakugo says, reading the card.

you had a small pack of chocolates in your hand, awaiting bakugo’s answer.

it had taken a lot of courage for you to decide to ask bakugo to be your valentine, mainly because you two weren’t “a thing” yet, and because you didn’t know how he’d respond to this sort of thing.

“you’re such a dumbass, you know that? i already got you a gift for today, and it’s sitting in your dorm right now.” bakugo says.

“wait, really?!” you respond, throwing your arms around bakugo’s neck.

“calm down, and yes. i wasn’t gonna ask you to my my valentine in case you thought it was corny…”

“never that! thank you so much! i’m gonna go see the gift right now!”

after you go to your dorm, you find a red box sitting on your bed.

inside of said box was a dainty, expensive looking necklace.

who knew that bakugo could be so thoughtful?

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚

“you want me…to be your valentine?”

as you give a heart shaped sucker to midoriya, asking him to be your valentine, you can’t help but notice his flushed face.

he stares at you in awe, mumbling a bunch of “youreallywantmetobeyourvalentine?!”

you laugh at his antics, saying yes.

midoriya is unsure of what to say, he’s honestly starstruck that you asked him to be your valentine.

“okay, for real, you want me…to be your valentine?” he asks again.

you quickly nod your head, shoving the sucker in his hand.

“thanks, y/n. i’ve never had someone ask me to be their valentine before…” midoriya admits shamefully.

“i’m glad to be the first! i really like you, midoriya.” you say.

he chuckles, opening up the candy you gave him.

“would you maybe want to go somewhere with me today? we can train together then go out to eat?” he asks.

“i’d love to, midoriya.”

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢

“be your valentine?”

you give todoroki a small gift bag full of self care items and candy, with a handwritten note that reads “will you be my valentine?”

“be your valentine?” he says as he takes out the note from the bag.

“yes, will you?” you ask eagerly.

“i’ve never had anyone ask me this before…i will be your valentine.” he replies, lips curling upward every so slightly.

“i hope you enjoy your gifts, todoroki.”

“actually— y/n, would you like to go out to eat tonight?” he says abruptly.

you nod with a smile, grabbing his hand.

“it’s your pick.”

𝐤𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢

“are you seriously…asking me?”

kaminari was currently looking at the card you gave him, asking to be his valentine.

“are you seriously…asking me?” he asks.

“yes, kaminari. that’s why i’m giving this to you.” you respond, awaiting his answer.

“i can’t believe that this is really happening…i’ll be your valentine!”

kaminari wraps his arms around your body, squeezing as hard as he possibly can.

“wait— does this mean we’re boyfriend girlfriend now?”

“if you ask me out properly, then we can be.”

𝐤𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚

“i wanted to ask you first!”

“kirishima, will you be my valentine?” you ask while holding out a red teddy bear in front of kirishima.

“aw man, seriously?! i wanted to ask you first!” he says.

initially, you thought he was going to reject you based on how his sentence started.

after he says that he wanted to ask you first, you smile and hand him the red teddy bear.

kirishima then pulls you in for a hug, kissing the top of your head in the process.

“let me take you out, please?” he asks.

“of course, kirishima.”

𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨

“only if you’ll be mine.”

“shinso, i have a question to ask you.” you ask, hiding a red box of chocolates behind your back.

“what is it?” he asks.

you pull the chocolates from behind your back, placing them in shinso’s hands.

“will you be my valentine?” you ask.

shinso analyzes the chocolates you got him, smiling in the process.

shinso sets the chocolates down, and grabs your hand.

“only if you’ll be mine.”

𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐦𝐚

“be my valentine!”

you walk up to monoma, mischievous intent glinting in your eyes.

you had a small gift bag full of candies hidden behind your back.

before you can even get one word out, monoma cuts you off mid air.

“be my valentine!” he demands.

“hey! i was gonna ask you first…” you say, giving him the candies that you were hiding.

monoma looks through the bag you gifted him, seconds before he starts going on one of his usual rants.

“HAHA! i did it first! i knew you’d ask me to be your valentine!” monoma says.

your eyes roll at his antics, and you step away from him slowly.

under the impression that you’re walking away from this encounter, monoma reaches for your hand to stop you.

“…do you want to go out with me sometime? maybe right now? i really appreciate the gift and i don’t walk you to walk awa—“

“yes, monoma” you cut him off.

“i’d love to.”

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shouyuus · 3 months ago

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─── Ⅵ FOR THE LOVE OF FLOWERS

violet; 4,403 words; fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, bartender!vi, florist!reader, (probably) incorrect depiction of florist/bartender life, sun and moon dynamic, so much pining, dad!vander, bff!mel, mylo and claggor being... mylo and claggor, mindless, tooth-rotting fluff, lapslock, no "y/n"

summary: in which you work at the flowershop directly across the street from the last drop.

a/n: happy belated valentines day!!! i know i have like a bunch of other wips but i wanted to write something cutesy and it's still valentines weekend for me so... i hope you guys enjoy! :)

─── Ⅵ THE FIRST TIME SHE SEES YOU, it’s valentine’s day — after a long night of serving drinks and arguing with progressively drunker and drunker men (doubtlessly hoping to land a lay at the bar the night before valentine’s) and a botched hookup attempt (vi texted; hookup did not respond. the crowd boos), the sight of you across the streets had felt something like a dream.

she’d always known about the flower shop directly opposite the small, two lane street from the last drop —

for the love of flowers.

it’s a cute name, written in looping, ornate script, and she’s never paid it much attention till now, what with her schedule being so opposite yours, but that morning (february 14th, she’ll never forget) she sees you, pushing open the gorgeous french windows and setting up the sign, in a teddybear coat that looked like a wayward cloud had wandered down to earth and made itself into a jacket, just for you.

you were humming — she doesn’t know how she knew this, but she did. she could just tell, from the way you moved through the motions of your morning routine like a dance, trailing delicate fingers along the wooden frame of your door before disappearing into the shop and reappearing a moment later with a vast bouquet of ruby-red roses.

the smile on your face had been nothing short of incandescent.

it’s been a full year since then (so they say, time slips by quick when you’ve got a crush — or, whatever) and somehow, she still doesn’t know your name.

she knows other things though — she knows the shape and weight of all your smiles, the way your eyes glitter when you’re helping a customer pick out their flowers. she knows there’s a very fluffy white cat that sometimes likes to sunbathe on the shop’s windowsill, and that when it does come to visit, you always have a warm bowl of milk ready. she knows the cadence of your mornings, the rhyme and rhythm of your opening and closing routines. she knows the colors of all your favorite dresses, and how you like to match them to your seemingly endless collection of cute little flats.

she knows your laughter sounds like bell-chimes, the few times she’s heard it ringing out across the street. she knows the fragments of your voice she’s sometimes overhead, carried on the autumn wind, sometimes reminds her of birdsong.

and, she knows that she doesn’t stand a chance.

“you do,” vander chimes, wiping down the bartop one morning, even as vi helps him stack the stools, the window facing the street thrown open. vi groans, unable to help the way her eyes flicker towards it, towards the shape of your flower-shop across the street, where she knows that in about 10 minutes exactly, you’ll throw open your own white-paneled windows and start prepping for your day.

“how could you possibly know that?” vi asks, crinkling her nose at the whine that sneaks into her voice.

vander makes a sound not unlike an amused bear before slinging the large washcloth onto his shoulder and shooting her a fox-sly grin, his eyes beetle-dark and twinkling.

“just trust your old man on this, yeah? it’s valentine’s day tomorrow, so trot on over after we close… and buy ‘er some flowers. see how that goes, hm?”

vi chews on her lip — it sounds simple enough when vander says it like that but…

heat plumes up the back of her neck at the thought of you, in one of your myriad dresses, perhaps with leggings on underneath to protect against the mid-february chill, the flower patterned apron tied around your waist, a pair of red scissors tucked into the front pocket.

she’s shaking her head before she can stop herself.

“no — i — i can’t, she doesn’t even know i exist — how creepy would it be to just show up and —”

vander cuts her off with a massive hand on her shoulder, giving her a tiny shake that nonetheless makes vi’s head wobble.

“she does know you exist,” vander says, and from up this close, vi can almost see her own reflection in the dark of his eyes. “just… give it a go. and if it doesn’t work… i’ll cover all your drinks here for a week.”

vi puffs out an incredulous laugh.

“vander, i work here — i already drink for free.”

vander chuckles, “fine then, you’ll get the next two weekends off, how’s that?”

vi’s face brightens, “really? and… if it does go well?” she taps her fingers nervously against the worn wooden bar.

vander’s grin widens by degrees, “then… you’ll get the two weekends off anyway — for your first and second dates, sound good?”

vi blinks, staring up at vander for a solid few seconds before laughing and holding out her hand.

“yeah, sure — thanks old man.”

vander huffs, taking her hand in his and giving it a soft pat, and for a moment, vi feels the inexplicable urge to throw her arms around him and bury her face in his chest like she used to when she was still small enough for him to lift onto his shoulders. instead, she only swallows and gives his hand a tight squeeze.

his whole face softens as he lifts a hand to cluck at her chin, chuckling as she scowls and makes a half-hearted attempt to duck away.

“that’s my girl.”

vi turns away with burning cheeks and a giddy smile spreading across her face. she makes her way to the back where the door opens out onto the alley where the delivery truck for the next night’s liquors is already idling. she waves at the benzo, and reaches into the back for a crate of fresh beer bottles, counting down the seconds till tomorrow morning.

she doesn’t see, across the street, the flicker of lights click on in your shop or hear the slight creak of hinges as you push open the windows, shivering slightly in the pre-dawn wind. she doesn’t see the way you crane your neck out to try and catch a glimpse of her, of the tiny pout that pushes at your lips when you don’t see her familiar silhouette in the bar’s old, wooden window.

she doesn’t see the way your shoulders slump, or the way you glance down at your fingers, clutching at the window sill as you try to tell yourself that maybe, maybe this time, you’ll go over and talk to her. she doesn’t see you mouthing the words to yourself, as if going over lines for a stage-play — hi! i hope this isn’t too weird but… i’ve seen you across the street almost every day and… i just thought… well… would i be able to buy you a drink?

you shake your head, groaning inwardly to yourself as you slip back into your shop and grab the large sign that usually goes out front, boasting of the currently in-season flowers and any discounts you might be having.

“god, who even offers to buy a bartender a drink? she’ll probably think i’m an idiot or something —”

“i’m sure it’s not the first time she’s heard that line before, darling,” mel says, barely glancing up from behind the register, taking stock of the previous day’s sales.

“yeah, and i’m willing to be that it’s sucked for her every single time.”

“you won’t know till you’ve tried it,” mel sing-songs, even as she sighs and rounds the register to help you pick out the most eye-catching flowers for the outdoor display.

you scowl down at a fresh batch of roses, just in time for valentine’s day. you reach for your scissors and start the methodical work of ridding them of all their thorns.

by the time you carry the floral display outside and duck back in for the sign, it’s to catch a glimpse of vi, laughing as she jokes around with a pair of boys (who you’ve surmised by now also work at the bar), her ducking beneath an attempted jab and jumping up to loop her arm around one of them in a headlock. the sound of their yelps and laughter rings bright and clear against the mid-morning sky, a second before the wind kicks up and sends the hem of your dress fluttering.

you squeak, pushing it down, your eyes slingshotting back across the street, but vi’s already gone, disappeared into the back alley, the memory of her voice still echoing in your chest like the opening bars of a love song you’ve always known, but can never remember the lyrics of.

you catch sight of vander as he reaches out to close the window of the last drop, and for a second, your eyes meet. he cocks his head, a knowing grin slung across his lips even as you blush and raise your hand in greeting. he pauses to dip his head at you, before turning to say something to someone you can’t quite see, and then he’s turning back, lifting a hand to his lips as if to say — your secret’s safe with me.

something thuds in your chest as he shoots you a furtive wink and pulls the window shut.

“darling? come help me with these snapdragons — i can never get them to sit as nicely as you do.”

you turn and hurry back into the shop, your mind spinning even as you busy yourself with the task of arranging the shop for opening.

the day passes by in a whirlwind of cut-stems and wrapping paper, of satin ribbon and hard twine. and by the time you’re closing up shop, the familiar, heart-warming glow of light is already pouring from the window of the last drop, and a few seconds later, you see the heart-rending shape of vi as she pushes through the front door, holding it open with a hip to let vander through, chattering about this or that.

you whip around before she can catch you staring and busy yourself with checking over the leftover flowers from the outside display, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. you’re sure you can feel the weight of her eyes on you, and you tell yourself that it’s nothing — just something friendly, or neighborly, or — something bumps against your ankle and you glance down to find poro the cat twining herself between your legs.

“hey there,” you greet, bending down to pick her up. poro lets out a pleased mewl, purring loudly as you run your fingers through her silken fur, “we missed you today — but you never liked the big crowds, huh?” you smile, making your way to the window and setting her down on the wide ledge. she spins herself around twice before settling, her fluffy tail wrapping around her paws as she watches you with large, sky-blue eyes.

across the street, vi watches, her heart in her throat, and nearly walks into the edge of the door with an armful of empty crates, catching herself three seconds before faceplanting into the pavement. behind her, mylo lets out a bark of laughter even as claggor groans, shaking his head and sidestepping them both back into the bar.

“y’know, this whole lesbian pining thing’s gone on for a bit too long,” mylo says, spinning a beer bottle opener around his index finger as he and vi make their way in behind claggor.

“shut the fuck up,” vi snipes, shouldering passed mylo towards the stairs leading to the basement, her stomach twisting at the thought of perhaps asking you out in less than 24 hours. she sighs, dropping the crates into a corner and turning to leave again, only to find mylo leaning against the narrow stairwell, staring at her with the a sanctimonious smirk.

her eyes narrow, “you’re one to talk,” she grumbles, making her way back to stare him straight in the eyes; she sees him falter, the flash of uncertainty in his eyes before he squares up again, puffing out his chest, “how long’ve you been thirsting after the lead singer of that indie band again? two years now? three?”

“th-that’s different!” mylo insists, stumbling after her as vi shoves passed him back up the stairs.

vi cocks an eyebrow, reaching up to grab a barstool, setting it on the floor with a loud clack.

“yeah? how so?”

mylo licks his lips, “it’s — she — she’s like a celebrity, y’know? so it’s — it’s normal that i haven’t —”

“what celebrity? her band plays here like every other week — you’ve had more facetime with gert over the past few years than i’ve had with —” vi gestures towards the door, “flowergirl, in like… ever!”

on the opposite end of the bar, claggor is helping vander wipe down tables, glancing up from his work with a deep sigh.

“so is she gonna do it, or what?”

vander grunts, “think she actually might, tomorrow morning.”

“yeah? how’d you convince her?”

vander shrugs, “offered her two weekends off.”

claggor snorts, “figures. well — if it finally gets the two of them together then…” he mimics wiping sweat off his brow and shaking off his fingers. vander laughs, nodding.

“one can only hope.” he casts another glance towards where vi and mylo are now locked in a full-out brawl, vi having pinned mylo’s face to the recently wiped bar top with his arm twisted behind his back.

across the street, you’re sighing into a handful of Iron Plant leaves, stripping out the ones with yellowing tips and keeping the most vibrant ones for the next day.

“you’ll age yourself if you keep sighing like that,” mel says, reaching over your shoulder to pluck a particularly green leaf from the bunch and swatting at your head as if it were a feather-duster.

you frown, wiping your hands on your apron before moving to the next batch of leaves.

“it’s just… been so long and i — i don’t even think she’s looked at me.”

mel groans, “oh trust me — she has.”

“you keep saying that, but i’ve never —”

“just because you’ve never seen it, darling, doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.” she reaches out to tug the sheers from your hand with dexterous fingers. she snaps them once, the sharp snip making you wince.

“yes, yes — i know…” you lick your lips, glancing at the window. outside, the setting sun has burnished the entire street in gold. a second later, the door of the last drop swings open again and vi appears, her eyes casting towards your shop and for a fraction of a second — no longer than a hummingbird’s wingbeat — your eyes meet.

the contact is electric, scintillating and strange — it shocks through you, staticking through all your nerve endings till your fingers and toes are tingling with it — the buzzing energy, the potential of something.

anything —

more.

and then, mylo bumps into vi as he clambers by, and the moment is broken, the tenuous connection between you shattering like sugar-string. vi shoves mylo back hard, and by the time she looks back, you’ve melted back into the flower-decked interior of the shop.

it is a long night, though in general, the one before valentines day always is. too many bruised egos, sloshing over the sides of beer steins. too many puffed-up, washed-up, has-beens, wandering the darkened corners of the town in search of a warm body inside which they might partake in the delicate art of forgetting. and in vi’s experience, wounded prides have never mixed well with alcohol — no matter what the occasion.

so by the morning, she’s exhausted, the sunrise greeting her in all its fool’s gold glory.

vander gives her a pat on the back and slides an irish coffee down the bar towards her. she stares at the white frothy top before cracking him a grin and chugging down half in a single gulp, wincing slightly a the sharp bite of whiskey.

vander laughs, shrugging as vi stares at the remainder of the glass.

“thought you could use a little liquid courage.”

vi sniffs, sucks in a breath, and downs the rest of the drink, raising the empty glass to vander before sliding it back down the bar. vander reaches out to catch it in a single smooth motion, waving her off.

“right, now go on and get your girl.”

vi coughs, “she’s not my —”

claggor tuts, “just go already — we’ll finish up here —”

vi opens her mouth as if to respond, but at another hard look from vander, she deflates, grumbling to herself as she drags the back of her hand across her lips to make sure there’s no residual whipped cream, before pushing out the door, bracing herself against the mid-february wind.

the street is nearly empty this early in the morning, and the dawning sunlight has yet to settle into it’s usual richness, still a bit wane, papering the street in the palest shade of gold. on the opposite horizon, the night is is bleeding out the last dregs of its own inky darkness, a crescent moon hung like a ghostly petal, floating across the surface of a late winter sky.

vi shoves both her hands into her jacket pockets and hunches her shoulders against a kick of wind, half-jogging across the thin, two-lane street just as you push your windows open.

“oh! hi! uhm —” your voice is just as beautiful as she’s always known it would be.

vi squeezes her fists inside her pockets, scuffing her feet against the pavement as she watches the way your cheeks flush rose-petal-pink, and then you’re ducking back into the store, only to appear a second later, stepping through the front door in a velvet dress red as holly-berries (or perhaps just the shade of bleeding hearts), your usual apron tied around your waist, a thin scarf looped around your neck to protect against the chill.

“hey! sorry to just — randomly run across the street like this —” she waves a hand awkwardly at the last drop, closing up behind her.

you shake your head, pressing your palms to the front of your apron, “no! it’s okay — actually i —”

“i wanted to ask — oh, sorry no —” she speaks over you in her haste, backtracking immediately, even as you flap your hands, seemingly just as flustered as she is.

“no, no! it’s fine — what did you want to ask?” you open your hands, expectant.

and you’re looking at her, gods, you’re looking at her. and vi can’t think for the rabbit’s foot thump of her heart, beating inside her chest, making her vision swim as a rush of blood floods her ears, washing out all sound except for the silver-bell chime of your voice. she digs her nails into her palms, clearing her throat.

“uh… it’s just… i was — i was wondering — shit — well, okay — say… i wanted to get someone flowers —”

you blink, your eyes flickering between both of hers at her words. and then, you turn, if only to keep her from seeing the way your expression falls, ever so slightly.

“oh… yeah? okay, sure — i can help you with that — do you know what kind of flowers you’d like?” you lead her into the main body of your shop, holding the door open for her.

vi steps through, scratching at the back of her neck, glancing around, trying not to seem so overwhelmed by the utter explosion of fragrance and color.

“th-that’s the thing though — i — i mean, i don’t know anything about flowers so — i thought — i wanted to ask for your help —” she glances back at you; you clear your throat and look away, reaching out to brush a finger along the petal of a single red rose, lying in the middle of a perfectly cut square of wax paper.

“uh… yeah, i — i can do that — uhm — i’m assuming this is a… romantic kind of floral-endeavor?” you ask, bracingly, making a small attempt at your usual humor.

vi purses her lips, the freckles dusted across her nose made all the more prominent by the way she blushes.

“yeah — sort of.”

you take a deep breath, then start to make your way around the shop.

“okay, well — do you know their favorite color or… anything?”

vi follows a few steps behind, glancing around for any indication before she sighs.

“uhm… i know she likes colors in general — bright ones —”

you pause over a display of button mums the color of honey.

“oh! cool okay —” you make to move away again but vi jerks forward, reaching out in an abortive movement, her hand caught in midair as you turn. you stare, unable to entirely keep the skip from your heartbeat.

“i just — holy fuck —” she runs a hand over her face, looking strangely abashed as she drops her hand, squeezing her fingers into fists before letting them loose again. you wonder, for a moment, why she might be so nervous before she licks her lips and continues, “— so — say you were going to get flowers from someone… on valentine’s day —”

you go almost preternaturally still.

“uh… huh…”

vi chews on her bottom lip so hard you’re worried, for a second, that she might draw blood. still, she looks anywhere but at you.

“w-what kind of flowers w-would you uh — would you want them to get you?”

you stare at her for a beat, and then another. a tentative hope blossoms in your chest, a single creeping vine at first, threading through your veins. you lick your lips, clasping your hands behind your back, worrying at your own fingers.

“d-depends… would this person be uhm… asking me out? or…” you trail off.

vi nods, almost too eager, taking half a step forward.

“y-yeah! maybe — if you’re… open to being asked out —”

“i — i am!” you blurt out. heat plumes into your skin like the first wisteria bloom of spring, one at first, and then another, then another — tiny flowers popping open, fragrant and shockingly violet until your chest is full of them.

“great! so… uh… the flowers —?” vi lets out a soft chuckle.

your lashes flutter, and then, you spring into movement. anything to dance off the mid-summer fire collecting beneath your skin.

“oh! sorry — right — i guess i’d like… gardenias, for secret love,” you say, rounding the shop towards the large white blooms, your heartbeat a riotous mess, clattering against your ribs as you pluck out a few of the choicest flowers. behind you, vi watches, her heart caught in the back of her throat, her breath lost somewhere in the air between you.

“maybe… a few pink camelias, for longing —” you move through to the other side of the shop, collecting the flowers one by one, your fingers trembling as you tug each of them from their stands, “hydrangeas for understanding… or at least —” you suck in a breath, “i hope…”

“y-yeah — i — i hope so too — i mean — that’s good, that’s perfect —”

you swallow, turning around to show her the budding bouquet, but when you hold out the flowers, she barely spares them a glance, her eyes fixed on you.

“y-you’re — they’re uh… beautiful.”

“u-uhm — and then… a few fillers…” you say, oddly breathless, if only to fill in the electric quiet, the air thrumming with it, as lightning might brew beyond a monsoon sky.

you finish the bouquet with a piece of twine, smiling down at your own handiwork. the flush in your cheeks only grows as you turn to offer them to her, and she smiles, pursing her lips.

“is… is there a card or something i could —” she motions towards the flowers.

you nod passed the giddiness collecting in your throat.

“s-sure! and… who —” you gulp again, tugging a small red-heart shaped card from the cash register, “who might this be for?”

vi lets out a helpless laugh, “i… i was hoping that’d be kind of obvious…”

you hesitate for a second longer before scribbling your name at the top of the card. vi leans over to read it; the way she says your name makes your chest stitch, your lungs constrict.

“and…” you finally allow yourself to look up at her, your pen hovering over the from line on the card. her gaze, when you meet it, is the most gorgeous morning-glory blue.

“vi — violet,” she says.

you smile, “pretty name.” before bending down to write it on the card as well.

“thanks. yours… isn’t so bad either,” she says, reaching for her wallet.

you wave her away.

“on the house.”

vi cocks an eyebrow, “i don’t think that’s how buy someone valentine’s day flowers works.”

you crinkle your nose, “it is if the person you’re buying them for runs a flower shop.”

at this, vi laughs, the sound sweet and clear as a winter’s thaw. you find yourself giggling too, looking down at the bouquet with soft eyes.

“how about… you buy this for me… and you let me… buy you a drink tonight?” you ask, setting the flowers aside and pressing your palms to the register top. vi blinks.

“yeah?” vi’s smile lopes to the side, a sharp, dangerous twinkle caught behind her eyes, “and… what would you be getting me?”

you trail a light finger along the length of the register with a small shrug.

“actually… i was going to ask — say someone were to buy you a drink for valentine’s day…”

vi puffs out a breath, her gaze darkening by degrees.

“uh huh.”

“what kind of drink would you want them to get you?”

TAGLIST: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt @the-drama-is-real @froggybich @chwlogy @xrhyllamyx @yaeil @sweetybuzz25 @lustfirepoison @gigizwrld @bruisedbygod @luvmoo @autisticgirlkisser @elegantunknowncloud - join the taglist

#⛈ monsoon season #arcane #vi x reader #arcane x reader #vi fluff #arcane fluff #vi x you #arcane x you #vi arcane #violet arcane #violet x reader #vi arcane fluff #vi x y/n #arcane x y/n #for the love of 💐#<- thats gonna be my tag for this au bc YOU CAN BET im gonna write more shit in this au oh my god

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wafflefries13 · 5 months ago

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First Date Ideas (Multi TWST Cast X Reader)

Summary: Short drabbles of where you would take your favorite Twisted Wonderland guy on a first date, and where he would take you.

AN: Pseudo part 2 to the asking-out fic I posted. Not really much else to say besides I really liked trying to come up with a bunch of unique ideas. Thanks for reading!

Cross-posted on my AO3 TheGhostInTheKitchen

Warnings: Fluff

Part 1: Asking them out

Ace:

Where you take him: Arcade

It’s fun, it’s cozy, it’s classic, and it gives Ace a chance to show off. You both get a bunch of tokens, eat greasy pizza, and try your hand at the games. You take each other on in skeeball and Ace tries to convince you to go against him in the basketball game but you argue he has an unfair advantage. So you settle for the racing simulator. After, when you collect all your tickets, you pour over the prize counter, probably ending up with something not very impressive, or maybe a snow cone maker that stops working after the first three uses. But you’ll treasure it since it’s loaded with memories.

Where he takes you: Carnival

This boy is already a clown, put him back where he belongs. Besides the fact that it gives him an excuse to impress you by winning prizes at the games alley, or trying to anyway, a carnival date fits Ace’s high energy. You can share popcorn and cotton candy while watching the circus acts and Ace will whisper to you explanations for the tricks the magician uses. There’s plenty of stuff to do and tons of fried food. It’s a classic for a reason. And he’d love it if you hold on to him on the rollercoasters. He ends up screaming more than you.

Deuce:

Where you take him: Petting zoo

I just want to see Deuce fawning over baby chicks, is that so much to ask? NGL, I think he’d love it. You could go to some sort of tourist farm and check out the cows getting milked, sheep shearing or sheepdog herding, and collect eggs from the chickens (the kind that don’t hatch into chicks). I can also see Deuce getting into a grudge match against a goat that keeps bonking into his legs with his horns. At the end of the day you’ll sit at a picnic table eating some treats made at the farm and watch the sunset.

Where he takes you: Botanical garden

Deuce would want to do something classic, a surefire, tried and tested dating spot. I can imagine him being nervous, getting you flowers when you are already going to see more flowers. You’ll hold the flowers in one hand and Deuce’s, slightly sweaty, hand in the other. If they have a butterfly room, even better. They’ll have a little booklet with different species and you and Deuce go on a scavenger hunt to identify as many as possible. Winner gets kisses.

Trey:

Where you take him: At home food science experiment kits

Did you ever see those at home science food kits where you made gummies and foam and other candy, usually themed to something really weird like monsters or worms? Yeah, you do those, half making fun of how weird it looks and half marveling at the cool effects of swirling all the different ingredients together. Will they taste amazing? Probably not, but Trey probably knows a few cool tricks to make everything a little more edible.

Where he takes you: Chocolate factory tour

Have you ever been to Hersheypark in Pennsylvania? There’s a whole section with a little dark ride that shows you the history of chocolate (that’s worse since they took the singing cow animatronics out), a cute interactive play, a trolly ride with chocolate samples, and two chocolate making experiences. You can stuff a giant Reese’s Cup (which is way too sweet IMO) or design your own chocolate bar including the wrapping. Anyway, there’s probably not a one-to-one replica, but with all that magic you can’t tell me there’s not something Willy Wonka-esque. You’ll both spend the day learning about the history of chocolate and chocolate making in Twisted Wonderland, capped off by making all kinds of treats. You’ll experiment with typical flavors, like raspberry, caramel, and nuts, to the more extraordinary, like jalapeno, lavender, and cheese. In the end, you’ll go home with a full box and a picture of the two of you, melted chocolate smearing your faces. (Trey will remind you at least three times to brush your teeth properly after all that sugar.)

Cater:

Where you take him: Thrift store

Listen, you find the right thrift store and you can find amazing treasures. And if not, well, you still find weird, kitschy stuff you can have fun ogling. You and Cater will take turns finding the best and worst outfits in the thrift store, having a makeshift fashion show by the changing rooms. Cater would, of course, take plenty of pictures for Magicam, labeling them #MeetMyNewPartner, #HeightOfFashion, #BestLookingCouple. You’ll also look through the aisles, coming up with backstories for all the various objects people have donated over the years. Whether or not you actually buy something isn’t the point. You end the day with plenty of pictures and at least three inside jokes that will drive everyone else crazy.

Where he takes you: Crafting class

There’s been an emergence of cute crafting stores. Make your own bag, make your own candle, paint your own pottery, make a phone case, rug tufting, that kind of thing. Not only are they a cute and totally Magicamable couples activity, it also gives you both something to take home at the end of the day. Whichever you do, I can see you both making a craft for each other. Maybe you keep what you’re doing a secret until the end, filming your reactions when you reveal your crafts. If you pay close attention later on, you can catch him quietly admiring your gift.

Riddle:

Where you take him: Escape room

Back during the NRC Halloween event, when everyone was stuck in the ghost realm, Riddle had a ton of fun solving those puzzles. I think he would love an escape room, finding clues and undoing locks, using logic and guile to uncover the story. He might get frustrated at the harder puzzles, but it’s all worth it when you work together to solve everything. You get your picture taken together with a “We Escaped!” sign that you frame. It would be something unexpected but fun for the both of you. (TBH, I think he would love the Nancy Drew games. Maybe not the part where you keep breaking into people's things and stealing stuff, though.)

Where he takes you: High tea and window shopping

Riddle is going for a classic, something prim and proper for a prim and proper boy. I can see him reserving a table at a high class hotel for high tea, a table set with a beautiful porcelain teapot and a tower of tiny sandwiches and cakes. He’d order a bunch of different teas you could try. Afterwards, you would walk along the street, checking out shops and talking together. Bonus points if you both get to wear something fancy and cute.

Leona:

Where you take him: Picnic

Look, while having the title of Ramshackle Dorm Prefect sounds fancy, you don’t have a lot of extra cash. You would need to do something simple and cheap but still meeting Leona’s royal tastes (You can’t tell me this boy isn’t a picky eater.) Thanks to the Culinary Crucible, you have a few new skills to test out. You find a big blanket in some old trunk in Ranshakle and pack everything together in a cute wicker basket. Maybe you’ll eat in the gardens where Leona always takes naps or go out on the beach to watch the waves. You both end up falling asleep with full bellies. (Leona won’t admit it, but he feels like that was the best food he’s had in a long time.)

Where he takes you: River cruise with a fancy dinner

Leona is going to see your cute picnic date and immediately one ups it with a super fancy and elegant river cruise with a full five course meal. It’s on a beautiful private yacht sailing down a river in the Sunset Savannah. You’ll sit on the deck, candlelight table, while perfectly dressed waiters serve you. This would probably backfire on Leona, though, as you tease him for acting the most prince-ly you’ve ever seen him. Not that you don’t have a ton of fun. By the time dessert rolls around, you’ve both ditched the fancy setting and started skipping stones in the wake of the boat.

Jack:

Where you take him: Canoeing

Something relaxing and outdoorsy and fun. I’m thinking you’ll find someplace like the Ocklawaha River or Crystal River in Florida. A beautiful river with plenty of turtles and fish to spot, surrounded by lush forests or Everglades. If you’re more confident on the water, maybe you each can have a kayak, but I imagine something like you both share a boat. It would be fun to have a sort of eye-spy sheet, like who can spot the most turtles, identify fish, maybe catching sight of a manatee, and, wait, was that an alligator? You’ll end your journey at a natural spring. Dumping your stuff in the canoes, you’ll jump in and spend the rest of the day swimming in the cool water. Maybe you find a good vine or rope and swing out over the water.

Where he takes you: Zip Lining and high ropes course

More high energy and involved than a lazy day river trip, but it gives you two the chance to be close. I can almost guarantee Jack found out about the place you go to from Coach Vargas. You’ll get hooked up into harnesses and climb up to a vast network of bridges and ladders and obstacle courses hung between the trees like a giant athletic spiderweb. Maybe at one point you slip, and, although you’re perfectly safe with the harness system, Jack still lunges forward to catch you, blushing hard after as he realizes how close you too are.

Ruggie:

Where you take him: Food festival

I imagine something like the Plant City Strawberry Festival, the Wilton Blueberry Festival, or the Gilroy Garlic Festival. Heck, even throw in the Epcot Food and Wine Festival if you want to have another Disney reference. Something county fair-like with plenty of free samples. You’re not sure who convinced who, but at some point you end up getting those cheesy headbands with springs on top and plastic versions of food bobbing around your heads. There always seems to be sketchy fair rides at these things, too, so you definitely cling to each other going down a log flume ride, kind of regretting how much you ate beforehand. But that’s not going to stop you from chowing down after.

Where he takes you: Farmer’s market

Listen, if something is good at a farmer’s market, then you know it’s the best. The big ones not only have plenty of great food, but also local performers and plenty of fun extras to buy. Even if you don’t want to buy anything, it’s fun walking through the crowds and seeing all the different stands. You definitely get some super fancy ice cream, probably with some ridiculous flavors like lavender, parmesan, or licorice. Serving sizes always seem huge too, so you both definitely go home with plenty of leftovers. (You totally don’t notice that Ruggie has been paying with Leona’s credit card this whole time.)

Azul:

Where you take him: Game shop

One of Azul’s vignette stories has him practicing throwing dice so many times until he’s able to completely control what numbers will come up. Sure, he might be in the board game club for fun, but also because he likes to win. So a game shop that hosts weekly game nights would be perfect not only for him to show off and impress you, but also a cozy space to have fun and take the pressure off first date jitters. Whether you have a game with just the two of you or join in with other patrons there, you can team up to strategize and win. I personally think something like One Night Werewolf would be perfect. (He does feel bad when he accuses you of being the werewolf, though. Too bad he’s right.)

Where he takes you: Fancy restaurant

It’s nothing compared to the Monstro Lounge, of course, But Azul is putting his best foot forward with a classic first date spot. Azul plans everything down to the most minute detail. He double and triple checks the menu of where you’re going before you even leave to make sure there’s nothing you’re allergic to and there’s something you’ll like. He goes all out: flowers, pulling out your chair, getting a bottle of something fancy and expensive to drink (non-alcoholic if you prefer). Of course, the moment you start complimenting him he turns red and starts tumbling over his words. Maybe you lean into that, enjoying teasing him, the switch from having everything under control to a mess of complex emotions. Still, you slide your hand across the table taking his, and you both have a perfect night.

Jade:

Where you take him: Make your own tea blend shop

Jade is an experimental guy. I think if he wasn’t the founder of the mountain lovers club he probably would be in the science club just to mix together every kind of chemical just to see what happens. You would take him to a small tea shop, maybe in town on Sage’s Island or somewhere else through the mirror portal. You would pick out matching tea cups then choose different flavors and leaves from the jars of dried tea. You could make up little packets of different custom blends, some of them stuff you actually think would taste good, some that just sound interesting all together. You and Jade could trade and drink them together back at the Monstro Lounge.

Where he takes you: Mountain and cave hike

This is kind of a gimme, but I think he’d want to show off all his knowledge of local mountain flora and fauna. He’s the only member of his club, which gives you plenty of time to be alone together and use the club’s budget however you want. He would surprise you by showing you an undiscovered cave entrance. Hopefully it’s not the kind where you have to crawl on your belly to get in. I like imagining something like Ruby Falls in Tennessee. He’d bring you in, turn off his lantern, and crowds of bioluminescent mushrooms would glow around you.

Floyd:

Where you take him: Roller derby

You can’t tell me this boy would not absolutely love watching a bunch of people going super fast while trying to beat the hell out of each other. He would immediately pick a favorite team and buy all their merch. Even if it’s just a small local circuit he’ll make his own merch for the two of you to wear while you cheer them on. Floyd already likes shoes, specifically sneakers, so I think he would really like the idea of roller skating, going as fast on land as he can in the sea. Your next date will be at a roller rink.

Where he takes you: Laser tag

Similar to going to a roller derby, Floyd would love the energy and competition of laser tag. He’d be vaulting over the barriers and launching sneak attacks against other players. Maybe you two would team up and top the leaderboard or maybe he’d hunt you down in the glow-in-the-dark black-light game room. Afterwards you can catch your breath in the lobby and eat junk food. You’re not sure if you’re excited or nervous when he mentions paintball.

Kalim:

Where you take him: Hands-on science museum

Coming up with a first date idea to impress Buys-A-Restaurant-Chain-Because-You-Said-You-Liked-Their-Breadsticks-Once-Kalim is a little harrowing. Sure, you know he would like whatever you have planned, it’s the thought that counts, but that doesn't mean you don’t want to try and show off a little. You eventually find a hands-on science museum. Think the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia or the Tech Museum of Innovation in San Jose or even WonderWorks. It’s something that keeps you active, jumping from exhibit to exhibit to try out all kinds of new things while pretending you're learning. Sure, most of the other people there are kids, but that doesn't stop either of you from having fun. With Kalim’s experience with all his younger siblings, you soon have a small army helping you with the replica dinosaur dig site.

Where he takes you: Fused glass class

Kalim’s first instinct is to go big. Throw a parade, rent out a theme park, buy a private island. This little ball of sunshine is way too excited to think anything through. Maybe Jamil mentions that you might be intimidated by such an overwhelming show of wealth on a first date, or maybe he implies you need to work up to something that extravagant. Whatever the case, Kalim agrees to start small. He’ll take you to a stained glass shop that offers classes in Silk City. You’ll take a fused glass class together, where you take shards and rods of other colored glass, placing them gently together in a shape. The owners fire the final product leaving you with a beautiful hand-made ornament. Kalim hangs it by his window back in his dorm room, smiling whenever the light catches it. (He’s still thinking about that private island, though.)

Jamil:

Where you take him: Aviary

Jamil mentioned in one of his vignettes that he would want to own a parrot one day. So why not give it a test run with a variety of different parrot species, and throw in some parakeets, falcons, lorikeets, and canaries while we’re at it? You buy cups of food and the birds will fly down to perch on your arms and heads. The parrots, in colors ranging from green and yellow to blue and purple and red, show you how they dance and talk. There’s a game you can play with them where you hold up different objects and they’ll tell you what they are and what they’re made of. There’s even a falconry show where the birds swoop out into the audience. At the end of the day, the tour guide makes a joke about lovebirds that you both pretend to ignore.

(BTW, did you know President Andrew Jackson had a parrot that cursed so much it had to be removed from the room during his funeral because it kept swearing? The more you know.)

Where he takes you: Dance class

Mr. Jack Of All Trades, Master Of All over here is definitely going to want to show off. No matter who asked who out first, he wants to reassure you, and himself, that you made the right choice agreeing to go out with him. So he sticks with something he knows best, something he has fun with, and something he can easily introduce you too. Whether it’s a classic ballroom dance, salsa, or classic Scalding Sands folk dancing, Jamil just loves the chance to be close to you. It might be better if you have two left feet so he can show off leading you. By the end, you're both sweaty and exhausted, muscles aching pleasantly, but you're also both laughing and wondering if you should enter a couples dance competition.

Vil:

Where you take him: DIY spa night

Like I said before, you don’t exactly have a lot of extra cash, so I can see you relying on a lot of DIY tricks. You’re hoping to impress one of Twisted Wonderland's biggest triple threats with scented candles (bought half-off at Sam’s), homemade avocado hair masks, coconut oil and honey face masks, and a jade face roller and gua sha set you have no idea how to properly use. Vil definitely appreciates effort, so he’ll love whatever you have set up. He’ll even show you how to actually use that jade roller and gua sha.

Where he takes you: Private movie theater

Let’s be honest, Vil isn’t exactly the most humble person. And you, a magicless student with pretty much no frame of reference for any pop culture or just plain cultural insights in this new world, are in the perfect position for him to show off. Vil would rent out a private theater showing the best and most iconic movies in all of Twisted Wonderland. Of course, he also shows you all of his films (Like I said, not so humble). He may give you the side eye when you insist on sharing a bucket of buttery popcorn, but if you gasp and laugh and applaud in all the right places I don’t think he’ll mind.

Rook:

Where you take him: Art museum

Quelle beaute! No matter what kind of art museum you choose, modern, sculpture, impressionist, classical, whatever, Rook is sure to love it. He’d be the kind of person to carefully read each plaque to discover more about the artist and what inspired their work. He’ll praise each and every piece, only to turn around and compare it to your beauty. While this definitely will get you a few looks from some of the other visitors, you won’t mind because you know he’s being completely sincere with every word. At the end of the day, you’ll probably end up with an art book from the gift shop and you get each other prints of your favorite paintings.

Where he takes you: Zoo

You can take the boy out of the hunt but you can’t take the hunt out of the boy… Or something. We know Rook has a penchant for stalking the poor beastman students at NRC (I bet they have to warn the Savannahclaw first years every year), so I think he would also love admiring animals in a place where you’re actually suppose to watch them. Extra points if there are baby animals. Extra extra points if the zoo has one of those programs where you can go back and get close up encounters with some of the animals, like sloths or elephants. You both definitely get plushies of your favorite animals after.

Epel:

Where you take him: Motorcross

Give the farm boy blood. We know from his dorm uniform vignette that he can ride a blast cycle. Checking out a motorcross race or just a show exhibition would be a high energy outing for you both. Cheering in the stands gives him a chance to cut loose from the stricter rules of decorum in Pomefiore, and sometimes it’s just fun to watch things go fast with a chance of crashing. Maybe you can rent one, or borrow one from Ingenhyde back at NRC, and go for a drive. He’ll probably go a little too fast, maybe from nerves or excitement or just to have to hold him a little tighter.

Where he takes you: Ice skating

Do you know how to skate? Great! He’ll take you out to a frozen lake in the middle of a beautiful forest near Harveston. Some place only the locals know about. It’ll be something right off a Christmas card with glitter snow and a perfect clear blue sky. Don’t know how to skate? That’s fine too! You’ll go to an indoor rink, somewhere where the ice is guaranteed to be smooth and won’t crack under your feet. If you’re just learning, please hold on to him and let him teach you, it’ll make him feel super manly and swell with pride. No matter where you go, you both get hot apple cider after, maybe cuddling together in front of a warm fireplace and sharing a warm quilt.

Idia:

Where you take him: Cat cafe

You’re going to need a good excuse to get Idia out of his room, and this is a pretty good reason. Ideally, you would find a place like Tashirojima, the cat island in Japan, but a good old cat cafe will work just as well. You’ll find the least busy time to go which should help Idia’s social anxiety. But once you both settle into plush low chairs and get surrounded by cute kitties, he won’t even notice anyone else. The cafe sells cute frozen cat treats shaped like cat paws that you buy to encourage the cats to come closer. You snuck in some catnip, and you both spend the day enveloped in cute warm kitty cuddles.

Where he takes you: Video game night

The boy is a nervous wreck around other people on his best days, so when he decides to venture on a date he’s going to go with something he’s most comfortable with. You’ll camp out in his room for the date. He’s gone to great lengths to make it nice, plenty of snacks and soft pillows and blankets. He’ll introduce you to some of his favorite but entry level games first. Maybe something Animal Crossing adjacent, but I have a soft spot for point-and-click adventure puzzle games. Eventually, you’ll end up playing doubles on something more action oriented, Idia showing you all the best tricks and combo moves. (Ortho is secretly taking pictures to show at the wedding he’s already planning for you both.)

Sebek:

Where you take him: Salmon fishing and grill

You like it because it gives a chance to get out in nature and be alone together, he likes it because he gets to catch his favorite food and prove he can be a provider. Sure, it just might be a first date, but Sebek likes to think ahead and he’s definitely taking your budding relationship seriously. You two go out into the woods, probably near where Camp Vargus was held, and set up next to a river. While most of the day is hanging out on the bank and talking, there’s always a jolt of excitement when one of your lines starts to tug and you pull out a beautiful gray and pink salmon. Sure, there was that one time when the fish slapped Sebek with his fin until it slipped from his hands, but you both agree to forget about that (you don’t forget, in fact you think about it often). Around midday, you both realize you’re kind of squeamish when it comes to cleaning fish. Sebek puts on a brave face and cuts them up while you make a campfire. Is it the best meal you’ve ever had? No, definitely not. Are you picking fish bones out of your teeth for the rest of the evening? Yeah. Did you two have a ton of fun and are already planning your next date? Of course.

Where he takes you: Tournament

Does Twisted Wonderland have Renaissance fairs? Who knows, but considering Briar Valley still has knights, they definitely have tournaments. The Bead Brawl is sort of similar to what I’m thinking, but there’s more of a focus on what we would think of as traditional medieval events. Stuff like jousting, sword fighting in full armor, and archery. I don’t think you go all the way to the Briar Valley for this, it’s probably more of a smaller local fair with less serious competition. I think Sebek will be a spectator at this event, but that doesn't stop him from commenting on the participants. He tells you about his own training with Lilia and Silver. He’ll be boastful and loud, but you know him well enough at this point to tell he’s nervous under all the bravado. He wants to make sure you’re having a good time but is too stubborn to actually ask. There are definitely giant turkey legs, homemade soda and mead, and chimney cakes to stuff yourself with. He’ll enter a visitor competition, something fun and light like an obstacle course, and win you a prize. At the end of the day there will be a traditional dance at the fair and you both twirl together under lantern light.

Silver:

Where you take him: Bookstore date

Whether a big chain store or a cute local owned place, the idea is the same. First, you both find the cheesiest romance novel cover in the store. Next, you checked out the cook books, looking for the weirdest and worst sounding recipes (you joke about getting it for Lilia then laugh at the glare he gives you). Finally, you both choose a book for the other that you’ll read then reconvene to talk about at your next date. You find him an adventure book, something you would have called epic fantasy back in your world. He gets you a collection of well known fables and myths from across Twisted Wonderland. He’s slightly worried that you’ll be insulted in his reference to your lack of cultural knowledge of your new world, but you love it, especially the gorgeous illustrations for each story.

Where he takes you: Horse riding along the beach

This can go one of two ways, depending if you know how to ride a horse/are comfortable around them. If you know how to ride, Silver will borrow someone’s horse from the equestrian club for you to ride. If not, you’ll ride behind him, arms hugged around his middle as you cuddle close. Either way, you’ll ride down to one of the beaches along Sage’s Island. You’ll ride along the beach, darting in and out of the waves. Silver will probably have packed a small picnic that you can eat while watching the sunset. He ends up nodding off for a little while you take a break lounging on some dunes, but you kind of like him leaning on your shoulder like that.

Lillia:

Where you take him: Concert in the park

A few steps down from a full on festival, I’m imagining a lush green park, couples and families spread out on blankets, food trucks surrounding everything making the park smell amazing, maybe a couple of craft tents with knick-knacks for sale. There will be a large stage set up for the bands. Lilia prefers heavy metal, but I think he would like any show that plays something high energy. You’ll set up an umbrella to give you both some shade as you watch the acts. Lilia will regale you with tales of his travels and he’d probably love hearing about all the places in your world. At some point, you both definitely spend time dancing ridiculously. Lilia takes plenty of pictures to show off back at Disamonia.

Where he takes you: Esports competition

When Muscle Red told his online bestie Gloomamurai he was trying to come up with ideas for a date, the later said, “I got you,” and set him up with front row seats to the premier esports competition in all of Twisted Wonderland. Arriving at the indoor arena, you get a giant bucket of popcorn to share and Lilia buys you some merch of his favorite team. If you don’t know a ton about esports or the game they’re playing, Lilia will be more than happy to explain the rules to you. You’re surrounded in deafening cheers when your team makes a last minute score to win, hugging each other while jumping up and down. On the way back, Lilia promises to help you set up an account for the online game and teach you the ropes, while trying to remember to thank his friend when you kiss his cheek.

Malleus:

Where you take him: Mini-golfing

You can’t tell me it wouldn’t be adorable to see a giant Malleus hunched over a mini-golf club trying to gently tap the ball into a hole. I can see him at the first hole swinging like a normal golf course, sending the ball twinkling away, Team Rocket style. Mini-golf is a classic first date, and I think he would like the normality of it all. You’re not trying to super impress him, just treating him like a normal boyfriend, a normal date. And it gives you both more time to focus on each other, between desperately trying to hit the ball through the moving fan blades of the windmill hole.

Where he takes you: Historic castle ruins

I can imagine Malleus panicking at first about where to take you for your first official date. Does he bring you to a ball in the Briar Valley? A romantic opera in perfect box seats? Do you start picking out your engagement rings? Instead, he finally decided on an old reliable choice, harking back to how you both first started bonding in the first place. He finds beautiful old ruins, either in Briar Valley or somewhere else, and you just stroll and talk. He’ll tell you about the architecture, maybe the history of the location, pointing out whatever interesting gargoyles he spots. You both understand you don’t need grand gestures or impressive and expensive dates. You’re both happiest being with each other.

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babyleostuff · 8 months ago

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─ PINK RIBBONS

𝜗𝜚 THEME: fluff, domesticity, you being jeonghan's whole world (mention of the military) 𝜗𝜚 PAIRING: idol!jeonghan x fem!reader 𝜗𝜚 WORD COUNT: 792

natalia's note: idc if this is too dramatic, i don't want jeonghan to go

⦗💌 ⦘your favourite past time? playing with your boyfriend's hair, duh. sadly, it's the last time you get to do it for the next two years.

“here,” jeonghan drops a bunch of… somethings in your lap and sits down on the fluffy rug you bought last month, his back facing you.

your boyfriend’s randomness is nothing new; even before you began dating, you quickly found out that yoon jeonghan was an unpredictable man. but no matter how much time has passed since you agreed to be his girlfriend, you are still taken aback each and every time he decides to do something out of the blue in his jeonghan fashion.

you quickly grew to love his randomness, though. it’s like being surprised in the best ways possible.

“what,” you pick up a packet of colourful hair ties and hair pins, “what do you want me to do with those?”.

jeonghan turns around and looks up to meet your eyes, his own holding nothing but fondness and warmth. “my hair,” he says and shakes his head of messy brown hair he died a couple of days ago. “we haven’t done this in a while, so i thought it’d be nice.”

your stomach churned. how many times have you sat like this - you on the edge of the sofa and jeonghan in front of you, resting comfortably against a cushion you placed so as not to strain his back. a drama or a cooking show would be playing quietly in the background, neither of you watching it, too busy with basking in the domesticity.

looking back, it was a no-brainer that you got addicted to your boyfriend’s hair so quickly. playing with it became a little habit of yours - before bed, in the morning, at a game night with the boys, during parties - whenever jeonghan was in your arm’s reach, you’d play with his hair, no matter if they were short or long (though you always mourned his long hair whenever he cut them). it always managed to calm you down and ground you when life got a bit too much.

you’ve never experienced deja vu before, but if this was how it felt then you’d rather be hit with a sledge hammer. it’d hurt less.

and now… despite that you could feel your heart breaking, you couldn’t tell him no. it’s probably the last time you’ll be able to do this before the enlistment anyway, so maybe… maybe it’ll be a nice way to celebrate his last days at home?

“it’s hair. it’s just hair,” your mind seems to scream into the void as you grab a couple of the purple-ish hair bands and slide them on your wrist. but your heart is even louder and it feels like you’re being ripped apart.

were you being dramatic? definitely. did you care? not at all. your whole life would change in the next day or so and despite preparing for this for such a long time now, it didn’t make it any less painful. with jeonghan leaving you’d be losing a part of yourself.

“hey,” he raises his hand and grabs your chin, “get that scowl off your face.”

“i know,” you sigh. “it’s just that-,”.

“i don’t want to hear any of that. we’re having fun tonight, honey,” jeonghan says and runs his thumb over your cheek. affection and pure love, which are always there whenever he looks at you (coups makes sure to point that out on every possible occasion), seemed to slow your racing heartbeat, because the longer you stared into his brown, gentle eyes the more your mind seemed to quiet down. oh, how you are going to miss that lovesick stare. “no more sad faces, yeah?”

you swallow and nod, your heart heavy from all the emotions. the pink ribbons and blue pins look like the opposite of what you are feeling, but… you have to be strong. if not for yourself, then for jeonghan.

“any specific requests?” you ask and comb your fingers gently through his silky hair.

“nope. whatever you do,” he says and turns his back to you, “it’ll look perfect.” you couldn't see jeonghan’s face, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

placing a peck on your exposed leg, he makes himself comfortable against the cushions and lets out his grandpa-esque sigh.

what the next days are going to bring - you aren’t sure. you don’t even want to think about it. but for now… for now, you are as content as you can be. enveloped by your love’s affection like a security blanket, his warm hands sliding up and down your calves, as if reminding you that he’s still there, it is enough for you. enough to swallow your tears and put a brave smile on your face for the man sitting in front of you.

for now it is only you and him and all the pink ribbons.

taglist (if you want to be added, check my masterlist): @jeonghansshitester @weird-bookworm @sea-moon-star @hanniehaee @wonwooz1 @byprettymar @edgaralienpoe @staranghae @itza-meee @eightlightstar @immabecreepin @whatsgyud @hyneyedfiz @honestlydopetree @vicehectic @dkswife @uniq-tastic @marisblogg @aaniag @daegutowns @carlesscat-thinklogic23 @embrace-themagic @ohmyhuenings @nidda13 @hrts4hanniehae @k-drama-adict @isabellah29 @f4iryjjosh @bangantokchy @mrswonwooo @bangtancultsposts @lllucere @athanasiasakura @onlyyjeonghan @haecien @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @hannahhbahng @valgracia @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @mirxzii @hhusbuds @wonranghaeee @rosiesauriostuff @gyuguys @tomodachiii @veryfabday @lilmochiandsuga @asasilentreader @mrsnervous @bewoyewo @sharonxdevi @wondipity @gyuguys @raginghellfire @treehouse-mouse @waldau @wonootnoot @hellodefthings @dokyeomkyeom @sourkimchi @bbysnw @hoichi02 @aaa-sia @haneulparadx @minvrsev @zozojella @wonootnoot @kimingyuslover @wntrei @honglynights @jihoonsbbygirl @uhdrienne @bloodcanbehot @iamawkwardandshy @icyminghao @heeseungthel0ml @goyangiiwonu @bath1lda @ruurooozz @ny0sang @luuxian @onerubii @hurrican3-insert-nam3 @mekuiikore @luvseungcheol @thenotoriousegg @yuuyeonie @soffiyuhh @svtficsarchive @hyperdramas @huen1ngk41 @lesuneczka @oc3anfloor @gyuguys @fr-freak @bewoyewo

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5sospenguinqueen · 8 months ago

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Djungelskog | Oscar Piastri x Teacher! Reader

Summary: Summer break means forcing Oscar to help you get your classroom ready in time for upcoming school year.

Fluff. 2024 season. Pinterest pics

Requested: Yes by anon (here)

There's a little blurb halfway down

F1 Masterlist

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris and others

yn_ln last day of term. last recess, last day of chalk drawings. i’ve had a lovely bunch this year and will miss them loads as they move on. looking forward to a much needed break

681 comments

bestfriend feet on the desk? empty classroom? looks like slacking to me

oscarpiastri can’t wait to spend summer break with you

→ yn_ln it’ll be nice to not have to share you with lando

→ landonorris what makes you think you can get away from me

→ georgerussel63 that sounds like a threat, mate

hattiepiastri does this mean you’ll have time to take me to the babymetal concert? ‘cause mum keeps trying to get out of it

→ yn_ln do i have to learn the all the lyrics?

→ hattiepiastri you’re a teacher, learning is in your blood

→ yn_ln osc, help

→ oscarpiastri no, you chose to befriend her

alexandrasaintmleux omg did the kids do those drawings? 🥹belle

→ yn_ln no, that was lando’s drawing

→ landonorris don’t be silly. i can’t draw that well

teacherfriend i’ll do my best to look after them next year but i know i can’t compete with the fabulous miss ln

nicolepiastri when can we see miss ln turn to mrs piastri?

→ oscarpiastri this is why i don’t come home

→ nicolepiastri no, you don’t come home because yn does your laundry now

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by yn_ln, danielricciardo and others

oscarpiastri first part of the season done. first GP victory. first broken bone. looking forward to a much needed break for the rib

4,811 comments

landonorris omg stop copying your girlfriend’s caption style

→ yn_ln he can’t help it. he’s obsessed with me

→ oscarpiastri true

→ user1 let us innnnn

user2 does a broken bone mean he’ll win the next race

→ yn_ln only if i'm there

charles_leclerc and what have you been doing to break a bone?

→ oscarpiastri helping my girlfriend empty a classroom. there’s a lot of books in there

mclaren enjoy the break. we can’t wait to have you back racing and refreshed

→ user3 he’s literally only just left the mtc, give him a minute of peace

→ yn_ln don’t worry. i’ll be putting them in a time out if they try and take him

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yn_ln just posted

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri and others

yn_ln my happy place. quick lunch break. dragging my big strong man to carry stuff for me in ikea

814 comments

oscarpiastri before that bear, i was your big strong man :(

→ yn_ln you broke a rib. you’re only so useful. the bear can’t break

→ oscarpiastri it can if i pull it’s head off

→ yn_ln you were a biter, weren’t you?

→ hattiepiastri yes

landonorris why wasn’t i invited

landonorris sushi 🤢

→ yn_ln this is why you weren’t invited

→ landonorris stop trying to push me out

→ oscarpiastri i see you practically 10 months out of the year. she can have me for one afternoon

charles_leclerc oh i love ikea furniture! can i help?

→ yn_ln of course you can. we have snacks as well

→ landonorris blatant favouritism

→ yn_ln yes

danielricciardo omg the djungelskog. when can i meet him?

→ oscarpiastri he’s called skoggie for short

→ nicolepiastri the closest i’ll get to grandkids

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Oscar grinned at the face filling up the front of his phone, sliding the button across to answer it.

“He-”

“Babe, I need more glue.” You exploded, cutting him off before he could even greet you properly. “Oh, and paper.”

“-And I broke the scissors. But the good news is, Lan said he could come and help so could you actually pick up 3 pairs of scissors, please?”

“Sweetheart, breathe.” Oscar reminded you, a soft laugh echoing down the phone. “I’ve literally only been gone for 10 minutes. All we needed was milk. How did you manage to rope Lando into this?”

“Rope? He was practically hanging by the phone waiting for one of us to call. I asked if he could spare a few minutes - just to give you a hand moving the desk - and he was already in the car on his way.”

“At least he’s preparing us for our own children one day,” joked Oscar.

“How have you got paint in your curls? I didn’t ask you to paint because I knew you couldn't be trusted to paint,” the exasperated voice of his girlfriend echoed down the empty school hallways. Light radiated from a singular doorway at the end of the hallway, beckoning him forward.

“Every year, I deal with a class of 30 five year olds, experiencing freedom from their parents for the first time. And yet I feel like I need to watch you more than I do them.”

“But it was just sat on the side, with the lid off!.”

“So you felt the need to somehow stick your entire hand in it?”

Oscar leant against the doorframe, watching affectionately as you used a wet wipe to get the paint off of Lando as best as possible. Despite the curly-haired Brit being old than you, it didn’t stop the caring instinct that came with being a first-year teacher.

One wall was painted a soft lilac whilst the other three had been given fresh coats of white. The chairs and tables had been organised into little groups to help you see each child’s face from the front of the class, and the drawers were freshly stocked with stationery. A little rug and some bean bags were set up in the corner for the story nook, and all that was left to do was start hanging up the wall deco.

“There?”

“Little higher,” you remarked, after faking a contemplative pause.

“Now?”

“Little higher,” you leaned back to really take in the view. “Oh, yeah, that’s good.”

The white t-shirt sat snugly on his strained biceps as he held the board up over his head. The hem rode up as he stretched, revealing a nice sliver of tan, muscular back. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you sighed deeply at the sight before you. How easy would it be to reach and smack-

“Babe!” Oscar called again, turning around to check on you. “I can’t hold this- Are you checking me out? You’re supposed to be telling me where this goes.”

“You shouldn’t look that good then.”

Clambering down from the ladder, he placed the thick board down on the nearest table and sauntered over to you. Placing his hands on your hips, he pulled you flush against him. Pressing a kiss to your nose, he trailed his lips down to your jaw and then under your ear.

“How about we call it a night? This’ll all be here tomorrow, and you can appreciate the view without the t-shirt.”

When you didn’t smile at his enticing offer, Oscar pulled down to look at you. Brushing a strand of hair back from your face, he frowned at the furrow between your brows.

“What’s up, sweetheart?”

“I’m just worried that it’s not enough, you know…”

Oscar turned his head slightly, drinking in all the work you had put together. The butterflies made out of patterned cards that you had spent hours scouring stores for. The paper flowers decorating the whiteboard that you had spent days stressing about. The stack of drawers with each student's name labelled across the front. The days of work that had gone into ensuring that each little person that crossed your threshold was as happy as they could be. A teacher that cared.

“I know they’re only five, and they’ve never had another classroom to go off but- I don’t know. I just want them to feel comfortable and safe, and happy. I don’t want them to feel like they’re in an institution designed to make them sit in a seat for six hours.”

“Look at all the effort you’ve put in so far. Without all the lesson planning and actual caring you’ll do when those kids come under your care. Did you ever have a classroom like this growing up? No. Neither did I. You know why, because nobody cares as much as you do.”

Straightening, he swung you up into his arms, bridal style. A cheeky grin pulled at the corners of his mouth when you shrieked in laughter.

“Now, let’s go home, Skoggie is waiting for us. We'll grab some dinner and take a bath together. What do you say?”

“Okay, Piastri. Take me home or lose me forever.”

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, arthur_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri dating a teacher means spending summer break painting, cutting, glueing and then being told “it’s quiet time” whilst she decompresses from watching you do all the work

3,381 comments

yn_ln you wouldn’t stop talking and i was trying to refresh my barbie knowledge

→ user1 princess and the pauper?

→ yn_ln absolutely

→ landonorris i’m the erika to her annalise

→ oscarpiastri whoa, you help with one classroom and think you can take my coveted spot?

yn_ln plus it was hard work taking in the view

→ oscarpiastri i had a pretty good view afterwards 🛁🫧

user2 idk why but the paint hands make me wanna scream

→ user3 omg i wonder if they made the little hand canvas things loads of couples have done

→ oscarpiastri we did! they’re now hung up over our bed

maxverstappen1 think you can make some more of those flowers for P’s room?

→ oscarpiastri i’ve got paper cuts on top of paper cuts. don't ask me to do more

→ yn_ln i’ve got loads left over. she can pick the ones she likes best

user4 the matching pjs 🥰 this couple has my whole heart

→ yn_ln he also has mine!

user5 i love when oscar’s insta has something other than racing on it

→ user6 i want yn to let us onto hers so bad. i would sell my soul for the couples content on there

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yn_ln just posted

liked by oscarpiastri, charles_leclerc and others

yn_ln and it’s done. one week of relaxation left before the new term starts. i can’t wait to meet my new bunch of kids. a huge thank you to my constant kid @/landonorris for his help and mess. and an even bigger gratitude to osc. without you, this never would’ve been finished. you helped not only physically but mentally. my rock 💕

1,681 comments

user7 omg am i seeing things? is this actually oscar’s yn?

oscarpiastri you did an amazing job 🤍 enjoy your last week off

→ yn_ln you better not win any more races without me

→ mclaren you know he can’t promise that

landonorris maybe if you had been my teacher, i would’ve stayed in school

→ carlossainz55 doubtful

maxverstappen1 P can’t wait to be in your class

→ yn_ln and i’m looking forward to being her teacher. although it might be hard to fight the urge to show favouritism

hattiepiastri ew, don’t be cute online

→ oscarpiastri you're just mad that i'm her favourite piastri

→ hattiepiastri we both know that's a lie

→ nicolepiastri it's me

user8 um, can she be my teacher, please?

charles_leclerc i think this is a sign that i need to have children so that you can become their teacher

→ alexandrasaintmleux let’s stick with leo for now

→ nicolepiastri i keep trying to convince oscar and yn. you’ll be next, don’t worry

→ oscarpiastri you have Skoggie. you don’t need any other grandkids

user9 we’re in! everyone say thank you oscar for making her come off priv

→ user10 their couple content is healing my soul

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Request for F1 fics are open.

A/N: Apologies for the delay in getting these out. I've been super busy making jumpers for my upcoming family Disney trip

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119

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tbaluver · 5 months ago

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kiss me under the mistletoe- the love and deepspace men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader genre: fluff fluff summary: spend the holidays by his side and share a kiss(es) under the mistletoe a/n: ty @ilovemitsuya for making me with the lads christmas dividers (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) and ty @ilovemitsuya and @deusfoundry for beta reading ! (ง ˃ ³ ˂)ว ⁼³₌₃⁼³

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

“hmm?” his eyes flicker to the cluster of red berries on the christmas tree. he reaches his arm out and plucks it out of the christmas tree, examining it. “is this edible?”

you turn around after you finish tucking in the last flower in the tree and your gaze falls on xavier, who’s sniffing the mistletoe you carefully placed at the top of the tree.

you chuckle softly and gently take it from his hands. “no honey,” tucking back the mistletoe back into its rightful spot above you both. “it’s a mistletoe.”

you lost him there. xavier tilts his head, his brows furrowed in confusion. “mistle....toe?”

a smile tugs at your lips, christmas was completely new to him. you can’t help but step closer, standing on your tiptoes to brush a soft kiss on his lips right below the mistletoe. “when you stand below the mistletoe, you kiss someone next to you.”

xavier blinks, his expression shifting from confusion to realization with a smile now tugging on his lips. “ah i see,” he steps closer, his hands finding their way to your cheeks to pull you into a deeper kiss, melting into him.

however it seems xavier didn’t actually seem to actually understand. the next day as you two walk outside, xavier suddenly pulls you under a tree. he points up to a bunch of random red berries hanging from a branch above you both. “mistletoe.” you blink in confusion but before you can say anything, he pulls you in for a kiss, his lips warm against yours. and it happens again and again. he simply loves the idea of kissing you, no matter wherever you both are. you could correct him and point out the difference but you also love the idea of sharing a kiss with him whenever or wherever.

Zayne:

zayne attempts to celebrate christmas. with parents who were renowned doctors and himself a surgeon, their schedules barely rarely lined up which never made it easy. to him, christmas didn’t feel like christmas at all. he works tirelessly in the operating room, creating his own miracles that day as he performs surgeries. more often he found himself spending the holidays alone, drinking hot cocoa ( with an insane amount of sugar ) while he read ahead on patient reports.

but deep down he knew something was missing and you managed to solve it for him and fill that missing void.

after many years, his old dusty christmas tree was pulled out from his storage and has finally been decorated in all its festive glory as you two carefully hung ornaments and placed finishing touches that made it feel more personal for the two of you.

the sweet delicious smell of the baked cookies fills the air as he carefully pulls them out of the oven. he begins to prepare the hot cocoa he makes every year, this time with a special plus one. he made sure to get the matching snowmen mugs that he knows you’ll love when he brings them out.

meanwhile as you gently place the gifts you wrapped for each other under the christmas tree, a playful idea sparks in your head.

he hears your soft footsteps get closer as he preps the ingredients. “do you want any sugar in yours?” he asks, adding two spoonfuls of sugar to his cup and proceeding to add an extra spoonful to make it more sweet.

your heart flutters with excitement and your lips curl into a grin as you hold up a mistletoe above your heads. “another holiday tradition ,” rising up on your tiptoes as you lean in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips.

zayne’s lips curl into a small smile as you pull away. “do i really need a plant to get permission to kiss you this holiday?” he asks, shaking his head. he pulls you in closer, his hand guiding your jaw to draw you into a deep and sweet kiss.

Rafayel:

humans are weird. chopping and dragging a perfectly happy tree into their homes and proceeding to adorn it with glittery things. rafayel never understood the appeal, that is until he met you.

he completely changes his mind about the entire holiday once he realizes that he gets to spend with you if you two celebrated the holiday together. so from this moment on, he declares that this year and every single year shall be spent together. maybe humans were on to something afterall..

a tradition that quickly became his favorite was holiday crafting with you. spending hours of creating your homemade ornaments and bursting with inside jokes as soft christmas music played in the background.

you two would dig up any embarrassing photos of each other to hang on the christmas tree. as you both carefully placed your last ornaments on the tree, a certain plant that you had purposely placed had caught your attention once again. and just below it was the perfect target.

as he continues going on about how silly you looked in the picture, you stepped closer to him, cutting him off mid-sentence and placing a soft quick kiss to his lips.

for a second you caught him completely off guard but his surprise melted into a sly smirk. “oh? someone feeling jolly or whatever the humans call it?” he teases, slightly leaning in more closer to you.

you giggle, pointing up to the mistletoe hanging directly above the both of you. “it’s a tradition,” you boop his nose. “you have to kiss someone when there’s a mistletoe above you.”

and just like that, christmas became rafayel’s favorite holiday.

the next morning as you both woke up, you woke up to something quite unexpected. it seems your lover was busy while you were asleep because every entry way of his studio and ceilings were decorated with mistletoes.

with a mischievous grin, he raises a brow. “guess you’re gonna have to kiss mee,” he teases while crossing his arms, “it’s a holiday tradition after all.” as you stood right below a mistletoe, his perfect and only target.

Sylus:

sylus had never celebrated the holidays, ever. growing up it was just another day of surviving and now it was just another day to him. he never wrapped or given the perfect gifts for loved ones during this time until he met you.

the moment he saw the joy and excitement in your eyes as you talked about doing Christmas traditions with him, something inside him shifted. he couldn’t ignore how much it meant to you and who was he to deny you the chance to celebrate? he wanted to make this season special for you this year and every year.

giving it a chance, he transformed his home with you. every corner and every entry way of his home was decked out with some type of christmas spirit.

sylus bought a massive tree, one that’s slightly more taller as he was and with the perfect intention in mind. he wanted to lift you up so you could place the start on the top once it was fully decorated. the tree was wrapped in red and gold ornaments that you recommended would suit his taste and finished off with luxurious ribbons around it.

it was worth it. seeing the way your eyes sparkled and how wide your smile got made everything worth it. he finally understood there was more then just gift giving. it was spending time with someone you truly loved.

with a final tuck of the ribbon on the tree, sylus turns around, his eyes locking onto yours. you clear your throat softly, earning a raised brow from him in amusement as you step even closer. your fingers gently tug his shirt, signalling him to lean down to your level. without hesitation, he leans down slightly, his warm breath fans against your skin as you press a soft and lingering kiss to his lips.

his eyes flutter open slowly, his lips curling into a smirk. “a reward sweetie?”

you shake your head, a playful smile tugs at your lips as you point upward to the mistletoe you carefully placed above the tree. “it’s a tradition to kiss someone under the mistletoe sy,”

he lets out a breathy chuckle, his gaze flickering between you and the mistletoe. “well technically you’re under the mistletoe..” he teases, his height barely grazing the plant. “but,” he leans back down to your level again, his lips capturing yours in a deeper and more passionate kiss.

“is there a rule for how many times i can kiss you under the mistletoe?” he whispers against your lips.

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mapis-putellas · 8 months ago

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ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʟᴇᴀᴛꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ / ᴀ.ᴘᴜᴛᴇʟʟᴀꜱ

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏: 𝙸 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚔 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚛𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚊𝚞𝚝𝚒𝚏𝚞𝚕

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝙸𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚔𝚒𝚜𝚜?

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟑: 𝙰 𝚌𝚞𝚝𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟒: 𝙶𝚘𝚊𝚕! (𝙰𝚗𝚍 𝚊 𝚌𝚊𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚎𝚕 𝚖𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚑𝚒𝚊𝚝𝚘.) (Up soon)

#alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #soft alexia putellas #alexia putellas x y/n #woso appreciation #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #it’s a bunch of fluff you’ll love it

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sinstear · 3 months ago

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‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎SECRETS WILL KILL YOU, KEEP IT HUSH.

synopsis: what was once the best times of your lives, what happens when the one you loved more than live itself, your best friend; vanishes without a trace and it’s up to you and your friends to figure out what happened? can you save her in time? tags: major angst, talks of character death, reader being oblivious, cursing, nervous and depressed reader, talks of guns, an appearance from said gun near the end, sprinkles of fluff. happy ending, somewhat. there’s probably a bunch of other stuff i’m missing, but i need this out my face already. wc: 22k .... uhm, look away. an: i’m not sure how i feel about this, but i’ve been reading too many psychological books over this past month; send help asap, and had the idea to write a little something of my own, i say little like this isn’t sitting at a fat 20k+ words .. don’t judge me please or i’ll cry. i cried too much writing this because i hated it for so long LMAO. thank you @vifilms for proofreading and supporting this crazy idea, and helping me through it. i love you. anyway, enjoy <3

Thursday, 28th April 2015.

“you know you could just tell your date you came down with a cold, s’not like she would notice, girls too obsessed with herself notice anything,” Abby suggested, her round dark green glasses resting on the bridge of her nose.

“I can’t just lie,” You scoffed, looking up from your phone, and noticing Abby was clad in one of your sweaters, cross-legged and reading yet another recommended book. “Besides, you know me and dates never last, remember the last one? 20 minutes into getting to know her,”

“She accidentally mentioned her girlfriend, yes, I will never let you live it down.” Abby giggled from beside you and shrugged. “What’s the worst that could happen this time? She tells you about the 4 wives she has at home?”

“Funny,” You grumbled and slapped her shoulder playfully. Abby laughed and you felt your heart flutter. You liked it when she laughed, it felt refreshing and beautiful. “If that happens, I hope you’ll be there to rescue me when I call you stressed out.”

Holding her hand over her heart, the blonde nodded with a subtle smirk on her lips. “I solemnly swear I will always rescue you from your failed dates.”

“Hey, Honey.”

Jerry. Sweet and kind Jerry Anderson; He still looks young, even though the stubble on his face is more grey than before, the dark bags under his eyes darker, but you can tell the glint is slowly burning out in his eyes. He used to have a spark to him, but now it’s dim, almost vanishing right before you. “Hey, Mr Anderson.” You coughed on smoke and cleared your throat.

“C’mon kid, I’ve known you since you were in diapers, and throwing eggs at the neighbor’s house, you can call me Jerry.” He laughed, but the smile on his lips didn’t reach his eyes. Not like it used to be.

Stubbing out your cigarette on the sidewalk, you chuckled nervously and wiped your hands nervously on your jeans. “Yeah, no right, sorry, Jerry, habit, you know” you trailed off, looking at him silently, trying to work him out. “Any news?”

“No, don’t think there will be any for a while.”

Abby, your best friend, had made a joke once in her backyard that if you weren’t both in a serious relationship before you turned 18, you would both date, settle down, and get married. It was a promise you promised to keep, if anything, you would be right outside her door, asking her to be your girlfriend the second you turned 18.

Her 26th birthday is next week.

Abby disappeared just weeks before her 18th, she left your house happy and smiley, secretly hoping you would still be single in the next two weeks. She loved you. Jerry knew how much she adored and loved you. Hearing about the dates you would set yourself up on, broke her heart but you were her best friend, so she should be happy for you right? Never ruin a best friend’s dream and wish, she told herself each time she left you and went home to cry into her pillow while her dad, god bless his soul, sat on the end of her bed, comforted her, and stood by her.

“I miss her you know?” You finally mumbled out, looking away from him. “More than I did yesterday, and I’ll miss her more tomorrow than I did today.” The crack in your voice was evident, and it broke Jerry’s heart to see and hear you so distraught. His was hurting too, for so many reasons, but the main one was he didn’t know where his daughter was and it was slowly killing him.

“I know you do, kid,” His smile was faint, his hand trembling as he took a seat beside you on the sidewalk. “My girl loved you with all her heart,” His voice wavered and you couldn’t even smile at him, you couldn’t even promise him anything because how can you? “I know in my heart she’s still out there, somewhere, I’ve heard the talk, the gossip people are saying, saying that she’s dead, some days I believe it, some days I don’t, but I do know one thing, she’ll come back, to us, to you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because she’s an Anderson, we don’t give up,” Jerry laughed and for a second it felt like Abby was still with you, laughing and joking like nothing else in the world mattered. “And she’s your best friend, my girl wouldn’t leave you behind. She’ll come back, and that promise you made each other? When you were younger, stealing my beers and trying to smoke a joint?” He laughed again when your eyes widened and he patted your back lightly. “No judgment here, Abby is always safe with you, but you both made a promise, and she will always keep a promise.”

“I’ll find her, Jerry, I promise.”

“You’re slouching like a dog and m’pretty sure you’re drooling”

Peeling your eyes open slowly, you scowled at the sight of a smirking Ellie looking down at you amused. “Fuck off, what do you want?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest and closing your eyes again.

“Saw Jerry,” Her voice was suddenly softer, and you could just picture the way she was playing with her fingers, not knowing what else to say. “He looked—”

“Worse for wear?”

“Something like that,” Ellie smiled and sat in the empty chair beside you. “I know this is a dumb question, but have you heard or seen anything?”

“You mean have I seen the girl I’m in love with walking around? The same girl who suddenly vanished into thin air?”

“Don’t be a dick, m’serious.”

“Then no, I haven’t seen Abby walking around. Do you think I would be sitting here, drinking a beer at 1pm if Abby was here?”

Ellie, even though she pisses you off and gets under your skin, was helpful with everything. She was always there if you needed someone to talk to, always about if you needed just a little help trying to figure out when and where Abby disappeared too. After the breakup with Dina, Ellie felt herself stuck in a hole, unable to feel that push to get out and get help. You were there for each other, even if Dina did give you a subtle glare or side eye when she saw you together. You and Ellie was a line neither of you would cross. That’s always been how it is.

“Hey guys!”

“Oh here we go,” Ellie shrank back in her chair and held back a groan. “Doesn’t this girl have other friends? I wouldn’t even say we are friends”

“Who is— Oh fuck sake.”

“How are we doing?!” Mandy, someone that Dina had brought into the friend group when Ellie and she were still together, skipped over and smiled at you both. “Ellie.”

“Anyway, as I was saying,” She completely blanked her, turned back to you, and smirked. “I think that we, me and you if you get my drift, should go and look for her.”

“Say fuckin’ what now?” You blinked.

“Find whom?”

“Abby, who else do you think?” Your friend snapped.

“Oh, the girl who wanted you to abandon our date that one time?”

You can see her lips moving, but you don’t know what she or even Ellie are saying; your eyes are locked in on the charm around her bracelet. It wasn’t there a few weeks ago, you’d know, she’s always happy and cheery, flinging her arms about like she’s just snorted the lemonade instead of drinking it. It looked oddly familiar, but at the same time, you couldn’t put your finger on it. “So what do you think?” Ellie’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, and she looked at you with that infuriating grin.

“About?”

“Finding Abby”

Ellie can’t tell if you want to throttle her or throw something at her with the way you’re staring at her. It used to freak her out when you would go silent and just stare like you suddenly forgot how to function, but lately, she’s gotten used to it, this is your way of processing something. “Ellie, you can’t be serious right? We don’t even know where she went before— before she just disappeared. How are we going to find her? With what money? Where do we even start? This isn’t some crime show we watch on the TV, Ellie, this is real, this is her life—”

Her hands came up, grabbed your shoulders, and squeezed tightly with a soft chuckle. “Breath, Nancy Drew, you’re going to give yourself a panic attack. We don’t have to suddenly rush off, and get ourselves into trouble, we just have to retrace steps. Abby’s steps.”

“It’s been years, El.”

“I know, but we’ll find her, okay? She wouldn’t just leave, and she wouldn’t leave you. We all know this, you know this.” Her smile reassured you somewhat, but you still had that nerve eating away at you. What if she really was gone?

The charm was still gnawing at you. Where could you have pictured it before? You weren’t 100% sure you were seeing things right, maybe it was one that you had thought you had seen before but it was your mind playing tricks on you. Maybe it was because you had a hole in your heart, and you were trying to put something there to ease it a little. To make it whole again.

So why couldn’t you let it go? Why did you have to keep pushing yourself into something that wasn’t there? Was it because you needed Abby, and you needed to find her? To restore your thoughts? Or was it because some part of you knew the outcome of what’s happened, and you were too afraid to say it out loud?

“Been a couple of years since you came in here,” Jerry’s voice rang out from behind you. He sounded tired. He probably hasn’t slept properly in years, just like you. So you knew how he was feeling. “You and Abby would try stealing the candy, but I always knew it was you two. Always sneaking around and causing trouble between yourselves.”

You looked at him over your shoulder, fingers grasping at the picture he hand hung up on the wall of Abby, tightly and smiled painfully. “Did Abby take anything? When you—”

“I would have told you, you know that.” Jerry cut you off, dropping the box in his hands onto the floor, and sighed softly. “I’ve been in her room hundreds of times since she, well, since she disappeared and I haven’t noticed anything different. I haven’t even changed the wallpaper, s’too hard to handle.”

“She wouldn’t have left without a reason, Jerry. Abby doesn’t just go missing. If she was in trouble, she would have come to me, if anything was wrong, she would have called me, she would have asked for my help.”

“This is hard for me to talk about.”

“And you think It’s not hard for me?” You scoffed, gripping the picture tighter. “My best friend goes missing and there’s not a goddamn thing I can do. There’s nothing I can do. It fucking kills me to know that she’s probably out there, scared and alone, and I’m here feeling sorry for myself? You know how fucking shitty that makes me feel that I couldn’t keep her safe? She’s not fucking here and It’s my fault because I didn’t protect her hard enough. I should have walked her home that night, I should have done more.”

For the first time in years, Jerry can see how terrified you are. For a while, you’ve been able to keep your emotions and feelings at bay, keep them under control, but as you stand there, looking at him, he can see a younger you. A scared little you. You look small, broken, and terrified as you stand before him. “This isn’t your fault,” He shakes his head and clenches his fist. “This has never been your fault.”

“When I look at you, I wait for you to shout and yell at me. Blame me for her going missing, I wait every single time, and it never comes. That’s pathetic, right? That I wait for you to blame me for the reason your daughter is missing.”

His sudden sob catches your attention, and you feel like shit. You’ve never meant to make him upset, you’ve always been the one to make people laugh, to make their stomachs hurt over a silly joke you made, but always has everyone laughing and smiling. But you’ve made him cry, and you suddenly feel lost again. “M’sorry—”

“I’ve never blamed you for this, and I won’t start today”

You find Ellie on her porch step that same afternoon after your conversation with Jerry, nursing a glass of water in her hand and her eyebrow raises just slightly when you storm over and stand right in front of her with your arms folded over your chest. “Alright? You look like you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown or murder.” She joked, and your lips quirked up just slightly. “What’s up?”

“I want to find Abby.”

Just like that, Ellie placed her glass beside her, almost knocking it over when she leaned back and grinned at you. “Nancy Drew, this is going to be something,” She lazily smiled and stood up quickly. “Just don’t go telling Joel, he worries enough about me and whatnot,”

“Tell him that we’re just going camping, just until we get somewhere with whatever steps we have to retrace around here.”

“Camping?” She scoffed and glared at you.

“Ellie, you dress like you live in the fuckin’ woods, he’ll believe you.” You rolled your eyes, brushed past her, up the stairs, and into her house. “C’mon idiot!”

“God, yes Mother!”

When you were younger, you and Abby spent a lot of time at Ellie’s house. Joel always had to refill glasses with lemonade to put more sandwiches on empty plates, and you were always thankful for him, Ellie, and Abby. Always for Abby. The memories of your childhood, your growing up, lingered in certain parts of the house. For a split second, you felt like you were back there as you walked into the living room; you remember how Abby almost cried when she lost a game of Uno, and Ellie teased her nonstop for it. You remember how the blonde would cuddle into your side during random movie nights, especially the horror movies Dina decided to watch, even though she would turn them off most of the time because it got too scary.

The picture of the 4 of you still sits on the fireplace and a smile curves on your lips. You still remember the day it was taken, and how cold it was to take such a picture in the snow. If you squint hard enough, you can see the redness forming on Abby’s nose, and if pictures had audio then you would be able to faintly hear the chattering sound of Ellie’s teeth at how cold it was that night. You weren’t sure if Ellie would have gotten rid of all the memories, but you were thankful she didn’t. You lost Abby, Jerry lost Abby, but in the end, you all lost her. You all lost a part of yourselves that morning he couldn’t find her. A little bit of each of you died when the posters were put up all around Jackson not even a week later. The missing poster still haunts you. No matter what.

“Even in pictures, Abby always wanted to be close to you.”

Joel. Placing the picture back down, you turn around and find him holding logs of wood. His hair was slightly shorter; Ellie probably had enough and took the scissors to it. His eyes still had a small glimmer of hope, but he still looked exhausted. “Yeah,” You nodded and fumbled with your hoodie sleeve. “Haven’t taken a photo since, feels too weird without her in them. It would also feel like cheating, can’t take a picture that she’s not in, you know?” A faint smile tugged at your lips.

“You’ll all take one together when she’s back, no doubt about it. Hell, Ellie will probably fill her wall with new pictures of you guys,” Like Jerry, Joel’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes and you hold back either a sigh or a cry. “El misses her too, you know?” He added quietly, like he was scared she would hear you both. “She might not talk about it, like you, but I’ve heard her crying at night, sometimes it takes me hours to get her to calm down. Poor girl almost sent herself into a panic attack last night because she was crying so much. I wish I knew how to help her, all I ever want is to help her and keep her safe and I don’t know how. I feel lost because I can’t help her when she needs it.”

“You’re doing the best you can, Joel.” You wanted to help her too, you wanted to ease and help everyone but even you were lost and confused. “She knows you’re here, and she’ll come to you when she’s ready to talk about it. I promise.”

“Yeah I know—”

“Joel? I thought you were out with Tommy?” Ellie appeared finally and looked between you both. “You guys alright?” She laughed nervously and dropped her jacket on the back of the chair with a shiver. It was slowly getting colder, so more blankets and fires were needed.

“Yeah, yeah, was just catching up and stuff, haven’t seen Joel or Tommy for a while.”

“If you didn’t cancel on the dinner last week, you would have seen them,” She teased, kissing Joel’s cheek and taking the wood from his hands before walking over to the almost gone-out fire. “Old man misses you, he misses all of you.”

Even Abby, she thinks.

“Right, you guys staying for dinner or?” Joel laughed.

“Yes, we’re staying,” Ellie looked at you, folding her arms over her chest. “Aren’t we?”

“Yeah, missed your cooking.” You grinned playfully at him.

“We’ll be in my room!”

“I know El, It’s the only place you socialize.”

Pushing open her door, Ellie slumps herself in her desk chair, sighs, and then looks over at you as you slump face-first onto her bed. “Right, operation find Abby, what’s first?”

“Well, we all saw her that night, surely someone knows something that we don’t,” you mumbled before lifting your head slowly with a grumble. “Abby doesn’t just go missing within 24 hours, El. Not without someone seeing something. Have you seen how many people lurk outside the bar? Lurk around the shops? Someone has to have seen her, or something.”

“So, we start there. We ask everyone.”

“C’mon dude, surely you remember seeing her at least once that night?!” Ellie scowled, holding up a photograph of Abby in his face, almost shoving it under his nose with how angry she was getting. Sighing under your breath, you reached your hand up and pulled her arm away.

“El, he doesn't remember, let’s ask someone else. Preferably someone who isn’t drunk right now.”

“We’ve been asking people for hours—”

“It’s not going to happen overnight El, and as much as I want it to, It’s impossible.” You rubbed at your face and sighed loud enough for her scowl to drop and a frown to appear. “I just want her to be okay, and I know that she’s scared somewhere, whenever she is, but I need to find her.”

“We’ll find her, we’ll look around all day and night if we have to.”

The metal door clangs loudly against the brick wall, sending a slight vibration through the floor, and the feeling of terror sinks in all over again. The room is dark, and cold, not even a blanket could keep you warm if you tried hard enough. The days have been lost, not even sure what year it is anymore, and not even having enough energy to count specks of dirt on the walls have been long forgotten. The energy to keep going was slowly getting lower and lower.

The painful squeak of the door opening would cause anyone to lose sleep. “Eat your food, don’t make me waste more money on this shit if you don’t want to eat it. Stop being ungrateful and do what I tell you.” The small plate of food hits the floor, almost going everywhere, and just like that the door slams shut again without another word.

How much longer?

“Yeah, I saw her.”

Both yours and Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up at his words, and you look at her with a glimmer of hope. “You did? You saw her?” You asked.

“Course I did,” He nodded, taking a hit from his cigarette and coughing abruptly. “Was getting something from the bakery store, bread or something? She wasn’t there for long, but I saw her.”

“Was she with anyone?”

“Nah, was by herself, she didn’t seem to be in a rush or anything. I was cleaning up the tables outside, and that’s when I saw her. Then when it came about that she had gone missing the next week, I didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she went missing, but I suppose I should let the professionals deal with it.”

“Professionals,” Ellie clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth and laughed. “Yeah because they’re much help.”

“Thank you,” You smiled apologetically. “Let us know if you can remember anything else.”

“Will do. Hope you find her.”

Just as you and Ellie turned around to leave, to ask someone else, that high-pitched voice rang out again. Stopping you both in your tracks. “Hi!” Mandy smiled sweetly, looking between you both as she got closer.

“Gonna take this pencil and shove it right in my fuckin’ eye,” Ellie grumbled under her breath.

“Hi, Mandy.” You murmured.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Looking for Abby, didn’t we mention this to you yesterday?”

Jabbing Ellie in the rib, you shook your head when she glared at you and slapped on a fake smile. “Did you see Abby at all?” You asked, looking at her closely.

Mandy looked between you both again, eyes just widening slightly before she laughed and shrugged. “No? We weren’t close.”

“Don’t have to be close to someone to know if you saw them or not.” Ellie pointed out.

“I was with my parents, and even if I did see her, I was drinking too much that night to know,” She shrugged again, looking at you with a happy smile. One that for some reason, made you uncomfortable. “Speaking of which, I have some books I have to give back to my parents.”

“You remember being drunk that many years ago?”

There it was again, the wave of her hand brushing her hair away from her face when you noticed that same bracelet charm. It was making you irritated because you still can’t picture where it’s from, or who made it. But you know that you’ve seen it before, that you do know and are aware of. “—If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know, okay?” Mandy offered, giving you one final smile before she walked away.

“She pisses me off more and more every day I swear. Remind me why you went on a date with her?” Ellie slipped the pen into her pocket and rubbed her nose harshly. Was she coming down with yet another cold? You thought to yourself.

“M’not sure, she always cornered me when I was alone and kept asking until I said yes, that’s it.” You shrugged as you both walked. “She always shows up when we’re talking about Abby, no?”

“I don’t think she’s the kidnapping or killing type, to be honest. Too bubbly and cheerful.”

“She’s not dead, Ellie.”

Halting in her steps, Ellie turns around and acknowledges her words quickly. “Shit, no I know, I didn’t mean it like that. This is just stressing me out, we’re still getting nowhere.”

You both take a seat on the chairs outside the bakery, tired and feeling sorry for yourself as you both silently look through the list of names of people you still need to talk to. Wanted to know if anyone had seen her, just something. “There’s still the lady who owns the wine shop, that creepy guy who owns the other bar,” Ellie mumbled.

Brushing your fingers over the paper, you shrink back in the chair with a sigh, one that already explains how tired you are, and close your eyes.

Saturday, 1st May 2015.

“Yeah, m’here,” you mumbled, holding your phone to your ear, feet kicking at the rocks. “Make sure you rescue me.”

“I have a good feeling about this date,” Abby admitted softly, unbeknownst to you, holding back her sobs, and smiled even though you couldn’t see her. “I think It’s going to be amazing.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“Because I know you, and you deserve this.”

Her words buried deep in your chest, and you felt your eyes slowly well up with tears, but you couldn’t cry, not today, not when you were about to have a fucking date. “Abby?”

You weren’t sure if you heard the hitch in her breath, and if you did, you ignored it. “Yeah?” She asked, fumbling with the sleeve of the hoodie she stole from you.

“Thank you.”

Blinking away the tears in her eyes, Abby smiles sadly to herself. “Of course. I love you.”

“I love you—”

“Y/N? Hi!”

“Abby I gotta go, I’ll come over after, yeah?”

“Good luck.”

Slipping your phone into your back pocket once you hung up, you smiled tightly. “Mandy, right?”

“The one and only! Seems unsettling it took you until the first date to know my name, but whatever, we’re here now.” She didn’t seem to notice your tight-lipped smile and urge to roll your eyes. “Shall we?”

“Lead the way.”

The small restaurant was slightly dimmed, smelling of cigarettes and strong beer. Mandy didn’t seem to mind, in fact, she was happily walking around; looking for a table to sit at and a small shriek of happiness flooded from her once she found a table that fitted her. “Let’s sit, come come.” The redhead hurried, throwing her bag and jacket onto the table beside her.

“Oh, uh, sure,” You took her things, smiling apologetically at the old couple who looked at her shocked, and seated yourself in the chair opposite her. “M’not sure what to eat here, never been before.” You admitted sheepishly.

Mandy, who had yet to even speak, looked at you with a smile. “Everything here is good except for the lemon tart and the white wine.”

“What’s wrong with the wine?”

“Tastes like shit, typical for them, and whatnot.” She shrugged again, and It caught you off guard with how fast she covered up her distaste for things with a wide smile. One that’s almost sinister-looking. She was a good person though, Dina mentioned she was. You couldn’t judge her based on a smile. “Now, how did you meet Dina and Ellie?”

“I met Abby first, actually—”

“Abby? Why doesn’t that name ring a bell?”

“Oh, uh, Jerry Anderson’s daughter? They own the candy store?”

“Ah,” Mandy flashed yet another smile, sitting back in her chair and nodding along. “Don’t know them personally, I wouldn’t have a reason to.”

“Right,” Clearing your throat, you hummed and gave her your best grin. Did you look stupid? Maybe, but did she care? Apparently not. “How did you meet Dina?”

The sharp pinch on your skin had your eyes snapping open, your body almost falling out of the chair when you spotted Ellie looking at you, grinning from ear to ear. “Dude, fuck you.”

“You’re wasting time, If m’not allowed to nap, then you aren’t allowed either.” She scoffed, slipped the sheet of paper into her pocket, and stood up. “We aren’t getting anywhere, let’s go back to mine and we can go from there.”

“What if there’s nothing?”

“There’s always something.”

You started to lose count of the days. First they started as days, and then they suddenly started blending into weeks. You and Ellie were still none the wiser. Still lost on every account of what happened when Abby had left your house the night she vanished. You had barely left your bed; only to shower, brush your teeth and eat, but besides that, it felt like you were falling into another deep hole you weren’t sure you could dig yourself out of.

Today was the first day you gathered enough energy to pull yourself out of the hole that was your unmade bed, and clothe yourself in something that had way too many holes, and probably is over 5 years old, but it was a start. “Most books that come back are usually missing a couple of pages, s’not unusual,” Brenda, the owner, explained with a tired smile. “Doesn’t make it less annoying though.”

“Yeah, can’t read a book with a fuckin’ page missin,” You grumbled, feeling the same emotions as her. You could get lost in your books, and to know the one you wanted to read was missing about 5 pages pissed you off. “S’fine, I’ll just take the other books.”

“Are you sure, Honey?”

“Yeah, m’sure—”

From the corner of your eye, there was a sudden flash, a sliver of blonde hair caught your attention and your body did a full 180, dropping the books on the floor, causing Brenda to let out a scowl and drop to her knees quickly just to pick them up. They were collector books, how dare you just drop them?” Shit, fuck, sorry, Brenda, I have to go—”

You were already running away before you finished your sentence. Pushing people out of your way, tugging them and almost pushing them over as you scrambled to get past the large crowds. “Abby!?” You shouted, sadly tripping someone over in the process, but a part of you didn’t care. “Move out the fuckin’ way,” Your hands pressed onto a back, shoving them a little too hard for anyone’s liking, sending them tumbling over one of the stools. “Abby!”

Before you could comprehend anything else, let alone think about the blonde hair, your body barreled into another harshly, sending you both to the floor, your back hits the dirty floor with a loud thud and winds you in the process. “Fuck!” You hissed, coughing painfully.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N.”

Jesse. Turning on your side, your eyes flutter open, the pain in your back trailing all over your body as you find him already pushing himself off the floor, crouching beside you, and holding a hand out for you. “Sorry, I just thought I saw someone.” You explained, taking his hand and letting him pull you up.

“Abby?”

“What?”

“You were shouting her name,” He laughed, shrugging his shoulders and dusting off yours. “Dina told me you and Ellie were looking for her, or something like that,” Jesse murmured, holding his hand up to block the sun from his eyes. “Had any luck?”

“I wouldn’t be shouting her name like a fuckin’ maniac and pushing people over if I had luck finding her,” You scoffed and rolled your eyes. His smile fell at your aggression, but quickly recovered and patted your shoulder with another smile. “Sorry, I’ve just— I don’t know what to do, It feels like she’s still here, somewhere, and I just want her to come back.”

“I know, and she will. You’re both like, stuck to each other, If anyone can find her, It’s you,”

“Y/N! Y/N!”

Turning your head, you find Ellie frantically running towards you and Jesse. She barely acknowledges him though and instead, shoves a piece of paper into your hands before hunching over, resting her hands on her thighs and panting heavily. “What’s this?” You question with a raised eyebrow.

“Abby was arguing with someone,” She spoke between pants and cleared her throat. “That creepy old man we saw last week? Freaked me the fuck out, to be honest, but when I saw him again this morning, he kind of cornered me and started telling me that she was arguing with someone near the barn, it got heated, but that’s all he remembers.” Ellie finally got out.

“Arguing? With who?”

“Fuck if I know, but he said it sounded bad. So whoever she was arguing with, knows where she went, or was the one to see her last, right?” She blinked, copying Jesse and blocking the sun from her face with her hand.

“I thought I saw her,”

“Saw who? Abby? When?”

“Was talking to Brenda about books, and then It just felt like I saw her—”

“Almost took me out in the process.” Jesse chimed in.

Rolling your eyes, you looked down at the sheet of paper; the same sheet that listed the names of everyone who lived here. “So she was arguing with someone? That could have been anyone.”

“Half of them are old, one argument would send them into their coffin—”

“Ellie!”

“What?! M’just saying! It’s true.”

“Jesse, do you remember Abby wearing jewelry?” You asked after a few seconds of silence.

His eyebrow rose this time, only to furrow. “Uh, maybe, I’m not sure, why?”

“Abby never wore jewelry unless it was from you or Jerry.” Ellie gave you the same confused look. “Why? What is that big head of yours thinking?”

“Nah, s’nothing, was just wondering,” You shook them off and scrambled the paper between your hands. “Something just feels off and I can’t explain it no matter how much I think.”

“Jerry still has all those pictures we took, maybe we can start there this time, see if anything jumps out at you?” Jesse suggested this time.

“Wha— You?” Ellie scoffed.

“Abby is my friend too, Ellie.”

“And yet you’ve never taken the time to visit us or Jerry since she went missing, shocker, Jesse.”

“Guys, enough,” You pinched the bridge of your nose harshly and sighed deeply. “Let’s just go see Jerry for the pictures.”

Jerry wasn’t lying when he said he hadn’t changed anything in Abby’s bedroom. The wallpaper was still the yellow and sunflower she picked when she turned 16. The bed sheets were the same light blue with clouds that scattered around the fabric. Her mirror still had every Polaroid hung up from the multiple drunk nights you all had. “There’s still another box in the attic, I’ll get it for you.” Her Dad appeared in the doorway, looking at you all with a gentle smile. “Weird seeing all of you in her room after so long,” He chuckled and placed the box on her bed. “Can I get any of you something to eat or drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“M’alright, but thank you, Jerry.”

“Can I have a glass of water?”

“Really, Jesse?” Ellie glared.

“What?! I’m thirsty.” Jesse glared back.

“I’ll get your drink and then grab the last box.” Jerry laughed at their bickering and left the room.

“Right,” Ellie clasped her hands together and took refuge at Abby’s untouched desk. You could tell Jerry hadn’t touched anything there because the old music festival poster was still lying there on the oak. “Something that could help us.” She muttered to herself while you and Jesse were already opening the box.

“I didn’t realize how many pictures we took when we were all together,” Jesse smiled fondly at the thought of seeing so many old memories between you all and instantly shoved his hand into the filled box and grabbed a handful of pictures.

“How many are there?” Ellie laughed from the other side of the room.

“More than Joel has of those vinyls, that’s for sure.” You chuckled.

“Old man is gonna be so jealous we have more pictures together than he has of his beloved music.”

“Or you could find another that he doesn’t have yet, you know, being a good daughter to the old man seeing as he feeds you 4 times a day and takes care of you,” You suggested with a subtle smirk. “Just a little idea of what to get him for his birthday.”

“Oh yeah? What are you gonna get him then?”

“Another jumper, what else?”

“You’ve given him over 10 since you met him!”

“Didn’t you steal 3 of my jumpers?” You quipped back, eyebrow rose and lips quirked up.

“You just— Your jumpers are comfy, okay!?”

“Oh I was just asking, you’re the one getting all defensive,” You teased before taking your handful of pictures. You don’t remember each time you took them, there were so many that it could go back years before you were even friends with Ellie or Jesse. There were more than enough to write an entire book; it seemed as you scanned over a couple.

As you went to grab another set, seeing as the ones you picked didn’t really give you much, you had knocked over the pile that Jesse had already looked through, and sent them tumbling to the floor. Cursing under your breath, you rolled your eyes at yourself and sighed. “Shit,” You grumbled, placing the pile of photos on the bed before kneeling on the floor to grab the few that you knocked over. “Ellie, did you find anything?”

“Nah, still nothing.” The Brunette sighed from the desk.

Picking up the abandoned photos, you quickly catch onto a slight glint and sparkle from the corner of your eye; furrowing your eyebrows, you push the pictures onto the bed with the others, and lean your head down more, looking under her bed. “What the—” Reaching towards whatever it was you thought you saw, you grabbed it, and your lips parted with a soft exhale.

A bracelet.

Holding it up, you inspected it closely. “What’s that?” Jesse spoke up as you noticed there were quite a few charms already missing. Did Abby hide them? Why was there only a few left, and the others were gone? “Is that Abby’s?”

Ellie had quickly snatched it from your hands, which caused you to almost stumble onto the floor at her abrupt movement, held the bracelet up and looked at it. “I’ve only seen this once,”

“So It’s hers?”

“I assume so, I saw her with it on her 16th birthday,” Ellie nodded and took a seat in the middle of Abby’s bed with her legs crossed. “I’ve only seen her with it on once, and I mean, you guys should know that too seeing as you got her the fuckin’ thing, Y/N”

Did you? Then why couldn’t you remember?

“How don’t you remember?” Jesse laughed and slapped the back of your head gently. “Can we just talk about the fact she wore all of your clothes? She wouldn’t go out unless you were going, nor would she go to any of the parties here unless you were with her? You were both obsessed with each other. You bought it for her, or made it for her, should I say.”

“Made it?” You choked out, looking over at the bracelet that was still in Ellie’s hands. “I don’t—”

“It’s been hard for all of us, but more so for you,” Ellie admitted quietly and smiled sadly. “Abs was closer to you than the rest of us. We can all understand that this is something you don’t remember because you’re too busy blaming yourself.”

“That’s not—”

“Y/N, you’ve been blaming yourself the second the missing posters went up,” Jesse spoke, sitting beside Ellie on the bed. “Every day since then you’ve blamed yourself,and you’re still blaming yourself, right now, I just know your head is going through the cycle It’s been going through for the past god knows how many years.”

“But why don’t I remember making her that? Why?”

“Because you’re blocking it out,” Jerry spoke up. “You’re blocking out all the memories because you’re scared.”

“M’not scared—”

Planting the final box on the floor, Jerry crouches beside you and places his hand comfortingly on your shoulder. “You’re blocking them out because you’re scared. You’ve been blocking them out because you’re blaming yourself, and maybe if you block them out, it won’t hurt you as much—”

“Hurt me,” You scoffed and shrugged his hand off your shoulder as you stumbled to your feet. “Won’t hurt me as much. M’not ready to let her go, is that better for you? Maybe if I keep my memories locked away, I’ll have more time to make new ones when she comes home. I know this is fucking hard for all of us, for you, but it is killing me—” You paused to take a deep breath, ignoring the worried looks on all of them. “It’s fucking killing me going through fucking photos, asking people around the fucking village, trying to figure out what happened when she’s fucking alone, all alone and I don’t know where she is. This is pointless, all of this is pointless because Abby means more to me than some pictures! I’m here looking at fucking pictures while the girl I love is somewhere out there, fucking scared and there’s nothing I can do. I can’t promise you anything, I can’t promise no one anything”

“Y/N—” Jerry frowned as he rose to his feet and cupped your face gently between his hands. “You’re looking for her,” He murmured with a soft smile. “You’re doing something, and you’re doing a better job than the so-called professionals.”

“I can’t even figure out who she argued with, I haven’t done anything.” You choked out, body falling into his as he wrapped his arm around you and cupped the back of your head. “I need her back, I just want her back.”

“I have faith. With you both, I always have.” Jerry smiled.

You weren’t sure what happened after your small breakdown, all you know is that you’re still sitting in Abby’s bedroom 5 hours later. Still sifting through endless pictures, notes, journals, anything to give you a hint of something. Was Abby afraid of someone? Why was she arguing? Who was she arguing with? You had so many questions and yet you felt like you had so little time to get everything. “This is the second time she’s yelled at me, what did I do wrong?” Ellie, who was hunched over the desk, mumbled as your eyes locked onto her back.

“Ellie? Who yelled at you?” You asked, sitting up slowly.

“What? No, It’s a diary entry in Abby’s journal,” She turned around, made her way over to you, climbed onto the bed, and slumped beside you. “Look,” Ellie passed you the book, onto the page she was reading and you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw it.

“Who yelled at her?” You took the journal from her hand and skimmed through more of the pages, ones you assume Ellie has yet to read through. Jesse left not that long ago, muttering apologies but his parents wanted him to help with dinner.

The more you flipped through, the more you noticed.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

I think she hates me. I’m not sure what I did for her to hate me, but apparently I must have done something.

Sunday, 2nd May 2015.

She threatened me today. I haven’t stopped crying. I don’t know why she hates me.

Monday, 3rd May 2015.

It’s getting harder and harder to look at her and tell her I’m fine. It’s breaking my heart and I can’t even talk to her about it.

“Obviously the last one has to be about you. So something happened and she couldn’t even talk to you about it, I assume?” Ellie slumped her head on your shoulder and grumbled. “Is there anything else? To just give us a timeline for however long this went on for?”

“That was the last one,” You closed the book and placed it on your lap with another long sigh. “Abby never told Jerry anything, so I doubt talking to him about this is going to do much.”

“So, over the past god knows how many weeks we’ve been doing this, we’ve found out that someone was on Abby’s case, who, that’s still another thing we need to figure out,” Ellie explained, nervously fumbling with the ring on her finger.

“I wish she would have spoken to me, I could have done something, kept her even safer,” You felt worse now than you did earlier, reading those journal entries made your heart sink. Your best friend, the girl you were in love with, was going through something she felt like she couldn’t even talk to you about.

“Abby would hate that you’re blaming yourself,” Ellie frowned, curling into your side and rubbing her nose. “You know that she would never let you think that about yourself, it will kill her to know you’re blaming everything on yourself, still.”

“I always promised I would keep her safe, and I couldn’t even do that. If I did, she would still be here, she wouldn’t be missing, El.”

“When we find her, m’going to ask her for permission to punch you—”

“Why?!” You cut her off, outraged and shocked at her words.

“Because then maybe you’ll stop blaming yourself for this, for everything that’s happened.”

You’re sitting at the bar the next evening when it happens, minding your own business as you wait for Jesse and Ellie, when a guy, a gruff guy walks up to you; slightly drunk and smoking a cigarette, when he bumps into your shoulder and scowls. “Heard you and your little friends are looking for that girl,” He hiccups, the stench of his beer breath has your stomach churning and nose scrunching up at the smell.

“Fucks it to you?”

“She’s been gone for years, no chance she’s gonna turn up now, no?” His laugh made your skin crawl and you didn’t know if you wanted to smash his beer bottle over his head or break his jaw. Maybe both, it would be easier for him to stop talking to you. “I don’t know why you try, she was a lost cause years before she disappeared.”

“You don’t even know her, shut your fuckin’ mouth.” You warned, standing up slowly. You towered over him by a few more inches, and half expected him to cower away, most people did, but he didn’t, he just laughed harder, taking constant drags of his cigarette and looked you up and down. “M’not afraid to shove that bottle down your throat, now fuck off.” Your face was now in his, and the smell of beer smelt worse if that was even possible.

“Oh yeah? The fuck you gonna do? Shove this bottle down my throat? Your threats are empty and pointless, like your search for your little fuckin’ girlfriend—”

“Say one more thing about her, I dare you.”

Before you can go through with your promise, a hand grabs your arm and pulls you away. “He’s not worth it, just let it go.” Ellie, who you hadn’t even noticed arrived, murmured into your ear and dragged you away from the smiling man. “Fighting someone isn’t worth it when we have someone more important to find, okay?”

“Stupid cunt.” You growled at him, letting Ellie drag you out of the bar and into the open air. “Could have just let me throttle the bastard or something.”

“And risk you getting into trouble when Abby is waiting for you?” Jesse spoke up and pushed himself off the wall.

Just her name has you relaxing in your spot and nodding to yourself slowly. Abby was waiting for you, wherever that might be, she was. No matter how long it takes, you’re going to be the one to save the woman you love. All you have is hope. Pulling out your small box of cigarettes along with your lighter, you shove one between your lips, lighting it up and taking a long drag. “So, the notes, the bracelet, what’s next?” You mumbled between puffs.

“Are you chain smoking?” Ellie laughed with a subtle scoff.

“Give me a break, I haven’t slept properly in years,” You rolled your eyes and slumped your head on Jesse’s shoulder. “What’s next?” You asked again.

As Ellie went to open her mouth, Mandy appeared outside the small shop beside the bar, looking over at you and waving quickly. “Y/N!” And before you knew it, she was already standing in front of you before you had the time to register what was going on. “Are you free tonight?”

Coughing on your cigarette, Jesse slapped your back and laughed softly while you cleared your throat and smiled painfully at her. “Tonight? Uhm m’not sure, why?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come over and have dinner with me?”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, silly, I said tonight didn’t I?”

You could see Ellie rolling her eyes beside you from the corner of your eyes, and as much as you wanted to say no, maybe saying yes might help your case. You could try and find something else about Abby, maybe Mandy might have seen someone being rude or mean to Abby when you weren’t around. “Yeah, sure!” You agreed, a little too enthusiastically for your liking.

“What?!” Ellie shouted.

“Oh really? That would be wonderful, how’s 7?”

“7 is great, Mandy”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ellie whisper-yelled once Mandy walked away and was so far away that she couldn’t hear you guys. “Are you fucked in the head or something?”

“Relax, If It’s just me with her, she might know something and tell me.”

Eyeing you up closely, she simply sighs and slaps your back gently. “Make sure you text or call if she starts to freak you out too much.”

“Or if she tries to kiss you again,” Jesse added with a snicker.

“You guys are so funny, seriously, should become comedians or something.” You took another drag of your cigarette and glared at them both.

“And never be able to see your angelic face again? How would I survive?” Ellie gasped dramatically and grinned. “No but seriously, don’t give into her weirdness. Remember, only anything to do with Abby, got it?”

“Yes mom,” You huffed while Ellie simply pinched your arm and laughed at your scowl. “We have time to kill until then though. Any idea on who threatened her? I keep thinking but no one comes to mind.”

“No fuckin’ idea, Abby had her secrets, ones she didn’t tell us about, but if it risked her like, m’sure she would have told one of us right? She wouldn’t just hide it until something like this happened?”

“None of us knew this was going to happen, let alone Abby knowing,” You murmured, using your shoe to put out the cigarette you dropped on the floor once you were done with it. “Abby used to have multiple journals, were the others not in there?”

“Not that I saw, she probably kept there somewhere else. Journals aren’t supposed to be snooped in, hiding it is what I would have done if I had one.”

“So you’re saying we look in her room again?”

“Worth a try, might find something else.”

Abby’s Dad didn’t mind that you were once again sitting in her bedroom, it was something you all did when you were younger; Abby’s house being the one that everyone hung out in the most, so changing that routine now would be pointless.

Looking through the endless supply of books in her bookshelf, you bite back another sigh when you placed yet another back, still not finding anything that could be of use or even a fuckin’ clue, and turning around. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the bed, going through the journals you both looked through last night, and with the sigh she lets out when she throws her head back, you know it’s another deadend.

“Nothing, again.”

Sitting down beside her, you take the journal from her hands, your fingers brush against the words, even her words were somewhat comforting to you. As you fumbled with the pages, you were suddenly intrigued with what Ellie was doing; Reading notes you all used to write for each other if one of you had gotten into trouble with your parents, and weren’t allowed to leave the house. “Abby never got in trouble, like ever,” She laughed.

“Because we never told Jerry about the other shit,” You snickered, the memory of Abby trying weed for the first time, and her Dad freaking out when you both arrived home, slightly buzzed out your minds, trying to act normal. “He knows about most of the weed stories, but not the insane shit we used to get up to as kids.”

“We were fuckin’ crazy, weren’t we?”

“Oh, we should have been shipped off to the ward for the shit we did.”

“Remember Brenda thinking she had rats in the shop? But it was just us making it seem like she was going crazy?”

“I still regret that, I wouldn’t have done it if you didn’t give me 4 joints before,” You threw your head back and laughed. Your laughter died down quite quickly when you brushed your thumb against the edge of the page, a sharp pain shooting through your hand. “Shit! Ow.”

“Fuck you do?”

“Paper cut,” You grumbled and looked down at your small wound.

Only for your eyes to widen at the slight kink in the paper.

“Ellie”

“Did you know that Abby used to call you butterfly?” Ellie, oblivious to your stare, laughed.

“Ellie” You repeated, louder this time.

“What?”

Turning to face you, her eyes land on the paper instead of your face, and the letters fall from between her fingers once you’re peeling apart two pieces that had somewhat been glued together.

“Typical Abby, fair play,” Ellie murmured once you pushed the two pieces apart.

A whole new entry.

Tuesday, 4th May 2015

I can feel her. She’s everywhere. She’s told me to back off, but what do I say when she notices I’m pulling away? I can’t even smile at her without it being a problem. What if she kills me? She’s crazy, I don’t think anyone understands. I tried to keep her away, but she’s clawing her way into everything and tearing things apart. At night, I can see her outside the window, looking at me, smiling at me, looking at me like she wants to kill me. Who do I tell? Who can I go to without making it a big issue? Is she really capable of killing me? Making me disappear?

What if she kills me?

What if she does?

What if this is the last time I’ll see my friends, my dad, my journals?

What……………….

Closing the book quickly, Ellie flinches beside you at the force, and you pinch the bridge of your nose. “This is getting fuckin’ weird.” You admitted. “I’m going to kill whoever it is.”

“Let’s not jump to those conclusions just yet, is there anything else?”

“No, it’s the only page we haven’t seen. So it’s a woman, a woman was the last person to see her, right? That’s gotta be the only reason right now. We have nothing else and if there is other stuff, we’re fuckin’ missing it.”

“I can look through everything again when you’re with that crazy one, see if we missed anything. I don’t mind drinking another black coffee, some energy drinks and staying awake all night.” Ellie joked.

“I don’t mind going through it all again with you when I get back. We’re still meeting up later, yeah?”

“If she doesn’t somehow kidnap you and trick you into dating you, yeah.”

6:45pm rolled around quickly and you found yourself standing outside of Mandy’s house, one hand shoved in your jacket pocket while the other was at your side, and patiently waiting. Just as you were about to knock a second time, the door swung open to reveal a very happy Mandy, smile so wide you could see her teeth. “You made it!”

“Course,” You laughed, digging your hand deeper into your pocket. “Sorry m’early,”

“Don’t worry, earlier the better! Come in, it’s cold out here tonight,”

Stepping aside to let you in, Mandy’s hand brushes against yours as you walk past her and into her warmer house, oblivious to the way her eyes raked over you, almost a little too desperately. “The food is in the oven, should be ready soon, can I take your jacket?”

“Nah, you’re alright, It’s freezing out there, gotta warm myself up a little.” You smiled, eyes instantly noticing just how neatly the table was set. The candles flickered almost angrily, the cutlery placed perfectly, and the tablecloth somehow matched everything. “This is nice,”

“Yes, isn’t it? I wanted it to be perfect for you.” Mandy commented softly. “I’m just going to check on the food, feel free to take a seat, get yourself comfortable and stuff, I won’t be long.”

“Take your time.”

Just as you sat down at her table, a sudden loud banging had you flinching in your seat. You looked over at Mandy who halted in her steps not even 5 minutes later when she reappeared from the kitchen and from where you were sitting you could see and hear her grinding her teeth together. “What was that?”

“The neighbors are probably decorating again, It’s starting to get on my nerves If I’m being honest.”

“At 7:30?” You laughed nervously.

“They have no consideration for those who live beside them. I’ll start giving them a piece of my mind If they keep it up,” She explained, placing the hot pot in the middle of the table with a bright and wide smile. “There! Can I get you anything to drink? Water? Juice? Wine?”

“Smells amazing,” You smiled and got a little more comfortable in your seat before looking at her again. “Water’s fine, thank you.”

“It’s my Mother’s recipe, nothing beats a homemade meal,” Mandy’s smile never left her face, not even when you quickly dug into the fresh meal. “I’ll be back with your water.”

You were almost done with half of your food by the time she came back with a fresh glass of water, and you looked at her with a thankful smile when she placed it beside your plate. “Thank you,” You mumbled before furrowing your eyebrows. “Sorry, that’s gross.”

“No, no it’s cute, don’t worry.” She giggled, sitting in her own chair.

As she started digging into her meal, her eyes would flutter over at you, but you seem really into whatever it was that she made to notice the subtle flirtatious eyes she was making at you. It was delicious, and you loved food, so you couldn’t complain now could you? “This is really good,” You mumbled between chews.

“I’ll thank my mother for you when I see her again.” Mandy smiled.

“You might want to give me the recipe, it’s so good.”

“As much as I like you, I can’t do that, family recipe.” She smirked widely.

Mandy continued to eat her food, little moans of delight falling from her mouth with each bite she took, while you were suddenly falling into your own world. Mandy hadn’t seemed to notice you had stopped replying to what she was asking you, or just wanted to get the food out of the way before she continued. Either way, it didn’t seem to affect her much. All you could seriously think about was Abby, hoping that she had some source of something to keep her hoping and until you could find her.

“Are you okay? You’ve gone quiet,” Mandy murmured finally, finishing the final piece of her food. “Is it the food? Is it not sitting right with you?”

“No! No the food was amazing, m’just thinking, nothing to worry about.”

“Worried about what?”

“Just worried about Abby is all, like I said, nothing to worry about.” You smiled and wiped your face with the napkin you had on your lap.

You hadn’t noticed the way the smile on her face dropped and just stared at you. “Were you close? You and Abby?” She asked.

“Since we were babies pretty much,”

“That’s nice, nice to have someone close to you and that you can trust, I suppose.” Her voice suddenly got a little quieter, and nursed her glass of wine. “How do you know she didn’t just leave willingly?”

“Abby wouldn’t have left Jerry without a reason, she wouldn’t have left us, left me, without a reason.” You frowned, eyes focused on the empty plate before you. “She’s not the type of person to run away. Even when things are hard, she comes to me for help and she didn’t—”

“Was she in trouble?”

“Someone didn’t like her, threatened her, and I didn’t even know. If she told me, I could have helped her, kept her safe.”

“S’not your job to protect everyone,” Mandy smiled softly, watching you closely. “You know that right? You can’t save everyone, especially if they can’t even save themselves.” Her fingers graze yours on the top of the table, you weren’t even sure how or when she moved hers but when you felt them against yours, your eyes locked with hers. “Maybe Abby left because there are better things out there for her, or maybe she just wanted to see something new.”

“Without me?” The crack in your voice was evident.

“Anyone can leave if they truly need to or want to,” Her fingers continued to brush against yours with each word and you couldn’t even move. “People expect so much from people around here, we’re all trying to live, find someone, and get on with our lives, and sometimes that can be too much for one person to handle. Maybe Abby didn’t want to burden you with a thought she might have had.”

“Her burdens are mine,” You murmured. “Whatever she deals with, we deal with it together.”

Her hand retracted from yours quickly, once again you didn’t notice the scowl on her face, and grabbed your plate from in front of you as well as her own before making her way into the kitchen. “Would you like some dessert?” She asked, abandoning the conversation altogether.

“Oh, uh, sure?”

The light above flickered, making a soft buzzing sound as the room felt colder again. Sunlight wasn’t a luxury anymore, even if it was so desperately needed. Mold has started coming in quicker than before. Even the eerie darkness is something straight out of a nightmare. The only thing in the room that was noticeable was the small lamp on the floor, but even that wasn’t bright enough. It never was.

By the time Mandy came back with two bowls in her hands, you were standing by the bookshelf, running your fingers over the spines of what you can already tell are very old books. “Didn’t know you liked to read books?” You asked, looking over at her.

“Oh yeah! I love books, mostly the classics, but the thriller ones are my favorite. Could read them all day. I actually have to return those to Brenda soon, had them way too long.” She giggled and placed the bowls on the table. “What is your favorite?”

“The Shining.”

“Haven’t read it before, do you have a copy I could borrow?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll find it and give It to you.”

“Perfect, let’s eat dessert!”

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Ellie was the first to comment when she noticed you walking into the bar an hour later. “Didn’t try to shove her tongue down your throat this time?”

“Like you tried with Abby that one time you got drunk?” You quipped back with a lazy grin and slumped into the chair beside her. “Nah, she just kept touching my hand, not trying to kiss me this time.”

“Oh? Are you lovebirds now?”

“Knock it off, El.” Jesse laughed and continued to sip his beer.

“No, you imbecile, she did get weird whenever I spoke about Abby though,” You shrugged, pinching some of Ellie’s chips. “Like, she just got up and went to get dessert?”

“She’s always been weird, so fuckin’ obsessed with you for a start.” It was Jesse this time.

“Really? I never got that vibe before,”

“You wouldn’t, you’re like so fucking oblivious to most shit,” Ellie snorted. “You didn’t even realize I was flirting with you when I first met you. Took you 4 months to say, Ellie, were you asking me on a date that one time? Oblivious.”

“In my defense, you fuckin’ flirt with everyone,” You defended with a soft laugh, and eyed up the pictures on the table. “What are you guys doing anyway?”

“Well, while you and Barbie were having your little date, me and Jesse were going through the rest of the pictures. Nothing has jumped out yet, but I do have a feeling something will point us in the right direction this time.”

“Right, pass us some then,”

“Of course your majesty.”

“Fuck off, man,” You snickered and snatched the pile from her hand. “Oh, you know the family that lives beside Mandy?”

“Huh? Beside Mandy?”

“Yeah, the family that lives next door?”

“No one has lived in that house for like 4 years,” Ellie blinked, confusion written all over her face.

“Oh, she said they were decorating or something earlier, there was banging and that’s what she told me.”

“Joel knows more than me about anyone, I’ll ask him later, see if anyone’s moved in since the other family,” Ellie promised with a tired smile.

“Thanks, El,” A chip that you flicked hit her in the chin and you held back a laugh when her eyes widened and she suddenly scowled at you. “Sorry, you looked like you needed something to cheer you up. Did you sleep much last night?”

“A few hours, better than none, right?” The smile she gave you didn’t reach her face. Everyone is like that lately and you sadly understood why. The community wasn’t exactly whole right now.

“Want to watch a movie tonight?” You suggested as you ate some more chips.

“What one?”

“Uhm, you pick, I don’t mind which one.”

“Don’t wanna freak anyone out or anything,”

“What is it?”

“There’s someone in the background of the picture you and Abby took the night before, well, you know, you can’t see much but It’s someone for sure,” Jesse mumbled and slid the picture over to you.

The background is blurry, you notice that much at first but as you squint your eyes just a little more, a black silhouette is something you can pick out. Standing behind what you can only assume Is one of the trees just across the ways of the pond both you and Abby spent a lot of time at. “It’s too dark, I can’t fucking pick out who it is,” You huffed. “Do you think It might be who threatened her?”

“And risk getting caught when she’s with you? Knowing damn well you’d knock their teeth out?” Ellie laughed.

“Anything’s possible, El.”

“Let’s say this is them, how do we find out who it is?”

“Could host a small get-together tomorrow night here, remembering Abby or something, and we all write something for her, see if someone slips up and exposes themselves?” Jesse suggests, looking between you and Ellie.

“It could work,” Both you and Ellie answered at the same time. “But how would we know who it is if they turn up and say something bad?”

“No idea, but we’ll figure it out as we go. Haven’t we always done that?” He smiled and pushed the rest of the pictures which were of no use back into the box before putting the lid on. “We’ve always had each other's back, that’s not going to change.”

“I’ll do whatever It takes If It means we’re one step closer to finding Abby.” You agreed.

“Alright, you’ve pulled my leg, I’m in too.” Ellie dramatically huffed but the smile on her lips gave her away. “Let’s watch that sappy romance movie,”

“Which one?”

“Abby’s favorite.”

“You, Ellie Williams, want to watch Love Actually? Willingly?”

“Why are you saying my name like that?! Yes, let’s watch it.” She scoffed and slapped the back of your head when she stood up. “Besides, you and Abby can bully me all you want for wanting to watch it when she’s back with us.”

“She’ll never let you live it down, you know what right?”

“Yeah, but It’s worth It, she is too.” Ellie winked.

—

The following evening dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. All of you were on edge. The picture, the missing charms, the truth that someone didn’t like Abby had you, Ellie and Jesse looking around the bar with caution.

The remembrance of Abby had the all clear, everyone helped and chipped in where they could. Jerry was over the moon when you told him that you guys were doing this for her. Maybe in hopes that it would bring you one step closer, or maybe one step closer to her coming home.

Thursday, 6th June 2015

“Abby, you look beautiful, why are you panicking?” Abby was sitting on the edge of her bed, fumbling with her bracelet yet not looking at you. “Hey, Abs, what’s up?” You crouched in front of her and took her hands into yours with a soft smile.

“I don’t feel beautiful,” She admitted sadly.

“Oh, Abby, you are beautiful. Everything about you is beautiful, your soul is perfect and stunning. You are the most beautiful person in the world. Your hair is beautiful, your smile is beautiful, your pretty eyes are stunning,” Her sniffle caused you to pause, reach your hand up and wipe it away. “Everything about you is beautiful.”

“Really?”

Cupping her face between your hands, you press you lips against her forehead and smile. “Yes, really, you are so fuckin’ beautiful.” You whispered into her skin. “I promise, love.”

How could you not see the pain she was holding back, behind the little glint in her eye?

“To Abby!”

Jerry’s voice brought you back to reality, smiled at everyone who raised a glass in her honor and nodded to himself as he walked down the small steps. “Thank you for coming,” He murmured to a few of the older couples who gave him a gentle hug and a soft reassurance. “I know that Abby would have loved to see you guys together again.”

On edge, you looked around the bar slowly, trying to pick out anyone that was acting weird or unusually suspicious. That’s how you looked at most people these days, picking them out one by one, wondering if they had done or said anything to Abby the night she vanished. You spotted Ellie doing the same on the other side of the room, taking small unsuspicious glances at everyone who came in and left. “Here,”

To your left, Jesse was holding a beer towards you, which you took with a soft thank you, and leaned against the wall with you. “Anyone catch your eye yet?”

“Not yet, everyone seems to be kind, and talking to Jerry, cheering him up and stuff,” You mumbled between sips, eyes still moving around as each person moves around before you. “I don’t think they would hide, we know most people here, if anyone’s missing, we’ll know.”

“And if they do choose to miss something that is important to the community, then they are hiding something.” Jesse added.

“Exactly, I don’t think they’re stupid enough to let it slip, know that we know something.”

“Did that guy who told you she was arguing with someone tell you anything else or?”

“Deadend, he just smiles at me all weird like now when I see him.” You grimaced and took a big gulp of your beer.

“It’s that friendly smile you have.”

“Eat a dick.” You laughed.

In the middle of the bar, there was a box, which gave people to write notes, poems, or even just one word, so that when Abby did come back home, she would have kind things to read, and hopefully it would be able to cheer everyone else up when they read a few of them nearing the end of the night. You thought the idea was a good one when Jerry asked you about it this morning. He enjoyed having your input when it came to his daughter.

You wrote something simple, not overdone, but a little i miss you and i love you more than anything. It meant more than anything, Abby would know that if she was here right now, reading them. You always noticed the way she would blush and look away when you would tell her you love her before you either hung up after being on a phone call with her for hours, or even when you left her house. “I love you.” You murmured, folded the piece of paper and pressed you lips to it.

Ellie smiled from across the room.

She always found it amusing it took you years to know you were indeed madly in love with your best friend.

“Hey,”

You almost gave yourself whiplash with how fast you turned around to find Dina looking at you and nervously fumbling with her fingers. “Dina, hey,” You smiled awkwardly.

“Do you hate me? It would make sense if you did, with how I pulled away from you all, but with Abby going missing, I just got scared, and being around you guys made me miss her so much.” Dina rushed out.

“I don’t hate you,” You reassured her quietly. “I understand though, it’s okay, we all deal with it differently, but I don’t hate you, none of us do.”

“Is Ellie okay?” She asked hesitantly.

“I don’t think so, but she’s getting there,” You admitted truthfully. “You should talk to her.”

“Wouldn’t that be awkward?”

“Nothing’s awkward unless you make it awkward.” You winked with a soft laugh.

“Right, I’ll go and see her, if she starts freaking out, you should probably come over or something.” Dina smiled.

“Will do.”

If it wasn’t for the fact you were already looking at Ellie, you would have had a stroke when you heard the loud crashing of her falling off the chair when she noticed Dina making her way towards her. Snorting under your breath, you shook your head, pushed yourself off the wall and made a beeline straight for the beer. “Usual?” Elaine, the older woman who took over the bar after her husband passed, smiled when you were quick to nod and slump yourself against the counter. “You look tired, you sleepin’?”

“When I can, which isn’t much,” You mumbled softly with a subtle shrug. “But what can you do? Sleep is the last thing I need right now.”

“Maybe you need just a little bit to find her.”

Pushing the beer into your direction, she laughed at the way your lips parted as you grabbed it; ready to ask her how she knew. “Jerry told me earlier when he came here to set up. It’s a good thing, you know? Abby adored you, and I know how much you care about her.”

“I seem to be getting nowhere when I feel like m’finally getting somewhere.”

“There’s more out there than meets the eye, Honey,” Elaine smiled. “You just have to look closer.”

“What do you—”

“Y/N?” Jerry called out.

God fucking damn it.

At his voice, you turn your body slightly, almost stiffly and raise an eyebrow at him. You quietly excuse yourself from the conversation you got yourself into with Elaine when he waved you over, and took a couple of strides towards him, placing your almost empty bottle of beer on the table beside you. “What’s up?”

“I was just going through some of the notes, you know, the ones people left for Abs, and I found this. What does it mean?” He explained, slightly rushed and shoved a piece of paper into your hands with worry written all over his face. “Did someone hurt her? Take her from me? Why?”

Your eyebrows furrow as you look down at the slip of paper in your hands, looking back up at him confused. “What is it?”

“Read it, It’ll make more sense if you see it.”

Doing as you’re told, you don’t have time to acknowledge the small fact that your hands start to tremble as you unfold the little note with caution. Your lips part, body tensing as your eyes widen as you read over the note slowly. Not fully understanding. “Someone put this here?” You asked, voice cracking. “When?”

“I’m not sure, so many people have been leaving notes. I wouldn’t have been able to catch who.” Jerry shook his head, and gripped the edge of the table tightly. “If someone’s hurt her, m’gonna kill them. M’gonna kill them, Y/N”

“Not before us,” You murmured, already looking around the room. “Who was in charge of the box?”

“Me, and a couple of others, but this is the only bad one.”

“You’ve looked at the rest?”

“Of course.”

“Alright, put it somewhere else, out of sight from everyone. If this is the only bad one, then it’s possible they’re just trying to scare us, making up a lie about what’s happened to her. She’s fine, okay? Abby is strong, and we’re gonna find her.” You nodded. You weren’t sure who you were trying to reassure more, you or Jerry? Both of you? The whole town?

“What are you going to do?” He blinked.

“Figure it out. That’s what m’gonna do.”

The night rushed along slowly as you, and a bunch of others made your way out of the bar, cigarette hanging between your lips and a cold beer in your hands. The note played on your mind angrily, eating and chewing away at your brain, almost trying to claw its way out of your head as you inhaled hit after hit of your cigarette. Who here hates Abby enough to hurt her? Take her away? She was nice to everyone, always offering to help someone who needed it, never letting the older people carry stuff too heavy, Abby wouldn’t hurt a fly, so why would they feel the need to hurt her? Take her away from where she loves? From the people she adores? It doesn't make sense.

The longer you stood there, practically taking Ellie’s thought into consideration, pulling out cigarette after cigarette, the darkness seemed to loom and lurk more creepy than any other night. Almost like it was mocking you, judging you from afar as you tried to wrap your head around everything. Even the journal pages still don’t make sense to you and it’s been over a week since the first. It’s like she left, and suddenly you’re trying to figure out a really fucked up riddle in order to get you prize, the prize being Abby once everything slots into place like a puzzle.

“Let’s get you home, Honey. Night time around here has become a little scarier than before.” You spot a mother wrapping her daughter up on her scarf and jacket before holding onto her hand tightly after she places a kiss on her forehead. “Stay close to Mommy and you’ll be okay, alright?”

You wish Abby stayed close to you.

You watch the family walk away down the path, the lights casting a shadow around them. Like a possessed child, the shadow like a demon hanging on by a thread as they were no longer in your peripheral each step they took until they were around the corner. Gone just like Abby.

As you dropped your cigarette on the ground, you caught something behind one of the trees when you looked back up, lurking in the darkness and your body suddenly tensed on the spot. Did Abby feel like this? Did she feel like her entire soul left her body when she knew someone was watching her? Following her?

“Hey!” You shouted, dropping your bottle in the process as you walked over to them, or trying to. It seemed like you had slightly spooked them, not aware you were staring right at them. “Hey!” This time you started running as you saw the rustle of the leaves, the snapping of twigs under their feet. “Stop running away!” You called out, pushing the branches out of your way.

Were you really doing this right now? Running after someone who could easily just kill you?

In your eyes, you could see the outline of their figure under the moonlight, shimming between trees, jumping over tree’s that’ve been left to fend for themselves over the years, and even though the pain and burn in your legs were starting to ache more and more the longer you ran after them, you couldn’t stop. You needed to do this no matter the outcome. “Stop running away from me!” You shouted, jumping over the same tree as they did. “I just want to talk! That’s all! Stop fuckin’ running!” You huffed.

You didn’t see the branch hanging in front of you, or the rock on the floor, not until tripped, your face smacked into the branch harshly and landed on the floor with a loud thud. “Fuck,” You groaned, cupping your nose quickly with a wince. “Fuck!” You yelled, spitting out the dirt.

Rolling yourself over slowly, you puffed out a sigh as your eyes fluttered open; the midnight sky lurked down at you, almost inviting it to eat you whole. If it could reach out and grab you, you would be the darkness’s first victim. The chitter of insects in between the long grass had your ears perking up as you sat up. Cupping the back of your head, you hissed and screwed your eyes shut tightly and pulled yourself up off the floor.

Looking around, even though it was no use and they were probably gone already, you stumbled towards one of the trees and leaned against it tiredly. But all things turn you angry at some point.

All you could really think about the fact you still hadn’t found Abby the longer you slumped yourself there, and that was enough to anger you enough until you repeatedly punched at the oak, over and over again until your knuckles were completely red, bits of wood stuck in your skin, but you didn’t care, if you don’t have Abby, what was the point?

“Fuck you!” Your scream echoed eerily.

The flap of bird wings rang out loudly around you.

It took you an hour to trek back to the town. You held your hand against your chest, your nose stung like a bitch but this was the last thing on your mind as you stumbled your way through the crowds of drunk people, not giving you a single glance or worrying about the fact your nose was still bleeding, you probably broke a few knuckles. “Jess, have you seen Y/N?” You heard Ellie’s voice but couldn’t see her.

“Y/N? No, I haven’t seen her for a couple hours, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Shit, alright, uhm,”

The sound of loud crashing caused both of them to look straight at you as you stumbled over one of the tables. “I think we found her?” Jesse laughed.

“Shit, Y/N?” Ellie’s eyes widened at the sight of your bloody nose and rushed over to your side; not before watching you struggle 4 times to stand on your feet. “Fuck, what the fuck happened to you?” She scoffed, pulling you up carefully.

“Someone,” You groaned and slumped your head against her shoulder. “Someone was watching, through the trees, ran after them but hit my head, broke my nose, I think? And then I lost them, so I punched a tree, I think my knuckles are broken.” You explained with a slight slur in your voice. “But m’fine, just need to sit down for a second.”

“That’s a lot of I thinks, we can’t leave you alone for five fuckin’ minutes.” Ellie muttered under her breath and wrapped her arm around your waist tightly. “Let’s get you to mine, Joel’s out with Tommy so he won’t ask questions.”

With the help of her and Jesse, you made it to Ellie’s house in one piece, well minus your dignity that the tree smacked out of you, but you still made it without another fall. They had managed to patch up your knuckles, and stopped the bleeding of your nose, ignoring every curse and wince that fell from between your bloody lips; telling you that it was your own fault for going without some kind of help or backup. “So who did you see?” Jesse asked, dropping the dirty rags in the bin and turning to face you again.

“I was drinking my beer, and then I saw someone behind the trees, if this is the same person who was watching Abby, I can tell you it would have freaked anyone out—”

“Says the one who ran after them.” Ellie scoffed from beside you.

“You were talkin’ to Dina, and Jesse was, well Jesse was where he usually goes, which is where? I don’t know.” You glared at the pair of them. “But m’here, no?”

“Luckily.” Ellie sighed and pulled the tissue from out of your nose carefully. “What if something else seriously bad happened to you? And no one was there to get you?”

“M’not going anywhere—”

“You don’t fuckin’ know that! You can’t just disappear without telling one of us. That’s not fair.”

The panic and worry in Ellie’s eyes is something you haven’t seen since Abby went missing. She didn’t talk about how she felt, but her eyes and face did, which is why your shoulder sagged and you nodded slowly. “I know, El, m’sorry, okay?” You smiled sadly.

“For what it’s worth, this whole look—” She pointed to your entire face with a laugh. “Is so worth it. M’gonna tell Abby you risked breaking your knuckles and nose for her.”

“And she’ll ignore me for a week—”

“A week? She will ignore you for a solid 5 seconds before she’s asking you to cuddle her.” Jesse laughed with a slow head shake. “Did you find anything else out? Minus the dumb injuries?”

“There’s one thing Jerry showed me.”

“What is it?”

Reaching into your back pocket with a quiet groan, you pulled the slip of paper out and handed it to Ellie, who was watching you closely. “That’s all that happened tonight.”

Unfolding it, exactly like you did earlier tonight, Ellie’s eyebrows furrow into a tight frown almost and nothing comes out of her mouth when opens it and instead she looks back at you with wide eyes. “This happened tonight?”

“Let me see,” Jesse held his hand out and took it from her. His eyes widen too. “How didn’t we notice? How many people were going to that box?”

“M’not sure.”

Does a domino effect really have to happen in my life? You thought.

Ellie, who’s usually the one to be the first to ask what’s next, doesn’t do that, instead she looks at you and frowns. “You need to rest, If Jesse has to leave, I can figure out what’s next for this sudden murder club search party, but you need to get some sleep, and I won’t take no for an answer. Got it?”

“El—”

“I said got it?”

Slumping against the bed, you simply nodded like a lost puppy and folded your arms over your chest, completely forgetting about your broken knuckles you winced. “Fine, but if you find anything, wake me up, yeah? Please?”

“If you’re knocked out cold, then no, but I will if you aren’t.”

“The tree already knocked her out cold” Jesse chimed in with a sudden laugh.

“Both of you go fuck yourself!”

Brenda, poor woman was reading through one of her own books, jolted in her spot and looked up when the bell on the door rang, and held back a sigh at the sight of you and Ellie stumbling in through the small door with curses and grumbles. “Brenda! My favourite lady!”

“Ellie, may I remind you of the time you almost broke my window? we aren’t even acquaintances”

“I paid for it to be fixed, didn’t I?!” Ellie moaned and kicked the floor childishly. “Can we look at that book you keep when people loan or bring back books? We have something we want to compare,”

“For?”

“Just something we are working on, please? It’ll only take a couple minutes,” Your friend begged, leaned over the counter and pouted. “I will even ask Joel if he will take you on that date!”

“Date?! Excuse me—”

“You’re in love with Joel, do this for me, and then I’ll get you that date with him”

“Fine, but don’t knock anything over like last time, It took me an hour to fix everything.” She scowled and walked away.

“You’re the best!” Ellie shouted after her.

The flight flickered on, and the sounds of loud banging could wake anyone up, even the small insects that lurk in the long grass outside in the wilderness. “Need to take these back, hope you enjoyed those pathetic reads.” They mumbled, snatching the books from the dirty floor and scoffed. “Don’t understand what’s so special about them or you. Also, I can't afford to borrow anymore so this is the last of them for you.”

Just as fast it went on, the light was gone and it felt even colder once the door slammed shut.

Hunching over the counter, Ellie spots the thick yet old book and grabs it with both hands, a soft grunt slipping past her lips before pulling it over the counter and dropping it on the oak, the loud bang causing you to flinch and flick her ear. “Ow!”

“That’s for trying to give me a heart attack.” You scoffed and slapped her shoulder. “So this was your big plan? Look through the names until one stands out?”

“Yeah or until we find one that matches, I guess?”

“Brenda, I know i’m late with returning these books but— Hey!” Mandy halted in her steps mid way through the door when she spotted you and Ellie leaning on the counter, looking through something. “Loaning another book, Y/N?”

“Oh, no not today, just finding something for Joel.” You lied, Ellie almost snickering behind her hand at your blatant lie. “You read them already?”

“Oh yeah! I had some free time after you left last night, really enjoyed them”

“What was your favourite?”

The question caught her off guard as her lips formed into a pout as she thought about it. “Uh, I really liked Pride and Prejudice, the others were boring but that one was amazing.”

No one in this town apart from me and Abby love that book. You thought.

“Ah, well m’glad you enjoyed it. Do you still want to borrow my copy of the shining?”

Mandy chewed her inner cheek before nodding a little too quickly and smiled again. “Yeah, of course! Those stupid neighbors finally stopped decorating so I can probably get a night in to read some of it!”

“Mandy, hello Love.” Brenda appeared with a mug in her hand and a plate of biscuits. “Returning them already? That was fast.”

Placing the stack of books on the counter, Mandy simply gave her a warm smile, one that was slowly starting to creep you out, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Can’t afford to borrow anymore for a while, my brain is fried with all the stories I’ve read this week.”

“No worries, Honey, just sign in the books you borrowed and they’ll be more for you next time when you do want to read again. Girls, can she use that for a second and then you can get back to whatever you were doing.”

“A date is on the line, Brenda, don’t rush me”

“I’ll rush you both out of that door,” Brenda smirked and the words died in throat once Ellie nodded her head quickly, picked up the book and practically shoved it in shocked Mandy’s hand with a stutter of words. “Thank you.”

“Do you have a pen I could borrow?”

Reaching for the one beside you, you hold it out towards her, which she takes with a soft thank you, places the book back on the counter and doodles her name onto the sheet of paper. “Thank you again, Brenda. You always have a really good selection of books!”

“You’re more than welcome, Love.”

“See you later, Y/N?”

“What’s happening later?” Ellie eyed her.

“It’s that party thing, dunno if m’going though,” You smile and shoved your hands into your pockets. “If I do, I assume you’re going?”

“Yes! The only time I get to be free and myself, I guess. So I’ll be there. If you do change your mind and come, I’ll see you there?”

“For sure.” Another tight lipped smile.

Mandy took her leave not long after, leaving you and Ellie to your little search once more and Brenda took herself into a little corner of the shop to what you could only assume was to read one of her books. “Now that she’s gone,” Ellie trailed off.

Opening the book again, you brush your fingers down the list of people until it lands on hers; furrowing your eyebrows when you look at the book in front of you again, you lean your face closer and look at the signature a little longer, for far too long until you’re shoving your hand in your back pocket, rummaging around for the slip of paper you and Ellie took last night. “What are you doing?” Ellie laughed, watching you struggle.

Pride and Prejudice ………………………… Mandy ♡

“Look at her name,” You murmured, pulling the slip of paper out.

“Whos? Mandy’s?”

“The way she’s spelt it.”

Once you unfolded the paper, your eyes flickered between the slip between your fingers, and the name in the book, Ellie doing the same, having to lean over you. “Wait,” She paused, snatching it from you and taking a look for herself.

Ellie looks at her name, and then at the note again;

ABBY DESERVED WHAT SHE GOT. ♡

“Did she just—”

“The fuckin’ heart, Ellie.”

“Wait, is she really that fucking insane?” Ellie looked at the slip still in shock. “Are you joking me? She’s been under our nose this entire time?”

“So, the banging I heard?”

“Wasn’t anyone fucking decorating that’s for sure.”

“Before we jump to conclusions, let’s just go get something to eat, m’starving, and go through what we have. Anyone could write hearts next to their name.”

“In the exact same way she does it? I doubt it.” Ellie murmured, tore the page out of the book quickly and stuffed it in her jacket pocket. Glaring at your stare. “What? Brenda won’t fuckin’ miss it.”

Shuffling out of the door, you and Ellie spot Mandy happily skipping away, and the sight has your friend scowling ad mumbling incoherently under her breath, “Why’s she so fuckin’ happy all the time? Has she never dealt with sadness or hurt in her life?”

Nudging her shoulder with yours as you both walk, you shook your head. “Apparently not. Look at me, depressed as fuck.”

“Same,” Ellie looked at you before you both burst out into a laugh. “Man, if she’s somehow done anything to be the reason Abby went missing, m’gonna kill her. You know that right? I don’t care what you say, I’ll do it.”

“Ellie—”

“No, whoever took Abby from us, is going six feet under. You can’t stop me.”

“Let’s feed you, that monster is hungry—”

“Y/N, m’not joking, this isn’t a joke—”

“I know, and that’s what’s scaring me right now, Ellie.”

Pushing past you with a grumble at your words, Ellie’s quick to find a seat in the far corner, out of the way from people, and ushers you to hurry up. “I’ll be right with you, Honey, just have to get a few orders out of the way.” The old woman smiled from behind the counter.

“No worries!”

Unzipping your jacket, and placing it on the back of your chair, you sit down opposite Ellie and really look at her. She’s frowning, which means she’s deep in thought again, and that only means she’s planning something, something that you aren’t sure is supposed to scare you or make you happy. The bags under her eyes are much darker than they were last week, so that’s a clue she’s not been sleeping no matter how many times she’s told you she has been. Her lips are in a tight line. Even her smile lines are vanishing. “And then I think— Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” She mumbled, catching you staring.

“S’nothing, you just look exhausted,” You offered a soft smile. “What are we eating?”

“I’ll just share with you, order whatever.”

Ellie was always a picky eater, well she says she is but always steals any of the food you make or buy, and went with something simple when it was your turn to order food; a bowl of chips, salsa and a chicken sandwich. “—And then we have the note, if that crazy psycho took the book out last week, then Abby’s alive, which means she has to be here somewhere, and we’re just not looking hard enough—”

“The woman at the bar, who got me a beer, told me that we need to look closer, so you might be right,” You nodded, munching on your chips. “She might know something, but doesn’t want to get too close to it, I don’t blame her, this whole thing has been freakin’ me the fuck out.”

“So Abby’s here somewhere?” Ellie took a handful of chips and ate them slowly. “That’s what we’re going with?”

“Yeah, but where? We know this place like the back of our hands. We would have found her already by now.”

“That’s where m’confused because I don’t know. I have no idea where she could be—”

“Y/N, Ellie! I’m so glad I found you guys!” Brenda’s voice rings out.

The pair of you turn in your seats, and look at her with your mouths full with food, and staring like a deer in headlights. “Brenda, miss us already? It’s been 30 minutes.” You coughed, swallowed your food and wiped your face. “What’s wrong?” You asked when you noticed her worried look.

“There’s something you need to see, I haven’t told anyone else yet, apart from you guys.” She rushed out, pulling a book out of her bag and placing it on the table. “I was going through them, like I always do just to make sure she didn’t rip any of the pages, some people have done it, and I found this.”

“Pride and Prejudice?” You blinked.

“Just look at the back. please.”

Looking over at Ellie, who was just watching with confusion written all over her face and still eating, you open the book and skip through the pages, until you’re on the last page before the back. “Did you hide spiders here? To scare me?” You laughed nervously.

“It’s about Abby.” Was all she could stutter out.

Once the words fell from her mouth, your hands dropped the book on the final page, and all of you looked down at it. Staring at it like the horribly written words were going to jump out of the page and eat you. “She took this book out last week.”

M….Mandy

Crazy…

Abby

“Is that—” Ellie swallowed and locked eyes with you. “She’s still—”

“Alive.”

“So what’s the plan?” Ellie mumbled into your ear, the 3 of you watching a very happy Mandy dancing with her friends, and snatched your beer from your hand. “We corner her?”

“Not here,” You shook your head. “Too obvious. She would see it coming.”

“You think she knows we know?” Jesse asked.

“I don’t think so, If she knows that we know, I don’t think she would have shown up tonight,” You grabbed a handful of chips and shoved them into your mouth. “Besides, this way, we can observe her, try catching her saying or doing anything that could expose her.”

“We’ve been looking through so much shit for the last month, why can’t I just hit her?” Ellie grumbled and slumped in the chair like a scolded child with a pout on her face.

“Look what happened to Y/N when she went against a tree,”

“Jesse! Stop bringin’ up that fucking tree.” You groaned and threw your head back.

“It’s funny!” He laughed.

“Your poor nose didn’t think so,” Ellie cooed playfully and kissed your cheek. “Don’t tell Abby, she will actually kill me for that.”

“Leave my nose alone!”

Amongst your conversation with your friends, you hadn’t notice Mandy walking over to your table until she slid into the empty chair beside Jesse and that’s when all the laughter died down. “Who died?” She giggled, words slightly slurred. “I’m just coming to see how you are doing.”

“M’good,”

“Been better.”

“I think I’m gonna get another drink, Ellie? Y/N? You guys want anything?”

“Two beers!” Ellie cheered.

Fumbling with the bowl of chips, your eyes flicker between Jesse at the bar, and Mandy who was happily sipping her drink through a straw, not worried about the fact you were either about to lose your shit, or throw a chair at her. “So, how’s the search going?”

“S’fine,” You shrugged, not wanting to give her too much without her catching on that you knew. “Keep hitting deadends, but it’s fine besides that.”

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

Ellie makes a face of disgust at her, her need and want to just throw something at this girl gets stronger every time she opens her mouth with something ridiculous. “Is Jesse making the beers or something? Why is he taking so long?”

“Ellie, half the town is here,” You laughed and threw a chip at her. “Be patient.”

“It’s hard to have that when you live here.” She grumbled and leant her head on your shoulder. “Wake me up when he’s back.”

“You got it, El.” You laughed.

You hadn’t expected her to actually fall asleep, but when you feel her body slumping more into your side not even 10 minutes later, you’re quick to wrap your arm around her to stop her from falling off the chair and onto the floor. Nor do you notice the look of annoyance on Mandy’s face, still sipping her drink. “I would have guessed Jerry would have been helping you search for Abby. Did you say that was her name?”

The question catches you off guard, slightly offended she even thought of it let alone asked it; Jerry spent countless months of time over several months searching for her. Never eating or sleeping, he stayed awake in hopes she would walk through the door at any given moment. “How long have you lived here?” You found yourself asking and cocking your head to the side.

“How long have I lived here? Oh, since I was like 8 or 9. Why?”

“Then you’d know we look out for our own. Same thing happened when a little boy went missing for 3 days when I turned 16, we all went looking for him and brought him home when we found him. It doesn’t matter if we have distaste or disagreements with someone, if something happens in our community, we help each other, we search, and we don’t rest until we find them.” You explained slowly, eyeing her up. “Jerry doesn’t sleep, just because you don’t see him asking every single person where his daughter is, doesn’t mean he’s not looking. Jerry would kill everyone in his way to get to his daughter. That’s how much he gives a shit about her. We all do.”

“Would you?” It’s like your words didn’t phase her.

“Would I what?”

“Kill someone to get her?”

Looking down at Ellie, your eyebrow raises just slightly, and it’s back to normal before she can blink and when you chuckle, her skin crawls. “S’not me they should be worried about. When we find whoever took her, m’gonna have to keep Ellie on a tight leash or she’ll be like a rabid dog looking for something to chew,” You paused and inhaled deeply when your eyes met. “But I would, if you want the truth. I would kill anyone if it meant I could have Abby back.”

“Do you have it in you?”

“If the right person fucks with my family, yeah,” The smirk you gave her caused Mandy to shift around in her seat comfortably. A sense of terror seeps into the cracks of her skin and travels up her spine. “I wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet between their fuckin’ eyes, unless Ellie gets to it before I do.”

“Make it seem like a horror movie.” She giggled.

“I think we’re scarier than anything in a horror movie you’ve seen before, Mandy.”

On a note, she hadn’t realised or seemed to have noticed just how bold and eerie you got when you would bluntly stare. Like Ellie, Mandy never understood what you were thinking about when sitting there, zoning out like a zombie. At some points she expects to start seeing cartoon bubbles with those pictures appearing by the side of your head. “What’s the scariest movie you’ve seen?”

“The life m’fucking livin’. That’s what.”

“Your life isn’t that—”

A tray of beers enters your vision as you look up to find Jesse side eyeing Mandy, and then looking at a sleeping Ellie on your shoulder. “At least she’s sleeping. What were you guys talking about?” He asked, wrapping his lips around the bottle and gulping down the liquid.

“I was just telling Mandy that m’not afraid to kill whoever took Abby from us.”

“Remember when you tried to kill that guy who stole your chips a while back?” Jesse smirked, subtly waiting for Mandy’s reaction.

“For stealing chips?” She choked out, pushing her chair out, picking up her almost empty glass and rising to her feet.

“Oh yeah, the guy’s terrified of me.” You smiled.

“I would have been too if you tried to kill me for taking your chips. I need to get another drink. Speaking of, do you want more chips?”

“You’re alright, your friends look like they miss you”

“They’re all drunk, but I’ll see you.”

Once she left, you finally let out a laugh. “Really Jesse? When did I try to kill a man for stealing my chips?” You shook your head and took your beer.

“I tried to see if it would get a reaction out of her, not sure if it worked though,” He shrugged, once again taking a longer glance at Ellie. “Has she been asleep for a long?”

“Not a long time, but she just fell asleep when she came over here, I thought she was joking until she practically fell into me and I don’t have it in me to wake her up, not when she’s barely slept much since we started all this.” You murmured and rubbed her back slowly.

“I can hear you both talking, stop being so loud.” Ellie grumbled against your shoulder and peeled her eyes open slowly. “Is she gone? Can I get the fuck up now?”

“Were you fakin’ that?” Your hand slapped the back of her head gently; which she laughed at when she sat up completely. “After tonight, you’re getting at least 15 hours sleep.”

“Says you, you haven’t slept in like 10 years.”

“I take naps when needed”

“Not enough, those dark circles under your eyes finally match that bruised nose.”

“Enough with my nose! And the tree!” You warned when Jesse opened his mouth. “Let me live it down for fuck sake.”

“I don’t think I can, the story was hilarious,” The brunette smirked, hands running down her face as she yawned into the palm of her hand. “So, did she start freaking out when Jesse said you tried to kill someone?”

“Not like we hoped.”

Once the clock hit 11pm, Ellie was the first to notice Mandy slipping out of the doors, with a few of her friends following closely behind. “She’s leaving, let’s go.”

“Go where?”

“Following her. She wrote the note, she doesn’t fuckin’ read books, she can’t even read the fact you aren’t interested in her, and she’s obsessed with you for a reason none of us know. She knows something, if you don’t want to follow her, I’ll go alone.” Ellie rambled on and she jumped to her feet.

“Like fuck you’re going alone. Jesse open your mouth about a certain something, I will hit you.” You warned again, looking at him with a harsh glare. “Not a single word about it ever again, you guys got it?”

“I was just going to say that Abby owes you two kisses for the black eye you got.” He smiled innocently. “Risked your whole face for her. Props to you.”

“Can we talk about you and Abby flirting after?”

“Right, let’s go then.”

You kept your distance, not wanting to give anything away. A part of you did feel slightly uncomfortable with the fact you were literally following someone, but the other part of your brain was screaming at you. She knows what happened to Abby. She knows something. It wasn’t like you could ignore that gnawing feeling in your mind. “What are we going to do if we find something?” Ellie asked, huddling close to you.

“I guess we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it?” You murmured with each cautious step. “If she’s as crazy as that note proves then we can’t just throw ourselves at her and attack her.”

Hiding behind the tree when she suddenly drops her purse, Ellie grabs onto the back of your shirt tightly as you all watch Mandy scrambling to pick it up and stumbling her way up the path towards her house; almost tripping over in the process and if it wasn’t for the fact your hand quickly came up and cupped Ellie’s mouth, the laugh she let out would have gotten you all caught. “Shut the fuck up.” You warned.

“Yes, Boss.”

“Ellie’s gonna be the reason we all die.” Jesse grumbled, sneakily running over towards the other tree that was closer to her house. “I think she’s gone in the house now, you can move.” He waved you over, still looking at the window.

“Don’t laugh, or you’ll get us caught.”

“God, I won’t laugh again unless she falls out of the fuckin’ door.” Ellie grumbled from behind you, still using your body as a shield. “Or hits a tree—”

“Ellie, I will tie you to a tree and leave you out here. I said don’t bring it up.”

“C’mon, you and that tree have a pure love relationship now.”

“M’gonna tell Joel about what you did with that girl behind his house if you don’t shut your mouth right now.” You warned, turning to look at her.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would, now shut the hell up.”

Stalking up the steps quietly, you keep your hold on Ellie tight when she stumbles up one of the steps and Jesse was the one who had to place his hand over her mouth this time when she went to yelp. “Do not get us caught, Ellie, I’ll never forgive you.”

From here, you could see Mandy in the kitchen, filling her glass up with whatever she chose to drink tonight, taking a sip as she leant against the counter and her shoulders sagged. That sudden loud banging had you all flinching in your spots and Mandy straightened herself up. “Quit it! You do that all the fuckin time, it’s driving me nuts!”

“She’s already nuts,” Ellie’s voice muffled behind Jesse’s hand.

“Should have killed you when I had the damn chance, but no! Everyone gives too much of a shit about you!”

Carefully, without dropping Ellie or causing Jesse to fall over, your hand lightly grips onto the door handle, squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you turn it just enough to hear a soft click. “Let’s go.” You whispered, removing your hold reluctantly and stood up.

Pushing the door open wildly, Mandy stumbled back, almost falling over the table when You, Ellie and Jesse stormed in through her front door. “Y/N?”

“Where the fuck is she!?” You’re suddenly in her face in a flash and fists balled up by your sides.

“What happened to not throwing ourselves at her and attacking her?” Ellie grumbled quietly from beside Jesse under her breath.

“I don’t— I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mandy stammered, eyes wide and glossy.

“Oh, you don’t?” You laughed sarcastically and shook your head. “You know exactly what m’fucking talking about.”

“I really don’t—”

“You can drop the innocent act, you insane little bitch.” Ellie seethed from beside you.

“Y/N, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.” Mandy sobbed, backed into a corner and not knowing an escape route.

Her breath hitched and she gasped when you’re suddenly gripping her face between your hands tightly; looking down at her angrily. Angrier than she’s ever seen before. “No? Then fuck what fuck is this?”

The sheet of paper hits her square in the chest, and Mandy scrambles to catch it, her shaky hands fumble to open it, and as her eyes catch onto what’s on the page, you finally see the way her jaw clenches and her face relaxes. “She never deserved you,” She scoffed, finally letting her guard down. “That stupid little bitch deserved everything that happened.”

“The fuck did you say?”

“She had it coming. If she didn’t keep taking you away from me, telling you to ignore me, blowing off our dates—”

“We went on one date!”

“A date she kept telling you to miss, always listening to her, doing what she tells you, with her out of the way I could have you to myself.” She grinned.

Leaning closer to her, you laughed in her face. “You still have nothing,” You murmured with a grimace. “This makes me hate you more.”

“No you don’t, you don’t hate me.” Mandy shook her head and plastered on a smile. “No,”

“Are you fucking stupid?” Ellie blinked, eyes going between you and then Mandy. “You’re fucking crazy, obsessive, who would love that?”

“Dina loved you, didn’t she, Ellie, takes one obsessive bitch to know another?”

“Hey,” Jesse warned, stepping in front of Ellie. “Keep her name out of your mouth.”

“Ah yes, Jesse, the other one. How does it feel knowing she loved you both yet still broke up with you when she had her fill?”

“Shut the fuck up,”

“Where is Abby?” You glared and gripped her face harder. “Tell me where she is!”

“She’s gone! She was never here, I took care of her for us!”

“There is no us!”

The fact she’s not getting it makes you more angry, angrier than when you found out Abby went missing. “But, I did this for you? Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you see I do everything for you?”

“I didn’t ask you to take my best friend away from me! I’m asking you to give her back to me!”

“She’s not here! Why would she be here?!”

“Do not let her move,” You told them as you slowly took a couple of steps away from her. “If either of you let her walk out that damn door, m’shooting you both.” With the stare you were giving them, they both knew you weren’t kidding. You were scary when you were angry, that’s not a secret.

Wandering into the living room, the same one you ate fucking dinner in, you halted in your steps with your arms folded over your chest. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, but as you glanced around the room, you couldn’t exactly find anything out of the ordinary, or even remotely suspicious. Maybe you had gotten it wrong? You were so sleep deprived that anyone could have written the note, Mandy can’t be the only one to write hearts next to her name, right?

You were about to give up on this crazy plan; the crazy plan of yelling and screaming at Mandy until she told you what you wanted to hear, when the faintest scraping sound had caught your attention. It wasn’t loud, but it was loud enough that you could hear it from where you were standing. Your eyebrows furrow and your body turns just slightly, head pointing in the direction of the cabinet opposite the bookshelf. “What’s that noise?” You asked to no one in particular.

“What noise?” Ellie quipped, cautiously keeping her eyes on Mandy, who was still slumped against the counter, and occasionally over to you where you stood. “I don’t hear anything—”

There it was again, the slight scraping sound, but only this time it’s a little louder.

Before you could take another step towards the cabinet, Mandy was suddenly moving around and pushing herself in front of you, but you weren’t focused on her face, no, you were more focused on the gun pointed at your fuckin’ face. “I can’t let you go through there,” She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “If you just stopped looking, stopped asking people, begging people for help, then this wouldn’t be happening. I did this for us, for you, why can’t you see that?”

“You took her from me, from us, why would I love you for that?” You scoffed, stepped a little closer. “If you’re gonna shoot me because I want to find her, then don’t be a goddamn pussy and shoot me.”

“S…Shoot you?” Mandy stammered, quickly shaking her head. “No! No, I don’t want to shoot you, I love you!”

“Y/N,” Ellie warned, trying to figure out a way to help you, get you away from her. “Y/N.”

“Let me have her, that’s all I want, please just— I need Abby, please” You begged, eyes fluttering closed as you felt the cool metal on your skin. “I just want my Abby back.”

“There’s no Abby left to bring back.”

“I really hate when people lie to me,” You whispered so quietly that she almost didn’t catch it. “Liars are one of the worst things in the world, stop trying to piss me off even more.”

You’re not sure what happens, one second you’re all standing there, and the next Ellie’s jumping at her, putting herself on the line to simply help you. “Ellie!” You growled, watching her practically pushing Mandy onto the floor, the gun still safely in her hands.

“Now is really not the time to question what m’doing. Go get her!”

Quickly, you manage to rush around the commotion, and slip back into the kitchen; keys, surely she keeps keys around here somewhere right? The kitchen is cold, plates in the sink that haven’t been touched in weeks, and your mind starts to wonder again as you look around. Could Abby really be here? Locked away without any sunlight? What if she was here but it’s too late?

Pulling open one of the drawers, you let out a sigh of relief once you spot a set of keys, way too many now that you look at it. Who needs that many if they don’t have secrets they’d rather stay locked away? Snatching them up and slamming the drawer shut again, you stumble your way out of the kitchen.

Jesse’s already pushing the cabinet away, a metal door hiding and tucked away perfectly behind it, when you also happen to glance over to see Ellie was standing over Mandy as you walked back into the living room, the gun now in her hands. “Go, I can look after Ellie, make sure nothing happens.” He groaned, slumping against the wooden cabinet.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, go!”

With trembling hands, one by one, you slot the keys into the lock; cursing and muttering under your breath when certain ones don’t unlock it. By the 7th key, the lock falls and you suck in a deep breath. Anything could be waiting for you on the other side of that door. Your life is already on the line, what’s one more to the list? So with a final sigh, and groan, you pull down the handle and pull the door open. The loud screeching of metal rings through your ears and sends a shiver down your spine.

The coldness washes over you quickly as you look down at the steps leaning into the basement once the doors open. You glance over at Ellie, Mandy’s still kicking at her legs, trying to get up and you send your friend a reassuring smile before making your way down into the dark and eerie room.

There’s no windows, you notice that quite quickly first, they’re all boarded up. No one would hear you if this entire plan goes to shit, Mandy somehow locking you up in here. Not a single living soul outside of this house would be able to hear your screams and cries for help. Not even the animals or insects living right beside it.

Tucking the keys in your back pocket, you step off the last step and release yet another sigh. It’s colder down here than it was opening the door, you think to yourself. To your left there’s a table with an endless supply of books, weird. Moving towards them with caution, you’re quick to pick up on all the torn up papers, the pens scattered along it. Picking up one of the notes, you’re in no luck when you find there’s nothing on there, yet another mystery in your endless supply of wonder.

To your right there’s another small room. You look at it for longer than you like, wondering who would need two rooms in one, until the gentle scraping catches your attention again as you went to turn around. It sounded like chalk on a chalk board, that’s the best way you could describe such a sound, maybe it wasn’t exactly lose to what you can imagine, but it’s the best you got.

As you got closer, you noticed the smaller padlock on the door, keeping whatever’s hidden, hidden.

Pulling the keys out of your pocket, you’re shaking even more when you look through them to find a key much smaller than the other ones, one that’s dainty and could hide anywhere if it tried harder enough.

The lock drops and you start to notice your hands haven’t stopped shaking, but now it’s starting to get uncomfortable, and uncontrollable for you to deal with. Sliding the lock, you press your forehead against the door and take a deep breath. Was this how it ends? Was this going to lead you into yet another deadend? Was Abby really gone and you were going to be stuck down here with some crazy psycho?

“Let go of me!” You heard Mandy scream from above you. Ellie’s words being screamed angrily right back at her.

With a final sigh, you pull the handle down and pull the door open.

If Abby’s not here, and this is just me falling into a trap, let everyone know I tried.

It’s dark. You can’t see anything. Turning your head, you notice a small light switch just beside the door, covered in mould and dirt, probably not the best idea to put your hands all in it, but you do it. You flick the switch and the light loominates the room and that’s when you notice it. You finally see it.

The figure curled up in the corner of the room, holding themselves until whatever nightmare they’re able to get out of. Taking a singular step into the room, you crouch slowly, ignoring the throbbing pain in your hand as you reach it out and gently touch their shoulder. “M’not gonna hurt you,” You reassured just before they flinch at your touch with a pained whimper head whipping around and tired blue eyes meet yours.

The sight causes your breath to hitch and heart to thump loudly in your chest.

“Abby?”

Jerry, who was smiling and cooking something for dinner as the music on the radio played quietly, almost fell to his knees the second the door opened to reveal you, Ellie, Jesse and Abby.

“My girl?” He whispered, not wanting to be loud to the point it might scare her. “Abby,” He breathed out when blue eyes met him. “Oh, baby.”

Guiding her towards the table carefully, you gently helped her sit down, but not before her hand tightens around your arm when you went to walk away. “M’just gonna run you a bath, you’re cold and you need to be warm, I’ll be right back, okay?”

Abby simply nodded slowly. Almost like she wasn’t even there.

“Honey, I can make you something else to eat? You don’t have to eat this but,” Jerry trailed off, watching the way Abby’s simply still looking in the spot you once were, yearning for you to come back already. “At least drink something for me?” He frowned, pulling his hand back quickly at the sight of Abby flinching and pulling her hand away when his goes to touch hers. “I won’t hurt you, baby girl. I’d never hurt you.”

You come back no later than 15 minutes. To her that’s still too long.

Abby didn’t move an inch or speak once the entire time you left to run her a bath. She was still sitting silently on the chair, not touching the food her Dad had plated for her, and left the glass of water in Its original spot. “Abby?”

Her head turned slightly, the most movement she’s done since she got home, and looked right at you. Her eyes looked dull, emotionless but stood up slowly when you held your hand out for her. Taking your hand, Abby doesn’t look back or spare a glance to anyone in the room as she leaves. It’s quiet, too quiet but no on can blame her, she’s been in a room for god knows how long, they understand that this is going to take some time to adjust.

By the time you made it into her bedroom, you’re quick to scoop up the fresh clothes in your free hand, the other still holding onto hers tightly as you guide her into the bathroom. The same bathroom that there’s a warm bath ready for her.

Placing the clean folded clothes on the toilet, you looked over at Abby, who still has yet to talk, was facing away from you, looking at the water. “There’s clean clothes here, if you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask, okay?” You smiled. “I’ll give you some privacy, I’ll just be in your room— Abby?” Her hand reaches out for yours, grabbing you tightly and keeping you there when you turn around to leave. “Hey,”

“S..Stay,” Her voice cracked, but kept her grip firm. “S..Stay, please?”

“Okay, of course, m’not going anywhere,” You promised and cautiously stepped closer to her. “Let’s take this off, yeah? You’re probably not warm enough.” As you went to unzip the hoodie she was wearing, her hand stopped you again. “Sorry, habit,”

“It’s n..not the same,” A sob slipped out and she shook her head. “Not the same,”

“What’s not the same?”

“If I take it off, you’re g..going to find it disgusting,”

“I could never think that of you, Abs”

After a few minutes, Abby nodded reluctantly and let you unzip the jacket fully. It only took a few seconds for you to stop in your tracks and understand what she meant once the jacket was off and she was once again facing away from you. “Abby,” You gasped.

You remember the times you would spend laying on her bed, with her snuggled in your chest, and threading your fingers through her hair, braiding it, playing with you. It was all gone in an instant. Gone just like she had once been. This Abby was left fragile, so thin, pale and terrified. “I..I’m disgusting,”

Walking around her until you were face to face, you held back a frown and gently cupped her face between your hands, your heart shattering into pieces at her flinch. “Won’t hurt you,” You whispered, wiped away the tears that fell and kissed her cheek. “You’re here with me, you’re safe, and I’ll never hurt you,” Slowly, you brushed your finger across her cheek, and smiled when she carefully leaned into your touch. “You’re beautiful, you’ve always been beautiful.”

Abby doesn’t believe you, you can tell by the way she shakes her head, cries harder and holds onto your arms tightly. “M’scared, m’so scared.”

“I know, Love, I know, but I won’t let anyone hurt you again, I promise, I promise I won’t.”

By the time Abby managed to get into the bath, with the help from you, she cried at every touch, rubbing her eyes harshly each time you rubbed the shampoo into her hair, mumbled about being sorry that she couldn’t stop squirming and with every reassurance from you that it was okay, it made her chest heave and cries louder. You didn’t ask her what happened, you know that when she was ready to talk about it, you would be there to listen. Guide and help her when needed.

Rinsing the final suds of shampoo from her hair, or what Mandy left of it, you smiled softly when her eyes fluttered open and found you. “Hi,” You pressed your forehead against hers and brushed your thumb over the side of her neck slowly. “You’re getting warmer.” You murmured. “We’re almost done.”

“Promise?”

“I promise, Love.”

Abby was clad in some of your old clothes, curled up in your side on her bed 15 minutes later. Her hand gripped the back of your jumper tightly, face buried deeply in your chest as you drew random patterns along her skin beneath your clothes. “M’glad you’re here,” You whispered against her forehead. “I never stopped looking for you, I hope you know that. You can tell me what happened when you’re ready, m’never gonna rush you to talk about it, but know that we’re here for you, and we just want to keep you safe. We’re ready to talk when you’re ready.”

All Abby could do was nod.

The door squeaked and opened to reveal Ellie, clothes dirty and hair slightly ruffled, as she stepped into the room with a fresh plate of food in one hand, and a drink in the other. “Hey, Abs.” She smiled, placing both on the nightstand before sliding onto the bed beside her. “I know you might not be hungry but, I brought you some food, Jerry practically rushed me to bring it to you.”

Abby curled more into you and buried her face in your chest with a smile tugging at her lips. “How is she?”

“What did you do?” You asked, ignoring her question and noticing the red stains on her shirt instead.

“I took care of it, she won’t hurt Abby or anyone else again.” Ellies eyes didn’t leave Abby as she spoke. “Stop, I took care of it, like we promised. We keep each other safe.” She sighed once she noticed your look. “Abby?”

“Mhm?”

“Can I cuddle you?”

Turning her head slowly, Abby looks up at Ellie for a couple of seconds before nodding. Lying down on the bed further, the Brunette carefully places her arm over Abby’s waist and cuddles up to her back, while Abby places her head against your chest again. “M’sorry it took so long,” She mumbled into Abby’s back. “M’so sorry.” She kissed her head and held her tighter.

Leaning your head down, you pressed your lips against Abby’s forehead, stroked her arm comfortingly and smiled when she held onto you a little tighter. “You can sleep now, we’ll always keep you safe, Baby.”

One secret revealed, another buried and hidden.

568 notes · View notes

hsnlv · 5 months ago

Text

sweet strokes | y.jw

pairing: husband!jungwon x wife!reader

synopsis: when you beg jungwon to let you do his makeup, he reluctantly agrees, unable to resist your charms. what starts as playful teasing turns into a heartwarming moment of love, laughter, and stolen glances—proving he’ll do anything to see you smile.

wc: 1.1k

warning/others: bunch of nicknames, fluff (if that needed a warning idk lmao)

here’s my masterlist!

“uwon, please,” you beg, almost on your knees now, clasping your hands together dramatically.

for the past ten minutes, you’ve been trying to convince your husband to let you put makeup on him. you just know he’d look so good with it, and you’re determined to prove it. but jungwon? he’s as stubborn as ever.

“honey, no,” he says firmly, crossing his arms over his chest and letting out a long sigh. his brows furrow, and his lips press into a tight line. it’s such a rare sight—jungwon refusing you. he almost never says no to you, and honestly, you’re not used to it.

“pretty, please?” you whine, pouting up at him with your most convincing expression. “i promise i’ll make you look good. uwon, please.”

he groans, leaning his head back against the couch. “why do you even want to do this?”

“because it’ll be fun!” you insist, crawling closer to him and resting your chin on his knee. “and you’ll look so pretty, uwon. please, just trust me on this.”

jungwon looks down at you, his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile. “what if i look ridiculous?”

“you won’t,” you assure him quickly, your eyes sparkling with excitement. “i swear. just a little eyeliner, maybe some blush—nothing too crazy. you’ll look amazing, uwon. please?”

he lets out another groan, rubbing his face with his hands. “why do you do this to me?”

“because i love you,” you say sweetly, batting your lashes at him. “and because i know you love me too much to say no.”

jungwon sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “fine,” he mutters, barely loud enough for you to hear.

your face lights up instantly, and you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “you’re the best husband ever!” you exclaim, peppering kisses all over his cheeks.

“yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, though the corners of his lips are tugging upward into a reluctant smile. “just… don’t make me look like a clown, okay?”

“you won’t regret this,” you promise, already grabbing your makeup bag and sitting cross-legged in front of him.

“hold still, uwon,” you murmur, gently tilting his chin up so you can apply eyeliner. jungwon stares at you, his dark eyes watching your every move.

“this feels weird,” he mumbles, his lips curving into a small pout.

“you’ll survive,” you tease, carefully tracing a thin line along his eyelid. “and trust me, the results will be worth it.”

jungwon hums in response, his lashes fluttering when you ask him to close his eyes. he’s being surprisingly cooperative, though you suspect it’s mostly because he doesn’t want to upset you.

“done!” you announce after a few more finishing touches. “open your eyes, uwon. look at yourself.”

jungwon blinks a few times before turning to the mirror. his eyes widen slightly as he takes in his reflection. “is that… me?”

“yup,” you say proudly, resting your chin on his shoulder as you admire your handiwork. “you’re even prettier than i imagined.”

jungwon lets out a soft laugh, his cheeks flushing pink. “i look… kind of cool,” he admits, tilting his head to get a better look.

“you look amazing,” you correct, wrapping your arms around his neck from behind. “seriously, uwon. you could pull off anything.”

jungwon turns to face you, his expression softening. “you really went all out, huh?”

“only the best for you,” you reply, grinning. “now, how does it feel to be the prettiest man alive?”

he rolls his eyes playfully, but the faint smile on his lips gives him away. “if it makes you happy, angel, then i guess it’s worth it.”

“it does,” you say, your voice full of warmth. “you’re so handsome, uwon. our kids are gonna be absolutely gorgeous because of you.”

jungwon freezes, his eyes locking onto yours. “our kids, huh?”

“yeah,” you say shyly, your fingers playing with the hem of his shirt. “don’t you think?”

jungwon’s expression softens even more, and he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “they’ll be perfect,” he murmurs. “because they’ll have you as their mom.”

your cheeks burn at his words, and you hide your face in his chest, making him laugh. “stop being so sweet,” you mumble.

“i can’t help it,” he says, wrapping his arms around you. “you bring it out of me.”

the two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other. but then you suddenly pull back, a mischievous grin spreading across your face.

“what now?” jungwon asks, raising an eyebrow.

“we’re taking a selfie,” you declare, grabbing your phone.

jungwon groans, already knowing where this is headed. “baby, no. you’re not posting this.”

“oh, come on,” you tease, holding up the phone and angling it just right. “it’s for the memories!”

“memories that don’t need to be on instagram,” he protests, though he still lets you snap the picture.

you examine the photo, your grin widening. “you look so good, uwon. i have to post this.”

“angel,” he says, his tone pleading. “don’t.”

you pout, holding the phone to your chest. “please?”

jungwon stares at you for a moment, his resolve weakening under your gaze. finally, he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “fine. but no embarrassing captions.”

“deal!” you chirp, already typing away.

jungwon shakes his head, pulling you back into his arms. “you’re lucky i can’t say no to you.”

“i know,” you say, smiling up at him. “and i love you for it.”

“yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “i love you too, angel. even when you make me do ridiculous things.”

“you mean fun things,” you correct, snuggling closer to him.

jungwon laughs, resting his chin on your head. “sure, let’s go with that.”

670 notes · View notes

calebsmoocher · 3 months ago

Text

‘Want Me to Keep You Awake? I Can Do That.’

Exhausted from a tiring day hunting, MC can’t fathom the thought of drying her hair. But Caleb’s always been good at that, willing too. And as she’s losing the battle to sleep, he can think of a few ways to keep her awake. cw: smut (mdni), oral (f receiving), fingering, breast play, fluff, panty sniffer!Caleb makes a small appearance if you squint, CalebMC just a bunch of freaks wc: 3.5k a/n: kind of inspired by fiery undercurrents, imma be honest. But also, I just love how Caleb canonically dries her hair often. May that type of love find me.

She had almost fallen asleep in the elevator, given how long it had taken to get to the fifth floor of her apartment complex. Fighting to keep her eyes open, she fumbled blindly with her keys in the door and stumbled into her room. Her body was on the brink of giving out from exhaustion, and she still had to wash the blood and grease out of her hair from a day full of tailing an s-class wanderer.

She scooped a change of clothes into her arms and shuffled to the bathroom.

“Oh, hey. You’re home!” Caleb’s voice chirped up from the kitchen, but she could barely see him through her half lidded, sleep induced gaze.

“Heyy,” she drawled back. And before he could come around to greet her properly, she had disappeared behind the bathroom door.

Showering proved to do wonders to her exhaustion, like being resuscitated just enough to give open her eyes fully and get into fresh clothes. When she had finished cleaning up, her hair was still sopping wet and dripping into the cotton of her shirt. If it weren’t for her having wanderer guts in it, she never would have washed her hair so late. Never would’ve burdened herself with the task of drying it when she was already so tired. Despite the situation, she gave it a fair go, rubbing a towel lazily over her strands as she lay in bed.

“You’re too tired?”

She jumped at his voice, peering up from her slumped position. Caleb was leaning against her doorway. She hummed, giving him a small smile.

“Long day at work.”

“Want me to help?” He strode towards her and sat down on the bed. “You can’t go to bed with wet hair. You’ll wake up with a headache.”

“You’re going to dry my hair?” “Just like old times, pipsqueak.” She grinned into her sheets, reaching over to take his arm and haul herself up. Her hair was still dripping, spotting the lower back of her shirt translucent. His fingers traced the wet fabric, eliciting a gasp from her at the cold sensation. His breath fanned over her neck, lips agape above her nape. She stiffened in the silence, ears reddening against her cold hair.

“What are you doing?” She could feel him so close to her. Towering over her. Holding himself just at the cusp of devouring her. He swallowed. Then he reached a shaky hand around her to grab the towel she had abandoned.

“Grabbing your towel,” he said weakly. Her hair was beginning to drip onto his lap. He wrapped the towel around her hair, massaging it softly. She sighed and closed her eyes, falling into the clasps of intermittent sleep. The rustle of the towel followed by his slow breathing was a familiar, comforting sound. Knowing that she was cared for. So deeply cared for. It made her chest tighten, turning over the burdens of a hard day’s work into a clean slate.

She felt the tussling of her hair slow. And as his breath drew nearer, she felt the brush of his lips on her nape.

“Caleb.” She breathed. “What are you doing?”

He chuckled into her skin, not removing his lips from her. “I’m out of lame excuses.” She turned slightly, careful to not shake her wet hair too quickly. His lips stayed planted, following the curvature of her body as she swivelled round. He looked up at her from her collarbone. There, he pressed another wet kiss.

She looked between his eyes. Then at the soft furrow of his brows. The blemishes on his cheeks. The curve of his jawline. She hadn’t realised she had begun tracing his features with the back of her fingers until he clasped her wrist. He kissed her palm, keeping it close.

“So beautiful…” The words left her before she could stop herself. She flushed, forcing out a laugh as his eyes crinkled.

“Have I told you I love you today?” It was impossible to contain her smile. She shook her head.

“Will you tell me that now?”

“I love you.” He followed it with a kiss at the corner of her lip. “I love you.” Another kiss at the junction of her neck. “I love you.” Then one more at the base of her throat. She giggled, heart fluttering at the ticklish sensation. She pushed him away playfully, only for the space between them to be filled immediately. Like water taking the shape of its container.

“This reminds me of when you’d put bandaids on me when we were kids. You’d kiss my wounds and tell me that they’d heal faster that way.”

He grinned at her. “You used to be scared of the spray-on-bandage bottle. You used to jump at the sound; and you’d cry that it was too cold.”

She covered her eyes with a whine.

“You used to have me count down before I used it,” he continued, pulling her hands away from her face, “was it really that bad?”

“That…That was so long ago.” “You used to get into all sorts of trouble.”

“I knew you’d take care of me.” She hummed thoughtfully. “But you never let me tend to your wounds.” He kissed her on the mouth this time. Then again, this time just a peck. Then once more for good measure.

“Will you let me take care of you now?” She climbed on top of him, kneeling between his thighs. She brushed his hair away from his face and let her fingers glide down over the shell of his ear. His eyes followed her eagerly.

“I love you.” She kissed the corner of his lip. And he laughed into her, turning his head to capture her lips fully. Her voice was beginning to slur as she succumbed to the call of sleep. “So, so much.” She kissed his throat and he groaned.

“You’re being so forward tonight. I like it.” He gripped her waist, maneuvering himself over her. His hand slipped to the small of her back and he cocked his head. “Your shirt’s still wet. You should change it.” She huffed and lied down fully, pulling him down with her.

“But I’m so tired.”

“You won’t change?” She shook her head. He sighed and ran his hand along the loose strands of her hair. “And your hair’s still damp. I can’t let you sleep with wet hair. Come on, sit up.”

She rolled over so at least she wasn’t lying on her hair. “I don’t think I can keep my eyes open for much longer.”

He ran his hand down her back, pressing small circles with his thumb. “Your shirt’s even more wet now. You want me to keep you awake? I can do that.”

“What are you gonna do?” She smiled up at him with her eyes sewn tightly shut.

“Let’s get you out of these wet clothes first.” She hummed, letting him move her arms from out of the sleeves. Maybe she wasn’t succumbing to sleep so quickly anymore. His fingers pinched the hem of her shirt, tugging it up hesitantly. “Want me to cover my eyes?” She burst out in laughter.

“You’re not gonna kiss them goodnight?” He matched her laugh, ears reddening.

“You don’t sound so sleepy to me. Does this mean you can finish drying your own hair?” She clutched onto his arm. As if he would leave now. “Okay, okay. But seriously, sit up.” With reluctance, she hauled herself up. Their faces were inches apart. And she watched his eyes falter as he lifted her shirt. Slipping from her testing gaze as he unveiled more of her skin. He pulled the fabric over her head, discarding it down beside them.

She couldn’t stop the rush of blood to her cheeks as she sat, bare before him. Her arms retreated towards her torso shyly. He watched her intently, leaning in slowly and leaving a chaste kiss on her collarbone. He took the towel and rubbed over the small of her back, as he pressed another kiss on the curve of her breast. His eyes were fixed on hers, watching her every breath. Every sharp inhale when he pressed a little harder.

“Still fighting off sleep, baby?” The sight of him nibbling at her breasts, peering innocently up at her made her want to smother him with her pillow. But as his round eyes crinkled and his expression dissolved into one of smugness, she could only roll her eyes.

“I think you’re gonna have to do a bit more to keep me awake.”

Challenge accepted, he thought. He pulled her damp hair into a bundle and set it beside her as he pushed her down into the mattress. His lips continued their trail across her breast, stopping momentarily over her nipple, as he took the sensitive flesh in between his teeth. He didn’t bite down, only letting it roll between his tongue and teeth. Let the threat of his teeth loom over her.

His hand thumbed at her other breast, massaging it. It fit perfectly in his hand. Really, it was a marvel how well they paired together physically.

“Mmph, Caleb,” she moaned, writhing her head in pleasure. She reached up and cupped his jaw as he sloppily suckled at her sore skin. Hunting that wanderer today had her jumping through hoops in her wire bra. So, it was no surprise that her breasts were aching so much. Neither was the angry red line under her bust a surprise. Caleb stroked his thumb across the indentation, leaving kisses over it. His mouth was wet, but more importantly, it was warm. If she wasn’t so aroused, she’d be falling asleep to his attentive care.

Kissing down her hips, he pulled at the waistband of her shorts.

“Lift your hips, baby.” She wiggled backwards, letting him pull the fabric out from under the curve of her ass and down to her ankles. He sucked in a breath inching closer to her heat.

“These are cute.” He kissed the elastic waistband of her panties. The cotton was a pinkish red with lace at the seams. He planted his lips just above the fabric, leaving a trail of feathery kisses across her abdomen. “Where’d you get them?”

She rolled her eyes, knocking him playfully as he peered up at her, his head cocked smugly to the side. “It was a gift.”

“Oh, from who?”

She wanted to squeeze his cheeks and wipe that grin clean off his face. “Only from my favourite colonel, Caleb, whom I like the most.”

“Oh, that’s right. I got them for you.” He tugged at the seams, letting it snap back against her and eliciting a gasp. “These are my favourite on you.”

She knew. Oh she knew. And they’d be her favourite too, if they didn’t happen to go missing every few weeks.

He hooked his arms around her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of the bed.

“Caleb!” He gripped the fabric between his teeth, pressing scalding kisses along her inner thigh. She slid her hands in between the strands of his hair, raking her fingers along the bristly strands at his nape. He kissed at her clit, tongue dragging along the fabric. Fuck. She jolted, clenching around nothing. She could feel the sticky fluids start to seep out, leaving an obscene wet patch. Caleb grinned, immediately thumbing over the area. He’d drag the pads of his fingers right over her heat, then against her exposed flesh. Just teasing her enough to get her squirming. His lips enveloped the fabric, pushing his tongue slowly into her.

“Mmph.” She retracted one hand from his head to begin pulling at the flimsy fabric covering her modesty. “Please. Please, stop teasing.”

“No, no,” he clasped her wrist, forcing her fingers to release their needy grip. “Let me take my time with you.”

“Caleb, please.” She was defeated. The smothering heat of his mouth on her could only feel so good when separated by her panties. There was a considerable wet patch on the fabric now. A mix of her wetness and his saliva.

“Wanna keep you here forever. Just like this.” Pulling the fabric slightly, he sucked on the swollen flesh of her cunt. Please. He was so close. So close to where she needed him most. Every brief nudge to her bundle of nerves and she’d twist and turn.

“Keep going and I’m gonna cum.” She brushed the side of his neck before tugging harshly at his hair and forcing him to break away from her. He met her gaze breathlessly, panting. “Don’t you want me to cum in your mouth?”

Now it was his time to roll his eyes, laughing wholeheartedly at her demand. He murmured under his breath.

“You freak.” He tugged her panties down, the fabric leaving a string of her fluid. It strained as he pulled the fabric over her knees before snapping weakly and staining the sheets. A harsh ember dusted her cheeks and her breaths were heavy. Once her panties unhooked from her ankles, he scrunched them up and stuffed them in his pocket unashamedly.

“Caleb!” She couldn’t believe he’d take it so unabashedly.

“My prize.” He grinned up at her. His hands returned to coaxing her thighs apart, propping her up for him. “You’re so wet, baby.”

The raw feeling of his mouth on her sent goosebumps down her spine. She threw her head back, tugging his head closer. The plush of his swollen lips nudged at her clit as he kissed her entrance. His tongue glided along her cunt, threatening to push in. He was slow and thoughtful. And fuck was he good at it.

“Caleb,” she whined. His lips wrapped around her clit. Giving a harsh suck then soothing over the area with his blazing tongue. “Mmph. Oh my god.” He could feel her pulse through her sex, throbbing against his wet muscle.

“You taste so good. You’re so good for me, aren’t you? Letting me have you like this.” Her hips began to thrust up weakly. Her muscles were still sore. “You’re all mine, baby. Just relax. I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m yours,” she breathed back. Her gaze fell on him, half-lidded and fighting to stay open. She was struggling between exhaustion and her need to let go. Relieve all the pent up tension hunting wanderers all day had caused.

He hummed into her pussy, tongue frantic to collect all of her sweet slick from slipping out. His fingers still soothed over the plush of flesh besides her cunt. Stretching to skin to allow him more access.

“What do you think, baby? Can you take some of my fingers?”

She moaned, nodding desperately. “I can take it. Please, Caleb.”

“Alright, baby.” He pointedly rubbed two fingers over her entrance, testing the waters. He dipped them in, just to the first joint, before curling them inwards against her spongy tissue.

“Oh god, Caleb.”

He grinned at her whines, lowering down to envelop her clit. He focused his mouth on her most sensitive part while his fingers drew shallowly in and out of her. Each push had her thighs shaking and lowering from their tense, upright position. The clenching of her calves and hamstrings was obvious to him.

“Relax. I’ve got you. Don’t fight it.”

She whined through a gasp. “Mhm.” She tried to loosen up in his grasp. But how could she when jolts of flaring pleasure were coursing through her? How could she when the sight of him on his knees for her, head buried between her thighs, servicing her was just so pornographic. Erotic of the highest order. She’d flush every time he’d meet her eyes. She wanted him to look away. Look back down at her heat. Anywhere else but at her eyes. It was all too much. It felt like he was consuming her very being.

Her slick trickled down into his palm. Seeing that she was wet enough, he pushed further into her cunt. Knuckles deep. As far as he could manage with his two fingers.

“Mmmph!” Fuck she was going to cum. “Caleb, I’m…”

“Yeah? Does it feel good?”

She groaned. “Yes. Yes, it feels good.”

“Can you take another, baby?”

She nodded frantically, words turning into whines.

He slipped a third finger into, pace slowing again to accommodate the extra girth. When he felt her relax around him he began to roughen his thrusts.

“Good girl,” he spoke into her cunt. “Doing so well for me.”

“Please, please, I’m going to cum.”

He gave a harsh suck, mouth popping as he released. “That’s right. Right into my mouth, baby.”

Her hands tousled at his bangs, pushing his head back. Her other hand was at the back of his head, clinging for him to come closer. Shoving his face further into her cunt. He couldn’t even take a breath. And he didn’t want to. His lips mouthed hungrily against her flesh, tonguing her clit, swallowing down her sickly sweet release as she came.

Her throat was hoarse as she slumped down into the sheets. Her breaths were ragged. Shaky and hot exhales followed by sharp intakes. Her mind was so fuzzy, like she had just woken up in the middle of a hot summer afternoon.

“Mmm, Caleb.” In her blind attempt at pushing his face away, he clasped her wrist, holding it down on her thigh. He was still going. Slower, now. Languid but eager. Sucking and rubbing the abused, swollen flesh. His fingers slipped from her heat. And not a second passed before it was filled again by his tongue, his efforts to consume all of her sticky cum rewarded with shaky squeals.

She was so, so sensitive. “Caleb, stop.”

“Okay, okay.” He laughed against her pussy, Adam's apple bobbing with each brazen gulp. “I’m stopping.” He wrenched himself away, giving him a moment to breathe. His chin was soaked, and streaks of milky clear fluid trickled down his neck, bleeding into the neck of his shirt. He gave a quick kiss on her folds. Then another. Small, innocent pecks as if to make up for the exhaustive labour it had just endured. He kissed at the flesh where her inner thigh began. Then on the plush of her actual thighs. The backs of her legs.

She giggled. He was relentless.

“Okay, okay.” He sighed, hanging his head there for a moment. He gave one last open-mouthed kiss to her pussy. Lips smacking loudly as he came off of her and sat down on his heels. He stroked her calves, peering around to get a look at her face. “How are we doing back there?”

She closed her thighs and rolled onto her side, curling into her body to meet his eyes. “Really, really good.” He laughed, leaning onto the bed. She pulled him down into a kiss, wincing at the taste.

“I’m sorry. I made a mess.” He licked at the corner of his lips, swallowing down the remainders of her cum. Blood rushed to her cheeks.

“I think you’re the bigger freak here.” She pulled him down into her, wrapping her arms around his broad chest as he held her close. As she shifted her legs to accommodate his huge body, she felt the nudge of something hard and familiar.

“Are you hard?”

He scoffed into the kiss, grinning. “Of course I’m hard.” He brushed the loose strands of hair away from her face. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it later.” Her lips parted, holding his face in between her hands. His gaze was full of adoration, brows curved and lips stretched into his signature smile.

“What? I’m right here.” She opened her thighs against him, sensually. Inviting him in. “Let me take care of you.”

He laughed. “So forward tonight, pipsqueak.” He kissed her nose, before patting her thighs closed again. “Anymore and I think you might pass out.”

She couldn’t help but grin. “I think that might be true.” He reached for her blanket, wrapping her body loosely. She sighed into her mattress, the long overdue pangs of sleep weighing on her. He rubbed the ends of her hair between his fingers; they were dry now.

“But I’ll take a raincheck on your offer.”

She smiled, eyes closed. “Okay…but it expires.” She yawned. “It expires soon, so you’ll have to…use it up.” He tucked her in more firmly.

“Okay, sleepyhead.” He ruffled her hair softly before standing up. Despite being so out of it, she recognised the loss of his weight.

“...Don’t go.”

She didn’t know how much time had passed. Maybe she had fallen asleep and roused an hour later. She wasn’t so sure. Her thoughts were running from her faster than she could keep up. But she recognised the familiar weight return to her side, encompassing her fully in its warmth.

“Goodnight, love.”

#love and deepspace #caleb love and deepspace #lads #lnds caleb #l&ds #lads caleb #caleb #smut #caleb smut #love and deepspace smut #caleb x you #love and deepspace x you #caleb x mc #x reader #lads x reader #l&ds x reader

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written-in-flowers · 3 months ago

Text

Model Behavior: YunHwaGi x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Seonghwa x Yunho x Mingi x fem!Reader | side pairing: ot8 x fem!reader

Word Count: 10k

Genre: Smut, smut, and more smut with a sprinkle of fluff on top | AU: sugar baby, idolverse

Summary: The newest episode of YNteez features you, the boys and a photoshoot. With all the risque outfits they've selected themselves, just how wholesome is this shoot going to be?

Tags: polycule, polyamorous, established relationship, sugar baby, blowjobs, sloppy blowjobs, deep throat, face fucking, face sitting, 69-position, male masturbation, teasing, orgasm denial, edging, light role play, oral sex, sex toys, squirting, pet names (baby, sweetheart, angel), slight free use, nipple play, peeping through windows, and group sex (foursome).

Previously on YNteez

****

Eight costumes. Eight sets. Eight times you'll have to change your outfit, hair and makeup over the course of three days. The exhaustion already started weighing on you, and nothing started yet. Standing in your private dressing room, you gazed at the rack of clothes in front of you. The producers told you the members picked the costumes themselves, so naturally the outfits are tailored to their taste. You looked at each of them while you waited on hair and makeup, and saw the different costumes the staff managed to procure. They certainly did not look cheap. You’d expected clearance rack outfits with flimsy fabric and lots of velcro and zippers. The current costume you held, an Animal Crossing character, was made of good material, your proper size, and could pass off as a real cosplay outfit. You put the costume on the rack, and turned to the large mirror behind you.

You’d come to the set in a simple t-shirt and jeans, since you’d be changing three different times today. The stylists recommended you come as plain faced as possible, since any makeup you wore will be removed. The prospect of a photoshoot excited and worried you. The last time someone took photos of you, it’d been for your Companion portfolio. A photographer took a bunch of boudoir pictures with a few headshots thrown in to attract potential clients. You didn’t mind dressing down for a camera, since the outfits and makeup helped you hide behind them, but the photographer won’t be the only one present. A staff of at least twenty people will be filming, monitoring, adjusting, lighting, and observing your every move. The classroom episode was through hidden cameras, so there’d been only you and the boys. Now, there’d be people, which was different.

“There you are,” a voice said when the door opened. Seonghwa came walking into your dressing room, pecking your lips and looking over your face. “We’ve been looking for you.”

“The producers and stylists told me to wait here for them to show up with the cameras,” you replied. They mentioned interview moments during the episode to capture your thoughts and emotions. “Does it always take this long?”

He laughed, “Yeah, it does. It’s even worse for whoever is last in line to get their makeup and hair done. But, our stylists are fantastic, and I think you’ll love what they do with your looks. Minsu already showed me the look they’ll be giving you for my shoot.”

“What?” you said, disappointed. “Why did they show you and not me? It’s going on my face.”

“It’s supposed to be a secret, remember?” he said. He looked over to the clothing rack, then back at you with suspicion in his eyes, “Have you been looking in the clothing bags?”

“No,” you said innocently. “I would never spoil a surprise.”

“Mhm,” he remained unconvinced. He took a seat on a makeup chair next to yours, “I think I should stay here and, you know, supervise you. We don’t want you spoiling everything for yourself.”

You pouted, taking the seat in front of the vanity, “What about you? Don’t you have to get ready too?”

“I’m third in line,” he said. “They’re still working on Yunho.” He stared at you for a moment, then said, “Are you nervous?”

“A little bit,” you admitted. “I haven’t had my picture taken in a long time, and these aren’t like ‘normal’ photos either.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Oh come on. Me in skimpy outfits you guys personally picked out? On sets of your design and you control what sort of pictures we take? They’re not going to be exactly PG are they?”

“No, not at all,” he said with a laugh. “What I picked is pretty wholesome and simple,” he then smiled, “But I know a few members whose outfits are way more revealing than mine.”

“Like who?” you asked, wanting to suck a spoiler out of him.

“Nope,” he shook his head, amused by your eagerness, “Not telling you. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“You won’t give me a little hint? A tiny one?”

“You already know mine, since you looked in the clothing bag,” he accused with a grin.

“I did not,” you lied. “I haven’t even touched those bags.”

“Liar,” he nudged your foot with his, “That zipper was all the way up when I left here. Now it’s like an inch or two down.”

“Is not. You’re remembering it wrong.”

Your insistence made him chuckle. “At least your shoot is going to be the course of three days,” he said, “Our shoots usually run all day.”

“Three of you today, three tomorrow, and the two after that,” you said, “I wonder why they did it that way?” you looked at him expectantly.

“Have no idea,” he shrugged, pretending you didn’t notice him.

“Not one?”

“Nope.”

You moved over to him, and took a seat in his lap. “Could it possibly be because certain members of this relationship won’t be able to contain themselves and might get a bit naughty with me?” you rested against him, fingers dancing on the collar of his shirt. “They might not be able to control themselves,” You heard him audibly inhale as you drew closer, “And let their natural instincts take over?”

“Maybe,” he put his hand on your thigh, giving it a small squeeze before bringing his lips an inch from yours, “But can you blame them? You know exactly what to do to tempt them, and you do it well.”

“I've had a lot of practice.”

The both of you kissed right as someone else entered the room. The stylists came in with their bags full of supplies, and the producer followed with a camera crew. Your hands suddenly felt clammy, and you wiped them on your jeans. Seonghwa noticed this and squeezed you again, but more affectionately than before. His reassuring grin relaxed you somewhat, yet seeing everyone setting up for the episode distracted you again.

“Seonghwa,” the producer called to him, “We’re going to start filming now. The stylists next door wanted me to tell you they’re ready for you.”

“Alright,” he nodded. He pecked your cheek, then said, “See you out there.”

“See you.”

You’d know the KQ film production team for a long time, so they felt more like friends than colleagues. The clothing stylist, Juwon, came right over to you. Slender and narrow, Juwon never failed to make you drop-dead gorgeous with his outfit designs. He hugged and kissed both your cheeks when he spoke:

“Ready for today?”

“As ready as I can be, honestly,” you said.

“Don’t worry,” he assured you, “Minsu and I are going to make you look absolutely divine. Those boys will be regretting their choices when they see you. Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

He took the bag with Seonghwa’s name tag on it, and opened it up. Inside, you saw the green plaid vest, white shirt, and a mini skirt.

“Who is it?” you asked him, hoping he’d answer you.

“It’s this character in that game he likes,” he answered you. “I have the lingerie that goes with it too.”

Behind the costume was the white mesh and lace lingerie set they’d sent you a month ago. The mesh parts went over your breasts, sex, and ass, but were bordered by lace designed strings. The matching stockings and garter belts were no doubt Seonghwa’s idea. Right away, you took the bag and went behind a curtain to change. You’ll have to do this two more times. How did models do it every day? You pulled on the lingerie, the belts, the stockings, and the costume itself. The outfit was snug on your skin, and you noticed the shirt and vest revealed way more cleavage than the original character. The skirt also goes high up your thighs so that any bending of your thighs or legs will lift it up further. Yes, very wholesome indeed.

Seonghwa always liked leaving something to the imagination.

“You look so cute!” Juwon cheered when he saw you. “Give us a twirl…Yes, excellent. It fits you perfectly, and isn’t too showy. Seonghwa said he wanted it to be sexy, but not so much that it ruined the illusion of the character.”

“He would say that,” you agreed. “He’s never liked me in lingerie that shows too much of my body. Mostly babydoll dresses or open front ones are good enough for him.”

“Ugh, you’re going to knock him dead,” Juwon awed, unable to look away from you. “That photobook is going to be priceless.”

Yes, you’d forgotten the photobook idea. You’d suggested it during a YNTEEZ meeting. Since they’re going to be doing it anyways, you thought about perhaps using the photos to make a photobook. Atinys can purchase them online and get special bonus gifts. You did give a small spoiler on your personal Instagram account where you’d promoted the group’s newest album; you mentioned their photobook and soon having one of your own, which intrigued a lot of people.

“Yeah, I forgot the photobook. I hope people like the pictures though,” you said, knowing not everyone will be thrilled for you to be in the photos. They wanted shirtless Seonghwa, not a half-nude YN.

“Oh come on, not all of them hate you,” the director assured you. “They’ll be into it.”

You went over to Minsu next, who turned your chair around and pumped it to the right height. She smiled when your eyes met hers in the mirror.

“You’re going to look fabulous today,” was her catchphrase whenever she worked on your face and hair. “Are you ready?”

“Ready,” you responded with a deep breath. “When was the last time I got this glammed up? KCon?”

“I think it was Global Dream Awards,” she answered, putting her makeup essentials on the counter, “When you wore that gorgeous purple gown. Ugh, I was so jealous of you. It looked amazing.”

“But it’s been a while since then,” you said, eyeing the materials on her counter. You then noticed an assistant taking out wig boxes from a container they’d wheeled into the room. “And plus there’s going to be loads of people in the room with us.”

“So?”

“One of the biggest points of these types of shows is the sex, and knowing my boys, it’s going to get steamy,” you felt knots already forming in your stomach. “I don’t think I can do that with so many people watching.”

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” she said, “You know that. Plus, you’ll have your boyfriends there, so you’ll be comfortable the entire time. You’ll get so wrapped up in each other, you won’t even notice the rest of us there.”

“I hope so.”

“You’ll be fine,” she insisted. “Besides, today is only Seonghwa, Yunho, and Mingi. The sweeties,” she added a smile.

“They're all sweeties.”

“Sweeties with a horny streak,” said Juwon from the clothing rack, searching for shoes in a box.

Minsu then turned around to face you, moisturizer in hand. “Okay, let’s get you ready for your modeling debut.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. She began prepping your face for makeup when the producer got the camera ready to film. Your nerves shivered inside you once you realized it was on by the red light in the camera.

“YN, are you excited about today’s shoot?” he asked first.

“I’m excited, but also a bit nervous. It’s been a while since I modeled for anyone before…”

His questions remained fairly innocuous. He asked you about your modeling experiences, which were very few and far in between, and if you’d made any guesses as to what the members have planned. You told him you guessed it’ll have to do with concepts they like or things they enjoy. Since the members will be part of the shoot, they will wear costumes similar to yours.

When Minsu finished with your base makeup, she took out a face-paint palette and dipped a brush into the black section. Looking in the mirror, you noticed her covering the tip of your nose; then she dipped it into the white to start painting around your nose and mouth.

Isabelle. You’re Isabelle from Animal Crossing, Seonghwa’s favorite comfort game. You only knew who she was because Seonghwa told you when you saw him playing. Your eldest boyfriend knew it so well, he could perfectly mimic their funny little language. When Minsu finished your makeup, she put your hair into a bald cap to prepare you for the wig. Short and blond, the bangs hung above at your eyebrows, and the rest of the hair fanned outwards in the back. Minsu attached a fake hair bun to the very top, tied there with a red ribbon with bells on it. You giggled as you moved your head, the little bells clinking in the process. They then attached yellow dog ears that drooped from the sides of your head. You trusted Minsu’s abilities enough that you knew they wouldn’t fall off.

“Ah, you look so cute!” Minsu beamed.

“Adorable!” Juwon agreed with a grin. “He’s going to love it.”

“It’s exactly as I pictured it in my head.”

“Thanks,” you grinned shyly.

You hoped Seonghwa liked it most of all. You’d hate it if you went out there and the outfit isn’t what he envisioned for you. The camera then looked at you again.

“How do you feel about this concept?” the producer asked you.

“It’s very Seonghwa,” you laughed, admiring yourself in the mirror. “I knew he’d pick something he liked, but I’d guessed Star Wars since he likes that a lot. This is much cuter though.”

“Do you play Animal Crossing too?”

“Not that much,” you said. “I played it for a while when it first came out, but then I fell out of it. Seonghwa always tells me to play with him so we can visit each other’s islands,” you chuckled remembering the times he’d asked you so cutely to play with him, “And send gifts and stuff. I’m not as into it as he is, though.”

He turned when someone came into the dressing room to tell him they finished the members’ introduction to the episode. Funny. It’s your show, but they’re doing the intro. This didn’t bother you that much, and you followed them out onto the set. Minsu and Juwon kept you back from the rest of the group, putting you behind a curtain. Ahead of you, you saw staff members wheeling in a small stage. On it, you saw the familiar villager house from the game, a red triangle roof, cream colored walls and a red door. They’d done quite a good job with the set. It came with a bed of fake flowers, a mailbox, an apple tree beside the house, and the house was big enough for you to fit inside of. You spotted Seonghwa standing nearby while they finished putting things together.

He'd never looked cuter. Seonghwa stood wearing an aqua and white floral shirt with khaki shorts with his nose painted and wearing pointed ears. You guessed he must be Tom Nook, a racoon character in the game. He looked sweet and adorable in his costume, but you know that can turn sexual at the flip of a coin.

“Alright, YN, come on out,” the director called to you.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened when you walked onto the set. They scanned you from top to bottom, and you smiled sweetly at him. He stood in awe of you, turning to the camera crew in disbelief, before looking back at you. You gave him a wide smile and said:

“Aw, you're the little bear guy!”

Seonghwa held back a smile, “He's not a bear. He's a raccoon.”

“But isn't there already a raccoon? Raccoons are black and white, right?”

“There is, but Tom is a brown one.”

“Eh, I still think he's a bear.” You hugged him around the middle, and he still embraced you, laughing with you. “A big bear with a cute nose.”

“He's a raccoon,” he squeezed you until you let out a small whine, then released you. He gave you a once over, then said, “You look so cute. It’s exactly how I imagined.”

“I’m happy you like it.” You glanced at the set, “Shall we go be the bear and the puppy?”

“He is a raccoon!”

You giggled as you stepped onto the small set, and turned to the photographer nearby, “Hi, I'm YN.”

“I'm Nami, nice to meet you,” the photographer said, wearing a plain shirt and jeans.

“Nice to meet you,” you replied. “Where do the bear and I start?-”

“-Tom is a raccoon!-”

“-We can start with some poses,” Nami laughed, “And we can do a few scene photos.”

“Okay, sounds good! What do you think, Tom?”

Seonghwa held back his laugh through a strained smile, hands on his hips, “That's fine.”

Nami directed you both into the middle of the stage and the shoot began. It started with simple couple shots with lots of smiles, giggles and playful poses. You didn't know much about modeling, but years of doing promotional shoots made Seonghwa a natural.

“Just be cute,” he said in one picture, where you both stood facing one another and pretending to rub your noses together. “Do cute faces and stuff like that, and you'll be fine.”

“Should I talk like they do too?” You teased when Nami finished taking photos of it. “How does it go? Meemeemoopmoop?”

“It does not sound like that at all,” he chortled.

“Then how does it sound?” you giggled seeing his shy expression, and him turning away to the tiny house nearby. “Come on, do it,” you urged him, pouting and tugging his sleeve. “It’s cute when you do it.”

He let out a small stream of high-pitched squeaks that had you grinning widely. When he stopped due to his own laughter, he handed you a net. Small fake butterflies were stuck to the insides as if being caught, while his fishing pole had a multi-colored fish hanging from the hook. Nami directed him to take a seat on a bench by the house while you swish the net in the air pretending to catch butterflies.

Having researched pin-up girl poses the previous night, you lifted one leg to your knee to show off the garter belts in Seonghwa’s direction. You could feel his eyes on you every time that skirt lifted up your thighs. Since you first met him, you knew Seonghwa preferred the more subtle suggestiveness. Flashes of cleavage or thighs grabbed his attention immediately, and he liked the baby doll dresses and bodysuit lingerie pieces you wore. Something skimpy, but not too showy. While you pretended to catch butterflies in various ways, Seonghwa sat there observing quietly.

“Let’s have you both garden,” Nami said next after snapping close up and wide shots of the scene. “Just do whatever comes natural.”

You knelt beside a bed of fake colorful flowers, and Seonghwa took the space in front of you. He was standing with a pail and a small hand rake, while you pretended to be digging holes in the earth. This left you kneeling at his feet, looking up at him innocently while he stood over you. You kept your cleavage in full view for him, pulling and pushing down on the flowers in front of you. Nami’s camera clicked numerous times in a row as she captured the suggestive moment. Seeing him above you, his groin right above your head, you had the urge to grope him. He wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the innuendos going on at this shoot. You knew he picked this up when he knelt behind you, and bent down to your ear.

“You must be getting pretty warm in that vest,” he said, hand going up your side to your chest. “Maybe you should take it off so you’re more comfortable?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you asked, pretending as if you brushed into him by accident.

“I’m only thinking about you,” he insisted, fingers getting closer to the buttons of your vest. “It’s supposed to be a sunny day on an island. Gardening can be hard work and Isabelle might get warm wearing a little vest like this one.”

“But Isabelle is so innocent and sweet,” you said, putting his hand closer to your breast. Suddenly, it didn’t matter that Nami stood a few feet away, taking photos of this intimate moment. “I don’t think she’d just shed off her clothes like that.”

“She would if she had a bit of help. Kneel up for me.”

You dropped the hand rake, and pressed your back to his chest. His lips left small kisses on your neck as he unbuttoned the vest. The moment he pulled it off you, you turned to Nami.

“Is this good or do you want us to do something else?”

“The apple tree,” she said, picking up on what you were really asking. “YN, you can be getting some apples from high up, and Seonghwa can be giving you a little boost.”

“Makes sense for his bear character-” you said, forcing yourself to leave Seonghwa’s arms for the fake apple tree nearby.

“-He’s a raccoon!-”

“-He looks like the kind of guy that would make his islanders do all the work while he just sits there in his little shop taking their money,” you continued, grabbing a wicker basket of fake red apples. “The little charlatan,” you gruffed.

This made the crew laugh with you and Seonghwa. “How’s he a ‘charlatan’?”

He stood holding the small ladder, his face closer to your lower back. “First off, you pay to go on this big island getaway, which in the name implies you’re going for a short time and not the rest of your life-”

“-It’s meant to be an experience-”

“-An experience in what it feels like to be hoodwinked!” another statement that made everyone laugh. “He never tells you what exactly is going to happen on the island until you arrive,” you said, reaching up into the branches and letting Nami take a few shots.

“He shows you a video of island life!” Seonghwa reasoned.

“On the plane ride! When you have no choice to turn back or not.”

“Guys, it’s a video game,” chuckled Nami. “It’s not supposed to make sense.”

“She only does this to tease me,” Seonghwa said, pinching your ass lightly. “Little brat…”

“You know I’m right,” you arched your back so your bottom sat closer to his face, “Anyway, the video makes you think all that stuff is already available on the island, but when you get there, you only see a bunch of empty houses and a campsite. I know I’d feel duped if it was me.” You then whispered to one of the cameras, “I think the bear is a cult leader.”

“He’s not a cult leader, stop it,” Seonghwa smacked your ass over the skirt, which only made you laugh more.

“Seonghwa doesn’t play when it comes to AC,” you joked with the crew, and earned yourself another smack.

You suddenly gasped when Seonghwa cupped both your buttocks for a gentle squeeze through your underwear. Cold hands and warm lips briefly pushed out any more taunts you’d have about Seonghwa’s game. But, you wouldn’t let him win. You pretended to reach for one of the lower hanging apples, which gave him the opportunity to feel underneath briefly. You gave another fake gasp, though it brought more warmth to your underwear.

“Then, he makes YOU build his island and make it cool,” you said, “And if you want to upgrade your island, you gotta pay him construction fees and stuff. Like, dude, it is supposed to be a getaway, not a construction job!” You dropped the apple into your basket. “That’s my hard earned money, so I don’t think I should be paying the guy who dropped me on a deserted island. I mean, what happens if I don’t make enough money to upgrade my shabby tent or house because I got tricked into staying there, hm?”

“I’m sure Tom would take other forms of payment too,” said Seonghwa, placing kisses on your lower back while he kneaded your cheeks. Your sex stirred when he started feeling underneath your pantyline, “Any kind you can think of.”

You let out a fake gasp, “So that’s his plan! Trick innocent, pure souls onto his island, takes all their money which causes them to have to do favors to get what they need. Disgusting bear.”

“That’s not why he’s doing it, and he’s a raccoon,” Seonghwa’s laugh was muffled by your shirt. “He wants to give you a nice experience,” he slid both sides of your underwear between your cheeks, “He is a good businessman who wants to build a nice island.”

“Where he can start his own weird, depraved sex cult,” you said, despite the warmth between your thighs. You knew Nami continued taking photos of Seonghwa groping and kissing your backside. You pretended to be shy, hand over your mouth and shock in your eyes. “Psh, jerk. Taking advantage of people looking to get away from their stressful, boring lives.”

“Speaking of tiny island homes,” interrupted Nami, “I think we should get some shots of you inside the house, YN.”

“And what does Seonghwa do?” you asked her, climbing down back into Seonghwa’s arms. You felt him yearning to touch and kiss you again, but fiercely restraining himself.

“Tom is going to be…safeguarding her house,” she suggested with a knowing smile.

You knew immediately what that meant, and walked into the house with the basket. The roof sat about a foot above your head, made of wood with cut out flowers in a box at the window. It was very well made. You opened the door to find nothing inside except a bedroom backdrop against the opposite wall. The window itself was wide and tall enough that Nami’s camera captured your top half at the right angle. You looked over Seonghwa standing outside the window, and couldn’t help noticing the slight bulge in his pants.

“Safeguarding her house, huh?” you asked, eyes on your boyfriend.

“Tom cares about the safety of his islanders,” said Seonghwa, leaning against the window. “You are an assistant to the Island Representative, and it’s important you’re safe from bugs on the island.”

“Oh, of course,” you said sarcastically, “I’m sure it has nothing to do with him being a greedy, corporate pervert.”

You started unbuttoning the few buttons left on your shirt, pretending as if Seonghwa wasn’t there. Soft clicks of the camera told you that Nami was capturing every second frame by frame as you undressed. You let the shirt slide off you bit by bit until you tossed it aside, your bra fully exposed now. Seonghwa stared down at your chest, acting as if he was hiding behind a curtain outside your window. No doubt the real scene is Tom Nook spying on an unsuspecting Isabelle. You then pulled your bra straps down your shoulders, and tugged the bra down enough to reveal the tops of your breasts. Seonghwa bit his bottom lip as you gently massaged your chest in front of him; the lace fabric brushed on your nipples, which only made them harder.

Since Atinys over nineteen can purchase a NSFW version of the photobook, Seonghwa was free to unzip his shorts. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him slide his hand into his pants. His soft groan told you he’d grabbed hold of himself and started stroking. The image of his long, thick shaft in his hand made you bite the inside of your lower lip. You kept massaging your breasts over your bra for him, not glancing his way. When you pulled your bra down to right against your nipples, both of them just barely visible, Seonghwa groaned. You thought of his cock already throbbing and leaking in his hand, and wished you could suck him dry.

The scene continued until you wore nothing but the lingerie set. Seonghwa was already pumping himself faster, his back arching and eyes half-open and gazing at you, turning into an erotic sight. He finally came when you removed your bra and played with your nipples. You couldn’t help the deep, throbbing inside your panties. It begged you to go over to him, tug down his shorts and let him fuck you through the window. You listened to Seonghwa groaning, then huffing as his orgasm subsided and he slumped against the window frame. Nami asked for a few shots of him having a post-orgasm, which required him to tug down his shorts to show his wet cock.

“Hwa…” you whimpered. God, you needed him right then. Simply doing it yourself wouldn’t work, not with his big cock so close by and needing to be cleaned with your tongue.

“What is it, baby?” he asked, smirking as he stroked his softening length to make it glisten. “Are you horny too?” He laughed when you nodded, pleading with him. When Nami had enough shots, you expected him to bring you closer, but he didn’t. “I think we can wait until later, no?”

“But Seonghwa,” you pouted, finally pushing yourself as close as your little window allowed, “I’m so wet.” You reached for his hand and he pulled away.

“You’ve been quite bratty today,” he smiled wickedly, smugness in his eyes. “I don’t think you deserve it right now. Plus, you have two more sets to do too. I don’t think it’s fair to keep Juwan and Minsu waiting on you.”

A punishment for dissing his favorite game. You huffed, pulling up your bra, “It’s not as if Yunho or Mingi will say no to me.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he planted a quick kiss on your lips, and moved to walk away, “Have fun, angel. See you soon.”

His response left dread in your stomach. You pulled on a robe Nami gave you, then went back to the dressing room as per the director’s instructions.

****

Yunho’s set was a small bedroom of green and black. A full bed sat beside a wide computer desk with a two monitor setup, and a comfortable computer chair. Valorant and other various game posters were plastered on the walls, as well as figurines sitting around the computer. You quite liked it. Being the biggest gamer of the group, you weren’t surprised by the oversized Valorant t-shirt and tight, green briefs that Juwon presented you with in the dressing room. Yunho dressed casually, in a long shirt and shorts with socks, but you still liked the plain, simple look. You couldn’t help staring at his long, lean figure from afar.

“Look at you,” he smiled, seeing your hair up in a bun with cat-ear headphones around your neck. “Aren’t you cute?”

“You think so?”

You walked into his arms, hands on his shoulders as he pecked your lips. Your arousal from the previous shoot died down significantly, but it didn’t go away. Seonghwa likely told Yunho about his photoshoot, and the two will conspire together to make it worse. If anything, he’ll convince Mingi to join him in the torture. You considered the three men to be your angels, your “white swans”. They’re usually the most gentle and sweetest when it comes to sex, and even more so outside of the bedroom. Not that the other five couldn’t be sweet, but their harder sides tended to come out in bed, while your white swans remained gentle throughout. Though, they can be equally mean.

“Very cute,” he said, his large hands resting on your hips. “I like this simple style on you. You look so cozy and cute,” he nuzzled your nose softly. He then said in a whisper, “And there’s less for me to take off you.”

“Yuyu,” you laughed, cheeks burning. That was his special talent: making a simple phrase dirty. “Let’s get the shoot done.”

Nami directed you both towards the desk, and it went how you expected it to go. You sat on Yunho’s lap, both of you given controllers to act as a gamer couple. When you realized the game on the screen was a Youtube video and the controllers weren’t connected, you let out a soft giggle. Yunho looked over at you quizzically.

“What’s so funny, huh?” he poked your stomach, which made you laugh more.

“This reminds me of that porno we watched the other night,” you said.

You didn’t watch porn videos with your boyfriends often, but when you did, it was mainly Yunho with a toy nearby. The other night after dancing and drinking, you’d put on one you thought he might like. It featured three women “playing” a video game before the boyfriend of one of them appeared, and started fondling and teasing them. Yunho didn’t mind it until he noticed one minor detail.

“The controllers weren’t on,” Yunho blurted out incredulously, and you laughed again. “They’re there moving the sticks and pressing buttons but the controllers weren’t even turned on.”

“Baby, considering it was an adult film, I don’t think it matters,” you replied.

“They could have made an effort, is what I’m saying,” he defended. “The game was going on in the video even after they stopped playing.”

“Only you would make a fuss about that,” you chuckled, kissing him softly. “So, you’re telling me that if you ever fuck me during a game, you want me to be actually playing instead of pretending?”

“It’d be hot,” he shrugged, smirking at the suggestion.

“Hm, good to know.”

You straddled his lap with your back to him, and put the headphones on your ears. Nami took this cue to start taking photos again. Yunho brought you to his chest, his head on your shoulder as he also matched your pose. You shifted around on his lap every so often to feel his cock through your shorts. The sensation of his bulge growing against your ass brought back all the arousal from before.

“I’ve always wanted to do this with you, you know,” you said in his ear, kissing the spot underneath it. “I’m surprised we haven’t done it yet.”

“Done what?” he asked, but he knew what you meant.

“Give you a blowjob while you were gaming,” you answered, grinding onto his lap until he let out a low growl. “But you’re always so focused, I doubt you’d notice I’m there.”

“Trust me,” he said, “I’d notice if I had your pretty lips wrapped around my dick. I wouldn’t be able to focus on the game.”

“But you’re such a pro at it that you’d win anyways,” you smiled. “I bet you can do it with your eyes closed,” you whirled your hips around, “While you’re fucking my throat until you cum.”

“Seonghwa left you very horny, didn’t he?” he chuckled.

“And you do too,” you added, almost forgetting the camera clicking beside you. Reluctantly, you stood up from Yunho’s lap to see his bulge starting to poke a tent in his pants. “Clearly, I have the same effect on you”

“Always,” he admitted.

Walking over to the bed, you both laid against the pillows. Yunho took up a Nintendo Switch that you recognized to be his, and started playing a real game on it. A bit of realism, you supposed. You also realized he gave you the exact opportunity you just described.

“You can’t ride me,” Yunho said, pressing the ‘start’ button. Mario Kart. The man’s playing Mario Kart in the middle of a photoshoot with you nearly naked beside him. “You can only use your mouth or hands.”

“But what about-”

“-Mouth or hands, YN,” he glanced at you to repeat the order, then went back to choosing his character. “Should I play Mario or Bowser? Bowser has a cooler car though…”

You lifted his shirt as high as his position allowed, showing the camera Yunho’s stomach. While he did work out, he didn’t have the sculpted abdomen of San or Mingi. Sliding your hand further up, you rubbed your thumb over one of his nipples, which you knew excited him just as much.

“I like Peach the most,” you said, pinching his nipple softly and knowing what it’s doing to him.

“That’s just because you like her car and she’s a princess,” he gave a snort as the game started.

“I think she’s a relatable character,” you lied, lifting his shirt to kiss at his sternum. Straddling his thighs, you started playing with both nipples while kissing up and down his stomach. “She’s a young lady with a lot of responsibilities who is constantly sought after by various men in power.”

“You have a very strange take on video games,” Yunho laughed, “Like with Valorant.”

“I don’t get it,” you grunted, going further down his body to his shorts. Cupping the outline of his cock, you realized he didn’t wear boxers underneath. The heat radiated against your hand, and you felt it grow harder under your touch. “Is it there a storyline of some kind?”

“Not really,” he answered, the sound of the buttons being the only sound between you. “You make matches with different characters and gain XP to get more.” He glanced at you for a brief second, “You’d hate it.”

“I like games with a story,” you shrugged. You slowly felt up his thighs with soft kisses and squeezes, the muscles flexing when you hit a sensitive spot. The thought of his length inches away made your mouth water. You started rocking your hips for any form of friction, your clit pulsating much like the cock so close to you. “It gives me an objective,” you lowered your voice as you hovered over his groin, “Something to focus on and work through.”

Only one layer separates you and his dick. No doubt he’d done this strategically after Seonghwa told him about the Animal Crossing shoot. You traced your hand over the outline poking through the thin fabric, his stomach tensing when you felt his tip. His length growing, you grabbed it through his shorts once it started rising. Yunho clearly had trouble concentrating as you stroked him to a full erection with his own clothes; he bit his lip when you kissed back up his stomach to his sternum. Teasing your boyfriend dragged out your own arousal, which made you grind into the flat mattress underneath. Your entrance clenched for something to grab onto, but fluttered when nothing came. Simply toying with Yunho while he ignored you for a game had your clit throbbing for his attention. You sat up and removed the shirt to reveal a dark green bra underneath. Everything inside you screamed to reach for his hand after you took off the bra, but he needed them to hold his console. Instead, you laid back on top of him and made sure his clothed hardon nestled between your thighs.

“I don’t get the appeal of it though,” you said, sliding his shirt further up to take a nipple in your mouth. The soft flesh hardened once more and you heard Yunho intake a breath sharply. “You’re just shooting other people. It gets boring,” You made sure he felt your own nipples dragging up his stomach as you took the other nipple in your mouth. If only you had clamps to put on them; Yunho enjoyed that more than the others. “Can’t be that hard.”

He chuckled through a moan, shifting when you nipped at one with your teeth. “It is,” he replied. “You have to concentrate a lot, and be good at aiming. It’s not the game’s fault you suck at aiming.”

“I suck a lot of things,” you said, swirling your tongue around a nipple, “But aiming isn’t one of them.”

Were there not a whole staff of people and a photographer nearby, Yunho would’ve put the switch aside and rolled you onto your back.

“I beat you in every match when you’ve attempted to play,” he said, playing another round of Mario Kart.

“Because you have more experience than me,” you pouted, starting to kiss back down his body once more. Yunho paused the game to remove his shirt, since his cheeks and neck started to flush. Atinys would love this just as much as you. “So, it’s not fair.”

“Maybe when we get home, I can teach you how to play properly,” he suggested, “Since your approach to video games is ‘figure it out as I play’. Tutorials be damned.”

“Tutorials take the fun out of it,” you giggled.

Yunho moaned once you pulled off his shorts, and took his cock in your hand. You realized he’d stopped playing, watching you as you started licking up his shaft to his tip. A part of you knew that this photobook is really for Atinys who’d want to see the members naked, so your naked body won’t be the focus of the photos. Even then, you saw Nami hovering to take photos of Yunho’s lust filled eyes and parted lips. You knew you’d love these photos as much as the fans. Stroking him lightly, you went back up his body to the base of his neck. Yunho’s long neck always looked pretty with hickies against the peachy skin. You sucked on the tender flesh as he started grinding into your hand. He clawed at the sheets underneath you both, eager to touch you but forcing himself to stay still. Good.

“Don’t you want to touch me, Yuyu?” you whined, “I love it when you touch me with those big hands of yours.” You kissed up his neck to his ear, giving it a soft nibble before saying, “When you grab my breasts while you’re pounding me into your bed…When you finger me…When you slide them into my mouth like this…” you took one hand and put two long digits in your mouth, humming softly.

“Tease,” he chuckled through gritted teeth, removing his thumb to trace your bottom lip. “You know I do. But, I think I’m pretty okay with you touching me.”

You went back down to his crotch where his cock started bumping against his lower stomach. Giving it a long, flat lick from bottom to top, you brought the reddening tip into your mouth. His dick throbbing on your tongue, pre-cum starting to slowly leak out, you imagined his tongue languidly rolling around your clit. Moving your hand in time with your mouth, giving soft squeezes right to the tip to make him groan, you thought of his mouth latched to your pussy. Lips would be wrapped around your clit as he suckled it gently, every groan vibrating against your clitoris. You pictured his hands grasping your buttocks, squeezing and spanking them lightly as his tongue lashes at your sex. When you felt yourself grinding against the mattress, you started riding the sensation as you pushed him to the back of your throat. Your moans rumbled in your throat, cut off and gagged by his thick tip.

"Fuck, baby," Yunho moaned, hands sliding into your hair just to touch a part of you, "Fuck, yes, just like that." His encouragement made you let out a pitiful moan. When he looked down to see you humping the bed, he chuckled. "I bet you're absolutely aching down there, huh?"

“Mmm-hmm,” you gave a muffled reply that you made sure he felt.

“Let me see.”

You knelt up from your position and pulled down both shorts and panties. Yunho’s eyes, half-open and driven by lust, zeroed in between your thighs. He reached down to the pool of wetness nestled in your folds, spreading it around your lips and clit as you squirmed in place. Shifting positions so his head rested at the side of the bed, you knew this new position gave Nami a glimpse of your aching center inches from Yunho’s mouth. Gentle hands smoothed up and down your back as you continued sucking him again.

“I can’t stand to see my kitten like this,” he purred, kissing your inner thigh. “I hate leaving you wanting more.”

“Yunho, please…” you whimpered, knowing better than to rest your hips right on his face even if you wanted to.

You clutched his thigh the moment you felt his tongue on you. In this angle, Atinys will see Yunho’s expert mouth skills while also seeing his tongue glistening from spit and your juices. You were still aware enough to pull off him, jerk his wet cock a few times for the light and camera to capture it. Yunho kept his licking light and teasing, but that was enough to drive you wild. After a few more licks, you started shuddering and quaking on top of him. Sensing your orgasm approaching, Yunho pulled your lips apart and focused directly on your clit. Sparks of sensitivity joined the tightness threatening to explode any moment. After a few deep grunts and groans, Yunho forced himself deep into your throat as thick, hot cum shot from the tip. Taking it slow, you breathed through your nose to avoid suffocation and quickly swallowed the oozing substance. You made sure to eventually pull away for shots of cum leaking from the head and in between the slit to his shaft. Yunho always came a lot when you had sex. Mostly because he didn’t pursue you as much as other members, preferring to save sex for special moments instead. Not that you minded. You swallowed every drop regardless of how much it was.

Yet, he pulled you off once he finished. The phantom sensation of his tongue lingered, but quickly disappeared. A frustrated whine escaped you once again. “Yuyu!” you pouted, shaking on the bed to try tempting him, “I didn’t finish.”

“I didn’t say you would,” he breathed, smirking at your desperation. He leaned over to you, kissing you deeply, “Don’t worry. Mingi’s next,” he muttered to you, giving you the shirt to throw on over your naked body, “And he never refuses,you anything.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s been watching this whole time,” he shifted his eyes to the corner where you’d entered through. In the darkness, you could almost make out a shape hiding behind the curtain. Seeing a glimpse of an arm, you guessed it might be him. “And I know he’s rock hard by now.”

“I would imagine so,” you replied, spreading your legs slightly in his direction. “Is it slutty of me to say that I can’t wait for it?”

The figure shifted around when you said it within earshot.

“Very slutty,” Yunho answered, kissing your cheek, “But we like that.”

“What’s his theme?”

“Can’t tell you.”

“A hint then?”

“Nope. Now, get back to the dressing room,” he said, nuzzling your neck until you giggled. “Before I get tempted and start teasing you again. Mingi’s waiting.”

The both of you laughed, but you still forced yourself off the bed and out of his embrace. Anyone else might feel embarrassed by what just happened, but you only worried about the taste still in your mouth. Nothing a lemonade cup doesn’t fix.

***

You smiled widely at the pastel pink crop top and white shorts waiting in the dressing room. Juwon said Mingi chose a pastel kawaii appearance for you, since he always likes your ‘cute’ outfits. Juwon dressed you in the outfit, complete with white tennis shoes and rainbow knee-high socks while Minsu added heavy blush on your cheeks and faded lip gloss. She made your eyes appear larger, made your nose smaller, adding freckles shaped like stars and a little heart jewel to your makeup. Hair clipped back, they added pink and purple with Pusheen hair clips.

It was utterly and sickeningly adorable. You never felt cuter, and the set amplified your appearance somehow. Walls painted bright yellow, the fluffy carpet matched the purple and yellow bed dotted with strawberries and strawberry milk cartons. Several squishmallow plushies covered the headboard, and you didn’t stop yourself from diving into them.

“Can I keep these?!” you asked, hugging a birthday-themed Pusheen plushie, “Ah, I want them all.”

“We’ll see,” said the director.

You already started deciding which ones you’d be stuffing in your duffle bag when you noticed something tucked underneath the stuffed toys. Pulling it out, you saw it was a basic porn magazine. A half-naked woman knelt in front of white backdrop, giving you a seductive expression. You flipped through it to see more naked women in various poses, and wondered what it could be for until you saw the rabbit vibrator sitting underneath a boba-tea shaped plush toy. You laughed, turning on the pink and translucent toy to feel it vibrate in your hand. Mingi will want to use it, and that makes you hornier.

“I’m guessing you like it then?” Nami asked, approaching the stage.

“I do,” you grinned, picking up a Pusheen sushi plush, “I knew Mingi’s would be something cute. He always says he likes my ‘cute side’.” Yes, you’re taking sushi Pusheen.

“He was very descriptive in what he wanted,” she told you. “He even picked out the plushies on the bed. He said he wanted it to be ‘realistic’ to your tastes.”

“Does that include the toy and porn mag?” The two of you laughed.

You wondered how long this innocence will last before his boner takes over. “Do you consider Mingi a cute person?” asked a producer.

“Very,” you smiled, nodding as you held a Hello-Kitty angel plush. “I know on stage he’s all sexy and intimidating, doing all his hip thrusts and expressions, but in real life, he’s an angel. He always cares about others, sometimes more than himself, and he’s so loving.” It brought on a bout of sadness, knowing the internal struggles Mingi feels on occasion. The time he’d taken a hiatus for his mental health scared you the most, since you’d seen it bring him to his lowest point. It made your heart ache. “Ever since I met him, he’s told me he wants to be someone I can lean on when I’m sad. He heard from other idols that Companions can have it rough because of their idols’ schedules or that they have to manage multiple members, and he worried about me. So, yes, he’s a very sweet person.”

Though, you didn’t mention that your sweetheart had a dirty side. Yes, he could be submissive at times, but not always. Seeing your outfit and the set, Mingi wanted to corrupt his cute kitten. The thought alone made your clit pulse again. When Mingi came out, you weren’t surprised. In a sleeveless black shirt, baggy black pants, with several chains and rings, Mingi dressed up as the bad boy to your innocent character. Seeing his muscled arms and sides made you shudder; the sight of his rings had your thighs clenching. He came right over to you, unable to focus on anything but you on the bed.

“You look so pretty,” he said between kisses, “Much prettier than I thought.”

“Thanks,” you beamed, giving a sweet smile. “Why this?”

“Because,” he kissed you again, sitting down and bringing you into his arms, “Ever since that classroom shoot I haven’t stopped thinking about you like this.” He cupped your chin, looking over your blush and freckles, “A sweet, innocent girl who's secretly a total slut.” You shuddered when he kissed your neck, starting at the top by your ear and going down, “Who watches porn and plays with herself all the time.”

“And you’ll be the tough guy who catches me?” You guessed, knowing it was a fantasy of his.

“Yeah,” he answered. “Who else would I be, hm?”

“I think we should get started now,” said Nami, setting up her camera again. “Mingi, you could go by the door and pretend you’re peeking in her room. YN, you can pull out the mag and just do what comes natural to you.”

Your arousal reigniting, you didn’t hesitate to open the magazine to a random page and spread your legs apart. Nami got full shots of the scene, capturing Mingi poking his head in the door to watch you. You grabbed the vibrator to slide up and down your clothed sex, only just feeling the head cast over your slit over and over. You whined at the tight sensations coming back to you. The woman in the photo was in a bathtub, rose petals clinging to her wet, soapy skin, as she delicately touched herself. It reminded you of the times Mingi caught you in a bathtub or a shower. You learned quickly he liked the “catching-you-in-the-act” scenario, and you sometimes did it just to tease him.

Nami then instructed Mingi to open the door and look at you in shock, and you did the same thing. A few shots later, Mingi is on the side of the bed and holding the toy. The magazine opened to a new page beside you, neither of you paid attention to it as he slid off the shorts to reveal your soaked panties. Pure white, the cotton fabric did nothing to hide your wetness and Mingi licked his lips.

“Naughty,” he said, kissing from your chest to your neck, “Did Seonghwa and Yunho get you that worked up?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, savoring the feeling of his lips on your skin. You looked down to see him lazily slide the toy up and down between your legs. “God, I wanna cum so badly.”

“I know, baby,” he stopped the teasing to lift your shirt over your breasts, “And we’ll get there soon. Don’t worry.”

You kept an innocent face as he pulled down your bra to reveal your tits. Nami took shots of him sucking the hard nubs; Mingi made sure she saw his tongue flicking and swirling around them after every suckle. You couldn’t stop yourself from wriggling underneath him. Everything leading up to the point inflated the balloon waiting to burst inside you. Their touches. Their kisses. It all sent you spiraling, and you didn’t care about the crew watching nearby. You didn’t care if this turned into softcore porn for Atinys to enjoy. You only cared about Mingi using his lips and his toy on you before fucking you himself.

“Mingi,” you cried, “Put it in me, please.”

“Soon,” he promised, “You’ll get it soon. Here…”

He turned on the vibrator and pressed it to one of your nipples. The tip tickled the supple skin and sent sparks through the center. He gently swished it over each one until you were writhing on the bed. You thought you might finish right there before he suddenly stopped. He chuckled at your pathetic mewling, then removed his shirt. His body, well defined, was mouthwatering. Reaching forward, you brought him close to kiss him deeply. It gave you an excuse to feel his soft muscles and smooth skin.

“Stroke me,” he murmured as he unzipped his pants.

He didn’t need to say it twice. He knelt beside you so you could easily withdraw him from his boxers. Already rock hard, it sprung out once you pulled them down and you instantly took hold of him. A low groan escaped him as you began lightly stroking him. Atinys said they loved his size, and so did you. After stroking him for a short while, envisioning it buried hilt-deep inside, you blinked up at him innocently.

“Oppa,” you said innocently, “Can I put it in my mouth like in class? I really like doing it now, and Mr. Jeong says I’ve gotten better.”

“Yes,” he breathed, eyes full of lust and focused on you. “Go ahead.”

Slowly, you slipped his tip into your mouth. Nami took photos of his euphoric expression, catching closeups of your lips around his length and his muscles tensing from the pleasure. You’d almost forgotten her and the crew in the heat of the moment. Something in you wanted to be more impressive than usual. Sliding him further into your mouth, you stayed flushed to him to keep his cock near your throat. Mingi groaned deeply at this, unable to stop his hips from pushing forward. The toy in his hand went back to your pussy, the distance only putting the tip against you. He only broke away from you to pull down your panties, exposing your dripping sex to the camera. Once he was back, you continued working him with both your hand and mouth. Twisting your hand in every stroke drove him crazy, and he rapidly rubbed the toy over your pussy so you moaned around him.

“Just like that,” he huffed, “Just like in class. You’re doing such a good job.”

“I’ve been practicing,” you said, playing along as you licked his dripping tip.

“Oh yeah?” he chuckled, tapping it on your tongue before pushing back inside. “With the other guys?” You nodded, and he grinned. “Slutty girl,” he forced himself deep in your throat to gag you, “We’ve got you well trained, don’t we?”

“Yes,” you coughed, “I can’t stop touching myself now.” You slobbered over his tip, making sure the clicking camera caught it, “It’s all I think about. All I want is your cocks deep inside me,” you gave a whimper before putting him back in.

“I’ll remember that for our next class,” he said, putting the toy on your stomach, “So you can show everyone what you’ve learned. Like how you use toys. Put this in there for me, and show me how you use it.”

You didn’t hesitate to grab the rabbit toy and push the tip inside. Moaning around his width, you slid the vibrating toy in and out of your tightness. The light buzzing joined your muffled moans; the rabbit ears continuously pressed to your aching clit while the curved tip pushed on your g-spot. Mingi muttered occasional encouragement and praise as you let your pleasure fully take over. At one point, you held it inside, causing your legs to lift and quake from the sensations overpowering you. It moved to the pulsing of your walls, and you nearly came hands-free.

“No, no, no,” Mingi said, removing the toy and smiling when you whined, “You don’t get to cum before me. This is all for me,” he rubbed your throbbing clit with his hand, rapidly moving it side to side, “This is meant to pleasure me, not you.”

“Mingi!”

“Keep sucking my dick,” he ordered, shoving himself back inside, “And fucking your pussy.”

A bit more forceful this time, you relished in the change as you obeyed his command. The both of you watched the other come undone. The sweetness Mingi was known for shed entirely, turning into a hard dom who’d edge you as long as he liked. You still hadn’t gotten the complete hang of it, even after a few practice sessions with Hongjoong. You knew once that orgasm approached, you’d chase it down. With Mingi fully fucking your mouth, it was only a matter of time. The buzzing on your cunt and his length penetrating your throat, you started shaking and moaning louder.

“Stop,” he said, reaching around to take the toy from you. You kicked your feet and cried, though this was muffled by the dick in your mouth. “I don’t care,” he replied, hearing your protest, “I haven’t finished yet. Make me cum and I’ll think about letting you finish.”

You did what you knew he liked: working the tip with your tongue. Each time he slid in or out, you made sure your tongue grazed the wrinkled underside of the head. It had been when he leaned forward for a different angle that the bed dipped on either side of you.

“Look how pretty our little dongsaeng is,” cooed Seonghwa, pushing stray hairs from your temples. “She takes it so well, doesn’t she?”

“Every time,” Yunho answered, grabbing the rabbit toy. He turned it back on and put it close to your clit. “I give her private lessons, and she’s always so good for me.”

“I should join,” he replied. “I could use the practice and you know she loves more than one.”

“Fuck, I’m so close,” Mingi panted, not showing you any mercy as he choked you with his cock in different intervals. “I’m so close. Keep sucking me like that, just like that.”

He kept your cries muffled as Yunho pushed the toy back inside you. Moving tortuously slow, you shook and twitched to the teasing sensation. Even at this speed, you felt yourself close to your orgasm.

“Make him cum, YN-ssi,” Yunho said, “Make him cum in your throat like you do with me. I know how much you love it.” He gradually picked up the pace, “Our sweet YN loves cum.”

You did and you hated that they knew that. Soon, Mingi gripped the headboard tightly as he hunched over. Muscles tight and hard in their constriction, he shuddered as he came. Thick, hot and slightly tangy, Mingi’s cum filled your mouth and throat. You swallowed what you could manage before he withdrew, strings of it coming out with him. Nami grabbed photos of those when the other two moved away to give her space.

When Mingi finally dismounted, the other two converged on you. Seonghwa licked and sucked on your breasts while Yunho kept your legs wide open for the toy.

“Go on, baby,” Seonghwa groaned, “You can cum now. You’ve been such a good slut; you deserve it.”

“Yo-you promise?”

“We promise,” Yunho said, not holding back with the toy, “We want to see you cum for us. You look so pretty when you do.”

Streams of curses escaped you as your orgasm finally hit. All the pressure inside you came out in small uncontrollable spurts. Their constant praises and light touches only helped you along. You thought it might go on forever, and you wanted it to, chasing it down by pushing into the toy. The vibrating ears suddenly spiked your sensitive clit, making you close your legs before Yunho forced them back open. He didn’t stop despite the little sparks radiating inside.

“Aw, look at the little mess you made,” Seonghwa grinned, nuzzling your cheek. “You’re leaking all over.”

“Someone should clean that up,” said Yunho, who didn’t hesitate to start licking the trails leaking out of you. Nami took the opportunity to get a few quick shots.

You let out soft cries as Mingi and Yunho took turns lapping and sucking up your juices. As Seonghwa gently soothed you, a part of you wished the crew would leave you with them. They’d gotten their pictures and shots. They could go now.

“How about we continue this at home, hm?” Seonghwa suggested as he kissed your cheek. “You’re more comfortable there and we’d be alone.”

“Please,” you said, finally taking in the people there. You didn’t think you’d feel this way afterwards. Heat filling your cheeks, you sort of hid in his shoulder which made the three men laugh softly.

“Now is when you’re shy?” he teased, kissing your temple. “Come on. We’re done here.”

They properly cleaned you with warm, damp towels given to them by the staff, giving you more praise and kisses as they went. Juwon brought over a robe and comfortable clothes for you. This felt different from the previous episode, since then there’d been no staff watching you together. It almost killed the bliss currently coming over you. Even if they weren’t, you imagined some seeing you differently now that they’d seen what you’re like in bed. A part of you wondered, as you got into the van an hour later, if you’d end up regretting this decision. It hit you that people would be seeing most of the photos, and watching the episode. You liked to think the staff would make it tasteful and not so graphic, since they’d done that with the classroom episode. But, the point of Companion shows was the sex; it was the main focus that drew people 19 and over in.

“Come here,” Yunho brought you into his arms once you arrived home, kissing your neck and lifting your shirt.

Clothes ended up on the floor leading to his bedroom, where the three of them cornered you on the bed. Soon, the four of you were whimpering, moaning and groaning as you tangled in each other. You couldn’t get enough of each man. You rarely felt so desperate for their touches before. By the time it was over, you became a pile of sweaty, panting puddles on Yunho’s bed. Curling up close to him, his arm around your waist and nose buried in your hair, you slowly fell asleep.

You couldn’t think of a better place to be.

****

Y/N: heeeeey been a while since I did one of these! God, can anyone stop these folks from getting it on?? No, and nobody wants to either! I hope you guys liked this one, and reblog/like <3

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